record s

General update about my career/animation

I know I’m not like… obligated to post this or anything but I took a short, 3-week gig at a studio working on a pilot for adult swim (Chuck Deuce, it’s about a surfer with amnesia and a mythical taco truck, naturally) which is cool cause 1. I like the studio, I’ve worked foe them before, 2. Money is nice, and 3. It’s only 3 weeks which is a good little chunk of studio work to do before I get antsy to start working on w2h2. In regards to that, I’m still in this weird in-between phase cause I need to record dialogue and that’s the only part of the process that actually requires me to coordinate with people which takes a lot of time SOOO!

Anyway that’s what’s up with me! Just thought I’d share!

Also I fucking hate Flash so much I swear to god, like I GET why studios like it, but when you’re making a show with like intentionally jagged/rough line quality in a vector program you’re just making gigantic fuckin files that the computer has a hard time playing back, like….   hhhhhhhhhhhhaaggghhkkk…  I’m mostly just a big whiny baby who doesn’t like industry-standard programs ‘cause I’ve pampered myself with fuckin’ indie software from France

anonymous asked:

What if. Okay what if, Google malfunctions while talking to the Host alone, all stuttering and jerky movements, and in this malfunctioning state his secondary objective takes over and isnt able to differentiate the Host from a normal human. When Google is able to get himself back online what he sees is his hand around the Hosts throat and the Host desperately gasping for air (and maybe? MAYBE!!!! some tiny comfort fluffs from a distressed google and dr iplier)

(my weak heart oh goodness)

They’re having a pleasant conversation, discussing a book the Host is writing and Google is going over the notes he’s recorded, pointing out a minor discrepancy when a strange feeling comes over him. He’s stuttering through his words, form glitching and clipping through his seat like at badly modeled character in a buggy game. 

His vision blurs and he can only faintly hear the Host’s calls of alarm over the buzzing in his ears. There’s a flashing screen in his eyes, blaring and red and the words “secondary objective”seem to burn themselves into his mind. Google doesn’t expect to black out, but when his servos wir back to life and proper functionality returns, he finds himself straddling the Host’s waist, fingers wrapped tightly around his neck. The Host claws weakly at his hands, gasping, and Google jumps off him so quickly he nearly stumbles into a book shelf. 

The Host’s hands fly to his neck, curling himself into a protective ball. Google reaches out to him, aware that if the damage to his throat is extensive he won’t be able to narrative which would leave him completely blind. But the Host flinches away, croaks out a whisper of a word that Google just manages to identify as “stop.”

And he runs, hating himself and hating his programming and most of all, hating the surge of emotions that rise like bile in his throat, terrible and awfully human. All logic hasn’t left him though, he has a destination. Google nearly crashes into Dr. Iplier’s office, eyes blown wide and dark hair in wild disarray. 

“The Host requires your assistance”, he says before the doctor can open his mouth to speak. He’s relieved that his urgency comes across because Dr. Iplier snaps his mouth shut, grabs a first aid and gestures at him to lead the way. The walk back to the library seems glacial though it takes little less than a minute. When they enter, they find the Host slumped into his chair, head whipping around when he hears them entering the room. He still can’t seem to speak, so knowing his surroundings is virtually impossible. 

Dr. Iplier makes gentle shushing noises and approaches him slowly. He carefully removes the Host’s hands from his neck, eyes blazing slightly at the purpling on his skin. 

“What happened?” he asks lowly. 

And the awful human guilt comes rushing back, settles like little pins beneath Google’s skin. He loathes the feeling, but is sure he deserves it. 

“I didn’t mean to…”, he starts, wincing when Dr. Iplier’s eyes fly to him. 

“I think I had a malfunction. My secondary objective took over and I was unable to differentiate between human and nonhuman.” He glues his eyes to the carpet, unable to face the judgement he knows the doctor will throw at him. 

Quiet feet pad towards him and he looks up to find the Host drifting towards him. 

“It’s okay.” His voice is cracked, hardly audible, and he winces afterwards like the effort to form the words hurt him. But he wraps his arms around Google and lets him know it’s not his fault and the guilt melts away, just slightly. 

I’m not sure how I feel about the new dresses. And am I right in drawing Chloe with pink in her hair? Because that’s what it looks like.