#i'm not really satisfied with the last picture and interior

[bloomingkyras]

Windenburg Wedding Venue 💍

*unfortunately it's not available for download yet. There's a few glitch need to be fix and had to be play tested again.

[bonesxbows]

Act Naturally - Chapter 1 (Cooper Howard X Reader)

Masterlist

While exploring an old section of Hollywood, the two of you stumble upon an old advertisement for a cowboy movie. But the man on the poster looks suspiciously a lot like Cooper, even down to the same smile. But it couldn't possibly be him...right?

(WARNINGS) - anger issues - negative self talk (from Cooper not you)

I feel like I dragged this on for way longer than it needed to be BUT it's a done thing now and tbh I'm pretty happy with it. I fucking adore soft Cooper moments and idc if I have to write them all myself

Also! This idea came from @land-of-evergreens-and-dye so full credit to them for letting me stew on this prompt

Hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Reblogs and comments much appreciated!

Banners by @strangergraphics

The two of you had found yourselves in an old section of Hollywood. It had been so long since Cooper had told you his reason for bringing you here that you’d forgotten what his motivation for this excursion was. Although it didn’t really matter to you, you’d follow him anywhere whether he wanted you to tag along or not. There was no separating you two. Not anymore. 

Most of the buildings had been boring to scavenge through, if you could even find a way inside at all. Not much was left of the boulevard besides dusty sidewalks and rusting billboards. But one building in particular piqued your interest. It had a larger facade than all the rest where small billboard-like signs hung above the wide double doors. Broken and busted bulb lights framed the signs and the rows of black lettering were missing far too many letters to be able to read it clearly. What letters you could make out only baffled you more than the strange-looking building did. 

‘Co - How - Starr - in - Th - M - Fr - Dea - Horse’

“Horse? What’s a horse?” you asked out loud, more to yourself than to him. He usually never listened to your mid-exploring ramblings, though he never did tell you to stop. You turned around to find him staring up at the old sign too, although his brow was creased and a scowl was stuck on his face. You placed a hand on his shoulder and he turned to you, his expression softening as his eyes shifted to looking at you instead. 

“You wanna check inside there, don’ you?” He asked. 

You nodded and gave him a small smile. “Can we? Please? I’ve never seen any place like it before.” 

“Hm. ‘Spose we can. But make it quick alright?” He checked his pistol’s ammunition levels and flipped the barrel back into place once he was satisfied. You led the way forward, pushing the swinging doors inward as Cooper was right behind you, pistol in hand and trigger finger ready. 

He was a little disappointed when the place appeared to be empty. But the feeling didn’t last, he couldn’t stay upset as he watched you scurry around the place, your eyes wide with fascination. The interior was even more astonishing to you than the exterior had been. Rows of folding booth-like chairs covered the majority of the floor, their fabric exterior faded and torn, and in the back of the building was a wooden stage. Ragged old curtains framed the blank wall behind the stage where its faded white paint chipped and peeled off the plaster. There wasn’t much hiding between the rows of chairs besides dust and sand but you still kept your hopes high that the rest of the building would hold something worthwhile. 

“What is this place? Some kind of shooting gallery?” you asked, your wasteland-born intelligence of pre-war places was lacking, but fortunately for you, Cooper liked you enough to fill you in on what knowledge you didn't have. 

He chuckled at your observation. He supposed a shooting gallery was just about the closest thing you could get to a theater these days. “Not ‘xactly, sweetheart. It was used for movies, picture shows, that kinda thing. A place where folks could feign ignorance ‘bout the end of the world fast approachin’ on their heels.” 

“Movies? Like the kind on those busted-up televisions?” you continued to explore around as you talked. He followed you, keeping an eye out for anything out of the ordinary that could be dangerous while you focused on the useful and exciting things you could find. 

“Mmhm. Just like those. Never endin’ loops of fairytale stories kept alive by people long gone by now.” he explained, and you ended the conversation after that. His voice was strained and scruffy, meaning he was either remembering something he wanted to forget or he was getting agitated. Either way, you knew it was in your best interest to stop asking questions. 

Things got progressively more interesting when you discovered the back rooms of the building. The first one had been large, with dusty velvet ropes leading to a counter filled with food machines and nuka-cola dispensers, you’d come back here to scavenge all the food you could carry with you on your way out, but the hallways and storage rooms were what really piqued your attention. 

Posters lined the wooden walls of the hallways, the plaster that had once surrounded them now nothing more than dust on the ground. The paper was old, torn, and extremely faded, even with the lack of sunlight in the place. The color was all but gone from the paper, but you could still make out the words if you squinted hard enough. 

“Cooper Howard Starring in The Man From Dead Horse.” The letters matched up with the ones from outside but yet you were still baffled on what exactly a horse was. The poster had no other information to help clarify, although you found it interesting that the man on the paper supposedly shared your cowboy’s name. 

“Huh.” You exclaimed as you studied the pictures. 

“What?” Cooper called after you, pulling his attention only slightly away from the containers he was looting around the place, looking for spare ammo or anything else that was useful. 

“Nothing. Just something about these posters. Are these about those movies you were talking about?”  you asked, which had him turning around to examine the poster along with you. The only response he gave you was a short grunt, which you knew translated to a yes. You shifted your eyes back to the paper on the wall. Most of the color may have been gone but you could still make out a blue shirt on a man with a white cowboy hat on top of his head. He stood in a pose with his revolver in the air and his other hand on his hip. He wore a smirk on his face that felt familiar and something in the back of your mind itched like you had seen this all before…somewhere. But you couldn't pinpoint the memory. 

When you turned back around Cooper was already gone down the hallway so you hurried to follow him, tearing your eyes from the poster but keeping your mind on the nagging feeling it left you with. Maybe if you turned the picture over in your head enough times the memory you were looking for would click, or so you hoped. 

His attitude had significantly changed after you found that poster. He became more on edge and that gruff exterior he had when you had first met him was back. He rushed through the rest of the building, seemingly not caring if you were behind him or not. By the time you caught up with him, he was shoving his way back out through the swinging front doors. You could see the finger on his pistol’s trigger starting to twitch. You followed him outside and down the road a way until he stopped in front of the first billboard he saw. 

Like everything else in the wasteland, the colors were gone and the picture was faded, but you could clearly tell it had been an advertisement for Vault-Tec before the bombs. Cooper didn’t hesitate to unload every round in his revolver through the billboard. Pieces of wood and metal went flying and you instinctively covered your face, listening to the bullet casings and wood chips hit the concrete around you. He eventually ran out of bullets, although you could still hear him clicking the trigger. Once the gun sounded empty you lowered your arms again, examining the now hole-riddled Vault Boy on the billboard. Cooper’s face still held a nasty scowl. 

“You got a personal vendetta with Vault-Tec I don't know about or something? What just happened?” you asked. If you were anyone else he would have filled you with lead just for asking a question right then and there. He was currently too angry to deal with stupidity. But he would never purposefully hurt you, that was one line he refused to cross in his mind. But unknowingly to you your words only fueled his anger more. 

“Shut it. Let’s go. I’m sick of this place.” he snapped, his usual drawl and accent missing and replaced by venom in his words. He quickened his pace out of the block of streets and you followed him, but you kept your distance to a minimum of a few feet at least for the remainder of the trek. 

It had been a few hours since Cooper’s outburst and the two of you had set up camp for the night inside of an old diner. He had seemed to calm down a little but he had set himself up in the corner of a booth with his hat pulled down over his eyes and his feet kicked up on the table in front of him. Which left you alone with your thoughts in front of his makeshift campfire. You watched the sun sink below the horizon as you replayed the earlier events of the day over and over in your head, still trying to connect the dots. You stared at Cooper, his supposedly sleeping form leaning against the worn material of the diner booth, hoping that if you focused on him hard enough you could will the connection in your mind to click. 

And then the realization hit you like a lightning bolt, your eyes pulling all of the pieces together in front of you as you stared at his hat and the rough skin poking out from underneath it. 

You sprang up from your seat on the ground, sliding yourself into the booth on the other side of the table in front of him. He didn't seem to notice until you reached over and yanked his cowboy hat off of his head with one swift motion. His eyes shot open and immediately landed on you. 

“Can’t a ghoul get some shut-eye ‘round here without you botherin’ him?” he scoffed, pulling himself up into a sitting position and turning to face you across the table. You didn’t respond and instead placed his hat on the table in front of you, staring at him with full intent. He was unbothered underneath your intense gaze, either he was used to being stared at or knew you weren’t much of a threat to him. “I got somethin’ in my teeth or is this a new hobby of yours I don’ know about?” he asked, your silence was irking him more than your constant staring. 

You let your eyes do all the work and your imagination filled in the blanks, pulling both images in your head together; the man from the poster and the man sitting in front of you. His dirty blue shirt peaking out from underneath his duster confirmed your suspicion. 

“You’re him.” was all you said as the realization set in. 

“Pardon?”

“You're him! From the poster earlier! That's why he looked so familiar!” your excitement was getting hard to contain. You had known Cooper was from before the bombs but you hadn’t known he was THAT Cooper Howard. 

“Darlin’, I have no idea what you’re on about. You best forget ‘bout that whole theater ‘fore you go and stir up trouble.” he told you, folding his arms in front of him on the table as his brow darkened his eyes. 

“What’s the big deal, Coop? Why didn’t you tell me? Is that why you rushed out of there so quickly?” you spoke quickly, the questions flooding out of your mouth faster than you had intended. 

“Hmph. ‘What’s the big deal?’ The ‘big deal’ is that man is dead. Has been for over 200 years. I ain’t keen on bringin’ him back neither. His optimism and gullibility got him killed and that was the end of that. I’m done rememberin’ the sorry excuse I got for a past. Reminiscing don’ keep you alive for long.” his western accent was tangled together with poison as he spat out his words. But his scary looks didn’t work on you anymore. 

“Maybe, but you’re still him, Coop. You’ve adapted to the wasteland but you’re still you. Roughed up and scarred a little, sure, but who isn’t?” you told him, doing your best to keep your voice soft to combat his spitefulness. 

“A little? Sweetheart, I’m a damn monster, everyone out ‘ere thinks so. Whatever was left of good ol’ Cooper Howard died when this here skin started fallin’ off. I’m done bein’ nice in a world that does nothin’ but kicks you when you’re down.” 

“I don’t think you're a monster.” 

It was one sentence, just a few words, but it made him pause. His scowl vanished for a few seconds and was replaced by a look of confusion. There was a small smile tugging at his lips too, if you were quick enough to notice it before it was gone. He sighed and leaned back against the booth. 

“Well then that’s one hell of a lapse of judgment on your part sweetheart.” he hooked his hands together and put them behind his head, cradling the back of his neck as he closed his eyes again and leaned further into the booth. But you weren't done with the conversation just yet. 

You got up, grabbed his hat off of the table, and shifted yourself into the booth he was sitting in. You looked at him and then looked down at his hat in your hands. A relic from over two centuries ago, covered in sand and caked in dirt. But still a working and functioning cowboy hat. It protected its wearer from the harsh sun and there was a sense of safety woven somewhere in between the fibers. Broken and beaten and even dirtied beyond repair, it was still a hat. And Cooper was still a person. 

You climbed on top of the table, being careful not to accidentally kick him with your feet as you positioned yourself in front of him and placed a leg on either side of his body. You placed his hat in its rightful place on top of his head, making him open his eyes again when he felt your touch. He looked up at you curiously, fully not expecting you to be on the table in front of him. You reached down and grabbed both of the lapels of his duster, balling the fabric up in your fists as you pulled him forward and smashed your lips into his. You were quick with your movements, something you had learned from being around Cooper so much recently, which left little to no time for him to react or protest against your sudden affection. 

Although he didn't seem to mind. His hands found their way to your hips almost automatically and he slipped them under your shirt, grabbing at your soft skin roughly. Tomorrow morning you would have bruises all over your hips in the shape of his fingertips, but it happened so often now that the purples and blues were a permanent part of you. You had started this impromptu makeout session but he was determined to finish it. His tongue worked fervidly like he was mapping the constellations in the night sky across the inside of your mouth. He never once gave you the chance to take the lead and he was as quick as a viper to wrangle back control when you tried to take it yourself. At some point he had shifted his hands underneath you and scooped you off the table, sliding you right into his lap while still keeping a strong grip on you, never once slowing down with his tongue. Your legs were forced to wrap around him, your bodies now flush against each other in the booth. 

It wasn’t long after he had pulled you closer that you had to pull away, panting and taking gulps of air. You finally let go of his jacket as you leaned back against the table, feeling the metal edge digging into your back as you did so. 

“You know for a so-called ‘monster’ you sure know how to make someone feel breathless.” You told him as you admired the way he was smirking at you. Ironically it was the exact same smirk from that old poster of him, although you noticed he had shifted from that old-school charming look to now one that held an aura of danger around him. 

“Hm. Well, now I’ve never been the type to pass up an opportunity when it’s handed to me. ‘Specially if it ends with somethin’ pretty sittin’ in my lap.” his grip on your hips was still ironclad as his eyes raked over you. His stare felt similar to a hunter stalking its prey. You knew what he was doing, trying to convince himself he was right by acting like a predator, but you knew the truth underneath the facade. You had seen firsthand how he had cared for you and looked after you even when he stood to gain nothing in return. 

“Whether the old Cooper is dead or not doesn’t change the fact that I love this, right here, right now. Whatever led to you being my cowboy, I wouldn’t change a thing.” you ran your fingers up his chest as you spoke, fiddling your way underneath the collar of his cowboy costume to run your fingertips along the raised edges of his scarred skin. He sat back and let you touch him, not making any move to try and stop you. He’d let you do anything your little heart desired. He was your cowboy, he knew that, and yet two hundred years ago he would have never imagined meeting someone like you. He’d be damned if he would let anything happen to you, you were the only good thing he had left in this fucked up world. He refused to let anything else be taken from him. 

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he mumbled as he brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear, relishing in the way the soft cartilage felt against his marred fingertips. He ran the very tip of his finger against the edge of your ear, earning a tilt of your head as a response to the sensation. 

“Cooper?” you asked, making his eyes flick to yours. He noticed you had pulled your hand out from under his shirt and instead, you had placed it on top of his chest, mindlessly fumbling with the ancient fringe attached to the front. 

“Hm?” 

“I still have one question,” you told him, knitting your brows together in curiosity. 

“I’m listenin’.” he had been so enraptured by your affection that he had no idea what to anticipate, especially when your face had turned so serious. 

“What even is a horse, anyway?”

It took him a great deal of effort to stifle his laughter. 

[kopikokun]

Request 21: Haechan + “How did we get here?” (58) + “Are you high?’ (93) + “Why are you naked?” (109)

pairing; haechan x reader

genre; fluff, suggestive, childhood friends to lovers au

warnings; mentions of unprotected sex

The first thing that jolts you awake isn’t the numbing cold prickling your skin, nor is it the familiar sensation of having the duvet tugged away from your sound asleep body, no, it’s the abrupt animalistic snore in your ear.

You scramble into a sitting position, back resting against the headboard and legs tucked. Your heart lurches in your chest and you place your fist to it like that would do anything to calm its hammering. This paralysing fear only worsens the headache you’re currently experiencing. Cold sweat runs down your back as you face the person—or entity—that had just created that horrid sound.

With the strands of his soft hair falling into his eyes and his smooth golden skin illuminated by the fresh morning sunlight pouring through the blinds, Donghyuck looks beautiful, no, ethereal, nestled away beneath the covers. Your cheeks begin to grow warm. It’s unfair really, how nice he looks, peacefully asleep (besides the trail of spit dribbling from the corner of his mouth, that is). You can’t believe a sound that unholy came from someone who looks like that.

Your eyes dart warily across the interior of the room. Muted grey walls surround you, pictures of varying sizes hanging precariously from nails. A shelf lines the wall to your right, the first and second shelf packed with books of different kinds. Most of them, you recognise, are ones you have too. The college listed them as mandatory and you remember grumbling to Donghyuck about the ridiculous cost of them. On the right of the bookshelf sits a table, crowded with notebooks and eraser shavings. A laptop is half open on the table and there’s a single sticker beside the mouse pad. A familiar photo of you and Donghyuck from high school rests against the wall and past you smiles at you. You’ve been here before. Even though Hyuck just moved in with his best friend Mark last week, you’d been here twice, not including now. Since you’ve known Donghyuck, which was in like kindergarten, his room had somewhat become yours and vice-versa. You turn to face your childhood friend beside you.

Your heart rate begins to accelerate. Why are you in the same bed as Donghyuck? And where the fuck are his clothes?

You vigorously shake him awake, unable to hide your fret. “Hyuck!” He mumbles something in his sleep. “Hyuck! Wake up!”

Donghyuck groans, eyes squinted as they’re immediately greeted by the blinding sunlight flooding the room. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes with the back of his hand, propping himself up with an elbow.

His eyelids are still droopy and you frown. “Are you high?” Some stoner friend of Hyuck’s had come over last night and you wouldn’t be surprised if Donghyuck had taken a hit.

He shakes his head slowly, hair sticking out in all possible directions. “No, I’m just- I think I'm just hungover.” You visibly notice the way the early morning grogginess leaves him and is replaced with a feeling of bewilderment. “Why are you in my bed?” His head swivels to scan the room, face contorted into one of confusion. “How did we get here?”

You disregard his concerns, because both of you being half-naked is far more concerning. You decide to leave that mystery for later. “Hyuck, why are you naked?”

As if he’s just realised the fact, Donghyuck shields his bare chest from your eyes with his arms. “I’m not completely naked! I’ve, uhh,” he lifts the covers, peeking beneath them, “I have some shorts on.” You roll your eyes. That doesn’t help in the slightest. Donghyuck scoffs at your reaction.

The two of you stare at each other in silence, trying to process what’s going on and what on Earth happened yesterday. All you can recall from last night is showing up to Donghyuck’s party, the both of you immediately scurrying to the alcohol and downing anything you could get your hands on. Everything after that has now become one of Mother Nature’s greatest mysteries.

You try to come up with a logical explanation with all the evidence presented to you. You’re in bed in only an oversized shirt and your underwear with Hyuck, and he’s half-naked. You two had gotten absolutely thrashed last night and had no semblance of an idea as to what had happened. Did you two… No, you hadn’t… But, maybe you two—

“Did we have sex last night?”

You flush a deep red. You didn’t expect Donghyuck to bring it up so casually. You bite the flesh of your inner cheek. “I don’t remember. In fact, I don’t remember anything that happened last night.”

Donghyuck huffs. He flops back onto the bed, clasping his hands atop his toned stomach. You haven’t seen him so… exposed before. The last time you had was probably five years ago at your ex-boyfriend Jeno’s pool party. He’s definitely more well-built now, an ab-line beginning to reveal itself. Donghyuck’s cheeks seem to be adorning an adorable pink tint too. “Me neither.”

Seeing his nonchalance, your shoulders loosen considerably. You let your head fall back onto the headboard, stretching out your bare legs. The movement catches Donghyuck’s eye, but he swiftly averts his gaze, clearing his throat. “So, I guess we did.”

“Oh.” Donghyuck nods curtly. “Cool.”

“Yeah,” you pick at your nails, “cool.”

Donghyuck glances to the bedside drawer and then to the rubbish bin. “Did we, uhm, did we at least use protection?”

“Well, shit, I hope we did,” you fiddle with the edges of Hyuck’s covers, “I mean I really like you but I wouldn’t let you raw me the first time we have sex.” You can feel his intent stare, his eyes boring into you, making your skin crawl with unease. “But I’m on the pill, so I should be fine.” Hyuck still hasn’t let up, probably because his childhood friend of fifteen hears just confessed to him. “Follow me to the store to get a morning-after pill, okay?”

Donghyuck blinks. Once. Twice. “Oh, yeah, totally.” You’re praying he doesn’t bring up what you just said.

“You like me?”

Damn.

“Well, yeah.” You tack your gaze onto the ground.

Donghyuck, being the cheeky little bastard he is, shoves his face in your line of sight. He grins, planting both of his palms on your cheeks, forcing you to face him. “Say it again.”

Your face grows crimson. You feign ignorance, averting eye-contact. “Say what again?”

“Don’t act dumb,” Hyuck says, smiling coyly. “Say it again and look at me while you do.”

Your stomach twists, a sudden wave of bashfulness crashing into you. “Hyuck…”

His grin grows wider, a hint of amusement present. “Come on, baby. I won’t ask you again.”

Your face is a deathly shade of red now and the tips of your ears are burning. “I like you.”

Despite the fact that you are experiencing such a nerve wracking ordeal, the half-naked boy before you laughs. He’s delighted. “Say it again.” At your pout he giggles. “Please?”

“I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you, Lee Donghyuck.” You furrow your brows. “Happy now?”

Donghyuck has to stop himself from kissing you right there and then. “Very.”

“Now say it back.”

Instead, he satisfies his urge by pecking your forehead. “I like you too.”

“What the fuck are you guys doing?”

Both you and Donghyuck’s gazes immediately snap towards the door where a disgruntled Mark is leaning against the frame. Mark’s usually all bright smiles but right now, he looks disgruntled. He’s probably crazy hungover.

“I’ve only brought you in here half-an-hour ago Hyuck, and you can’t even keep it in your pants for that long?”

Donghyuck tilts his head in obvious befuddlement. “What do you mean half-an-hour ago?”

Mark scoffs. “I carried you in here? Half-an-hour ago? Because you were passed out on the floor? And I’m a super nice best friend?”

“So, I’ve only been in here for half-an-hour?”

Mark groans. “Are you still drunk? Yeah, I just said.”

“But why are we half-naked?

“You don’t remember?” Mark runs a hair through his disheveled hair, pushing his wire-framed glasses up his nose. “While we were cleaning up, you spilled a drink on yourself and puked on her, dude. Man, you must’ve been really drunk.”

“So then me and—”

“Anyway, can you guys keep it down? I’m trying to facetime my girlfriend.”

Donghyuck snorts. “Looking like that? You look like shit.”

Mark scowls. “Fuck off, asshole. I should’ve just left you on the floor, prick.”

As he storms away, Mark mutters a string of curses under his breath. You and Donghyuck sit in silence again, letting all that information which was unceremoniously relayed to you sink in.

“So, we didn’t fuck?”

“I guess not.”

Hyuck smiles slyly. “You want to right now?”

You reply by whacking him square in the face with a pillow as his laughter rings in your ears and Mark yells at you two to shut up.

[serostuffsmh]

Kai was raised by an old fashioned old man, so in his mind he HAS to give his s/o flowers often; it's been drilled into him that that's the right thing to do (and gift giving is a love language). BUT let's say his s/o has a pollen allergy; even if it's a mild one, he's gonna avoid provoking a reaction by any means possible. The solution to this ? THEY BUILD THE LEGO FLOWER BOUQUETS TOGETHER. (Google it dude, theyre really pretty)

Nah but fr, he'd get them some silk (or polyester, for the dust-resistance) fake flowers that look so real (and somehow smell real too???) and they better be creative with interior design bc very soon their apartment is gonna be covered with flowers that will never wilt. And i'm imagining that kai gets such a self-satisfied look on his face when he visits their home, and sees them on their bed or couch, surrounded by the "flowers" he knows will brighten their day without harming their health. (Also im picturing him sitting on their couch, waiting for them to get ready for a night out. And. Theres just flowers everywhere. Like picture him in his all black suit + dust mask combo on a couch and he's surrounded by these vivid bouquets that he hand picked for his s/o, and there's so many flowers that they had to start hanging them up on the wall bc they ran out of table space for them).He smiles every time that he comes over and notices that there are more flowers than the last time. Because he has a hectic work schedule, he often worries that his s/o feels forgotten or like he's not thinking about them-which isn't true at all!! They live in his head rent free in a way he can't comprehend!!! It's just that he logistically can't be with them 24/7. So to compensate, he wants to fill their home with reminders of his feelings for them (in the form of the flowers). They want to make tea in the morning? Whoops, gotta reach past the small bundle of olive branches and sola wood flowers to get to the tea leaves. (Side note: im not researching the language of flowers rn for this ask, but he would 100% use that when picking his bouquets)They feel alone in bed at night? Just roll over to look at the bundle of red roses on the nightstand. He likes to leave physical reminders of his love when he can't actually be there with them :)

I really thought I posted this ask! So sorry anon :v

Silk flowers are probably better anyway since the real ones die so quickly. But the ones he sends? They’ll last however long you want to keep them.

it's so nice that in this headcanon he’s still able to make their day a bit brighter with 'fresh' flowers in a little vase. Even if he can’t see you everyday he still wants you to know he cares and will probably send you a bouquet of dainty purple roses.

I also imagine he keeps dozens of flowers with him in advance so he can keep sending them to youbover the course of a few weeks. Just enough time to preorder even more flowers. If you keep every last one of the flowers he sends, he’ll be a bit flattered and smile at all of the faux colourful flowers you displayed.

I also totally reccomend the book "The Language of Flowers" by mandy kirby :^

[lesbianaerith]

Final Fantasy VII Remake: Demo

Just realised I never talked about it on here but I probably should. I had the privilege of playing the FFVIIR demo at PAX West last weekend and it was an awesome experience. I didn't really have any doubts about how much I would enjoy the game, but getting to try it for myself made me even more confident that Remake will be an incredible game.

Starting off, Square had a big mako reactor set up next to where attendees played the demo. It was glowing and beautiful and may have made me tear up a little. They also had Cloud's bike set up and you could sit on it and take a 180 picture with it. I was really happy to see such a large setup for FFVII as the past few years I've been at PAX Square didn't really do anything super elaborate, even for KH3 last year. When you got in line for the motorbike, there was a wall covered with pictures of concept art that was, once again, beautiful. They showed art of the interior of the Shinra building and of some of the enemies encountered in the early stages of the game.

When it came time to play the demo (you line up at the start of the day, receive a ticket with an hour long time window and come back at the time on the ticket to play the game, which is exponentially better than waiting in line for 3 hours) I lined up outside the little room they had set up, which on the outside was trying to mimic the feel of a train station, with train times up on a screen on the wall (in Japanese) Shinra crates stacked against a wall, Loveless posters and employees who either wore Shinra polo shirts or were dressed like Turks. When we were let into the room, they sat us down in front of 3 screens and let us ask questions (very wholesomely, all of the questions asked were concern toward the man presenting to us, who said at the beginning that after he was finished he would finally get to rest. "Are you staying hydrated?" And "how are you enjoying the con?" Were asked.) They then showed us a Shinra advertisement all about "were doing great work bla bla bla propaganda" before the video went static and was intercepted by Jessie, who went on to explain how to play the game. There were red flashing lights in the room that made things very immersive.

After this, we were led out to the demo screens and got right into it. Gameplay is very smooth and out of all the real time action I have played in a Square Enix game, it felt the best. I think fans of turn based will be very pleased with tactical mode and the menus.

One thing I liked about VIIR compared to XV was that the menus don't pause time completely, just slow it down. This gives you time to choose commands, spells, or heal, but doesn't just let you dick around for 5 minutes during a boss trying to decide between a potion or a hi-potion. You need to manage your time carefully and make sure you have a plan before you open the menu. Using healing items also consumes an ATB gauge, so you need to be strategic about when to heal. One of the things that annoyed me about XV was that it wasn't difficult at all, just tedious. I'm optimistic about VII changing this.

Cloud and Barret were both very fun to play, and I liked that switching between them felt not only fun but necessary. My strategy for the boss fight was to shoot at long range with Barret, hitting the boss with lightning whenever possible, then switching to Cloud when the enemy was staggered or when Cloud got his limit break. Bouncing between them was fun and very fast and easy, making the gameplay feel very natural and smooth.

I was also pretty surprised to find myself finally accepting the new voice for Cloud. I thought in the segment I heard him in he sounded pretty good, basically what a younger Steve Burton would sound like, which I'm sure is what they were going for. Barret is definitely an improvement on his Advent Children appearance, both in his voice and design.

When I beat the boss I felt very satisfied and incredibly excited. March can't come fast enough!

[frogsandfries]

It's hot

My dad wants me to rent a camp site this week, so I think he's going to pay for me to be at the state park for a week. At least there, as long as I don't make an utter disgusting mess, no one will mind if I'm tearing stuff apart in my van.

I had a lot of back and forth with myself.

Today, my dad and I showed up at work, the place I've decided isn't hell enough to ask for another assignment; the place I've decided I want to try to get hired on and see how far up the totem pole I can climb before I move on. I had a suspicion when I didn't see any of the other temps, then the QCer confirmed my suspicion and elucidated: They don't have work for the temps till Monday. Soooo...... that's a bummer. Personally, I don't <i>need </i> a lot of money right now, but more money would help me get my shit together. Being hired on at a place, even if I only stay for six months, getting a lot of experience under my belt, could help me find another similar establishment and perhaps walk in through the front door, and if I'm lucky, I can continue my vertical ascension. Honestly I just need money, I need a job to get money, I need money to fix up my abode. I'll stay, because I can afford to be stubborn, and this scrabble for people that factories do only to give temps more days off than on is part of the test. I know that, like I realize that some of these Spanish speakers know English well and would fuck with me to test me. I can afford to be stubborn, because I'm looking at the big picture.

But I do need money to get this van in order.

I need to strip out the original interior and build new furnishings. I need more ceiling space and I need to round up everything my dad has held onto for me. I need to get it sorted out and stored or disposed of appropriately. If I move in an orderly manner, instead of letting (lack of) money and priority drive me, I realize I will be more happy with the process and more satisfied with the result. It may take more time to move logically rather than impulsively, but I believe this is best. I need to temper my patience. As such, I need to realize that there are tasks that will be unpleasant to put off, and as such, there are makeshift tasks that will need to be tended to.

For example, I desperately need to reveal the whole carpet this weekend, sweep or vacuum it (perhaps I should find my old handheld vacuum) and the carpet needs to be sprayed with freshener. Of course, after I've bombed the carpet, I'll need all the doors opened so I don't gas myself like I did last time.

I believe after that, another necessary task will be to remove the bench and the lift. I'll need to make some calls and send some emails. I suppose tomorrow would be a good time to do that. I hope removing the bench, as it's one fibrous element in this van that I can't effectively drown in Fabreeze, will remove another layer of the existing smell.

I've spent all day contemplating the temporary pop-up top that I ideated yesterday, another technique I could use in an effort to create more space a little at a time.I'm not sure how high I can legally go, and I hadn't really put much thought into how the roof would stay fixed at speed, but that could be a simple enough affair. It might be a little weird, but I think having that space in the middle right away would really help. I have trouble with the stupidest shit with the standard roof right now, like making my bed and getting dressed, navigating my living space effectively--crawling or "walking on my knees" is not effective or comfortable. Putting my hands in the filthy carpet is utterly disgusting.

I don't really know when I would put this pop-up roof thing on my agenda, but probably between my futon and getting my stuff out of my dad's way. So........ maybe I would actually, like with the rest of the process, start in the back....? Doing that would help with this urge I feel to include my ceiling in my demo/revamp....... but money....... money money money..................I don't even know how much a sheet of pink foam is going to cost. What am I going to cover the foam with? How am I supposed to attach the foam? Silicone?? That's what keeps coming to mind. Maybe I'll find my answer behind the existing plastic paneling.

Another thought I keep having is how my back doors are going to meet when they're closed. Folks tend to complain about pink foam and other hard insulation squeaking when the vehicle is moved. Plus, I keep leaning toward keeping the doors free, not building over them. Maybe not yet. So...... not wood between the insulation on the doors. Plus, my creative instinct is to cover my tracks, to conceal my hand in my work, so that if you open any door I work on, it looks clean; it looks put together, it matches the interior that it belongs to. Perhaps wood, sealed with an enamel finish. I should get a picture of this gap of paneling between these doors. It makes me a little nervous, like the doors are never closed well enough.

Then the questions come to the desk. I already know I'm rebuilding the corners, at least about the space of the window, as shelving. I need one cubby space for my five-drawer of tools and bits and bobs, and I need a second cubby for my three-drawer of pens. Beyond that, a vague inclination toward space for WIP, a space for a printer. I'm not sure how I would pull off a good computer. Perhaps I would leave off my fantasies for an all-in-one and settle for a nice tower PC. I would have curtains, good blackout curtains. Maybe there's a way I could store computer out of sight and work on my laptop with the windows open sometimes. But I think as I was originally inclined, the desk would stay available all the time. Or perhaps it could fold down. That would either make it impossible to store much under the desk, or defeat the whole purpose of having a drop down desk? Maybe I'm going about that wrong. I guess I could make an even deeper desk if it had a drop leaf. I could still keep additional storage beneath the drop leaf, like my computer, and the computer could be entirely out of sight unless I was using it. I could also create a storage space to prevent my chair from rolling and falling wherever gravity wants it. In the course of using my desk, the drop leaf would get dirty and damaged, so I'm not sure how I would feel about that.

I'm going to need to build some sort of framework for the desk..... and everything else. I'm not much for planning. I find that planning doesn't leave much room for responding to reality. Or exposes you entirely to working from what reality gives you. I'm not sure how far I'm going to get, this weekend or on whatever money I can pinch together on materials. Like, I may be stuck seeing what I can muster up with one sheet of foam and a screwdriver. I still need to get a jug of water, (I'm going to try Velcro for the curtains, and maybe later, I can repurpose it for window screens next summer) and some more clothes for work and I need groceries and I only got twenty-six out of fifty hours this week, so that's what my second check is going to look like. I'm off to a bumpy start on this new job. I had to take a sick day last week <i>and</i> I got sent home early. I'm really, seriously starting to wonder how much they actually need this help or if they asked for too much, expecting less, and they got more. Maybe they're just sort of stumbling over their own feet, trying to get things put together without enough of the right workers? It's an older establishment in a new location, expanding. They have machinery waiting for new homes, they have processing areas separated by curtains while they wait for walls. One "sanitary room" is currently open to the warehouse. But if I stick around, I'm guaranteed to hire on and there's guaranteed to be work.

But my bank account has been hurting pretty much all year and this job isn't helping me close the gap as promised. I just hope that fifty hour bonus was universal, that it didn't expire after my first week. That would ease some pain.

After much musing, it's finally beginning to cool down. What a relief.

Too bad I can't do too much till dawn. So I guess maybe I'll try to look up a couple things, then put my audio book back on and keep stitching.

I wonder if the walls will be thinner when I'm done. This paneling right now makes me think of a old lady's glasses, making her eyes look too big--the paneling looks too big when you get to looking at it. I know without a doubt, the walls will be better insulated. Right now, from what I've seen, the factory insulation is like they brushed glue on Tyne inside of the paneling and squished it in a bed of like recycled fiber. My dad had a pair of ancient, well-worn elbow pillows*, when I was really young. He tried to wash one of them at the laundromat and I learned why those pillow were so firm--the "insulation" in this van reminds me of that pillow filling.

*And this is why I will never be satisfied with those shitty, overly soft elbow pillows they sell at Wal-Mart.