tanks4thememory: (Energy Spring)
tanks4thememory ([personal profile] tanks4thememory) wrote2020-12-09 10:29 pm
Entry tags:

Two heads are better than one

Who: Clu1 and Clu 2 (a_perfect_end)
Where: Their User world abode and possibly other places
When: Some undetermined time post Legacy and after this thread
What: ABO sexytimes and maybe other things; a Clu on Clu catchall
Warnings: VERY NSFW. Multiple kinks, ABO related warnings, sorta incest depending how you view programs from the same User, basically enter at your own risk if you're not into that sort of thing

The life and times- and sexytimes of Clus One and Two in the ABO universe, collected here for the sake of convenience and avoiding page clutter. Multiple scenarios, lots of fun. Mostly of the NSFW variety.

a_perfect_end: xineishiguro @lj made it! (windowlicker strut rides again)

Let's Do It, Let's Start! (Three Heart Event)

[personal profile] a_perfect_end 2024-09-08 04:39 am (UTC)(link)
For Clu--for Clark--it began over lunch. A neutral island in their days, a casual place to catch up once in a while. It was also a great way to tease blushing and new recipes out of Frank. The other omega was a sweetheart, but somewhat shy--though he lit up when he was sharing knowledge, whether it was about a way to make sprouts actually taste good, or a new manga he'd read recently.

Clu had started to wonder, over a round of the increasingly cute bento exchange they had going on, just what this was between them. Frank had brought him apple rabbits, and they were so darling his heart had squeezed a little in his chest. It was part biology and part something more, that ancient feeling of connection, of being truly seen. It made him think. It made him curious.

On the Grid, bundling was near-literal and unavoidably public. His code-brother had helped him mask their own dynamic in-system, not because it was wrong or needed hiding, but out of respect for Clu's tasklist and the fact that some null units couldn't handle which way they flipped their polarity. They'd fit together almost as though built that way originally, goals and ideals merged as seamlessly as circuits touched, and with as much spark. The Grid had flourished under their combined abilities, had blossomed into a world nearer to Flynn's true vision--and had been safely passed into the hands of his truest friends, in turn, for safekeeping.

But this, with Frank, was something else again. Just as this world was something else again, secondary alignments driving everything at angles so sharply different to their neon realm of perfect data. Frank and Clu had met each other deep in the mutual throes of pure instinct, and from that gradually branched out into a friendship.

And now this. Small, sweet gestures like this, that made Clu curious. It was, in its purest form, a sign that Frank noticed the effort Clu was putting in, and liked it (and him?) enough to return the favor.

It'd been ages since anyone but his code-brother had extended him the sacred energy of same team. So they'd felt each other out about it--a two-cocoa talk that then became a three-cocoa sitdown, with Frank--on how it felt to have a rapport that extended rather than diminished their set. They'd grown closer through the usual likes and dislikes, and through the less usual: long talks about the meaning of life and the romantic motivations of bishounen; long sharp drives up narrow seaside switchbacks, late into the night; long naps curled loose under each other's arms.

They'd worked it out, all three of them, and in the process come up with something more.

His brother had been the first to suggest they should go into business for themselves. Sticking it to the establishment in every way possible short of triggering an actual Federal manhunt was his specialty. That included various acts of white-hattery and volunteering, but it also meant using their own talents, on their own time, to build software of their own.

Or the logic for it, anyway; solutions to problems they hadn't quite tackled yet. Clu had organized those: so far, they had a group of scalable plans and a small but definite list of the no-goes. No productivity apps. No server stuff--there were already way too many container innovations in the world. And no database crap! They were quietly at war with SQL, a lowbrow language if ever there was one.

Clark couldn't quite recall, now, which of them had first proposed a game. Their brainstorming session had gone on well into that night, and he'd eaten an entire packet of dark chocolate espresso beans--to stay awake, of course!--and so he could vaguely hear colors by the time that idea had arrived.

A game of their own. He vividly remembered the way Frank had beamed when pointing out that they could create a visual novel.

His code-brother had immediately warmed to the idea. Clu was, in turn, excited to run the numbers and conclude that if they hired someone to do the key art, they could write and rewrite the core code to fit a story in about ten weeks. Frank had some thoughts for a romance, while Clu himself had a few ideas for an adventure script. His code-brother put the two together: what they needed was a love story that was also a daring heist with puzzle elements--and what better source for inspiration than the great Encom caper of '82?

No one could know the particulars, of course. They'd have to file the serial numbers off, and ix-nay on the id-Gray. But--the player as a young, up-and-coming programmer whose awesome idea for a new game got stolen from under their nose by a mysterious adversary at their company? The ridiculously intelligent (and ridiculously attractive) scientists and programmers who all just happened to work in the same building? The clearly evil greedy company sheltering such a scandal?

Could the player navigate this sexy social minefield and emerge with the evidence of their game--and their rights to it--intact? Or would they get caught by company security? Or worse, get their heart broken?

Yeah. It had plenty of potential, and all the makings of something special.

There was just one problem.

No. Truth be told, there were many problems, but this specific problem was right there in the opening sequence.

"Our genius programmer just walked into the wall. Like, into it! Again," groaned Clu, burying his head in his hands. "They are now one with the cement!"

He sat up with a wince, getting stiffly to his feet. Being wrapped around a laptop all day could do that to a guy. He strode away from the desk.

"If anyone needs me, I'll be outside, loading bricks into my pockets and walking into the sea."

This was something of an overstatement: the nearest body of water was Mr. Kellerman's birdbath across the street.
a_perfect_end: boy this desk is interesting NOPE (en to ex)

[personal profile] a_perfect_end 2025-03-26 03:14 am (UTC)(link)
Certainly their union had come with its ups and downs--its crises and triumphs large and small--both on the Grid and here in the outer world. (He still didn't like to think of their new home as 'the real world'; information was real. Light was real. Electricity was real enough to kill, and most of his existence had been mostly those, for an amount of time that would have made their coworkers dizzy, had they believed in it--nearly thirty outer years, but almost two thousand in the machine.)

From that vantage point, their handful of analog years were a new and dynamic lifetime together, and they had certainly made it work. They made it fit and fit themselves to it, in turn, and if they'd had a rocky start--they had built, oh. A radiant life together, the slim gold band on his hand a reminder he cherished to no end.

Adding Frank to the mix had been--unplanned. Spontaneous. Wonderful. Someday they might be able to tell him all of it. And even if he never followed them to the Grid, still they had brought him all the way on, part of the team in this as in everything else. For Frank to have christened it 3 of Hearts Games felt--good. Felt right, and he was planning to frame the napkin that held the original logo Frank had sketched out, just as soon as he could sneak it away safely. He might need his code-brother's help, to preserve the surprise.

Privately Clu still worried about the paperwork, even though he'd checked every line four times by hand, and then grilled and drilled their poor paralegal about it twice. But at last they were in it for themselves--making something that mattered, and something that mattered to them, and it felt very special to be crafting something creative together with their mutual skillsets.

So far, all of it was coming together on schedule. Except of course for the code. The nightmarish, slagging, impossible code. They were technically moving along, when it worked, but--

He did unit testing! For a living! How. Was. It. This. Hard. To. Animate. A. WALK. CYCLE. AND THEN COLLISION TEST IT?

It was true. His code brother had warned him this might happen, and now it was happening.

Clu groaned, flat on the table, deep and wordless, until every molecule of air had left his lungs. And for the glorious memory of how easy he had thought this would be, he sucked in a great big breath and did it again. Was he exaggerating? Maybe a little. Maybe he wanted to see if he could at least coax more laughter from their latest current disaster.

"I know," he wheezed sadly, still sprawled but gradually arighting himself. "I know you did. And, man, you were not kidding."

But he lit up instantly for break, alert as a pop-up. One day he would learn to rest without his code-brother's prompting, but it was not this day.

"Oh, he has to be having better luck." Users grant he was having better luck. Somebody needed to be. Fingers crossed. "Besides, I'd love to see what he's got."

Did that hold the thrill of challenge, an edge of flirtation, or both? It was definitely both, and a secret third thing that felt suspiciously like--hope.

In short: he was in a better mood than he had been for almost an hour, and entirely looking forward to being treated to the results of Frank's efforts.