Fic: Anti-Virus (Tron, Gen, Alan & Roy)
Summary: Set Pre-Movie events. Roy’s stuck at home with a cold, and Alan is obnoxiously helpful.
A/N: Hints at ExpositionFairy’s symbiosis’verse headcanons, but is otherwise just fluff. Written as an attempt to expunge my own sickness from my body by foisting it off on fic characters. Beta’d by infiniteviking.
Tron: Uprising: Stranger
In the beginning, it was about belief. Cyrus was a self-assured, bold program from a few cycles after he was generated to a few millis before Beck left him to die.
He was not born with flayed skin. When the birth-techs carefully folded his mask back from his face for the first time, they saw a square chin and a spot of hair that would later grow neatly into a goatee.
No one suspected, and really, there was nothing to suspect. He was a good man. So good, so average, that Dyson took him without a fight. All very regulated, very official. Cyrus forgot his original task as soon as Dyson’s army reprogrammed him into a guard.
Nevertheless, he still valued his beliefs. They were dug into his disk too firmly for a surface erasure to smooth them out. Cyrus knew when Tron was tortured that this was against his beliefs about the way the world should work. The data scattered across the floor disgusted him, and he wondered why Clu would support a method of information-gathering that was so imperfect, so like chaos.
So Cyrus took both himself and Tron back.
Secret Santa for Iceeyu!
“The guards will see!” Tron hissed urgently, trying to stay quiet. His heuristics roared threat threat threat threat threat at him, even though he knew the little actuary was a friend; he’d never been designed to interface with anyone but Yori, and such close contact kept coming across as combat rather than pleasure. Ram just laughed, low and quiet, and placed a kiss on his shoulder which touched off another set of warning messages.
Then Ram licked his way down to the small of his back, and pleasure won out. Tron groaned, arching back against his friend, the stress of the Games suddenly forgotten. Even the ozone stink of the forcefield faded into the background, and the cold ones and zeros of the prisoner’s bench — images of happier times danced through his memory, each accompanied by the faint scratching sound of Disc access.
Yori. Always Yori, but Ram, too. This wasn’t the first time (he remembered the first time, all desperate fumbling, two pairs of interface subroutines which didn’t quite mesh), and he knew it wouldn’t be the last (he remembered the last time, too, a light-hearted encounter which had left them both giggling on the floor). He snapped back to reality to find Ram on his knees, smirking up at him from beneath his mop of hair. Such a clever program, really: Tron was sure he’d never been programmed for this, anymore than he’d been designed to beat Sark’s men at jai alai. But Ram’s knowing tongue ran along the circuits at his groin, enveloping each in wet heat, and Tron knew — he knew — that the Users had intended both of them for more than just the obvious.
He swallowed a groan, biting the inside of his mouth to keep from crying out. He doubted the rainbow-guards would do anything but laugh if they were caught… but this way it was another game, another small victory Tron could take from them. He lived for that, lived for every moment because there was nothing else to live for in the cells, and — he gasped as Ram paused to suckle at the circuits that burned low on his belly — and he wanted to live, not least because Alan-One asked it of him.
He dropped his hand, tugging it through Ram’s hair, and then slid it down the circuits at his neck. They were starting to run violet, just like Tron’s own, and for a long nano he felt nothing but their pulsing, living warmth beneath his hand. Then Ram gasped and pressed against him, heat against heat. Full interface. Tron’s body jerked against the bench, his knees folding beneath him. They fell back with an oath — was it “Roy” that Ram growled as they went? — and for an instant they shone far brighter than the forcefields, brighter than Sark, brighter than the MCP himself.
Then the light faded. Tron reached up to ruffle Roy’s hair, releasing a weary, happy chuckle. Ram just sighed and curled against him on the bench, as if for warmth.
“Thanks,” Ram murmured at last. “I needed that.”
“Me, too,” Tron said, and all the while he thought: one day I’m getting out of here… and when I do I want you with me, Ram.
Reblogging as a favor to Grey, who deserves mad props for giving Ram some violet-circuited love for once!
Why not? It’s a time for ~sharing~ <3
Tronblr Secret Santa fic!
This fic was written for Vanthe. Hi; I hope it’s what you were looking for. :)
Fandom: TRON (Uprising-era, AU)
Genre: G, gen, combat, drama.
Summary: General Tesler captures a User… for all of five minutes.
Down These Mean Streets
The program stalks slowly, insolently forward, his circuits a mostly-red blur through the downpour, and there’s nowhere left for Alan to go.
“The nightmare’s are the boy’s way of dealing with his missing father,” Dr. Adler explains with a calm patience that should ease Alan more than it does. “It’s a common way for children to work through issues, and there is nothing wrong with it. The best way to deal with these episodes is to comfort the child and not focus so heavily on them. They will eventually go away on their own.”
Unusual but effective crossover.
TRON fic to be exact. I wrote this yesterday morning, and it’s not very good, but I did my best. Basically, it’s my answer to why 6-year-old Sam was played by a 12-year-old.
Sed was really awesome in looking it over for me. (Thanks, bb.)
Oh, this is a splendid idea. I’d love to see it explored in the context of events on the Grid, too.
Fic: In the Quiet Hours of the Morn - Tron/Yori
Disk Wars, a fic
Title: Disk Wars
Pairing/Character: Clu, Sam, Hadabaddayatwork!Flynn, Troll!Tron, Alan. Could be seen as Clu/Sam I guess, or not, your preference.
Word Count: 4,891 D: I do not remember writing that much, where did it all come from?
Rating: T violence and blood
Summary: The meat of this is Clu and Sam centric, program and user bond the only way Clu knows how with his limited understanding of human emotions. Takes place after Legacy. Fic may be distorted by my weird head cannons. If you could tell me what you think I would love you for the rest of eternity.
Disclaimer: still do not own Tron franchise :<
User vs. User Tron battle question
Am I the only one that wants to see or read a User versus User all-out battle, from inside the Grid? Like Hacker!Roy versus Programmer!Alan doing mock battles or even those two on the same team doing something. Just thinking about Users calling for all out war with armies of programs in order to start time delay attacks (where resources are so tapped the system literally slows down - the Users wouldn’t be slowed down but all the programs would) sounds interesting.
And I like the prospect of seeing so many programs bearing the same face in the ‘war’ or in general because they have the same programmer and sometimes the only difference is one digit in their name (e.g. Agent, Agent1 and Agent1a). Like Agent Smith from the Matrix, only their functions might sometimes be different (repair, security, word processing - but all from the same programmer). It would be so delightfully confusing and possibly unsettling to an uninitiated User. In my headcanon Kevin Flynn imported most of the Basic programs from Encom into his Grid and didn’t actually write them; hence the different faces in Legacy. Or if he did write them, he would have had to consciously change their appearance or write a random feature generator - something no other User would have bothered with.
I also like the idea of seeing what ZackAttack!Roy is capable of, and of him meeting some of the viruses and other malicious software he’s written or co-authored over the years.
And, to my mind, the more alien and dreamlike the Grid is, the better.
I bet the battle between Clu and Flynn looked a lot like this… only with more shots of Clu laughing as all of Flynn’s doods were herded into the Rectifier. :3