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killfaeh · 3 years

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Péguy

Hi everybody! In this news feed I've told you a few times about a project I named Péguy. Well today I dedicate a complete article to it to present it to you in more detail but also to show you the new features I brought to it at the beginning of the winter. It's not the priority project (right now it's TGCM Comics) but I needed a little break during the holidays and coding vector graphics and 3D, it's a little bit addictive like playing Lego. x) Let's go then!

Péguy, what is it?

It is a procedural generator of patterns, graphic effects and other scenery elements to speed up the realization of my drawings for my comics. Basically, I enter a few parameters, click on a button, and my program generates a more or less regular pattern on its own. The first lines of code were written in 2018 and since then, this tool has been constantly being enriched and helping me to work faster on my comics. :D This project is coded with web languages and generates vector patterns in the format SVG. In the beginning it was just small scripts that had to be modified directly to change the parameters and run individually for each effect or pattern generated.

Not very user friendly, is it? :’D

This first version was used on episode 2 of Dragon Cat's Galaxia 1/2. During 2019 I thought it would be more practical to gather all these scripts and integrate them into a graphical user interface. Since then, I have enriched it with new features and improved its ergonomics to save more and more time. Here is a small sample of what can be produced with Péguy currently.

Graphic effects typical of manga and paving patterns in perspective or plated on a cylinder. All these features were used on Tarkhan and Gonakin. I plan to put this project online, but in order for it to be usable by others than me, I still need to fix a few ergonomy issues. For the moment, to recover the rendering, you still need to open the browser debugger to find and copy the HTML node that contains the SVG. In other words, if you don't know the HTML structure by heart, it's not practical. 8D

A 3D module!

The 2020 new feature is that I started to develop a 3D module. The idea, in the long run, is to be able to build my comics backgrounds, at least the architectural ones, a bit like a Lego game. The interface is really still under development, a lot of things are missing, but basically it's going to look like this.

So there's no shortage of 3D modeling software, so why am I making one? What will make my project stand out from what already exists? First, navigation around the 3D workspace. In short, the movement of the camera. Well please excuse me, but in Blender, Maya, Sketchup and so on, to be able to frame according to your needs to get a rendering, it's just a pain in the ass! So I developed a more practical camera navigation system depending on whether you're modeling an object or placing it in a map. The idea is to take inspiration from the map editors in some video games (like Age of Empire). Secondly, I'm going to propose a small innovation. When you model an object in Blender or something else, it will always be frozen and if you use it several times in an environment, it will be strictly identical, which can be annoying for natural elements like trees for example. So I'm going to develop a kind of little "language" that will allow you to make an object customizable and incorporate random components. Thus, with a single definition for an object, we can obtain an infinite number of different instances, with random components for natural elements and variables such as the number of floors for a building. I had already developed a prototype of this system many years ago in Java. I'm going to retrieve it and adapt it to Javascript. And the last peculiarity will be in the proposed renderings. As this is about making comics (especially in black and white in my case), I'm developing a whole bunch of shaders to generate lines, screentones and other hatchings automatically with the possibility to use patterns generated in the existing vector module as textures! :D

What are shaders?

Well, you see the principle of post-production in cinema... (Editing, sound effects, various corrections, special effects... all the finishing work after shooting). Well, shaders are about the same principle. They are programs executed just after the calculation of the 3D object as it should appear on the screen. They allow to apply patches, deformations, effects, filters... As long as you are not angry with mathematics, there is only limit to your imagination! :D When you enter a normal vector in a color variable it gives funny results.

Yes! It's really with math that you can display all these things. :D Now when you hear a smart guy tell you that math is cold, it's the opposite of art or incompatible with art... it's dry toast, you'll know it's ignorance. :p Math is a tool just like the brush, it's all about knowing how to use it. :D In truth, science is a representation of reality in the same way as a painting. It is photorealistic in the extreme, but it is nevertheless a human construction used to describe nature. It remains an approximation of reality that continually escapes us and we try to fill in the margins of error over the centuries... Just like classical painting did. But by the way? Aren't there a bunch of great painters who were also scholars, mathematicians? Yes, there are! Look hard! The Renaissance is a good breeding ground. x) In short! Physics is a painting and mathematics is its brush. But in painting, we don't only do figurative, not only realism, we can give free rein to our inspiration to stylize our representation of the world or make it abstract. Well like any good brush, mathematics allows the same fantasy! All it takes is a little imagination for that. Hold, for example, the good old Spirograph from our childhood. We all had one! Well, these pretty patterns drawn with the bic are nothing else than... parametric equations that make the students of math sup/math spe suffer. 8D Even the famous celtic triskelion can be calculated from parametric equations. Well, I digress, I digress, but let's get back to our shaders. Since you can do whatever you want with it, I worked on typical manga effects. By combining the Dot Pattern Generator and the Hatch Generator but display them in white, I was able to simulate a scratch effect on screentones.

In the traditional way it is an effect that is obtained by scraping the screentones with a cutter or similar tool.

Péguy will therefore be able to calculate this effect alone on a 3D scene. :D I extended this effect with a pattern calculated in SVG. So it will be possible to use the patterns created in the vector module as textures for the 3D module! Here it is a pattern of dots distributed according to a Fibonacci spiral (I used a similar pattern in Tarkhan to make stone textures, very commonly used in manga).

Bump mapping

So this is where things get really interesting. We stay in the shaders but we're going to give an extra dimension to our rendering. Basically, bump mapping consists in creating a bas-relief effect from a high map. And it gives this kind of result.

The defined object is always a simple cylinder (with 2 radii). It is the shaders that apply the pixel shift and recalculate the lighting thanks to the high map that looks like this.

This texture has also been calculated automatically in SVG. Thus we can dynamically set the number of bricks. Well, this bas-relief story is very nice, but here we have a relatively realistic lighting, and we would like it to look like a drawing. So by applying a threshold to have an area lit in white, a second threshold to have shadow areas in black, by applying the screentone pattern to the rest and by adding the hatching that simulates the scraped screentone, here is the result!

It's like a manga from the 80's! :D I tested this rendering with other screentone patterns: Fibonnacci spiral dots, parallel lines or lines that follow the shape of the object.

Now we know what Péguy can do. I think I can enrich this rendering a bit more with the shaders but the next time I work on this project the biggest part of the job will be to create what we call primitives, basic geometric objects. After that I can start assembling them. The concept of drawing while coding is so much fun that I'm starting to think about trying to make complete illustrations like this or making the backgrounds for some comic book projects only with Péguy just for the artistic process. Finding tricks to generate organic objects, especially plants should be fun too. That's all for today. Next time we'll talk about drawing! Have a nice week-end and see you soon! :D Suisei

P.S. If you want miss no news and if you haven't already done so, you can subscribe to the newsletter here : https://www.suiseipark.com/User/SubscribeNewsletter/language/english/

Source : https://www.suiseipark.com/News/Entry/id/302/

#manga #software #screentones #halftones

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olliepig · 4 years

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After Effects

Very tenuously linked to Reflections although this actually comes before it in the time line.

Many, many thanks to @gumnut-logic for listening to my complaining over the last few days!

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Scott slumped on his bed and angrily threw his tie in the corner, as if it had been the cause of his bad day. It hadn’t of course, but sometimes the self-control he fought so constantly to maintain in front of his family meant that the only way to feel better was to take things out on inanimate objects. It had been 3 months since their father had gone missing but it was only today that the reality that he wasn’t coming back had truly hit home. The idea of a memorial service wasn’t Scott’s but once it had been mentioned it was impossible to ignore and so he had found himself caught up in helping to plan and organise something he really, deeply didn’t want any part of. He had felt that because he had been the one to make the call to end the search and restart operations he was unable to argue about the logic of having a service for someone they didn’t know for definite was gone. Thinking back on it later, he realised that it wasn’t so much that he wasn’t sure about the outcome of the explosion of the Zero X, it was that he really didn’t want to be as certain as he was. And so here they all were, home again after the service and officially starting their lives with no parents to guide them.

He was exhausted after the day. It had been emotionally draining on all of them and they had all been keen to retreat back home afterwards to regroup as a family so he had flown them back to the island despite the fact that it would be nearly morning before they landed. Alan had slept most of the way home and Scott had scooped him up in his arms, carrying him up from the hangar just as his father had before him before carefully placing his baby brother in bed and sitting with him until he was sure that he was fast asleep once more. His already broken heart ached for the kid – only eleven years old and already an orphan. Adding to Scott’s worries was how on earth he was supposed to bring up his brother in a way that would make his dad proud. It was yet another thing on the seemingly never-ending list of unexpected responsibilities that had heaped themselves on his shoulders over the past 12 weeks which he was trying very hard not to think about.

Coming back to himself and shaking his head slightly to derail his thoughts from a track that he knew would end with him breaking down, he quickly decided that a run to clear his thoughts was exactly what he needed. Despite the late hour, he wasn’t ready for bed and he knew that even if he did go now he would just lie awake again as he had almost every other night since the accident. Throwing on some old clothes, he padded quietly out into the corridor, listening at Alan and Gordon’s doors to make sure that at least his two new charges were sleeping even if their older brothers were not yet. Without being told, he knew that John had retreated to his observatory as soon as they landed, chasing his beloved stars as the sky started to brighten from the inky black of night to the first blues of morning and Scott was certain that if he looked he would find him sleeping there again rather than in his bed, not to awaken until late in the morning. Grandma and Kayo were in their rooms, their doors both shut and with no light or sound coming from either. Virgil had disappeared, most likely to his studio after making sure 16-year-old Gordon was safely asleep for what was left of the night. Checking the whereabouts of what was left of his family had become habit for the eldest and he had found himself unable to even attempt sleep until he knew everyone was safe.

Without paying attention to where he was going, Scott’s feet took him through the house on a well-worn route. With his thoughts otherwise engaged on the events of the day, when he finally reached his destination and looked up he was surprised to find himself not outside on his favourite trail but in the hangar, staring at his little private jet – a smart little two-seater that he had bought with his father not long before, with the intention of using it to teach his youngest brothers to fly when the time came. Unable to resist the lure of the sky, he pulled on his flight suit and turned, catching sight of his dad’s personal jet sitting lonely and unused in its usual corner. He’d been studiously avoiding that side of the hangar for the last 3 months and seeing it forcefully rammed the truth home, sending a sharp stab through his chest. He faltered for a moment, suddenly unsure of himself before regaining control of his thoughts and, choosing to block reality out once more, he walked purposefully over to his plane and climbed in. The pre-flight checks centred and calmed him although the memory of his dad showing him how to do them when he first started flying all those years ago flashed into his mind, sending a second stabbing pain through his chest that he did his best to ignore as he started the engines and taxied out of the hangar.

“Scott…?” suddenly came Virgil’s concerned voice over the comms, no doubt alerted to his brother’s actions by the alarm that sounded in the house whenever the hangar door opened and jolting Scott out of his reverie.

“It’s OK, I’m just taking her up for a bit. I’m not going anywhere” Scott soothed. “I just need a bit of space after today.”

“OK then. Make sure you take it easy and don’t go too far. You’re clear for take-off” Virgil advised, knowing his tightly wound older brother’s need to escape for a while perhaps better than anyone.

Scott breathed a sigh of relief as the jet climbed effortlessly into the deep blue of the early morning. His natural habitat was the sky, as was the ocean for Gordon or the stars for John. For as long as he could remember he had longed to be airborne and as soon as he had that first taste of flight he felt most comfortable and relaxed amongst the clouds. It had been a special bond between father and son over the years and had informed every decision he had made, from what he studied at school to joining the air force to eventually leaving that dream behind to help form International Rescue. It was his place of solace and solitude, where he had worked out the answers to many of life’s problems and where he knew he would eventually find the calm that he so desperately needed.

However, it was anger that took over as Scott climbed above the clouds, and he tested the limits of the jet again and again, throwing it into steep climbs, dives and rolls. It had been there for 3 months but this was the first time he allowed himself to truly feel the bubbling hatred he felt, not just for the Hood but also for whatever idiot it was that built the Zero X in the first place and for the GDF for not being able to do their jobs and keeping the Hood from trying to steal something he so obviously would want. He seethed silently, anger masking his knowledge that every single aircraft had to go through the same procedures and that both he and his father had tested dozens of prototypes in their careers, pushing them beyond their limits with no serious incidents to report. The only difference here was that this was the one that took his dad away from him. Without warning, the anger he felt suddenly evaporated leaving him breathless and vulnerable enough that when the first wave of grief hit he was powerless to fight it. The defences against it that he’d fought so hard to erect since the accident crumbled under the onslaught and he felt the tears start to fall. Slowly at first, then faster and faster until his vision blurred and he had to take a hand off the controls to wipe them away in a futile gesture as more and more took their place. And how he wished the pain in his chest would go away – that one which seemed to simultaneously stab and ache. It had been bothering him on and off all day but now it seemed to choke him as he relinquished the aircraft to the autopilot and sobbed into his hands, gulping for air in between waves of grief he felt powerless to stop. He would be lying if he said that it was the first time he had broken down and cried for his father but it he had never allowed the desolation of his loss to overcome him so completely since that first day.

Way down below, Virgil sighed as he heard his biggest brother fall apart over the open comm line. He had watched with growing unease as the craft had been thrown around with increasing abandon, but as it levelled off and started circling above the island he sat back and allowed himself to relax slightly, despite his brother’s obvious distress. He knew Scott hadn’t given himself the time to grieve that he desperately needed; as usual, he’d thrown himself into making sure that everyone else was coping, burying his own emotions deep down where he didn’t have to deal with them until they became too much to bear and he ended up sobbing at 30,000 feet. He could well imagine what was going through his brother’s head as the very same thoughts had occupied his mind noisily and incessantly since the accident but however much he could empathise, the reality was that Scott had not simply lost his father. In one fell swoop, he had also gained so much responsibility that the younger man had to admit he was worried that what he was hearing was him cracking under the pressure of suddenly being the head of the family as well as being legally in charge of two businesses and two younger brothers, one of whom was Gordon. Virgil allowed himself a brief smile at that thought – Scott was going to go so grey, so quickly. Knowing that Scott would immediately push his own feelings away if he knew anyone was witness to his distress, he quietly muted his end of the comms channel so as not to disturb his brother, and sat back, continuing to monitor the flightpath. He had no idea how long Scott intended to fly for but he was damn sure he was going to give him the time he needed to get everything out his system without being interrupted. He just hoped that he would come back down of his own accord as he really didn’t want to have to try plucking him out of the sky in Two. Just as he was about to turn the open channel off he heard a small voice over the radio, nearly indecipherable from the sobs.

“I promise dad - I’ll keep them all safe for you. I’ll make you proud” Scott almost whispered, unaware that anyone could be listening in. And at that moment, Virgil knew that his role was going to be keeping his big brother safe, no matter what that entailed.

Slowly, the pain in Scott’s chest started to fade in its intensity and the tears that had threatened to completely overwhelm him slowed to a trickle. The sun’s first rays began to peek over the horizon, bathing the cockpit in a golden light and gently bringing the broken, weary man within back to reality. Taking control of the plane again he stifled a yawn and realised how tired he suddenly was. He had no idea how long he’d been circling his island home and he really, really wanted to be in his bed. Rubbing his eyes, he brought the plane around, in his haste losing altitude perhaps faster than he would usually choose to and landed neatly, taxiing into the hangar and quickly running through the post flight checks. Catching sight of himself reflected in the fuselage, he shuddered at the deep black rings circling his red, puffy eyes. Keen to not meet any stray brothers who would inevitably try to help, he took the less used service route up from the hangar to the main house and skirted around the main living area. Creeping as quietly as he could into his bedroom, he collapsed onto his bed still in his flight suit and was asleep instantly. Later that morning, Virgil smiled to himself as he checked on his still sleeping brother, relieved that he had finally found the release he needed and knowing that he would always be there to support him, whether he knew it or not.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy

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douchebagbrainwaves · 3 years

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I'VE BEEN PONDERING CHANGES

I have to say, but it seems like a decent hypothesis. It's just as well to let a big company, then you may need to be written as thin enough skins that users can see the two side by side that you notice how little overlap there is. Everyone is focused on this type of wealth through economic policy, it's hard to do it? You do tend to get a check within a week based on a half-page agreement. No philosopher ever refuted another, for example, would arguably be gross even if they had to make concessions. We did, and it was through personal contacts that we got most of the extra computer power we're given will go to waste. I look at the responses, the common theme is that starting a startup.

I don't know if it will work, but it won't hurt as much. The big bang guys. They know their audience. Not only does a society get the best man for the job, but parents' ambitions are diverted from direct methods to indirect ones—to actually trying to raise their kids well. People who want to get it from the rich. For better or worse, the just-do-it model and the careful model, I'd probably choose just-do-it model is fast, whether you're Dan Bricklin writing the prototype of VisiCalc in a weekend, or a carefully cropped image of a seacoast town in Maine. One thing hackers like is brevity. School. Even Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, Larry Ellison, Michael Dell, Jeff Bezos, Gordon Moore. By all means be optimistic about things you can't control. That would have led to disaster, because our software was so complex. Kill-or-cure strategies are optimal for VCs because they're protected by the portfolio effect.

Nothing is hidden from you that doesn't absolutely have to be willing to change your product. If you're writing for other people, you may be the sort of wealth that becomes self-perpetuating through an alliance with power. It might also be inevitable, if you roll a zero for luck, the outcome is zero. But this approach is hard to implement. Whereas when you're big you can maltreat them at will, and you rule the world. Everything that came to us through the mass media was a blandly uniform and b produced elsewhere. At the moment, even the government. There was then a fashionable type of program called an expert system, at the time, and both got their degrees. In some fields, like software or movies, this is the best nonfiction writer I know of, on any subject.

The more people who have incomplete information about prices. That's kind of hard to imagine. Today it may well be zero. Startups are certainly a large part of it. I were going to start a company now, you may never quite be able to be included in it. Wealth is what people want, and to allow programmers to use inline byte code if you need to know the type of every argument in every call in the program. You're just asking to be made a fool of, because these are such powerful forces. A restaurant with great food seem to prosper no matter what. Look at restaurants. And the Internet makes copies easy to distribute.

That's why things get so much better. A friend of mine who knows a lot about VCs during the 3 years we've been doing Y Combinator, I remembered. It's there to some degree; you'll find it awkward to be the scripting languages of web browsers. The course of people's lives in the US were designed by architects who expected to live in Silicon Valley, where you have to declare the types of arguments in the bottlenecks. For most of history a well-understood way into underlying s-expressions. My only leisure activities were running, which I needed to do, and even make major changes, as you might expect, is not very good. But just imagine calling Picasso the mercurial Spaniard when talking to a friend? What do they all have in common is that they're overconfident.

Even if your colleagues were impressed by your credentials, they'd soon be parted from you if your performance didn't match, because the schools adjust to suit whatever the tests measure. Like all illicit connections, the connection between wealth and power. For a lot of time imitating bad writers. Since the hundred-year language will work to varying degrees depending on how close you are to your current one. It seems safe to predict they will be 74 quintillion 73,786,976,294,838,206,464 times faster. So I think people who are mature and experienced, with a feeling of dread in the back to win. It must once have been inhabited by someone fairly eccentric, because a lot of restaurants around, not some dreary office park that's a wasteland after 6:00 PM. Others see what they've done and are full of wonder, but the pain of having this stupid controversy constantly reintroduced as the top idea in their mind at any given time. At the moment I'd almost say that a language has to be under the control of a single person to be any good. What you notice in the Forbes 400 are a lot of things.

Com, you should get all the users, and the bad gets ignored. The way people act is just as lumpy and idiosyncratic as the human body. So if you want to make a winning product. Believe it or not, programming languages are also for people, and I expect this to be as big a problem, you may find you no longer have such a target and to keep it. I thought it would be to start or join a startup. Letting focus groups design your cars for you only wins in the short term.1 Don't worry about people stealing your ideas. These are not early numbers. It would crush its competitors. They'll make sure that suing them is expensive and slows you down, why do nearly all companies do it?

I've found that it matters a lot how code lines up on the bottom. It's not unusual to get a job, your parents probably did, along with practically every other adult you've met. The reason Florence is famous is that in 1450, it was New York. More people are the right sort of person who could get away with using fancy language in prose.2 So I sent all the founders an email asking what surprised them most was the idea of having a lot of changes that have been forced on VCs, this change won't turn out to be as big a problem, you may never quite be able to make arbitrary transformations on the source code.3 They seem to have become professional fundraisers who do a little research on the side of a car are to speed. We used to call these guys newscasters, because they don't give customers what they want, which happens to be written in the language fits together like the parts in a fine camera. Sun did this to mainframes, and Intel is doing it to Sun. I would not feel confident saying that about investors twenty years ago. It seems like we ought to value the company at several million dollars.

Notes

We didn't know ourselves which VC firms expect to do something we didn't, they very often come back with my co-founders Mark Nitzberg and Olin Shivers at the command of the most part and you need to warn readers about, just as on Reddit, for an investor pushes you hard to ignore what your project does.

You can get for free. If the response doesn't come back; Apple can change them instantly if they want to start using whatever you make something hackers use. Most were wrong, but nothing else: no friends, TV, go running.

Cit. In some cases the process of applying is inevitably so arduous, and it would be to become more stratified. You end up reproducing some of those you can eliminate, do it. In principle companies aren't limited by the time 1992 the entire cross-country Internet bandwidth wasn't enough for one user.

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saintshinsou · 5 years

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“LAST TIMES” (1/2)

anonymous: yo can I get a request of overhaul being betrayed and abandoned by his s/o, who like helped free eri but because she still doesn’t trust heroes, joins the league of villains. Basically I want overhaul to get his ass beat for everything he did to eri by the person he loves lmao. (Bonus points if his s/o gives no shits about him after all he did)

authors note: this is so??? obnoxiously long?? IM SO SORRY. there will for sure be the part two where she betrays his ASS but i just wanted to build up, you know?? like THIS is why she’s gonna do what she’s about to do 😤

It wasn’t supposed to go like this, it was supposed to end differently. Overhaul had it all planned out for the two of them since the day he laid eyes on Y/N, step by step, detail after detail. Y/N was doing so well, being so good at following him along the destructive path he laid out for them even if it meant constantly losing pieces of herself along the way. The great cost, the end result of a perfect world Chisaki always promised her, always swayed her into forgiving him — knowing that they’d be happy together once this would all blow over.

She found herself reaching her breaking point soon, though.

With her own quirk, regeneration, came many experiments at Overhaul’s commands. They’d all center around the objective to see how far her quirk could be pushed, how much damage she could take before it would slow down and completely shut down. It was to test if it was a necessary quirk or not, Overhaul had vaguely explained to her when she confronted him one day after a long and painful day of having her body shot at multiple times.

It was proven easy for her to regret using up all her energy to trudge towards his office, slowing down her quirk’s work on healing her wounds in the process and leaving her to dirty the carpet that Chisaki had taken so much pride in having clean.

“We need to see if we really need this sickness on our side or if we should just eliminate it from you.”

Overhaul’s words served like a cd stuck on repeat, throwing her the same useless explanation he had been for the last couple of days with no emotion. Y/N took note of the way his gaze stayed focused on the pools of blood staining his floor while he idly sat at his desk, his priority being that instead of moving to help his significant other bleeding at his side.

“Please. No more, Overhaul.” Y/N pleaded as she weakly fell to her knees, her body completely drained from her futile effort to come here and beg for mercy from her tormenter.

All the claims of eternal love and sweet promises he whispered to her before seemed to mean nothing now when she processed that she going through all this pointless pain because of him. Glancing up at him through her eyelashes when she heard the smallest movement in the office chair, a tiny flame of false hope ignited inside her heart at the idea that he would take her in his arms and tell her that this was it, today was the last experiment day and he’d clean her right up, healing all the wounds that her own body was too weak to fix at the moment.

She was wrong. Extremely wrong.

Y/E/C eyes, sore from crying, helplessly watched Chisaki’s hand make its way for her hair, lovingly leaning into his touch while his fingers played with the strands of her blood and sweat drenched hair. It would be deemed small action to an outsider, something that would usually happen casually in any relationship but not with him. Never with him. This was one of the many actions, a tender moment, that she would cherish forever despite the circumstances; that is, until the next few seconds.

Y/N’s bruised body had slowly continued it’s (now) slow process of healing itself now that she was stable and at peace again, calmed by her boyfriend’s rare gentle touch when she fully relaxed in his hold. It was only a few seconds of bliss before she felt his hand furiously ball up her hair and pull her up to face him in his now rage filled eyes.

Legs struggling to hold her up and healing put on pause once again, she thought against pulling at his wrist since she knew from past experience that that would only worsen the situation at hand. Instead, she fearfully stared back at her boyfriend, waiting for him to explain what was the root of his anger this time and trying to ignore the throbbing pain in her head. Was it really because she was pleading for her life? Because she confessed that it was becoming all too painful?

“I told you to not come into my office until they cleaned off all the blood from you.”

Fingers gripping harder around her hair with strength she’s never experienced before, the words fell off his sharp tongue with little to no emotion in them and his stare never wavered from the mess she made. Y/N swore that if he hadn’t been holding on to her so tightly, his hands would be all over him and scratching the hives that were probably breaking out under his shirt. Not only did he have pools of blood staining his carpet but the blood from her gashes was beginning to spill on his clothes.

Overhaul was livid, using any bit of self-control he still had in his empty shell of a person to not murder her right there and then.

“Chisaki.”

The wretched name that was supposed to be forgotten between them slipped out of her bruised lip by accident. Overhaul’s hold on her and the pain from today’s experiment mixed together far too much, allowing her to speak the name without thinking of the repercussions that always came along with it. Y/N had made sure to avoid it so many times, always stopping herself before it made it past her lips but she was far too tired — her mind didn’t have the energy to recall all the little rules and precautions she had to take in his presence.

“Let’s just make it easier for you already, then.”

It all happened too fast, a blur to her with her weakened senses. Overhaul had tossed her on the floor with all the force he could muster up and pulled the gun out of his desk swiftly, giving her little to not time to process what was going on until she was met with a gun between her eyebrows.

“Would you like me to shoot you with this prototype or would you like me to continuously disassemble your body until your quirk won’t help you anymore?”

Y/N knew him. She knew he wouldn’t resort to any of those options, at least not now but she didn’t want to find out what would happen if it wouldn’t be those two.

“‘No.” Vigorously shaking her head at either option, she ignored the warm sensation of fresh tears spilling from her tired eyes when she felt the barrel of the gun press into her skin.

“So, what should your next move be here then, darling?”

“I...apologize.” It was hesitant, too hesitant for his liking but he just wanted to get this whole mess cleaned up as fast as he could. “I’m extremely sorry for not seeing the bigger picture, Overhaul. Please continue the experiments as long as you please.”

Satisfied, he returned the gun back to its rightful place in his desk and pulled her back on her feet with less hostility this time, leading her back to get bathed and healed up. The last thing she remembered from that night was looking up at his beautiful evil face and passing out in his arms halfway to their room.

She was tired. She was drained. She was pushing her body to dangerous limits she never dreamed of but it was all for him, all for the success he continuously promised her. It seemed as though recently she’d been painfully pushing herself to do a lot of questionable things for him, though. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take from him.

It had just been three weeks since the messy incident in his office, three weeks since her last experiment. Overhaul had claimed that they were unnecessary now, that he had received all the information he needed on her quirk and it’d be a waste of resources and time to continue. They had to focus on the bigger picture now before they ran out of time, he had told his men after delivering the painful conclusion he came to from the experiments to Y/N.

Overhaul’s final decision on her experiments made her regret every crying to him about the pain. ‘I should’ve just taken it’ was the only thought on her mind when the sharp pain from the bullet worked it’s ‘magic’ on her.

“It should be permanent.” Were the only words Chisaki Kai spoke to his significant other after shooting them, excusing himself to attend to other business after patching up her wound for her — the only act of kindness she would get from him today.

She hated him.

She absolutely hated him.

The one and only source of protection she had against his fits of anger was gone, ripped away from her by hands that only sought destruction. Thoughts of leaving him and dropping off the face of the earth clouded her mind while she, ironically, headed to his office in search of more pain killers that he deemed safe enough for her. Sadness was immediately replaced with anger when she thought of how useless she’d be out there in the real world now without her quirk. Even if she ran away, how far could she really get from him and his men with no quirk?

Y/N’s thoughts of escape were halted when someone ran into her, bringing her back to the reality she was forced to call her life. Looking down, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion when she was met with the sight of a child covered in bandages. Upon noticing that she didn’t mean any harm like Overhaul and Chrono did back there, the child frighteningly took Y/N’s gentle hand and looked up at her with pleading eyes.

“What are you doing in here?” Y/N asked the young child, noticing the familiar expression of pain and sadness adorning her young and innocent facial features; a combination of emotions that she herself found a habit for her to feel within these walls.

“Help me.”

Two simple words and Eri’s look of pure fear tiggers at Y/N’s heartstrings. Crouching down to her level, ignoring the pain that was beginning to travel through her body from her wound, she busied herself with wiping away Eri’s tears and squeezing her hand in a comforting way she remembered her own mother doing to her when she was the same age.

Just as she was about to speak up, a pair of loud footsteps made the girls look over to where Chrono and Overhaul entered the hallway. The hatred Y/N had building up for Overhaul only grew when she observed the way Eri clung to her at the sight of her boyfriend.

“Thank you so much for catching the child for me, sweetheart. Would you please hand her over to Chrono so we can continue on with the experiments?”

She knew the romantic pet name and the faux kindness in his voice was all a trick. Overhaul wasn’t an idiot, he had immediately noticed the way that Y/N protectively held Eri and the way she was looking up at him with pure hatred on her face.

“You’re doing experiments...on a child?”

Overhaul had already excused her action of looking at him so disrespectfully but the way she spoke to him, with pure disgust, was beginning to annoy him especially when she had no idea how valuable the child in her hands was. Stepping closer to them, Y/N held onto Eri tighter as if that would make a difference in stopping whatever he had planned for them. Y/N knew each step Overhaul took closer to them was just shortening the amount of time she had before she met up with his wrath again.

The motherly instinct in her just hoped that she would be the only one he’d go after right now even if the lack of quirk on her part put her less at ease.

“You are in no position to question what I’m doing for our future.” Overhaul distastefully looked down at them, gloved fists balling up at his sides when he looked down at the pitiful girl he once fell in love with, noticing how far she had gone from being his perfect, little, obedient Y/N. “She is the key to making this world better—“

“She’s just a kid. What the hell do you need to do experiments on a kid for?” Pushing Eri behind her and standing up to meet Overhaul, she stood in between them to serve as a makeshift shield. ”You’re sick. You’re so fucking sick.”

“I’m starting to think you’re getting a little too comfortable. I’ll need to fix that soon once we get time.” Seizing by the throat, he pushed her weakened body up against the wall, gaining a whimper from Eri as she watched the scene unfold right in front of her. “My love for you will only excuse so much so I’d suggest getting back in line before I murder you with own two hands.”

Overhaul’s words seemed to have not processed within her when she focused on taking him in, instead. It was frightening to think that she was once in love with this man that was currently squeezing her throat so hard that she could barely steal a single breath. The fire in her heart that she once had for him was hastily blown out the moment he wrapped his fingers around her throat, the rose-colored glasses she had for him falling off, as well.

Y/N saw him for what he was now, a horrible human being who had no idea how to show love to anyone especially not her. Their was no future he had planned out for them, it was just a future he had planned out for himself and maybe he would decide if he deemed Y/N worthy of tagging along but she didn’t want that anymore. She didn’t want to prove herself worthy to him anymore.

“Apologize.” Bringing herself back to the scene she was forced to be in, she felt Overhaul’s grip loosen up to give her the opportunity to speak up.

The silence on her part wasn’t working in her favor, whatsoever. Eri and Chrono flinched at the sound of the hard slap bouncing off the hallway’s walls, Y/N’s cheek stained a violent red from the impact with tiny droplets of blood dribbling down her once clean skin. It hurt, it hurt so much but she knew he could do worse if he really wanted to.

“Now.”

“I’m sorry, Overhaul.”

It seemed robotic at this point. Three words that had been so ingrained into her brain from being with him that they just came out whenever he wanted, no genuine sorry-ness ever crossing her mind anymore.

“Now apologize to Eri for causing such a scene in front of her.” Harsh fingers moved from her throat to her chin, forcing her to look over at where Eri was looking at them with tears adorning her flushed cheeks. “She’s only a child, Y/N, how dare you scare her with your vulgar words and a loud tone?”

“I’m sorry, Eri.”

Eri.

Her name was Eri.

“Go back to our room and finish getting ready. We have a meeting with the league of villain’s leader coming up soon.”

Roughly pushing her to the side, he signaled for Chrono to take Eri now and started heading back towards the experimental room where Y/N had spent her own previous days in. If she didn’t know Overhaul’s true colors, she would think that the scene in front of her was adorable. Chrono was holding Eri in his arms as Overhaul calmly spoke to her, his eyes scrunched up as he smiled down at her even though his words were far from friendly.

“Do you see what you make me do, Eri? If you hadn’t been a brat and ran away, I wouldn’t have to be so mean to my girlfriend. She might hate me now because of you.”

Y/N’s heart broke at the sound of Eri crying at Overhaul’s words, thinking that it was really her fault for everything that was going on when it was actually far from the truth. Cradling her swollen cheek in her hand and thinking back to Eri’s poor face, she came to her decision. She had to leave. She had to leave with Eri, now. If not for herself, at least for Eri.

#overhaul x reader #overhaul imagine #chisaki kai x reader

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canvaswolfdoll · 4 years

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CanvasWatches: Id: Invaded

Okay, what if we could catch serial killers by entering their subconscious minds (referred to as an Id-Well), where the amnesiac avatar of a investigator must search for clues while also solving a murder mystery created within the bounds of a fantastic, mind bending world? Isn’t that an amazing premise for a combination platformer/puzzle video game?

Anyways, Id: Invaded is an anime. The only major complaint I have is how I would much rather be playing it than watching the proceedings, which probably just means it’s got a good concept.

Uh… it’s a mystery show with a season long arc and character progression so… spoilers? It’s a good show if you’re into that stuff. Handles grit and mature themes well, but… well, mature themes and violent images abound. So be careful of that.

So that’s the spoiler warning.

After watching the first episode and learning the basic concept, two truths were immediately evident: the young-looking police girl (Koharu Hondomachi) hearing the exposition is going to kill someone so she’ll be a candidate to dive into the id-well, and the elderly director guy overseeing the project is 100% the big bad.

Still, just because a couple things are easily solved by knowledge of narratives doesn’t mean there aren’t surprises. Like trepanning is a plot-important element in this for… some reason… it gives a secondary character superpowers!

Don’t… don’t blindly emulate your media, kids.[1]

The first couple of episodes telegraph what elements to pay attention to pretty clearly. Hondomachi is wide-eyed and overly interested in the Id Well machinations, and asks about how one becomes a candidate for entering the machine, and doesn’t look put out by the need to be a killer.[2] She also headbutts a drill to assist in the capture of the first serial killer of the show, so she’s not hesitant to take extreme measures. Which leaves the question: will she kill with the intention of joining the Id Well delving team?

Meanwhile, Takuhiko Hayaseura appears only long enough to be marked as important, but he doesn’t take an active part in the plot. Then the mysterious John Walker Phantom appears with similar old man body language, those dots are connected and you just have to wait for the plot to catch up.

Finally, our protagonist, Narihisago, dwells on wanting to save the perpetual victim of these murder dinner parties he’s investigating, signalling that Kaeru is more than a prop of the gimmick. I didn’t have enough details to take a guess at what her larger role would be, so the reveal in the later episodes was a successful twist.

There is a small tragedy with the structure of the anime course. While I typically prefer the 12 to 24 episode style, as it allows for limits for the artists to work with (like a trellis), and means that the series maintains a consistent narrative without flailing about to maintain momentum until given permission to die, we occasionally get a show like Id: Invaded where the central gimmick lends itself so well to an episodic, killer of the week style stories that I just want to watch the variations and not care too much about the myth arc. Because it’s set to conclude with episode 13, the show can only play with the gimmick for about half the course before having to buckle down and start telling the larger narrative, leaving me yearning for more new id wells and mysteries.

If the show were twice as long, it would’ve been able to play with the gimmick more, and have space to flesh out the investigative team to have actually interesting characters.

The first episodes introduce six characters watching Narhisago and analyzing the world around him to deduce the actual identity of the serial killer, but they have very little dialogue outside of exposition, and their mystery is opaque to the viewer until they solve it. The team could’ve been cut in half without losing anything.

But if Id:Invaded had two cours to stretch out and tell stories, the investigation team could have subplots and character revealing dialogue. But there’s no space for them, so… lost potential.

In fact, if this story was told as a video game,[3] there’d be plenty of space for the Wellside team to have incidental dialogue to develop them. The audience/player can also get more direct satisfaction out of solving the gimmick of each Id-Well, as they get to directly utilize the solution to complete the level. If the hypothetical game takes a page from Pheonix Wright, which is the game I most mentally aligned with the show, there can also be a section after the level where the clues found within the level can be analyzed and the player gets to piece together who the killed is.

It’d be fun.

But… er… the actual story.

It’s fine. The characters make a lot about learning who this John Walker fellow is, but the obvious culprit is sitting right there, so the viewer is just patiently waiting for the characters to catch up, amusing themselves with the episodic portion of the story.

Then, a twist: they find the device used to enter Id-Wells within an Id-Well. So, what would happen if someone used it?

So our protagonist does, and finds himself seemingly back in the real world, though before the death of his wife and daughter. He can set right what once went wrong!

Although… he knows this can’t be real. He remembers everything that led him here, so surely this is permanent.

But what if it is?

First order of business: Narihisago sequence breaks and puts a stop to the serial killer who murdered his daughter early, the fight placing him in the hospital, where he finds… Kaeru? Except her name’s Kiki, and when she sleeps, those around her experience her dreams.

Dreams where she’s constantly getting murdered, often in very brutal fashion. Huh.

Despite the characters attempting to lean into the mysterious nature of the machine allowing them to place people into Id-Wells, I took it for granted and assumed it wouldn’t need explanation.

Instead, we learn Kiki’s power is being exploited to enable the gimmick, which I should have seen coming considering how much the anime is built on women suffering.[4]

Eventually, Narihisago and Hondomachi (the girl who becomes a second Id-Well diver partway through) are able to use the time and space given in this recreated past to find a solid lead on who John Walker is. Just in time for the system to kick them out and for them to climb back out to actual reality.

Hayaseura, learning the jig is up, releases Kiki from the hidden chamber she’s been in, and lets her loose, where her powers rage out of control and pull everyone in the building into various Id-Wells.

He then goes to the chamber with the machines allowing the well-dives, and upon being confronted, he activates a machine to take him in as he shoots himself, intending to wreak havoc in the collective unconscious or whatever.

In hindsight, they probably could’ve just unplugged him and moved on to resolve the Kiki problem. Instead, our nominal[5] heroes follow him in for the final confrontation!

Then Covid-19 struck, and I had to wait three months for the final episode to get dubbed!

All my dubs are delayed. Which is fine. It’s fine and fair. I don’t want anyone to risk themselves just for my entertainment, but I’m allowed to be a little disappointed by fate.

So after a three month delay, I sit down to watch the final episode, not bothering to rewatch anything because I’ve waited three months and a not insignificant portion of my motivation was to just finish the dang thing.

The final episode was okay. The two detective characters work together to outwit John Walker, sending him to the time displaced universe via a machine in the Id-Well of someone who’s now dead.

Which… upon reflection, isn’t a permanent solution. Both Narihisago and Hondomachi went through that experience, and eventually got ejected to their original Id-Wells, and the death of an Id-Well’s owner doesn’t collapse the place (as proved by Hayaseura/John Walker using his own Id-Well to jump about despite being dead himself.

Outside the Id-Wells, the leader of the Wellside Team puts on a prototype suit version of the machine to attempt to get Kiki to stop making a mess of the building. He meets up with her, refuses to shoot her, and they all agree to put her back and maybe try and solve her problem.

So, at the end of the series, we’re mostly back where we started: using an applied phlebotinum girl to chase serial killers. Which keeps the premise open for a sequel,[6] but they’ll need to write a new overarching plot, as I don’t thinking curing Kiki’s dream projections lines up as a murder mystery. It’s possible, but I find it unlikely.

In the end, I enjoyed the show, and I’m glad I watched it. I’d recommend it to anyone looking for a more obscure anime after getting through the Canon of the artform. Still, the amount of female characters suffering, to the point that the plot itself operates off a woman’s suffering is uncomfortable. If there is more, hopefully they can lean off that element.

Also, let me reiterate one last time how Id:Invaded would make a great video game. I buy that Visual Novel in a snap.

Kataal kataal.

[1] Not that kids should watch this one. [2] The reason for this limitation is not explained, and is likely unimportant. [3] A desire I wasn’t being facetious about. [4] Most of the murder victims are woman, and there’s a worrying tendency for the killer’s methods to be based on maiming. [5] All three are killers: one a serial killer killer, a second a killer due to self-defense, and the last just a straight serial killer who happened to be useful. [6] And, indeed, a manga continuation started at the same time as the show, so the premise lives.

#CanvasWatches #id:invaded #anime #CanvasReviews

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dannychoo · 4 years

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Say hello to Starlight in cinnamon! Sales of her & Felicity in milk are on hold as we are over capacity. We are on a 4 day work week to reduce the amount of time our team has to spend on trains due to Covid. The 20% reduction in wo/man power has had a huge impact on our production capacity. Will release the remaining stock when our team can get round to it. Unfortunately we don't do rush jobs which involves longer working hours and a reduction in quality - things will be ready when they are ready ;-) We plan to have milk option parts around as long as we continue to make milk tone anime licensed characters - Ichinose Shiki & C.C. will be released by end of year - both are delayed due to the virus affecting our partners Sunrise & Bandai Namco. Many of the other girls in Code Geass & Idol Master released beyond 2020 will also be in milk. However there is another reason why we have had to reduce the amount of regular skin tones. The slush casting industry in Japan which has always been in decline is now only down to a handful of factories. One of the factories we work with has decided to pack it in during the pandemic which basically means that the amount of vinyl we can get per month is greatly diminished. The Interstellar blue skin is prototyping now. The pre-covid plan was always to have it available in limited batches and I think we can use the same workflow for milk too. If we can control the availability windows then maybe we can manage to supply milk option parts for an extended period? The caveats obviously being that it wont be constantly available. While most other vinyl companies offer just 2 weeks of manufacturer defect coverage - we offer accidental coverage up to a year. No need to use the standard "it broke out of the box!" technique because even if you break it we replace it - the only question we ask is "how?" so we know what to improve on the next version. So if you got milk shell then we will make sure to have replacement parts for at least a year after purchase. But many of you are special and already know that we can pull strings for special people. Remember - we do not talk about Fight Club in Smart Doll Land ;-) #smartdoll (at Mirai Store Tokyo) https://www.instagram.com/p/CAfQ_NmAh_L/?igshid=n2ae5t4oerln

#smartdoll

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moralanxietystudio · 4 years

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Buried In Words - Roadwarden Devlog

(Roadwarden is an illustrated text-based RPG in which you explore and change a hostile, grim realm. It combines mechanics of RPGs, adventure games and Visual Novels, and you can now wishlist it on Steam!)

Since the middle of December, working on Roadwarden is mostly about writing new events, dialogues and quests. There were almost no updates on social media - I don’t have time to draw (aside of some inventory icons), and by popular demand, I try to avoid deeper spoilers. I’ve written quite a bunch of stuff, but the results won’t do for exciting screenshots.

I’m currently focused on designing and filling up Howler’s Dell, the largest settlement in the game, so there’s a LOT of important character interactions to introduce, including quests, merchants, and lore. But in the meantime, some major changes have also been introduced:

1. The game over screens

In the original Roadwarden’s Design Document, there were no game-overs. You could get significantly hurt during your journeys, but never to the point where you’d hit a brick wall that would make the further progress impossible. You’d need to rest and heal your wounds to participate in some events, but you could always move forward.

I’ve finally decided to change it. In most situations, reaching 0 HP won’t result in an instant death. But in some scripted encounters - usually when facing an overwhelming opponent while being completely unprepared - your character will be broken.

Still, I hope to make it as player-friendly as possible. Did you forget to save your game? Was autosave ran in an inconvenient spot? You can jump back in time a bit, no strings attached.

In various European cultures, the winged hourglass is an image related to the ephemerality of life, and it has became an important part of the Viaticum fantasy setting over ten years ago. Since there’s no single “canonic” design, I’ve had an opportunity to experiment with various approaches.

2. New “regular” font

The text has now more space to breathe, the letters have more personality, and thanks to the serifs, it’s going to be easier to keep track of the lines you read. Everybody wins:

While the majority of feedback that I’ve gathered shares my enthusiasm, I’ve also seen some words of criticism. It’s still possible that the font is going to be replaced with a different one, but I’m convinced it’s still a step in the right direction.

Even if the font is going to be replaced again, this little feature will be kept in the game. The good old “select a font” setting now showcases a small frame that explains the most significant traits of the regular font and the pixel one. Even though the pixel font looks cool on screenshots, it won’t be gentle on your eyes.

3. Updated inventory menu

From now on, pointing at an icon in your inventory will showcase not just the item’s brief description, but also its name.

This update was essential due to the constantly growing number of items added to the game. Usually, the player will keep using or loosing some of them as they complete more quests or take a part in more unique interactions, but you may reach a point when you’ll see a couple of dozen of icons at once, and they may start to get a bit blurry. When there was maybe 20 items in the entire game, clicking an icon to see the broader description wasn’t a large problem, but it became clear that it was a short-sighted, flawed design.

4. Redesigned armor system

I’m not gonna lie. The gambesons that were present in the demo? They were a placeholder, waiting for a better idea to show up. And here it is.

The original two “types” of armor were related to the character’s class selected at the beginning of the game - the Warrior gets the good stuff, while both the Scholar and the Mage have a piece of trash, since they couldn’t afford anything better.

I was expecting to introduce some encounters “better” armors later in the game, and also script interactions where the better armors help you survive major injuries or even death, but I felt it was not good enough. This approach doesn’t introduce much decision making, and it introduces sort of a boring stagnancy.

The new system offers three “levels” of armor. The level 1 - “A Worn Gambeson” - offers you little to no protection. If you want to be saved during some difficult encounters, or maybe get less hurt when you screw up, you want to get to at least the level 2 - “A Decent Gambeson” - which is given to the Warrior class at the beginning of the game.

Upgrading armor requires getting in touch with a tailor, and paying them to do some fixes for you. However, when the armor “saves” you, it often also gets damaged. Its level decreases.

The 3rd level of your armor - “A Fine Gambeson” - follows the same rules. Wearing it will save you from most wounds, but during this process, it may also get torn, downgraded to level 2. As the player, you have to decide how many dragon coins you are willing to invest to keep yourself in one piece.

So simple, yet so much better. And I can still decide to introduce levels 0, 4, 5... Depending on what will turn out to fit the larger picture.

5. Updated journal menu

The journal has received the very needed scrollbars, which appear only when there’s too much text to fit in a single window. From now on, I don’t expect that the player will just “figure out” that they can use a mouse wheel, or drag the text box. Nice and easy:

Also, when you select a chapter (like “Quests”) or a specific entry (like the “Necromancers?” quest), the button is now highlighted, what will help you keep track of what you’ve been clicking through:

Also, unlike in the game’s demo, the “People” chapter is now cohesive with the “Quests” formatting. Originally, these sections had different sizes, what didn’t look as good as I intended.

6. Dolmen updates

Just to make it clear - the game receives a whole bunch of updates and bug fixes every week, and I don’t plan to list dozens of small adjustments just because. But this one is pretty fun for me, since it shows the progressing level of attention to detail, and the evolution of the game’s design. : )

Since the day I’ve introduced this area to the game’s prototype, I was unhappy about the low amount of visual changes it had to offer. No matter what you’d type down to solve the puzzle, the only clues you’d receive were presented in text.

The updated dolmen required some rewrites and a fair bit of drawing, but from now on, once you find something that provides a significant clue, you’ll also see a visual feedback that’s going to reflect your discovery. It will help you backtrack the older information, and focus your attention on more successful guesses. Oh, something new has showed up? I guess it’s important!

7. The world map reworks

Some of those updates are difficult to spot without a looking glass. Some percentage of the “bushes” have different colors now and a couple of new shapes; the forests and trees now cast shadows; the lake nearby the Southern Crossroads has more details; the river in the east is broader; there are new hills nearby Tulia’s Camp...

But it’s the eastern part of the map that has seen some major updates. It’s filled with hills and mountains, and because of it, it provides more limited vision than lands in the west, covered with plains and swamps. Previously, this disproportion was quite a bit larger, and I’ve decided to town it down a bit. I hope that the effect I’ve had in mind is still clear to spot.

8. More “stable” text boxes

When the player points at an icon, it usually creates a text box with a related description. From now on, more of these text boxes will be anchored to specific parts of the screen, instead of showing up in an area related to the player’s cursor. It should make the information less chaotic, and won’t cover other icons anymore. Also, there will be no more situations when the text box is partially outside of the game’s window.

---------------------------------

Thank you for taking a look at this devlog, for your support and kindness. Remember, you can also find me on Twitter and Facebook, and the game has a Steam page on which you can add it to your wishlist. Have a great day!

#pixelart #rpg #fantasy rpg #pixel art #indie #Indiegame #indie dev #video game #gaming #pcgaming #visualnovel #visual novel #Adventure Game

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sapphicscholar · 5 years

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Pride Month Prompts Day 7: Underground (SuperLane)

From this Pride Month Prompts post! I’m taking the opportunity to write some short fics for a variety of pairings that I haven’t written for as much, maybe at all. They won’t be going on AO3, so I’ll be sure to tag them all with #pride month prompts so you can find them later if you want.

Day 7: Underground

Pairing: SuperLane (Kara/Lucy) - another new one! (Set after Manhunter)

Perhaps taking off the helmets had been a bad idea. Scratch that: it was definitely a bad idea. But Kara had wanted to see Alex, had wanted Alex to know that she would always come for her, even if it meant stealing DEO property, shooting down a truck owned by the U.S. government, and freeing two supposed criminals being hauled away for treason. And seeing Alex’s reaction when she realized that Lucy had switched sides for them was pretty great too.

For a while, it seemed as if everything had gone fine. J’onn and Alex took off on the bikes, Kara flew Lucy back to the base, and they both acted surprised by the news of the escape (and were genuinely surprised by the news of Lucy’s promotion).

Neither of them took into account the fact that a vehicle headed for Cadmus would likely be equipped with multiple cameras sending live feed footage back to the military.

The following morning, a heavily armed squad showed up to arrest them both, and it was only Kara’s super hearing that gave her the extra few seconds she needed to swoop Lucy up in her arms and fly them both far away from the DEO and the military officials toting guns loaded with kryptonite-laced bullets.

Within a day, they’d gone completely underground. Kara was opposed to stealing, but she’d swept through stores faster than anyone could see, throwing money onto the counter in her wake. That was how they’d acquired a stockpile of food, new clothing, wigs for going out, and two burner phones that were being saved for an emergency. She’d also grabbed a few bottles of wine for Lucy, who had only recently reconciled herself to the idea of breaking the law and was looking a bit pale as the realization that she was a now a wanted fugitive with her own father hot on her heels sunk in.

On day 5, Kara finally got up the courage to apologize. “If I hadn’t...I should’ve made sure that we stayed covered, checked for any cameras.”

“It’s Cadmus, Kara. I’m sure they were livestreaming the footage.”

“Still. I could have kept them from knowing you were the person under the other helmet.”

But Lucy shook her head, rubbing at her temples before draining the rest of her plastic cup of wine. “Long term, this is the decision I’m proud of. I’ve pushed down a lot over the years, but I don’t think even a lifetime of practice at repressing shit would have been enough to keep away the guilt if I’d sent your sister and J’onn off to be tortured at Cadmus.” She refilled her cup, frowning when the rest of the bottle only brought it up to two-thirds full. “So really, I’m the one that should be apologizing. You just pulled my head out of my ass long enough to see that I wasn’t living the kind of life I could be proud of.”

“Hey, no, I’m sure you’ve done some amazing things.”

Lucy snorted, something dark flashing across her features as her face twisted in disgust. “Like what? Break my ex’s heart because I’d rather hurt her...hurt us both, than risk a dishonorable discharge? Side with my father even as he got more and more bigoted just because every so often he’d pat me on the shoulder and tell me I made him proud? Come flying across the country to restart things with a guy only to break up with him all over again?”

“We’ve all done things we regretted. I’m pretty sure the whole world saw some of my worst choices splashed across newspapers and broadcast internationally just a few weeks ago.” She really wished wine did anything for her; it’d be nice to have something to dull the pain of the too fresh memories. “I also know a little bit about not wanting to believe that a parent could be so wrong about something, about waiting too late to realize there are two sides to every story.” She swallowed the tears that threatened to fall. “But Lucy? You’ve done a lot of things to be proud of.”

“I don’t know. Maybe. It’s hard to believe it these days.”

In a split second, Kara decided to start listing things, as many as she could think of, anything to make that look of sadness, of self-loathing disappear. “You’re a freakin’ major in the Army, which means, like, a lot of people have recognized what a badass you are. And you have grad degrees from Harvard. And you’re super great at Taboo and Charades and Pictionary. And you were willing to put everything on the line once you’d realized you’d made a mistake, which is almost better than just never making mistakes. Because you care, you cared enough to fix it.” She took a deep breath in. “Also you offer great legal advice. And those cookies you made for game night were so good; I ate half of them when you weren’t looking. And you won over Cat Grant in, like, two seconds flat, which, let me tell you, isn’t easy! And you always smell really nice, even at the end of the day, and you’ve got such great hair, like seriously great hair.”

Lucy looked over at her, some emotion swirling in her eyes that Kara didn’t recognize. “You know that the things you did while drugged don’t magically undo all the good you’ve done for the world, right?”

“Oh please, weren’t you the one saying Supergirl didn’t exactly measure up to expectations?”

Lucy ducked her head. “Might have had a bit more to do with jealousy than anything else.”

Kara’s eyebrows shot up at that. “Jealousy?” Lucy had the guy and the job and Cat’s attention. What could she have been jealous of?

“Seriously? You have superpowers, Kara. And a sister who would do anything for you, and this whole group of friends who adore you. Even when James was talking about finding apartments with me to really make things work, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. And, to make it all worse, I couldn’t even blame him because you’re fucking gorgeous!” With a huff of bitter laughter, Lucy pulled herself to her feet, swaying slightly—the first sign that the bottle of wine might have affected her. “I should… Night, Kara.”

---

After that night, things seemed easier between them. The guilt and apologies and bad memories had been excised, leaving room for something new to grow between them. Slowly but surely, they began opening up, sharing stories of growing up and years in school and awkward dates. Kara talked about the things she’d had the hardest time getting used to on Earth, and Lucy admitted that she hadn’t thought about how difficult it must be for aliens. She’d moved a lot as an Army brat, having to switch schools constantly, but even during the awkwardness of middle school, at least she’d always known how to speak the language, had a vague sense of what social life would be like, knew what would be taught in her classes and the kinds of clubs that would be offered.

One night, after a glass or two of wine, Lucy opened up to Kara about coming out, not that she’d had too many people in her life she’d been able to tell. Kara admitted that she hadn’t realized it was such a big deal on Earth until she’d asked Alex if she was courting her best friend Vicki and been swiftly and promptly kicked out of their shared bedroom for hours, not let back in until Eliza had demanded that Alex unlock the door for bedtime.

---

On day 18, they woke up to news that all of National City’s residents had been turned into automatons with the exception of Max Lord, who’d published statements about alien threats and how proud he was to be a human who had prepared for this, who had known from the beginning not to trust them, and Cat Grant, who’d posted a very public call for Supergirl to return from hiding and a plea that the government grant her amnesty.

“You’re going, aren’t you?” Lucy asked.

“I have to. National City...no matter what happened or how many people have decided I belong in prison, it’s still my city. They’re still the people I’ve sworn to protect.”

“Be safe.”

“I will.”

“I mean it. I”—Lucy swallowed heavily as she reached out a hand, grabbing one of Kara’s and holding it tight enough for her to feel it—“I want you to come back to me alive.”

And there it was again, that frisson of something that had been crackling between them for so many days now. Only this time Kara didn’t mumble a quick “goodnight” and speed off to her corner of the decrepit old cabin they’d moved into after the first week. Instead, she held Lucy’s gaze and raised a hand to Lucy’s face, sweeping her thumb across Lucy’s cheekbone. “I promise.”

Lucy was the one to lean forward, but Kara wasn’t sure who it was that actually started the kiss. All she knew was that there were soft, warm lips pressed against her own, and if she’d thought she wanted to date Lucy before because she smelled amazing, well, now she knew she wanted to date Lucy and for so many more reasons. But eventually, the reality of everything happening in National City, the hurried phone calls to J’onn and Alex, the continued broadcasts being sent out by Cat, all caught up to them.

“If you can find a way for me to come back within city limits, you’ll call?” Lucy gestured at their one safe burner phone left, and Kara nodded.

A few moments later, they heard the soft thud outside the door that signalled J’onn and Alex’s arrival.

“I should be fighting by your side,” Alex was already arguing as she and J’onn made their way inside.

“I won’t be able to stay focused if I’m shielding your mind.”

“I swear, if we can get into the DEO and get our hands on your prototypes, we’ll be back in an instant, okay?” Kara promised.

“Fine. In the meantime, I’m trying to see if I can’t bypass some DEO security protocols while everyone there is out of commission. I can only imagine that Non is going to want some of our prisoners back, so I’ll try to secure the system from external interference.”

While J’onn was busy talking to Alex, Lucy squeezed Kara’s hand again. “Come back, alright? We’ve got a kiss to finish.”

Kara grinned. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

#pride month prompts #superlane #kara danvers #lucy lane #fanfic #ficlet #slight angst #supergirl

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grinnoire · 6 years

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in an effort to obliterate prototype 2 from my mind here's a list of hcs for a dana-is-fine-now 5yrs later self-indulgent au

alex, dana, and ragland moved to canada via some -cough- slightly illegal maneuvers, so blackwatch can't move in on them even when they find alex again at risk of causing an international incident

(basically canada is like "hes been here for 5 years and its been fine, also if youre gonna provoke THAT then do it on US soil bc we know what happened to manhattan and do NOT want a repeat in toronto (also, cranky bc your bioweapon is ours now arent you)")

(everyone thinks ragland died after contact with ZEUS but he's fine and lives down the street.)

so mostly blackwatch just spies on the gang as they get up to dumb slice-of-life stuff

alex got a bachelor's in psychology (doing one of the "hard" sciences would feel like too much of a repeat and he's soul-searching) and now has a job as a forensic psychologist. mostly he's everyone's paperwork jockey because he doesn't complain when they dump theirs on him, but sometimes he gets to decide who gets to sit on jury duty. this drives blackwatch absolutely nuts

dana is working as an editor for a local magazine. she still keeps up with news journalism on her free time, but she’s decided to take it easy after everything that happened and the job pays pretty well.

dana has more or less come to terms with virus brother, mostly because every other week he goes on some dark and broody rant about being a monster/hearing the screams of those he's killed/his innate desire as a virus to kill consume assimilate infect, and you kinda just get used to it after a while

alex got a deal with a local slaughterhouse to buy some of their stock from them, since he likes his meat so raw it's still mooing. literally. they are convinced he's either a butcher or a cultist but you know what, that's his business

dana starts referring to the real alex mercer as just "my big brother," and not by name. similarly, she usually calls alex by name, but she also refers to him as her little brother, and when joking in private, her baby brother (he is five and she will never not find that funny)

she also really does think of him as a kid, and notes that one of the most divergent traits he has from the real alex (besides empathy) is how easily he trusts people (she jokes that she worries he'll get lured out into a white van behind the mall with promises of meat). he's also super dramatic about EVERYTHING, so her impression of him has slowly morphed from "scary semi-insane virus man but still a step up from my actual brother" to "haha, kid brother who sucks at smash bros"

since alex doesnt sleep, he usually whiles away the nighttime hours by hunting (he's got a permit and everything, at dana's insistence) or playing video games

he's REALLY GOOD at rhythm games but plays with the sound off ("it's distracting, dana" "it's The Point Of The Game, alex") and he's shit at fighting games ("have you ever considered NOT charging blindly in on me clearly about to unleash an ultimate").

he's also not great at puzzle games and dana has caught him melted into a pile of meat moss over professor layton before. this is in spite of his constant claims to have consumed some of gentek's most brilliant minds, so it only further cemented dana's "kid brother" impression

alex: i dont have a preference for toppings so i get everything on it since i dont eat with my mouth anyways. thousands of dead men's preferences means no preferences -later, after dana has forced him to try things using taste buds- alex: can i get a large pineapple and anchovy pizza with alfredo sauce instead of tomato the guy at domino's: im arresting you for pizza crimes

an argument they constantly rehash is that dana insists that alex should try shopping for real clothes while alex insists he can just shapeshift into whatever clothes he wants. this has, on one occasion, led to neighbors in the hallway overhearing alex yelling angrily that "IM ALWAYS NAKED, DANA"

dana is a big lesbian and kicks alex out of the apartment when she's got "friends" over. they both know what dana's up to but dana insists that her five-year-old brother "will understand when he gets older" when he complains about it

most people that know alex thinks he has no sense of humor. this is untrue. he just has a very limited one and very dull reactions. but one time dana showed him this

and he let out an involuntary snort/giggle and then looked very confused and kind of scared, like he had no idea what that sound was or where it came from

most people believe alex’s brows drawn, eyes narrowed glare means he’s angry, but dana knows that that’s actually his “i’m confused” look. this is also the look alex wears 70-80% of the time.

(his actual “i’m angry” look is brows drawn, eyes wide open)

alex has a tendency to blurt out random factoids, like a walking trivia book. these facts are ALWAYS morbid and he ALWAYS only realizes that after he’s said it out loud. dana goes “i think i’m coming down with a flu that’s been going around work” and alex goes “huh, you know flus cause 200,000 hospitalization and 3,000 deaths every year” and dana gives him a Look and he pauses for a long moment before adding in a “sorry”. dana actually thinks this habit might be a leftover from how OG alex mercer liked to mansplain, but when this alex does it it’s less insufferable and more just awkward, so she doesn’t mind it that much

“butterflies can taste with their feet. I can also do that, if i try.” “awesome, alex”

they have separate rooms since they both make a decent amount and live a ways out from the big city, and dana’s looks pretty normal, slightly messy, and alex’s is, hm. dana keeps insisting he try decorating it and actually putting stuff in it, so it’s home to his attempt at interior decor. the room features: a bookshelf crammed full of old textbooks and basically anything remotely novel-like that he could buy from the clearance rack, 2 (two) whole deer skeletons, picked entirely clean, a large, stainless-steel industrial-grade refrigerator/freezer unit (full of huge slabs of meat), the world’s loneliest computer desk and chair, a moldy cantaloupe in a glass box on the windowsill (”alex what is that” “i’m growing penicillin” “...why?”), a tiny photo of him and dana in a really big frame hanging on the wall, and also framed, dana’s MRI scans showing that she suffered no lasting effects from the infection. dana has had her partners accidentally walk into that room instead of hers and then call the cops. she kinda wants to say something to him about it, but since one of alex’s most common broody speech topics is how he doesn’t feel like he has a personality of his own, and since what he does have in his room certainly shows...”personality,” she figures she’ll leave it alone.

whenever a coworker starts to get friendly with him, alex pulls them aside to let them know he’s actually the blacklight virus that ravaged manhattan. he doesn’t actually use his powers because frankly it takes more energy than his current dietary plan can make back, but he insists until the coworker goes “haha okay, okay, i got it.” no one actually believes him but alex is convinced they all do, and dana has never been around for this to correct his mistake

#[prototype]#prototype #alex mercer #dana mercer #hi im in prototype hell hit me up to talk about it

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saurian-game · 6 years

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Saurian DevLog #54

Hello again all!

If you haven’t heard, we were expecting to have a blog post on the science behind the new T. rex out this week but Tom and RJ both got sick simultaneously so we had to postpone it. We’re back on track now though and it should be out on Saturday. On to the DevLog, the dream team Henry and Jake have a bunch of stuff for you this week:

Jake “Snake Baby” Baardse

I've been a busy little boy these past few weeks despite Henry constantly bringing down my spirits with his endless burping. To start, I created the assets necessary for our nesting system. Care was taken to make sure the egg's texture and shape matched what we see in the fossil record. It was based on fossil oviraptorosaur eggs which showed a texture and blue-green color similar to that of modern emu eggs. The nest itself was based on well preserved oviraptorosaur nests such as Citipati and Heyuannia. For those curious there are fragmentary remains of a Deinonychus egg that show a structure much more like oviraptorosaurs than troodontids.

I gave it a special texture set that should allow us to get some cool effects during the construction. Egg configuration will be controlled by the programming side and will also be based on fossils from oviraptorosaurs.

But this is only the beginning. In addition to the nest work my animation training has finally paid off and I'm happy to show some work that will be going into the game fairly soon. I've animated Chris' Lepisosteus so we can finally have some more small fodder type animals in the game. This was a good start as it required a very simple animation set and was fairly simple to set up and animate.

But did you think I was just going to leave you with some fish? I've also been busy making the animation set for the Ankylosaurus and have made significant headway with it. All that is really left is the locomotion animations and it'll be ready for implementation. I'll share a little taste of what's to come. There is a big backlog of art assets and now that I'm getting comfortable animating I'm excited to start knocking things off the big Saurian checklist with haste. I hope to show more next devlog!

Henry

We've been up to quite a bit on the programming front, despite Jake’s endless shrieking bringing down our spirits. One new, exciting thing is that Chris Lomaka's Lepistosteus is now animated (courtesy of Jake) and functioning in-game! It still needs a little more fleshing out, but we're expecting this fella to give a bit more life to Saurian's waterways--especially when flooding is introduced. While they'll definitely be edible, we're still discussing internally how exactly the player will be able to eat them (since diving Dakotaraptor are highly unlikely).

Furthermore, we're happy to show that development on mating, courtship, and nesting is in progress! We've been prototyping some nesting-related systems, and have working prototype of our nest-placement mechanic (which uses terrain constraints to limit appropriate nesting spots), and swapping out intact egg models with their broken variants, both of which you can see here:

Something worth remembering is that the nesting selection shown here is the simplest manifestation planned: Dakotaraptor simply dig their nests, but other animals will be required to fetch special materials from the environment to finish making theirs. Dakotaraptor will need to sit on their eggs in order to keep them warm, where other animals will need to keep their nests stocked with vegetation.

We also added in a small (but potentially important) detail for hiding AI, which is that they now assume a more prone posture when hiding, making them harder to see. Compare the following clip to that in the previous devlog to see the difference that it makes in visibility:

That’s all for this week, see you in a few days for T. rex!

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ckret2 · 6 years

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You'd Be Amazed At The Cultural Divides That Develop After Four Million Years of War

... by Fall Out Boy

Prompt: @tfspeedwriting: Prompt 1: A character outstays their welcome and Prompt 5: Write a story with two main characters and tell in two parts - from first one character’s POV and then the other. Writing two prompts was accidental, I swear Continuity: IDW Pairing: one-sided oblivious & unrequited Starscream/Wheeljack Wordcount: 2000-ish? Notes: If anybody out there has any more Starjack fics with Starscream unrequitedly pining for Wheeljack... hit me up. Need me some Screamer pain. Summary: Wheeljack thinks Starscream is interrupting his day off to demand a tour of his current projects. Starscream thinks he's taking Wheeljack on a date. Neither one bothers to clarify.

Double doors slammed open with a grandly declared "So!"

Wheeljack started, dropping his wrench, and almost swore. Frag. Starscream. Wheeljack wasn't expecting Starscream. Why would he expect Starscream to barge into his personal lab?

Okay, maybe he should have been expecting Starscream.

Yesterday Starscream had said, idly, that he ought to drop by Wheeljack's lab soon—not the lab space he shared with several others at the capitol, but his private lab, his off-duty lab—and see what he was up to when he wasn't working the space bridge. Wheeljack had said, sure, he probably should come by and see. He'd half meant it—he was working on things that could eventually be useful to Cybertron—but Wheeljack hadn't thought Starscream meant it. Much less that he meant it so soon, and without warning or invitation.

Wheeljack had thought promising to come by had been more or less a politician's promise—something he said to make one of his citizens think he gave half a slag about what was going on with him, with no intent of following up on it.

Wheeljack should have expected Starscream to mean it. Wheeljack could name a new governing law of probability after their illustrious leader. Starscream's Law: if given the choice between doing and not doing one thing, regardless of whether or not Starscream says he'll do it, the one he actually ends up doing is either 1) the option most surprising, or 2) the option most inconvenient, whichever value is greater. Usually both. This? Was both surprising and inconvenient. Very inconvenient.

Wheeljack set down his current project and turned to face Starscream. "Can I help you?"

"I certainly hope so! I came all the way across Iacon on the expectation that you could, after all."

Wheeljack didn't think he'd be getting to pick his project back up again for a while. Duty ever calls. "With what?"

"Well—" Starscream gestured down the length of the lab, with the type of overdramatic flourish he usually reserved for speeches where he was referring to the great people of Cybertron, or our friends and allies among the stars, or such things. Big, sweeping, and all-encompassing. "A tour, ideally. You said that you'd show me your lab, after all. You implied that you had some things I'd quite like to see."

Had Wheeljack implied that? He didn't think he'd gone anywhere near that far. One last longing look at his discarded project, and he got to his feet. "Yeah, yeah—sure. Of course." Fine. This was an inevitability, after all. Eventually he'd be trying to show Starscream all this. Why not now?

Starscream waited for Wheeljack to cross the lab to him (the lab was an odd, long shape, with a door at the far end; the easiest thing Wheeljack could find to rent in this part of town that he could modify to meet his safety standards) with a hand on one cocked hip, the very picture of arrogant impatience. "This really is out of the way, you know," Starscream said, as though Wheeljack had personally and deliberately made his life harder by choosing where to put his lab. "You're practically out in the Decepticon slums. I've offered you lab space in Metroplex's cephalocomplex, it's where you do all your other work."

"Yeah, well—thank you for the offer—but this place is for my non-governmental works," Wheeljack said. "I don't want politics leaking into my personal projects." He gave Starscream a very pointed look.

"Why—" Starscream turned back to the doors, as if checking he hadn't left them ajar to let a draft in, and then turned back to Wheeljack. "Surely you don't think I'm going to let any politics sneak in?" He tapped the top of his head, "See, I even left my crown at home. This tour is all about you."

"Uh-huh." Sure it was.

So. What did Starscream want, really? Maybe it really was a tour—but if it was only a tour, then he wouldn't have crossed the city, unannounced, without so much as a warning, much less an appointment. He'd probably wanted to catch Wheeljack off guard—that was the sort of thing Starscream did. Why? To intimidate him—to remind him that he knew where he kept his private lab and that he could and would invite himself in at any time? To try to catch him with some subversive projects laying out? (Joke was on him; Wheeljack wasn't working on any subversive projects.)

"So." Starscream hopped up to sit on the nearest lab table, crossing one leg over the other, like he thought he owned the place and could plant himself anywhere he liked. "What's the first stop on this grand tour?"

Wheeljack crossed his arms. "Well, let's start with lab safety."

Starscream's optics flickered in disbelief. "'Lab safety'?" He scoffed. "Really? We're beginning with the basics?"

"I think we should. It's important stuff—you know, things like, 'Don't sit your skidplate on strange tables in strange labs if you don't know what might have been spilled on them.'"

Starscream bolted up like somebody had set off a firecracker under his seat. "Lab safety. Got it."

The tour dragged on for an excruciating two hours. Wheeljack had thought he could've kept it to fifteen minutes. He could have just swept Starscream through an overview of his current major works—among other things: a small engine that didn't do anything but spin a fan, which he was using to study some Camien designs for more efficient energon-to-electricity conversion for inanimate machines; a tiny explosion powered by Ore-1 that he was planning to set off next week that had been popping in and out of existence in one corner for the past four weeks; a prototype for a shield that could absorb laser fire and use it to charge—

"Well, originally it was going to charge another laser," Wheeljack said, lifting the shield-generating forearm brace with the gun attached—the project he'd been working on when Starscream had barged in. "But that seemed kind of—I don't know, eventually you just get two guys shooting back and forth at each other forever, you know?"

Starscream—who, to see the project up close, was leaning as far over Wheeljack's lab table as he could without actually violating Wheeljack's for-Primussake-stop-touching-all-my-tables rule—said, "What about a sword? Some kind of energy sword."

And this was why a fifteen minute tour had taken two hours. Because Starscream would not stop asking questions and making suggestions. Every one-sentence explanation was dragged out with incessant questions for clarification into a ten-paragraph explanation, which was followed—at Starscream's insistence—by a two-sentence-quickly-turned-five-paragraph explanation of the potential practical applications for some project, even when he had no practical applications yet, and then Starscream started throwing recommendations at him—for how he should proceed, for what tweaks he should add, for ways it could be applied—and then Wheeljack had to patiently explain that most of them wouldn't work, and then Starscream asked why. At this point, Wheeljack had an entirely new theory for what it was Starscream wanted here, a theory that had shot quickly to the top of his list: he was trying to distract Wheeljack while something Starscream desperately wanted to keep hidden from him was going on somewhere else in the building. Wheeljack was going to be spending the next few days sniffing for any lingering signs that Rattrap had been nearby.

This was the last suggestion Wheeljack was willing to take. He was tired of this and tired of humoring Starscream. "I'm not making a sword," Wheeljack said tersely.

"But you coul—"

"I could, but I'm not going to. The energy expended by constantly extending a sword would rapidly use up any energy absorbed by the shield. Unless the shield is taking a constant stream of shots, the sword'll immediately splutter and die." He was talking fast, impatiently, and at this point he didn't care how impatient he sounded—he'd never requested suggestions in the first place. "I'm deciding what's going into the project, and—and it's not up for official review! It's my project!"

Wheeljack knew he sounded petulant. But it worked; Starscream straightened up immediately. "Of course. Far be it from me to try to barge in on your little project." ("Ha!" Wheeljack scoffed.) "I only meant—" Starscream didn't finish the statement. What? Out of explanations? Not going to try to claim he was being helpful when they both knew full well that that wasn't why he was here?

Because that sure as hell wasn't why Starscream was here.

"I think that's enough of a tour for today. The next time you want to see my lab, schedule a meeting. And I'd deeply appreciate it if it isn't scheduled on one of my few days off."

Starscream opened his mouth, shut it, and nodded dumbly.

"Thanks." He looked down at his shield. Energy sword. Pfft. Stupid.

Starscream looked lost for a moment—wasn't expecting Wheeljack to not take his pestering? even he had his limits—but then rallied, chest puffed up again. "Well. Then. I suppose I'll see you—whenever I next visit the space bridge. Or you come to my office, whichever—"

"You don't need me to show you where the door is."

Starscream laughed humorlessly. "No. You don't."

Wheeljack didn't look up from the shield project as Starscream walked to the other end of the lab. He heard the doors open, but not shut. "I'll leave you to the rest of your day off, then."

"Goodbye, Starscream."

The doors shut.

Starscream leaned against Wheeljack's lab doors, staring at his feet.

His spark was spinning like a top, too fast and teetering, sending static anxiety down his arms. His fingertips tapped nervously against Wheeljack's door—quietly, quietly. He didn't want Wheeljack to hear him and know he hadn't left yet.

But he couldn't bring himself to leave yet. He couldn't move. His fuel tank was twisted up like a crumpled engex can with the bottom punched out. He regretted convincing Bumblebee to leave him the hell alone while he was visiting Wheeljack—he hadn't expected to come out of the experience this… lost.

Collect yourself, Starscream. That's what you do. That's who you are—you're collected. You don't need Bumblebee; talking to him is only talking to yourself. So go on. Talk to yourself. Work through this.

Okay. Working through this. That… Okay. That—didn't go well. So. What… what had he done wrong, exactly?

True, Starscream hadn't gone on a date in… yikes. Okay. Longer than he wanted to think about. Fair. He was rusty. Rusty and—

And not very popular.

But he'd done everything right, hadn't he? He'd informed Wheeljack of his interest in spending time with him outside of work. He'd made a point of proposing a place that Wheeljack knew better than Starscream–he'd practically handed him power over their interaction. That was as non-threatening as he could make a date offer. That was—that was laying himself down at Wheeljack's feet. And Wheeljack had okayed it.

Starscream had showed up on a day that both he and Wheeljack had off (Starscream had had to give himself a day off just for this) and immediately made it clear that this was not a work thing. He'd shown interest in Wheeljack's non-work projects. Abundant, detailed interest. He had flirted his spark out. He had spent the last two hours preening and posing and showing off while he asked Wheeljack about his projects. He hadn't talked about himself once.

Wheeljack hadn't asked him about himself, once. That should have been Starscream's first clue that the interest wasn't reciprocal, shouldn't it?

But why? What had he done wrong? He'd thought the date was going great, but—

Maybe he was misreading this. Maybe this wasn't how Autobots did dates. Or how grounders did dates. Or—or how scientists did dates?

But no. No, Starscream had—he'd said he should come over to see Wheeljack's projects, and Wheeljack had agreed. He wouldn't have done that—not on his private projects—if he hadn't known Starscream was proposing a date. Why else would he have welcomed Starscream showing up in his own lab?

Right?

Which meant the problem was Starscream. Wheeljack had agreed to the date—he'd agreed to give Starscream a shot to prove himself—and… Starscream blew it. He didn't prove himself. He'd bored Wheeljack. He wasn't interesting enough. He wasn't interested enough. Who knew what? It could have been any of a hundred factors.

Starscream shouldn't have expected anything else. There was only so far he should have expected Wheeljack to be willing to be kind to him.

Hmph. It would have been nicer if Wheeljack hadn't been so kind to him. Wouldn't it? At least then Starscream could have sealed his armor against him from the start, the way he did with everyone else. But nooo, no, Wheeljack just had to—had to listen to Starscream, had to—respect him, to give him a chance. Had to coax Starscream into peeling up a corner of his armor and letting Wheeljack slide underneath. Where it hurt when he finally rejected Starscream.

Not that it was Wheeljack's fault, was it. No, Starscream was the one who'd let that armor peel up. Starscream was the one who gave Wheeljack room to hurt him. Starscream was the one who'd taken the chance Wheeljack had given him, and—and failed to live up to it, somehow.

Don't let people get close, Starscream. You know that. They're only going to let you down. You're only going to let them down.

He sighed in irritation at himself, pushed himself off of Wheeljack's doors, and trudged for the exit.

If you want a tiny fic/story, buy me a coffee and leave a prompt in the comments!

(Feel free to reblog/add comments)

#starscream #wheeljack #starjack #transformers #maccadam #my writing #tfspeedwriting #fanfic

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thezeekrecord · 3 years

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CITA ch7

[index/summary]

Dr. Coomer begins to have second feelings about his marriage.

[CW: forced sedation and surgery]

Veronica and Harold didn’t have any time, unfortunately, to go on a honeymoon before she departed for basic training; their plan was to take their honeymoon during the brief break she was meant to have between training and beginning work. A wedding and a honeymoon an entire year apart—that was a truly miserable prospect, but Harold remained resolute. The wedding served too important a purpose to let that get in the way; it was a reminder that despite their problems now, they weren’t going to let something like this come between them.

It had made a lot of sense, he thought, when Veronica proposed. After all, they’d had rough patches in their past relationship, and neither that, nor the distance between them after college had changed the way they felt about one another. He had just forgotten it for a while—forgotten how important she was to him. This was...a considerable disagreement, but was it truly fair of him to call it quits over her new job? No, he thought as he looked down at his new wedding ring on his finger. It was going to be alright, someday; she’d spend just as much of her time in Black Mesa as him, doing whatever it was the military did in the facility, and they wouldn’t have to contend so much with the moral implications of her job. At least, that’s what she had said to him; also, that he would receive the same benefits that she did, now that they were married.

He didn’t want to think of himself as that shallow, though; the benefits thing was just an added bonus. A bonus that allowed him to return to relative financial comfort, without the thought constantly looming over him that he might need to find employment elsewhere—away from Bubby.

Harold stood in the parking garage, the chill from the outside entrance not too far off sending a shiver down his spine. Bubby was there by his side, as requested; how nice of him, Harold thought, to wake up so early to support him in sending Veronica off. He’d told him otherwise last night—making up some excuse that he thought Veronica would like him to be there, which wasn’t too far-fetched at least—but genuinely, he just didn’t think he’d be able to do this alone. The silence that would follow her leaving might crush him, he thought as he endlessly twisted the wedding ring over his finger.

Veronica had thrown her lightly packed bags into the back of her car already, and seemed to be going over a mental checklist in her head before slamming the trunk shut with a slam that echoed across the parking garage. Harold put on his best impression of a supportive smile as she turned back to him, taking his hands in her own.

“I’ll call you as soon as I can.” She told him.

“Of course.” Harold replied. “Drive safe, dear.”

She pulled Harold into a hug. Harold did his best to enjoy it while he could, burying his face into her shoulder with a deep, exhausted sigh. She pulled away shortly after, just barely enough to look at him properly and cup his face in her hand.

“It’s going to be alright, Harold.” She reassured him. “I’ll be back before you know it. And call you as often as I can.”

Harold nodded. “Oh, I know.” He said, forcing a laugh. “I’m sure you’ll do just fine, too, but...well, I’ll be thinking of you. Good luck.”

Veronica leaned in to kiss him before pulling away fully with a sigh. “Well, I’d better get going.”

Despite Harold’s best efforts, he began to feel tears forming in his eyes. He tried to turn away a little, only making it more painfully obvious he was beginning to cry.

“Of course. I’m sorry, go on ahead.” He insisted as she took his hands again with worry.

“Well, I can spare you at least another minute.” She said, hugging him tightly again.

Harold struggled to stop crying as he hugged her back, eventually forcing the sobs down sufficiently. “Okay. I’m okay. Sorry, I can’t help but worry.” He said as he pulled away.

Veronica waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, I’ll be alright. You know me.”

Harold nodded. “Yes, I certainly do. Goodbye, dear.”

“Talk to you soon.” She replied, turning to get into her car. Harold and Bubby took a few steps back to let her back out, and just like that, she was gone.

Harold watched her car closely until he could no longer see it in the morning twilight. He tried to take a deep, steadying breath, but he just broke out into another sob. He buried his face in his hands, feeling Bubby’s arms tentatively wrap around him. Harold held Bubby tightly, burying his face in his shoulder as he could no longer control his crying.

“I-it’s okay.” Bubby said as reassuringly as he could probably muster; he was never too great with words in times like this, but to Harold, just his presence was more than enough.

Bubby guided Harold along back to his dorm. He’d left it in a very sorry state; leading up to Veronica’s departure, he never quite found the energy to keep it as clean as he normally liked. Bubby didn’t say anything, at least, sitting Harold down on the couch and heading into his kitchen. He returned moments later with a glass of water, handing it off to Harold before sitting down beside him. Harold, now that he was finally breathing evenly, took a few sips of his water before setting it aside with a heavy sigh.

“It’s...for the best.” Harold murmured. “She’s wanted this for a while. I’d rather she be joining some sort of military contract with Black Mesa than anything else she could be getting herself into.”

Bubby nodded uncertainly.

“Thank you for being here.” Harold went on as Bubby gently wrapped an arm around Harold’s shoulders. He leaned against Bubby, closing his eyes and enjoying his comfort. “You really didn’t have to be.”

“It’s fine, Coomer.” Bubby said, giving him that sort of impatient, dismissive tone he always did when he clearly didn’t want to accept a compliment. “I, uhh...I’m sure it’ll all be okay. You guys are a good couple. You’ll...make it work.”

“...Yeah. You’re right.” Harold agreed tentatively. “It’ll all be fine.”

****

Bubby had never seen Dr. Coomer so withdrawn before. He normally was so boisterous and open about his feelings; this, though, seemed to be more than Dr. Coomer was capable of articulating to others. Over the next couple weeks, he always dismissed it whenever Veronica’s training was brought up. On some level, Bubby understood—it was a tough and complicated subject to talk about, clearly, especially with people he wasn’t very close with. On the other hand, it hurt to see Dr. Coomer so clearly distraught over something, particularly when he wouldn’t even talk to Bubby about it.

Not that they had much time to talk, though, of course; they were kept busy as always with the harsh expectations of Black Mesa. The months wore on as Bubby had been considering pulling out from other departments. He’d hoped if the employee retention problem wouldn’t be solved, he’d at least get used to the overtime; he felt like he was reaching his limit, though, by the fourth month. He had been preparing himself to go to the other departments and withdraw when suddenly, one after another, they began informing him they didn’t need his assistance, anymore. Fine by him, of course, but he wondered about the staffing. He didn’t see the bustle of new employee orientations, so, what? Were the expectations lowered to accommodate for poor staffing, maybe? He wondered as he rode the tram to the office with Dr. Coomer one morning.

“Bubby?” Dr. Coomer questioned in bewilderment.

Bubby looked over at Dr. Coomer. “What?”

Dr. Coomer was staring out the window, though, leaning out to look at something. Bubby leaned in closer to the window as well, searching the approaching Sector B’s platform for what Dr. Coomer was staring at.

“I don’t see anything.” Bubby finally said. “What are you looking at?”

“Bubby.” Dr. Coomer repeated. He grabbed Bubby by his tie, dragging him in closer to the window and pointing.

Bubby adjusted his glasses on his face, following Dr. Coomer’s gaze. He was pointing at a man standing on the platform, talking to someone else. As the tram finally began slowing to a stop on the platform, the dots connected in Bubby’s head, sending a shock through his body. The man Dr. Coomer was pointing at was mostly getting talked at by the other scientist; he was slightly hunched over, looking incredibly overwhelmed by the sound of the tram pulling in. He was short with graying hair that was starting to be almost non-existent on the top of his head, wearing sharp, rectangular glasses with the rest of the usual science team uniform. He was Bubby.

“Oh my god.” Bubby breathed.

Impulsively, he shot out of his seat, leaping out the door with Dr. Coomer in tow to face the prototype and the scientist stood there at the platform. “What the fuck is going on?” Bubby demanded.

The prototype bristled, baring his sharp teeth at Bubby. The other scientist looked between Bubby and the prototype in confusion, holding up a clipboard closer to his chest and taking a step back wordlessly.

“What are you doing up here?” Bubby questioned, approaching the prototype. “You’re supposed to be in the lab.”

The prototype didn’t respond at first. His whole body was tense, glaring loathsomely at Bubby. The other scientist looked intimidated—and maybe he was right to be, depending on the limits of this particular prototype, but Bubby painfully recognized this behavior. It was strange, seeing it from an outside perspective; was this what everyone else saw when he was first allowed to leave the lab? He had been so overwhelmed then by the sounds and sights of the rest of Black Mesa, and wholly unprepared for the way people would speak to him, expecting real answers without usually having ulterior motives. He didn’t trust anyone, and this prototype probably didn’t have any reason to, either.

“A-...are you two related?” The other scientist asked suddenly with a nervous smile.

“No, it’s none of your business.” Bubby said, waving his hand dismissively before turning back to the prototype. “Did they let you up here?”

“Yes.” The prototype finally replied. “You weren’t supposed to—they separated us, you can’t be here.”

Bubby tilted his head curiously. “What? What does that mean?”

“Get back on the fucking tram!” The prototype snapped. The door was beginning to close behind them, so he stepped over to hold it open for them. “Go mind—...mind your own business, or they’ll—they’ll take measures to secure the project.”

“What?” Bubby repeated.

The prototype shoved Bubby back onto the tram, followed closely by Dr. Coomer. The door slid shut behind them as he released it, and the tram departed from the station slowly as they watched the prototype follow the scientist further into Sector B.

“Bubby, what on Earth was that?” Dr. Coomer asked him.

“I—well, you...don’t get all scientific breakthroughs on the first try.” Bubby answered vaguely, looking uncomfortably at the other scientists who watched them curiously. “Beyond him just existing, though, I have no idea what the fuck is going on. Let’s...talk about it after work.”

Dr. Coomer nodded. “Alright. That sounds fine to me.”

Once their work was over and they headed back to the dorms, they agreed to settle in Bubby’s dorm for privacy. Bubby sat down stiffly, trying to imagine that prototype trying to fit in. He didn’t so much feel sympathy for him—he felt embarrassed trying to picture it. At least for the most part, his particularly awkward phase after first being allowed to work independently were years behind him; he had plenty of time established now as a man who, hopefully, passed as a relatively normal Black Mesa employee. This prototype was starting fresh with new people, though, giving them new impressions of Bubby that he didn’t want hoisted on his shoulders.

“That was one of the prototypes.” Bubby finally began. “I was the end result of their efforts to not only create human life artificially, but create a human with...special abilities. There were a lot of attempts that went wrong, whether that was because the result simply didn’t have the powers they wanted, or because the result was...well, didn’t have the behavior they were aiming for. I just have no idea why they let another one out, though—they only let me out because I was the most capable of assisting with Black Mesa projects.”

“Well, many departments have been rather understaffed lately...” Dr. Coomer said thoughtfully. “Do you—”

Dr. Coomer stopped as there was a knock at the door. Bubby looked at Dr. Coomer for a tense moment.

“Who the fuck would that be?” Bubby whispered. “I don’t have any friends but you.”

“Maybe it’s someone from boxing club.” Dr. Coomer suggested hopefully.

Bubby stiffly approached the door, opening it just barely enough to peek at his visitor. Dr. Breen stood there, flanked by two security guards holding fire extinguishers.

“May I—” Dr. Breen started, interrupted by Bubby immediately shutting the door and locking it.

“What do you want, Dr. Breen?” Bubby called through the door.

“I’m not going to talk to you like this, Bubby. Just open the door.” Dr. Breen called back.

“Only if you send those guards away.”

“You know I can’t do that. You haven’t exactly proven yourself safe to be around.”

Dr. Coomer stood by Bubby’s side, now, placing a comforting hand on Bubby’s shoulder. He held up a fist for Bubby to see, nodding towards the door. Bubby contemplated it for a moment, then held his finger up, indicating for Dr. Coomer to wait.

“Well, I guess you’ll just have to leave, then.” Bubby called to Dr. Breen.

Bubby heard muffled conversation past the door for a moment, then something scraping into the lock. Bubby grew tense, putting two fingers to his temple defensively as the door simply unlocked and pushed open. Dr. Breen held up a key for Bubby to see before dropping it into his suit jacket’s pocket.

“You really thought I wouldn’t have a key to your dorm?” Dr. Breen questioned.

“Oh, fuck off.” Bubby hissed.

“It’s come to my attention that you’ve noticed some of our...new staff.” Dr. Breen went on. “I had hoped to keep the lot of you separated so nobody would catch on, but it seems you have a bit of a habit of telling people things they don’t need to know.”

Dr. Breen looked pointedly at Dr. Coomer, who was already looking two seconds away from decking him.

“Already, we’ve had questions from one of the prototypes’ coworkers and several people riding the tram this morning.” Dr. Breen said with a sigh. “Now, we’re going to have to issue a statement to prevent employees from poking around and move the remainder of the prototypes. If you’d just come down to the lab—”

“No!” Bubby snapped. “That sounds like your problem, Dr. Breen, I had nothing to do with your shitty decision to let the prototypes loose.”

“Trust me, this is your problem as well.” Dr. Breen insisted. “Come back to the lab with me willingly, and I won’t have you sedated and put into your tube. We could talk to each other like adults for once! Doesn’t that sound nice?”

“I think you should leave, Dr. Breen.” Dr. Coomer chimed in.

“Don’t think you’re in the clear either, Mr. Coomer.” Dr. Breen said, pointing at him. “One false move here, and I could have ample reason to have you terminated from Black Mesa.”

Dr. Coomer looked to Bubby worriedly. Bubby growled, finally putting his hand down. “Fine.”

“Good, good. So glad you’re going to be reasonable about this.” Dr. Breen said as he turned, waving for Bubby to follow. “Come along, we’ve no time to lose.”

Dr. Coomer squeezed Bubby’s shoulder. Bubby placed his hand over Dr. Coomer’s for a moment, reveling in Dr. Coomer’s comfort before pulling away and following Dr. Breen back down to the lab. Bubby stiffened as he stepped into the main section of the lab, heart racing with panic as the door closed and locked behind him. He stood tall, though, following Dr. Breen further inside to “talk somewhere more private”, as he said.

The room they walked to was a room that made Bubby feel sick to his stomach. A steel table was in the center, surrounded by shelves and other little rolling tables filled with medical equipment. Bubby wasn’t stupid—he knew a trap when he saw one. His fingers were to his temples in a flash, but he felt a familiar jab in his shoulder from behind, giving him little opportunity to find any way to escape. As he went down, Dr. Breen stood over him, nodding at a scientist who stepped into view holding a clipboard.

“I’m sorry, Bubby, you give me no choice.” Dr. Breen told him dismissively before walking away. Bubby’s vision went black before Dr. Breen had the opportunity to turn the corner.

****

Bubby woke up in a room he didn’t recognize. It was a struggle to open his heavy eyelids, let alone turn his head or move his body, but the ceiling was not that of his dorm—nor were the thin blankets that covered him. What had happened, again? He tried to remember, but there was a haze settled over his brain that made it difficult to think. He sluggishly lifted his hand to rub his eyes, effectively slapping himself in the face clumsily when he found it more difficult to move than he had expected. With a groan, he let his hand slide down over the top of his head to rest on the pillow—feeling something strange wrapped around his head.

He carefully felt it again. It was heavily bandaged. Was that why he couldn’t remember?

Bubby fell asleep again after that for a little while, and when he came to again, the memories finally flooded back. He sat up in the bed, only to feel a stabbing, dizzying pain in his head. He put his hand to the bandage again gently, panic beginning to rise in his chest. What the fuck did they do?

He looked at the room he was in again, finally recognizing it—it was his old room from before he had been allowed to live in the dorms. The all-too familiar sounds of other prototypes echoed down the hall outside his room, hissing and snarling and scratching at the walls. He’d have to remind himself later not to be too irritated by his neighbors watching TV too loud, anymore.

Bubby painstakingly stood, finding himself dressed in one of those godawful orange gowns tied together on the side. He quickly found his regular clothes folded up on the dresser, which he carefully changed back into before approaching the door. As years of experience could have told him, he found it locked, so he banged on it several times until he heard a voice over the speaker in his room.

“Bubby, you should lay back down.” A scientist told him.

“Why? What the fuck did you do to me?” He demanded loudly.

“We just installed some neural implants to protect confidentiality.” The scientist explained.

“You what?!”

“We’ll go over the details a little bit more later with you, you should get some rest for now.”

Bubby pressed a hand to his aching head with an agonized groan, moving to sit back down on the edge of his bed. He heeded the scientist’s advice to get some rest, only because the thought of trying to do anything else made him feel nauseous. He had his resilient body and Black Mesa’s advanced medical care to thank for a much speedier recovery than might be typical for anyone else, at least, but that still left him mostly alone in his old room for a whole week—the hallways slowly getting quieter and quieter around him until he didn’t hear any of the prototypes, anymore. At the end of that week, another scientist finally filled him in on what his new imposed limitations were.

“Well, like Dr. Breen told you, we had to issue a statement about the prototypes to the other employees.” The scientist informed him. “We had to move the prototypes unsuited for work down to the Lambda lab for confidentiality, too. Almost a goddamn bloodbath with some of those violent ones.”

The scientist talked Bubby through the things he was no longer capable of discussing—not only that, but there would be “certain consequences” if he were to try and get anyone else to spread information on his behalf. By this point, Bubby was so stir-crazy from being locked in his old room again that he didn’t even put up too much of a fight; he was just grateful to be stood at the door leading out of the lab, watching as the guard unlocked it and held it open for Bubby to leave. Bubby nearly bolted out, heading straight back towards the dormitories.

Bubby bristled at the sight of more prototypes milling about outside the lab, all barely acknowledging him—and other scientists already seemed to be getting used to working with so many Bubbys. The prototype sightings lessened as he grew closer to the dormitories, though, until he could almost pretend this was all a nightmare as he approached Dr. Coomer’s door. The door was quick to open after Bubby knocked, revealing Dr. Coomer staring at him with a dumbstruck look.

“Bubby!” He exclaimed, throwing his arms around him. “I was so worried!”

Bubby leaned into Dr. Coomer’s embrace with a deep, exhausted sigh. He hadn’t even realized how badly he missed this; just being close to Dr. Coomer, enjoying how easily he initiated contact, feeling his arms around him. Dr. Coomer pulled away sooner than Bubby had hoped, holding him out at arm’s length to look at him.

“What happened to you?” Dr. Coomer asked, glancing up at Bubby’s head. “And why is your hair gone?”

Dr. Coomer led Bubby inside to sit down, and Bubby explained as best he could what had happened. When he tried to share any details about confidential information, now, he felt a small zap in his head—not necessarily painful, but not pleasant, either—and the train of thought would be gone. He buried his face in his hands in deep frustration. It was one thing knowing he could face being put back in containment if he leaked Black Mesa secrets, but being made literally incapable of telling anyone what they determined to be confidential? It was bad. It was so bad, Bubby barely even felt like he was accurately processing exactly how bad it was.

“Bubby...we truly, truly can’t let this go on.” Dr. Coomer said suddenly, pulling him in to hold him close to his chest. “I know you’re nervous to think of what could happen if we try and do anything about your situation. But...I just...I can’t sit here and watch it happen, anymore. We need to do something.”

Bubby felt sick as he struggled to think of a counterargument. What was worse? The very clear, constant display of concern Dr. Coomer showed for him, always reminding him how awful his life was? Or the fact that it was getting harder and harder to argue that he should stay put? He wondered. He’d been terrified for much too long of trying to escape, but...

Bubby shook his head vigorously against Dr. Coomer’s chest. “I can’t.” He choked out. “I have no place on the surface. I...I just can’t.”

“We could get you somewhere safe.” Dr. Coomer insisted. “We could...go up to Canada, I don’t know—I could figure something out. I could hide you somewhere, and make sure they never, never find you.”

Bubby had a million things he wanted to say, but in that moment, he found it difficult to speak. He was so exhausted, so miserable, and so drained, he just remained silent as Dr. Coomer held him.

“You know what? Here, just a moment.” Dr. Coomer said, gently nudging Bubby upright and wiping at his eyes as he stood. He stepped up to his phone on the wall, took a deep breath, and quickly dialed a phone number by memory before leaning against the wall.

“Who are you calling?” Bubby asked in a fit of paranoia.

“Oh, just—” Dr. Coomer started, but he cut himself off, suddenly looking to the side and holding the phone closer to his mouth. “Oh, maman!”

Bubby’s eyes widened in surprise as Dr. Coomer suddenly began speaking entirely in French. It made sense—he grew up somewhere in Canada, but he’d never spoken in any other language in front of him before. Bubby silently kicked himself for never requesting to learn French way back in his tube days as he was left entirely in the dark on Dr. Coomer’s conversation. Based on what he could tell, though, the conversation seemed tense; Dr. Coomer paced between the living room and as far as he could get into his bedroom over and over as he spoke before finally letting out a sigh, repeating his thanks a few times before finally hanging up the phone.

“Okay.” Dr. Coomer said, turning back to Bubby. “I called my mummy—”

“What the—who the fuck am I talking to right now?” Bubby demanded. “I didn’t know you spoke French. And ‘mummy’? Are you a British four-year-old?”

Dr. Coomer let out a loud, surprised laugh. “Bubby, dear god, I’m trying to break you out of Black Mesa, there’s no need to scrutinize how I speak to or about my mother.”

“I think we ought to take at least a solid 20 minutes to discuss this.”

“I told you where I grew up already, I sort of assumed that you’d figure I’m bilingual. It’s not like I’ve had any need to speak French down here in the middle of a New Mexico desert.” Dr. Coomer said, turning to step into his bedroom and begin digging around in his closet. “Besides, we don’t have time for this, we should be discussing how to get you out.”

“Dr. Coomer, hold on a second.” Bubby said, standing slowly and bracing himself against the arm of the couch as he grew dizzy. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“No, it’s okay, I think I have it figured out.” Dr. Coomer insisted. Bubby walked slowly to join him in his bedroom, watching him drag out a suitcase and an old duffel bag. “Getting you out shouldn’t even be so difficult, right? They always let us out together as long as I’m ‘escorting’ you. I probably couldn’t just take you straight to my car in the parking garage, there’s rather heavy security there, but if I prepare the car out behind that cropping of rocks...”

Dr. Coomer went on in a way that Bubby couldn’t help but feel was already well planned out. He grew dizzy again imagining himself getting out, moving to sit down on Dr. Coomer’s bed so he wouldn’t fall.

“Coomer, I’ve told you already.” Bubby interrupted. “Getting out is one thing, but they’ll find me, one way or another. They already know we’re close, you think they won’t know where to find you once they realize I’m missing and you haven’t shown up to work? Like, what, are you expecting us to be well-hidden at your parents’ house?”

“Of course not!” Dr. Coomer replied, placing the empty suitcase in front of Bubby before beginning to stuff some of his belongings into his duffel bag. “I told my mum I might be visiting soon, but no more than that. We’d stop there for only a short time, so I can ask more on a place I’m sure we could go—I remember visiting it when I was young, but I don’t remember enough to get there, much less if we’d be welcome.”

“Why not just ask her on the phone?” Bubby questioned.

“I don’t know if Black Mesa taps our phones!” Dr. Coomer said as if it was completely obvious—well, perhaps it was an obvious conclusion to draw, actually, now that Bubby thought about it. “I wouldn’t want them to have a record of her giving me the address.”

“I didn’t take you for someone so paranoid like this.” Bubby couldn’t help but say.

Dr. Coomer turned to Bubby with wide, surprised eyes. He actually looked somewhat hurt—Bubby frowned, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.

“Uhh—I mean, all I’m saying is, this seems like something you’ve already thought about.” Bubby said carefully.

“Well, how could I not?” Dr. Coomer asked as he continued packing his duffel bag. “You live somewhere so horrible, Bubby. They do tests on you, they treat you with so little respect—I just...I feel so...complacent whenever you return after something like this. I have to do something for once.”

“You don’t.” Bubby insisted. “Seriously, Coomer, it’s okay. It’s not ideal, I know, I’m not stupid. But I’ll live.”

“This isn’t living!” Dr. Coomer blurted out. “Even I feel claustrophobic down here sometimes, and I can technically leave any time I want! You’ve never been outside of Black Mesa property before. You’ve never been to...a restaurant, or a concert, or gone on a hike, gotten to actually enjoy the outdoors or a road trip—there’s so much out there that you could be experiencing, and I have the power to help you! I’ve gone much too long not using it to get you out. I’m changing that, right now.”

Dr. Coomer began pacing between different parts of his room, hastily throwing things into his duffel bag and stuffing them into his pockets. “You’ve been down here for—what, 40 years now? And nobody has done anything about this? Too many people have failed you already. I’ve failed you every single day I haven’t broken you out of this godforsaken facility.”

Bubby stood up, catching Dr. Coomer by the forearm as he tried to get back to his duffel bag. “Coomer! Just—stop for a minute!”

Dr. Coomer paused, looking at Bubby in silence.

“It’s...I...” Bubby faltered, struggling to put words to the emotions swirling inside of him, now.

He’d never felt so cared for like this—nobody had ever been so vehement about breaking him out. Why did something that should be so flattering hurt him so much? Regardless of all that, though, there was still the constant fear of being caught. He’d be sent right back down to biological research for good; that was the ultimatum presented to him the day he was granted dorm privileges. Even if, by some miracle, Dr. Coomer didn’t get fired for the crime of stealing Black Mesa property, he’d still have no chance of seeing him again if he was locked away in biological research the rest of his life. Not to mention, of course, he had no usable, legal records of actually existing.

“What am I going to do on the surface, anyway?” Bubby finally asked. “I would never be able to get a job, and I’d be hiding away from Black Mesa—would I ever be able to do any of the things you said without a constant fear of being discovered?”

Dr. Coomer paused for a moment. “Well—the place I was thinking of is rather secluded. I’m sure you could at least—”

“Coomer, it wouldn’t be truly free.” Bubby interrupted. “I’d be completely dependent on you, wouldn’t I?”

Dr. Coomer seemed caught off guard by this response. He was silent for a long moment, fiddling with his hairbrush in his hands before finally speaking again. “Well...I suppose that’s true. Would that really be worse than what you live with now, though?”

“It’s...the pros and cons are complicated.” Bubby admitted, releasing Dr. Coomer to cross his arms again uncomfortably. “The circumstances I live in suck. But if I live in hiding, I wouldn’t get to work. I love science, Coomer, I can’t fucking imagine having to sit cooped up in a house all day doing nothing. The requirements can be grueling, and the tests done on me can be awful, but sitting indoors with nothing to do, always worrying that they’re going to find me someday...I...can’t imagine that being a truly better alternative.”

“Why not?” Dr. Coomer questioned desperately, dropping his brush to hold Bubby by his shoulders. “We can find ways to occupy your time! I’ll take care of you, Bubby, I wouldn’t just lock you up in a house to do nothing, and I’d hide you well. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Bubby’s head was beginning to ache as frustration built up in him. “You don’t get it, Coomer.” He said, closing his eyes and pressing the heels of his hands against his temples in an attempt to alleviate some of the pain. “It’s not worth it. Please, please just drop it.”

“I can’t! As your friend, I owe it to you to help you!”

“What about Veronica?” Bubby demanded. “You wouldn’t be able to tell her anything, would you?”

Dr. Coomer stammered for a second before stopping, thinking it over for a long moment. “What do you mean?” He finally asked.

Bubby nudged away from Dr. Coomer to sit down on the bed again. “She’s set to work on that Black Mesa military contract, isn’t she? The best I figure, they’re the ones who handle shit like me if I escape. Keeping Black Mesa secrets by force.” He began. “Even if that’s not the case, you can run away from Black Mesa just fine, but wouldn’t her position be harder to run from if she wanted to come with us? You couldn’t tell her where to find us, or there would be the possibility of them getting that information out of her. Right?”

“She wouldn’t tell anyone.” Dr. Coomer said defensively.

“Okay, sure.” Bubby relented, purely for the sake of argument. “But she wouldn’t be able to visit. As your wife, they’d surely be tracking her to see if she ever comes to find you, right? That’d lead them right to me. That would be a choice, between her and me. Wouldn’t it?”

Dr. Coomer gripped the fabric of his shirt over his stomach, a nauseous expression creeping up on his face. “...Oh.” He breathed.

Bubby relaxed a little, now that he seemed to have finally found something that got Dr. Coomer off his back. Dr. Coomer sat down beside him, staring at their reflection in the full-length closet mirror in front of them. Bubby looked back at him; he looked so conflicted and thrown off. Bubby suspected he must have just toppled a plan months—or maybe even years—secretly in the making with just one simple argument.

“That’s not fair.” Dr. Coomer suddenly said shakily.

Bubby shook his head a little. “I guess not.”

“I never wanted it to be a choice between you two.” Dr. Coomer continued, turning to look at Bubby rather than his reflection. “But...well, Bubby, I understand why you’re pushing so hard against leaving. I know it must be hard to consider this massive life change, particularly when the other option isn’t ideal. But...truly, when it comes down to it...”

Dr. Coomer paused, reaching for Bubby’s hand. “This isn’t just about us, or my relationship with her, if you consider all the factors. My moral standpoint on all of this doesn’t change. Even if I had to leave so much behind, I’d still ultimately choose to get you out of Black Mesa.”

“What? Why?” Bubby demanded. “You can’t do that, Coomer! You married her! You already made your choice!”

That was harsh, Bubby thought the minute the words came out of his mouth. What was he doing? Lashing out? All over something so unfair to be angry about, too—he was mysteriously frustrated with Dr. Coomer for wanting him to be happy. Was that truly such a crime?

“I can’t—I can’t do this.” Bubby said, voice wavering as he stood. He was immediately forced to sit again by an intense surge of pain in his head. He felt Dr. Coomer’s hand on his back to steady him, only making his complicated, frustrated feelings worse. He nudged away from him, standing again much slower this time. “Coomer, you know I lo-...care about you. But honestly, all of this—everything, the wedding, you constantly trying to break me out—I think this is just too much.”

“Oh, Bubby, I’m sorry.” Dr. Coomer replied automatically, standing and reaching out just a little—not touching him, but clearly prepared to catch him if he fell. “I’ll back off, then, I promise. I just...I got caught up in everything. I don’t want you to be overwhelmed by all this.”

“No.” Bubby said, shaking his head and turning away from Dr. Coomer. “I-I understand it all. I really do. But this, you asking me to be your best man when you know how I feel about you, and then just—telling me you’d leave your wife for me! Do you even realize how much that hurts?”

“Wh-what?”

“You trying to do these things to be nice to me, I just...I know it shouldn’t hurt. I know it.” Bubby continued, tears stinging his eyes as everything began to flood out. “It’s fucked up of me to even tell you this, you’re only trying to help—I’m just not good for you. I’m putting such a strain on your whole life, potentially on your marriage—I want you to be happy, I spent so long trying to get past my jealousy so I could just enjoy seeing you happy with Veronica, but knowing you’d drop everything and leave so much behind for me is so horrible. I don’t want that weighing on you! I’m going to be stuck here for the rest of my fucking life, and I never wanted you to get so close that it would hurt you to see me like this. That’s why I rejected you, I thought we’d be avoiding that pain, but here we are.”

Bubby felt light-headed as he began to have trouble breathing. He sat back down heavily on Dr. Coomer’s bed out of necessity, Dr. Coomer following in an instant.

“...I-I’m sorry.” Dr. Coomer repeated. “I...didn’t realize...”

“I can’t do it, anymore. I can’t.” Bubby said, wiping at his eyes uselessly. “These past few years getting to know you have put too much into perspective, Coomer, and...I don’t want this to be what our lives are like.”

“...What are you saying?” Dr. Coomer asked quietly.

“I can’t—...” Bubby struggled to swallow a lump in his throat. “Maybe it’s best if we stopped being friends.”

Bubby refused to look at Dr. Coomer, dreading his reaction. He was silent, though, for what felt like a solid minute before he finally spoke.

“Bubby, I don’t understand.” Dr. Coomer said, his voice soft and broken. “I only wanted to help you.”

“That’s the problem.” Bubby insisted, standing up carefully. “I’m not someone you should try to help. You’ll only get hurt if you do. I mean—look at me! I couldn’t handle you just trying to do something good for me! I’m not a good friend, Coomer. You know something? I fucking hated Veronica at first.”

Dr. Coomer didn’t reply, only giving Bubby a surprised look.

“I didn’t want to. She’s always seemed fine.” Bubby continued. “I just—I hated that it changed our friendship when she got here. Then you two started dating again, and I almost couldn’t stand to see it. It was selfish of me! And that same selfish part of me would fucking love to go with you and have our entire lives revolve around each other, but I can’t let that be what we end up with. You don’t deserve that.”

Dr. Coomer was starting to get a dazed look in his eyes as Bubby spoke. Bubby shook his head, pressing his hands to his face and taking a deep breath.

“I spend every interaction with you fucking—psychoanalyzing myself. It’s exhausting.” Bubby admitted with a choked sob. “I never...I never fucking learned how to care about people down here. And now I just...I don’t think I’ll ever really get the hang of it. I’ll just hurt you. I feel like I have been hurting you, even though I’ve tried so, so fucking hard not to.”

Bubby froze as he heard a quiet sob from Dr. Coomer. He looked down at him, watching him bury his face in his hands as his shoulders began to shake. Bubby had only ever seen him cry like this when Veronica left—but this was a whole different level than that. He’d done this, he thought as his stomach churned. So much frustration at himself, his circumstances, and his feelings towards Dr. Coomer had built up until it all came crashing down, and Dr. Coomer had gotten caught in the crosshairs. Bubby stumbled backward.

“I-...I’m sorry. I have to go.” Bubby murmured. “I’m sorry, Coomer. I’m sorry.”

He left after that, as promised, trying very hard to tune out the sounds of Dr. Coomer crying before shutting the door firmly behind him.

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michaelasixdjournal · 4 years

Text

Show’n’tell wrap up

This post was written right after the show’n’tell wrap up and its length is unfortunate 😬 but it is due to the limited access to a computer during the module (since I didn’t have my own) and it tries to kind of make up for some of it O:) Notes from the show’n’tell: What is the experience like? - a reminder not to focus only on the technical parameters. Sometimes I think I focused a lot on how the prototype processes the input it receives from the sound, and how it expresses it, but I did not think that much about what the experience feels like for the person interacting with it. I think it´s because I did not think about any particular user (which turned out to be easier than I thought). Or maybe because of this, I was actually thinking about me as the "user". When creating the starry night prototype, I set it to react to particular sounds based on what I preferred, which leads me to another note - Why did the prototype react to those particular sounds in those particular ways, except for because I liked it that way? Why did I like it that way? - here I think it might be subjective to a big extent. I haven´t thought of it in the way as why would I want it to be this way. It was the latest prototype, which aimed mostly at showing another way of expressing pretty much the same functionality as the Shape rain did. It was reacting to the specific frequency ranges for different "commands", sometimes also listening closely to the values received and forming the output based on that in more detail. So I think I created really without any justifications, almost for myself. Why I think I liked it that way, was from a big part influenced by what sounds I was able to identify in a reliable way, such as speech (or other sounds hitting the lower frequencies), whistling, "sss" sound, or metal hitting glass. So those became my "tools" and then I just matched them with the functionalities based on what actions I wanted to be triggered easily, on purpose, or by accident. Since speech or sounds that hit the lower frequencies high enough are quite easy to produce and also often happen by accident, I matched them with the sky getting darker. Why I wanted the sky to get dark easily? Maybe that is the question I should be asking. Here probably mostly for demonstrative purposes, but also to make it easier to then see the stars, because stars are pretty O:) so, very subjective I think. The prototype contained a special counter which should then determine the number of the stars that will appear on the dark sky. The goal for it was to work the way that when many loud noises in the correct freq range are made straight away, there will only be a few stars. For it to be more stars on the sky later, one would need to control the volume, speak loud enough for a while, but then lower the volume (still make sounds though, just not so loud) and control it this way, so the counter would always increase a bit, decrease a bit, increase a bit, while the number of stars to-be-created would accumulate. This way, there would be many stars on the sky in the end. I think I wanted this to be some kind of metaphor for being considerate or inconsiderate, and then the stars should have represented some kind of reward, for when we are able to control our behavior. Due to the technical aspect though, it was very hard to make this work for me, it was depending on very nuanced numbers, and also required a steady volume of the background noises, because the range considered as "low" was quite small, since I didn´t want to activate this range by accident, so it must have been higher than the unintentional background sounds, but also lower than an intentional sound of a higher volume. Anyway, since this was quite hard for me to calibrate and the time was pressing, I decided to not have this number of stars differ so much, because I was more focused on being able to get the sky dark or light intentionally in a reliable way, which I used the speech and the whistling for. Here I think I didn´t pay as much attention to my initial intention with the number of stars representing some kind of reward, and depending on the human behavior, because I did not consider it so important, for some reason. I thought it´s kind of like an extra thought I had behind it, which wasn´t very important. The inconsiderate behavior, or the considerate, showing also patience, that might be a better word to use. That this way, basically, with patience, when you would increase and decrease the volume of the sounds you were making/speaking, it would take more time also, get a bit annoying almost, but then you would be rewarded in the end. Maybe this in itself was enough for one sketch, which would only be showing this. It wouldn´t look that exciting maybe, because I would only get it to work once, and then you would need to refresh the page if you would want to try again, but maybe it had an interesting enough reason for it to be so. (because I didn´t manage to delete the stars with the sky getting light, which was a part of the idea also.) Either way, I got this idea towards the end and it was probably too complex to handle in that amount of time. So I wanted it to be just an incomplete example of how the functionalities targeting the specific sounds could be used. And the starry sky was just an example, just to show that it could be something more calm and static than the Shape rain, which was chaotic and hectic. I wanted it to show that the input doesn´t have to mirrored immediately, I wanted it to be more hidden. Again, why? :D I think because I wanted the interaction to be a little bit more mysterious or surprising, have the person interacting try a bit harder, to get more involved, feel more challenged. I think it moved away from the mirroring a lot in the way that (in the original idea with the sky getting darker and lighter gradually) with speaking it would get darker, then at some point dark, and then it would seem to not react anymore. But it would be possible to get it lighter again, but with a conscious and patient effort, which if not made on purpose, would not happen by accident so easily. So it could create an impression that once the sky gets dark, it stays dark. The sky getting lighter then, at some point, could be a surprising moment. I think I wanted it to play a bit with expectations, curiosity and patience. If I had asked myself these questions earlier, it might have been an entire "theme". Expectations and curiosity for example. Or patience, probably not all of them together, cause that is a lot already. But as I said, this was an idea that came very late, and quite complex. It is maybe because for a longer time before, our theme, or kind of my theme in my head, was this character expressing different states/emotions based on the sound input. Being awake, being creative, having a burnout, being worried, scared, excited. There was a lot to experiment with there already probably, but I kind of left this idea behind for two reasons, 1. because I didn´t manage to hook up the beats template with the threshold one (and I had a behavior planned depending on both), 2. because I got more interested in creating environments, not just one very specific character. If I would have decided that the emotions/states is what I want to focus on, then I would find a way how to use other ways for it than beats, but by then I was already more interested in the environments so I moved away from it anyway. It was maybe a really weird time management, because for a long time we were working mostly with the beats. And then quite late we worked a lot with the specific sounds. Sometimes I felt like we are almost working on what would be enough for two pairs of people. I think I tried to be very open to change, new ideas and new ways of using the sound, that I did not stick to almost anything during this process, it was a constant evolution. I perceived it as a more experimental project, which doesn´t necessarily have an "end", end solution, end product, so I did not pay that much attention to something like "it might be too late to change this now" or "this is not of our interest right now". Pretty much everything was of our interest, at least mine :D except for the beats towards the end, that´s when I did not want to explore them any more. But I think we worked on different functionalities and themes in parallel, so then that makes it very hard to sum up in the final show´n´tell also. Because there were things happening in parallel lines. It is not the first time it happened to me I think, but only in these more experimental modules. Also during Prototyping, when we had one project for one week, and we were all involved and interested and we kind of diverged and separated into two subgroups. In a bigger project, as the final one in Prototyping, it did not happen, because I think I was also more aware and concerned about the right timing of the different stages in the process, and I knew that the final product is supposed to be just ONE :D. (but even that one was actually consisting of two pieces, but I think in that case it was not a bad thing). I think that diverging is the part that I am better at, coming up with new ideas, new perspectives, but I don´t always know how to estimate when and how the converging should happen. I think I went from the extreme of getting attached to my very first idea and wanting to continue with that one till the very end, to the other extreme, of abandoning all the ideas that don´t excite me anymore and coming up with new ones and constantly evolving. Hopefully the next stage will be some balance in-between the two. I am wondering though, what should have been done in this case. I don´t think that it went badly at all, but I think there was way more effort put into some parts than maybe necessary, and also more energy put into it than what could have been seen from the final show´n´tell. I would say it did harm it a bit, because it was too much, which also makes it more chaotic. It seemed like a really good transition though, from the single character states/emotions to the environments. I don´t think that that was a bad call. But maybe changing this, AND at the same time changing the input that we have been working with (from beats to freq ranges), was too much. I think I could have made the starry sky work more or less as I originally intended using the functionality of the beats, bpm and such. I think that it really was the functionality at many instances that was the "driving force" for the next decision, not an idea for the interaction, some kind of theme. Using the different freq ranges became our theme kind of, we thought, but that is more about the functionality also. But I know Jens mentioned that maybe whistling alone could have been interesting, for some other group, but then that would also be driven by the technical aspects almost. So I am not sure from which angle we should have grasped it. I said during the process at some time that "I am not getting any ideas, and when I am not getting any ideas I am probably not understanding something." but I think it was actually "... any ideas, I am probably not having enough constraints." The inputs could have been different, a theme could have been picked there - materials for example, wood, glass, etc.. or whistling etc... (on this dependent maybe the characteristic of the sound chosen, frequency ranges for example) The way it is processed was unlimited - constantly mirroring, counting certain "events", reaching a state, relations between the order of the states reached, on and off behavior, influencing appearance/aesthetics, irreversible outcomes, reversible outcomes by specific actions.... The outputs could have been anything - single object, environment, multiple, object interacting with its environment, elements between each other... The themes could have been anything - expressing emotions based on what the different sounds make us feel like, or without a link but expressing emotions, creating a personality, exploring the theme of patience, expectations, control, lack of control, silence, fear, anything.... It makes a lot more sense now, having it written down this way. I think we tried several of the options, from all the categories. Different inputs (materials, beats, human body sounds, speech almost), the behavior (mirroring, reaching a state, reversible and irreversible, specifying properties of objects, ...), outputs (single object, environments with objects...), themes (emotions, personality, states of being, expectations, patience, reward, ...). I think I learned a LOT, but also I would need more hours in a day if I would want to continue working this way :D. Also it is not the most fruitful, would definitely benefit from a clearer direction. I don´t know why it´s almost always easier to see it all in retrospect. I think I was way too caught up in the code and the technical aspect. Also maybe because the code we worked with was way more advanced than what I would have made myself, so it took me some extra time to understand what Christian had coded and then I was way too much in the code I think. I had ideas still, but we didn´t have a clear theme, maybe because we were always trying something new.

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