#tronfic

[what-bot]

Tron was quiet when Beck returned.

It was the kind of quiet that meant Beck had screwed up, and they’d soon be having a stern discussion. He couldn’t even begin to guess what about, though. Everything went well on his latest mission. He hadn’t done anything reckless that he remembered.

“Alright. Spill. What’d I do.”

Tron flicked his windows out of frame and stormed over. Beck braced for a lecture.

“Why do you keep taking your helmet off in public?”

Frag. Of course. Beck forgot about that.

“It got itchy?” he quipped, unable to think of an excuse.

He’d gone helmetless a couple times early on. He wasn’t used to the tint, and had forgotten that this wasn’t like his welding visor that he could just ditch when it got in the way. Tron had caught him, rightly tore him to bits and he never did it again.

Until recently.

Every so often, just for a second or two when he was sure no-one was looking, he’d drop the mask. It was a stupid, risky habit. He couldn’t explain it. He just…needed to.

“We’ve talked about this! You could be seen. It endangers you, it endangers your friends.” He didn’t sound angry so much as bemused. That was somehow worse.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again.”

“That’s what you said last time. But I saw you tonight. On the storehouse, right above Pavel and your garagemates. You know better than this.”

Now Beck remembered. He’d thought the mountain was obscured. He should’ve known Tron would spot him anyway, somehow.

Beck shrank further into himself and shrugged noncommittally.

“It’s stupid.”

Tron looked about to agree with him, but thankfully clammed up in time.

“I can’t take this anymore.”

He flicked up a hand to cut Tron off.

“I’m not quitting, don’t worry. I just…

I have got to tell someone about this, or I’m gonna go insane. Going to work every day, pretending everything’s normal. When we can all see I blew off my second shift in a row for no apparent reason, and I’m long out of excuses. People don’t even ask anymore. They don’t bring me tasks, don’t invite me to plans. Just assume I’ll be away. And they’ll probably be right. And then I have to play dumb whenever people mention the Renegade. Or badmouth me to me. It feels like some weird dream.” He didn’t know which side of his life felt more real anymore, mechanic or renegade.

“I need someone to know that it exists, I’m sick of pretending to everyone that I don’t have this whole other half of my life. I can’t just forget about it, because the reminders are everywhere.”

He sighed.

“I know it’s ridiculous, but some days, some part of me doesn’t even care if I get spotted. Just the waiting and the sneaking and the lying. No matter the consequences, it would mean I don’t have to hide anymore. But I’d definitely get killed. I know. It’s dumb. I’m sorry.”

“Able figured it out.”

“It’s not the same. And he’s too close to it. He disapproves of me even doing this.”

Tron made a face.

“I’m aware.”

“I know he just wants to protect me, but I don’t need that, I need him to get it. To know why I’m doing this. If I tried talking to him, he wouldn’t understand and it’d just make it feel worse.”

Beck pointedly avoided bringing up his only other option, considering he was speaking to him right now. Tron had been through so much. It didn’t feel right complaining about this to him. Beck’s troubles were nothing in comparison.

If Tron noticed, he didn’t comment on it.

He heaved a deep sigh. “Remember that friend of yours you wanted to bring in? Mara?”

“I thought you didn’t want her to join.”

“Neither did you, in the end. I also said she’d be there when the time was right. Sounds to me like that time has arrived.”

Beck’s mind flinched away from the idea initially. He’d had to reject her pretty harshly, and he didn’t imagine she’d like finding out she was lied to. “But that meant talk to her as the Renegade. This is different. Oh, she would kill me if she found out the truth.”

“No, she wouldn’t. She might be angry for a while, but…she’d understand. She did the same thing herself, running around with her gang of masked vandals. At your inspiration, I might add.”

“So now you’re in favour of bringing her in.”

He nodded. “I’ve heard good things about her.”

Beck tried to imagine how the conversation would go. Would she be concerned? Angry? Interested? She seemed to have a crush on the Renegade, after all. But at least now he can stop wondering.

“Well, I’m ready to be yelled at.”

“Me, too. Able will not be happy.”

“What if she invites Zed? Next thing we know we’ll have the whole garage in here.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

[bitbrain86]

y’all mind if i yap about architecture and how it speaks about a character?

no?

fabulous. now sit down and shut up (please)

SO. being the film grad and creative person i am, i can’t let any piece of writing happen without an EXTENSIVE collection of photos vaguely outlining the Vibes of the spaces in which my characters live.

this is known professionally as…✨a photo morgue✨

being the set designer/decorator that i was, i have a particular love for the way a character’s home speaks about them. your living space really is a reflection of yourself, and it was always SO much fun for me to translate that into a set.

now for the real nitty-gritty. as i’ve been writing my Tron fic, Another Legacy, i’ve wondered…what kind of house would the Baines-Bradleys live in?

at first, i thought maybe something modest. Alan Bradley isn’t one for flashy, fine things. he’s a humble guy – simple and plain. Lora Baines, however, is not, and if you’ve ever seen the original Tron, you know that she calls the shots. meaning if Lora wanted a palace, Alan would build it for her, and she would insist that he make it something he likes, too.

enter 80s modern/postmodernism

warm. soft. the Vibes. it’s like contemporary, mid century, and a pinch of traditional. just enough minimalism for Alan to feel like he isn’t flaunting the entire dividend Flynn gives him (because you know it’s quite a lot) and just palace-y enough for Lora to feel like she’s really living large. a large kitchen for them to both work their magic (Lora cooks, Alan bakes). plenty of built-in shelves for their books and vinyls. wide windows for staring out over Center City and to the bay beyond. sleek and modern with a timeless, iconic touch that screams “we’re young people in the 80s who just got a ton of money” but not in a bad way.

ok that’s it, everyone can go home now. i’m done rambling for the evening 😃🤣

[evecolourshock]

I have seen multiple images by a variety of artists by now of Rinzler being... silenced/muzzled/choked in some way, usually with a collar or chain of some kind around his neck. Sometimes he's resigned to it, most of the time he's struggling against it.

I love the artwork, and have been meaning to write a story based on that, but didn't know where to start with it. There are so many of you with beautiful concepts, and I've been spoilt for choice.

So I've decided to write it here instead. Enjoy :))

"Try that." Sam offers, pretending his hands aren't shaking when he gives the orange wraith haunting his nightmares back his discs. "Should be... maybe a bit easier?"

Rinzler keeps his movements slow, taking the discs and docking them. He's been like that a lot, at least when he's not who knows where and hiding from everyone but Alan. Slow. Hesitant. Skittish. His circuits flicker - orange, blue, white, a whole range of hues playing out over them.

His gridsuit turns white once the discs sync. Sam wasn't expecting that.

The first sound Rinzler makes is a whispery thing, a thanks lost to static. But it's sound, and not a clicking growl, so it's progress.

"Hey, don't worry, I-"

The second sound, and all the ones Rinzler makes after that, are screams.

Grating, inhuman shrieks bounce off the buildings. Raw, pleading cries rumble through the ground. Piercing, haunting wails split the sky.

"No no nonononono I can fix this, I can fix- you're gonna be okay, just hang in there, it'll be alright-!" Sam traces through the coding he's pulled some of the cruelest scripts he's ever encountered out of, frantically trying to find the trap he must have triggered. Something, anything that could explain this.

Nothing.

Not one single thing.

Rinzler takes his discs back, curls around them. The screams begin to taper off, the Program begging for people Sam's not met.

Sam freezes, fingers inches away from shaking shoulders. From the whines and whimpers as Rinzler crumples in on himself - from a helmet finally breaking wide open, spilling glistening tears onto the tiles. "Rinzler?"

A head shake. A tighter coil. Eyes screwed shut, flinching away.

"...Tron?" Sam dares whisper the name he once knew well, belonging to a Program who always seemed so much bolder and brighter than any comic book hero.

One eye cracks open, what Sam can guess used to be hazel now closer to a ghostly grey.

"Hey buddy." Sam sits down, trying to channel Alan more than he does his dad. Tron doesn't need Flynn boisterousness right now. "Clu had you a long time. I'm sorry." He moves slowly. Puts his hand on Tron's upper arm, over where his own is scarred - a relic of a near-miss cutting too close to what's probably featured in both of their nightmares. "But I'm here now. Alan - your User - he's around too. Gonna be coming in in less than a millicycle. He was so happy to find you - he missed you, and he'll be delighted to have you back."

Tron stills under his palm - brings shaking fingers up to feel Sam's wrist, finding his pulse. A ragged sob tears itself loose from the wrecked Program, gouges glowing blue where Sam knows he doesn't know enough to heal.

"I'm okay." Sam tells him quietly. "It wasn't your fault. God knows it wasn't. And yeah, things are bad right now. But they'll get better. You - everyone here, but you most of all - you'll be going home."

Tron's right eye widens, softens, iris beginning to quite literally spark with something Sam's pretty sure is hope.

His other eye is lost to the yawning void of an old, blackened scar running from his forehead all the way down to his shoulder. Sam cups the ruined cheek, feeling the rough edges of what passes for Tron's flesh press into his hand.

"Dad should never have taken any of you in the first place." Sam admits, thumb sweeping curves over what remains of that side of Tron's face. "He never- none of this should have happened. But- fuck." He finds one of the near-invisible ports on Tron's back with his free hand, presses just so to have the Program relax against him. Tron settles with his ear over Sam's heart. "I'm gonna fix it. Me and Alan, and Lora and Roy and so many others, we're gonna make things right."

"And you've been through enough, okay? It's not your responsibility to fix any of this, and you're not alone any more. Focus on your own recovery, we'll help you every step of the way."

Tron unfurls a little. It takes Sam a moment to realise he's trying to share images, glitching with how much damage remains but visible enough where it counts. Faces Sam knows and almost knows hover in washed-out 3D - Tron lingers on some of them. A softer John Cain - Alan's friend-rival who snuck sweets to the interns. Sam's own face, or something close to it, though it's not him - lither, sporting a buzzed-short mohawk, something sharp and sarcastic in the curve of his smile.

Jet, with better eyesight and a cooler hairstyle than the human. Tron lingers on him the most.

"I don't know." Sam murmurs. "We're still finding people. Coming out of hiding, now Clu's gone. They might not have shown themselves yet." He ruffles Tron's hair. "We'll bring them back to you anyway. None of them'll be gone forever."

Tron smiles, closing his eyes. All that screaming must have worn him out - Sam's seen his expression in the mirror often enough. Barely awake, in the middle of falling asleep.

"Rest. It's okay." Sam murmurs. "You've protected so many, and it cost you too much. Let us protect you now."

[catcucumber-salad]

Greetings, programs...

I have a huge update of my CODE:flynn AU brewing as of late, and you can expect some significant changes to the following fics as I work on rewriting them to fit the new lore.

Link to my AO3 :3

Link to my Writing Blog :D

Main backstory fics:

Ceilings - gonna try to flesh out Cody's relationship with Artemis & his hatred for Script a bit more

AUs of the CODE:flynn AU:

Soul Not Found - now called the "Cychovirus AU" (Cycho is pronounced "psycho")

The History Teacher, The Renegade, and The Grid - still working on an AU name for this one :P

Upcoming fics I'm planning:

Deresolution and Faith

Deep Dark [Web]

tags:

@aesira-of-orion

@locitawritings-blog1

@grimoiregirl633

@spaceandthedigitalfrontier

@ifightforthesystem

[angry-rinzler]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Tron - All Media Types, Tron (Movies), Tron: Uprising, Tron: Legacy Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Lora Baines-Bradley/Alan Bradley, Alan Bradley & Jethro "Jet" Bradley Characters: Alan Bradley, Lora Baines-Bradley, Jethro "Jet" Bradley Additional Tags: Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Father-Son Relationship, Short & Sweet Summary:

Lora and Alan have a moment of easy peace at the end of each night.

[grid-daisies]

Chapters: 1/2 Fandom: Tron - All Media Types, Tron: Uprising Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Beck & Mara & Zed (Tron), Able & Beck (Tron), Beck & Tron (Tron) Characters: Beck (Tron), Zed (Tron), Mara (Tron), Able (Tron), Tron (Tron), Pavel (Tron), Paige (Tron), Tesler (Tron) Additional Tags: AU of "The Reward" where Beck gets caught, Identity Reveal, EVERYTHING GOES WRONG, unwilling memory sharing, Execution, execution by dismemberment, not tagging as major character death because I feel like I left the end of chapter one ambiguous, chapter 1 is Beck POV, chapter will rotate between Tron Zed Mara and Able POVS, competent Occupation, Dark, Ambiguous/Open Ending, (specifically chapter 1) and will be removed after chapter 2 Summary:

This wasn't supposed to happen.

Beck thought he had been careful. He had stopped taking off his mask while working as the Renegade. He didn't change out of the suit until he was sure he was alone or out of the city. He had managed to even school his features to never give away any inkling of his opinion on the Renegade.

But it hadn't been enough. Somehow, someone found out.

(AU of the Reward where Beck is captured in the witch hunt and discovered.)

[invincibleinck]

WIP (almost) Wednesday

Tagged by @fashionablyfyrdraaca! Thanks for the tag :)

Tagging @solar-siren, @tronsgender, and uuh anyone else that writes and wants to have a go at this. (My head hurts apologies)

I'll post two very brief wips because most of my wips are incomprehensible. One from Stronger (Tron fic), and one from Limerence (Star Wars: KOTOR). Sorry they're so short oof.

Stronger:

"I'm sorry," Flynn said. His voice was barely above a whisper. "But Sam is my priority."

"And Beck is mine."

He couldn't imagine that the User would be in any hurry to return, and with the time difference...

"This is goodbye, for now."

Limerence:

Dustil quickly became Revan's new project—a sort of protege. They spent hours in the cargo hold, practicing with their lightsabres. Now that he had a second sabre, Revan was teaching him to use both at the same time.

Carth watched them whenever he could. There wasn't much else to do, and the whole arrangement made him uneasy. He would sit on a crate and supervise in silence. Over time, he started to look forward to the sessions.

Dustil was a fast learner. He took the rote motions of each kata and made them his own. But Revan was the real spectacle. Her body flowed from one form to the next, smooth movements morphing into strong poses. Her footwork was flawless. Mesmerizing. Carth couldn't look away.

Once, she caught his eye and smirked.

[anorptron]

Who wants to see a scene from a fic I’m working on?