#Tron Fanfic

[amberskyyking]

Friend-Coded

(I found a new blorbo and I’m super normal about him so naturally there’s art and fanfic now.)

Chapter 1: Sure, Just Shatter The Box Of Repressed Memories, What Could Go Wrong?

TWs: Implied past Sa/non-con, abuse, torture, brainwashing.

Rinzler was falling, but he could hardly process it. Something inside him, a safeguard, a fortress in his programming, was crumbling, like it had been de-rezzed from deep inside his code. If a stream of orange voxels was trailing from his plummeting body he wouldn’t be surprised, but he couldn’t tell, he could barely see amidst the torrent of old broken data fragments assaulting his system! Fight it as he might, it overpowered his senses, rendering him helpless as he freefell towards the grid.

A program beamed at him as he hoisted them onto a platform, their grid suit changing color from red to blue -

Wind whistled alarmingly around him, drowning out the sound of his grinding processors. He fumbled blindly for his spare baton with numb fingers.

A woman with strange light patterns rose from the waters and stepped onto the land -

Streaks of yellow flashed through the air overhead, diving towards him, he had to OBEY -

Grid bugs swarming a building overhead, a chunk of crashing down and shattering into voxels -

It collided with his body, hands curling tight around his wrists. Panic rose in his chest, at what being grabbed like that meant -

A mirror in the outlands, reflecting back the fight he was locked in -

Sharp pain hit his face, hit his stomach, he couldn’t move, couldn’t think, reacting would only make it all so much worse -

Glass shattered around a program in white -

Something he was clinging to desperately was torn from his grasp, and suddenly Rinzler was careening backwards, out of control. Tiny flashes of yellow burned in his vision, the grid around him spiraled, and more images battered him relentlessly, some he even recognized.

Clu smiling over him with Rinzler’s bare wrist in his grip, pressing in on one of his favorite scars - Flying over a canyon on a light cycle with that program in white - Watching the grid light up in colors as a female program leaned into him - Slicing through a group of rebels, leaving nothing but voxels and a few nanos of echoing screams in their wake -

He was ripped away from the last one as he plunged into shocking cold sea. The battle above faded, muffled by the water, and Rinzler slowed and… sank. His energy was sapped, systems overloaded by the torrent of new data after the grueling fight above, but it all paused long enough for him to realize what went wrong.

Flynn… He had seen Flynn.

Flynn was the enemy. CLU had ordered him to take the shot, like he’d given him countless orders before, like he had always obeyed! That was his entire purpose. It wasn’t his place to question it, no matter the orders, no matter how cruel, how painful, how vile, how…

Tron… What have you become?

But Tron was dead. CLU had killed Tron, Rinzler knew that, and yet… Somehow… Those words alone had stopped him from following orders. They had effortlessly blown apart the fortress CLU built in his code. A new directive surged straight through him, and without warning, CLU’s control over him had shattered.

I… fight… For the users.

Rinzler had crashed his jet straight into him…

I obey CLU…

But why?

It… It wasn’t his place to question… Yet here he was. Sinking. Dying… Not for CLU, but for Kevin Flynn.

Was that better?

I fight for the users…

I obey CLU…

I fight for the users…

Rinzler didn’t know the answer… But it was silent outside of his mind, as broken data fragments continued to flicker behind his eyes. The lights from the city above were distant and dim, but the water glowed with the eerie orange of his circuits, pulsing around him and…

And the color turned white, just as his vision began to fade. Then the sea rippled above him, a shadow appeared overhead, and Rinzler crashed completely.

---

DE-REZZ!! DE-REZZ!! DE-REZZ!!

Rinzler had pinned a program to the colosseum floor, a knee in her chest and a disk at her throat. Criminal, rebel, stray, it didn’t matter. None of it mattered. CLU wanted him fighting in the games, so he did, de-rezzing any opponent who faced him without hesitation.

“P-Please,” The program spluttered uselessly. “I don’t belong here, I - I’m just an architect! I never betr-”

Rinzler slashed his disk into her neck, cutting off her words, and she crumbled beneath him. His knees fell through the space where her body had been and shifted on unsteady voxels instead. The crowd roared in his ears for a moment, then faded. All went dark, except for the scattered blue gore surrounding him, and yellow circuits walking out from the shadows.

“That was quite a show!” CLU crooned as he stopped just a few feet from Rinzler, hovering over him.

Rinzler didn’t move, didn’t speak, didn’t even look up, but his system seized and his processors started grinding furiously.

“Quite a show,” CLU repeated slowly. “You’re exactly what I need out there, man! Entertaining the crowd. Keeping them in line. Reminding them of their loyalties.”

Rinzler knew better than to respond to anything but a direct order, praise or otherwise. He stayed stark still on his knees, head bowed, trying desperately to push down his own racing code.

“Looks like you still have your uses after all, right buddy? Even after everything you ruined.”

The grinding noise from Rinzlers processors grew louder, even as Rinzler made every effort to stay perfectly still, to show none of the fear or weakness he knew CLU was looking for in him! But the sound gave it away, and CLU chuckled once and grabbed hold of Rinzler’s wrist. Something in him screamed to run, to fight, but he couldn’t! Not against CLU. It was against his programming, he had to obey…

“You know, I can see why you’re the fan favorite,” CLU said, and Rinzler could hear the smile on his lips even with his head still bowed and his processors grinding uncontrollably. “Your finishing move back there sure made a pretty picture. I think I like seeing you this way, too…”

Rinzler braced his knees on the shifting voxels as CLU pulled him into his body by the wrist, caught his helmet in his other hand, flipped it back, and -

Tron! Stay with me!

The nightmare stuttered. CLU’s thumb jerked painfully against a scar on his bare cheek and Rinzler tried hard to stifle the cry in his throat.

Just a little longer, we made it! I’ve got you!

Piercing light flooded his vision, the voxels under his knees shimmered away, and CLU stumbled backwards in alarm, releasing Rinzler’s wrist and his face. Rinzler fell forward, gasping for breath, and hit something solid and smooth, like glass. The pain in his scars where CLU had touched them began to ebb away. His grinding processors started to settle. He blinked open his eyes, and…

Swirling bright liquid danced around him. He had to think for a moment, but he knew what this was, somewhere deep in the back of his mind. A healing chamber… But how? CLU would never…

“Better now?” Someone asked nearby. “This chamber held you together before. Maybe it can help again.”

Rinzler whipped his head towards the voice, but could only make out a blurred silhouette from the inside of the tank.

“You know I hope that color change means something this time,” They continued. “There’s a lot of programs out there who wouldn’t want me to do this.”

Rinzler wasn’t sure what to do with that, so he remained quiet, waiting. Calculating.

“You crashed your jet into CLU’s,” The program said, an accusatory edge to a voice that sounded… Familiar, somehow. “You had the shot. You could have taken out Flynn, but you turned on CLU instead. Why? What happened up there?” He asked. “Did you finally grow past your programming?”

No, he hadn’t. Flynn had done that for him. He had changed him somehow, unlocked something old and broken inside of him, made it so crashing his jet into CLU’s was suddenly the only action that made any sense…

“Nothing to say?” The program on the other side asked with a bitter sigh. “You… Saved us, you know. CLU is gone now.”

CLU was gone?

“He can’t hurt anyone else,” He continued solemnly. “The grid is free. Just like you wanted.”

Rinzler’s grinding processors rumbled in the healing waters. He didn’t remember wanting that. He didn’t remember wanting much of anything CLU made him do, it wasn’t his place to have desires, only to obey. He hadn’t wanted to de-rezz innocent programs in the games, he hadn’t wanted to hunt rebels in the streets, he hadn’t wanted to let CLU use him and hurt him when they were alone, he’d just obeyed. Empty and hollowed out of anything CLU didn’t see as useful or perfect… Though even CLU hadn’t been able to fix all the damage in his code. Rinzler was lucky that CLU found a way to repurpose him at all.

Wasn’t that what CLU had told him? But the data fragments, on the other hand…

“Tron?”

Something flashed through his mind at that name, at that voice. For a moment he was jerked into another broken scene, glancing over his shoulder at a young program in a white gridsuit.

We’re friends… Right? The program asked sheepishly.

Rinzler opened his mouth as if to respond, but the memory faded before he could say. He stayed suspended in the liquid for a moment, mulling it over in frustration. Whatever the answer had been, it hardly mattered now, but at least Rinzler made the connection. At least he knew who it was who had pulled him from the Sea of Simulation.

“I’m not Tron,” Rinzler growled. “CLU killed him.”

“Sorry but CLU’s not that good,” Beck said defiantly. “I told you, I saw what you did today. You’re still in there Tron, I know it.”

“It’s Rinzler,” Rinzler snarled, lunging forward against the glass.

“I don’t think so,” Beck replied evenly. “And CLU’s gone. You can’t answer to him anymore anyways, you don’t have to be what he wants you to be!”

Rinzler knew that. It was the only reason he was risking talking to Beck at all, but before he could say so, the healing tank began to beep. Rinzler’s eyes snapped towards the sound in alarm.

“You didn’t break it,” Beck huffed. “It’s just done all it can for you, for now. Come on. Let’s get you out of there… And don’t try anything.”

Like there was anything to try. CLU was gone. Rinzler himself had betrayed him, his creator, his master, the moment his granite hold on his programming had slipped. There was no one to go back to, no one to obey… Other than Flynn.

Rinzler’s processors ground fast at the idea as Beck opened the chamber door and he tumbled out, suddenly unable to stand being trapped in the damn thing for one more nano! Images that didn’t make sense started to swarm his head again, of someone who could only be Flynn flashing a bright smile as the road dissolved in a swarm of grid bugs beneath their light cycles, Flynn standing before a court of angry ISOs, Flynn patting the shoulder of a program with a slice missing from their head…

In the uncertainty he snatched his disks off his back, holding them tight in his fists and trying hard not to tremble, not to show any weakness in front of Beck at all! He really had been compromised, he was so much more damaged than even CLU told him, wasn’t he? CLU’s safeguards had been holding him together as much as they’d chained him to CLU’s side -

But the visions were flickering too fast, too vivid, and he mis-stepped, tumbling forward in his disorientation. Rinzler hit his knees again and rolled onto the floor in tandem with a new memory, of another time he had fallen from the same healing chamber, collapsed on weak legs, felt his scars burning! He blinked once and found he was staring up at Beck’s face. There was a flash, and he was still looking up at Beck, but a younger version who held his hand. Reality crashed back in, the room solidified, and he heard his processors grinding.

“You’re not dying on me this time,” The older, more material version of Beck said determinedly from above. “It’s not another virus is it? The healing tank should have helped with the surface damage but… these scars were gone before… Why are they back?”

Rinzler stared up at Beck’s face, just trying to breathe, to settle his processors as the distortion stayed at bay this time. He had to make sure he was really in one place in one time and not careening through snippets of old junk. Beck waited patiently for him to recover, giving his hand a squeeze. For a moment Rinzler almost yanked his hand away, he hadn’t realized this Beck had taken it too, but he paused… And he wasn’t sure why. It was almost like holding on was keeping him here, where things were mildly less overwhelming. At first the feeling had triggered something about CLU, but CLU had never done this, so… So it was okay.

“CLU,” Rinzler rasped, not really sure why he was bothering to answer at all. “No virus.” It wasn’t like that mattered, but something else did. Beck’s face shone with anger at the words, but before he could respond, Rinzler pushed himself upright with a harsh cough. “Where’s Flynn?”

“Flynn?” Beck asked, still looking at his face in some sort of dumbstruck horror, but his hesitation cost him. Rinzler still had a disk in one hand, the one Beck wasn’t still holding, and in a single swift motion, he brought it up against Beck’s neck.

Beck looked down at the spinning disk, a single eyebrow raised and a sorrowful look on his face, and let out a sigh. Rinzler stared him down. He could answer the question or be derezzed on the spot. Rinzler would win in a fight, even like this… Most likely, anyways.

But Beck made no move to draw his own disk, even to defend himself. “He’s… Gone, Tron,” Beck said gravely. “I’m sorry…”

“It’s Rinzler,” Rinzler seethed, not sure why the program was apologizing.

“Whatever CLU told you you were…” Beck began, but trailed off as Rinzler pressed the disk closer against his neck. “Okay, okay. I’m not here to hide anything. If you need to know, Flynn re-integrated with CLU. Neither survived it. The other user they brought in went back to what the users call the real world… They’re both gone, Tr- Rinzler. It’s over.”

Rinzler kept his disc poised to take his shot, staring down Beck, trying to discern if the program was really telling the truth but… Something told him that Beck had no reason to lie about that. The entire situation, the way Beck had saved him, had put himself alone in a room with Rinzler himself, CLU’s deadliest soldier, and was making no move to fight back… It was disarming, but maybe it meant he could be trusted. That, and the fragments he had been processing already gave him a feeling. This was someone he knew, someone he might have even been a friend before… Before something…

No, that was impossible. Rinzler pulled back his disk. Everything had just become so much more complicated, even if his processors had slowed their grinding at the news. CLU was gone, and Flynn too. No CLU to obey, no users to fight for… So…

What was his use?

What was he for?

The damage remained and there was nothing to do about it. CLU had pieced him back together after his code was tattered and rotted, rebuilding him into what CLU envisioned, to suit his needs alone. Flynn had broken him free of CLU’s control but left him with a thousand broken data shards to process and no one left to fix him. He was made to be a tool, he was meant to be used, he accepted that a long time ago. But what good was he broken and directiveless?

“Look… You don’t have to tell me what that was about if you don’t want to,” Beck said a little reluctantly, looking down to their hands. Rinzler was still stubbornly holding on to Becks, unwilling to subject himself to more memories, at least not yet. “You don’t have to do anything anymore. But even if you don’t know it, we’ve kind of been through a lot together. You’ve been trying to catch me for a long time, and I’ve been trying to get through to you. So now that you’re here, and they’re gone… I’m not leaving you alone. That’s not what friends do.”

Rinzler scoffed at that, fixing his eyes unfocused out the window at a horizon that didn’t seem to have an end, but at least that answered one question. Apparently, he and Beck had been friends.

This cycle was making less sense by the moment, but something clicked into place in his mind unexpectedly. He furrowed his brow and pursed his lips, earning a concerned look from Beck, and gingerly turned the disk in his hand over so it lay flat in one palm, focusing on the memory from before. It shimmered to life above the disk, a little tattered at the edges, but… solid.

We’re friends… Right? The younger version of Beck said. It fizzled away before Rinzler could answer again, but he let out a sigh. The rest of the fragments still felt scattered and loose, like that shifting pile of voxels he couldn’t gain his footing on, but that one was tethered down now. It had a place, it fit, it wouldn’t hurt him, it… It was his…

Beck looked at him, somehow stunned into silence for just a few nanos as Rinzler grasped the disk firmly in his hand again. “You remember me?” He asked after a moment.

Rinzler rolled his eyes. “Vaguely,” He grumbled. That at least explained a little why the program made a foolish enough move to save his enemy, and why holding his hand felt like comfort instead of violation… He took a small breath and stowed the disk away on his back again. Beck wouldn’t hurt him. That much he knew.

“Better than nothing,” Beck said a little bit shakily, exhaling slowly and giving his hand another squeeze. “A lot is about to change, but… We can figure it all out together, now. Okay?”

Rinzler bit back a groan on instinct. This was going to be a very complicated and deeply annoying process, wasn’t it? But at least he wouldn’t be alone, since according to that memory and Beck’s insistence… He had a friend.

“Okay,” Rinzler agreed instead just to make him shut up, and closed his eyes. His grinding processors slowed and quieted, and Beck, mercifully, seemed to take the hint. Rinzler might have just come out of a healing tank but he still needed rest, and CLU wasn’t here to stop him from getting it, unless he turned up in his nightmares again.

He breathed carefully through his nose at the thought. CLU was gone, even if parts of him would always remain, in his code, on his skin. There wasn’t anything to do about that now, he would have to learn to cope…

But when he awoke from the sleep cycle next, there hadn’t been another nightmare. Beck was still holding his hand, too.

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

@toomanyteefs bribed me into this fandom with angst and the promise of hugs in her own Tron fic, so here I am, like 2 weeks into the fandom and hopelessly sucked in! In true user form I have little plan and NO idea how often this thing will update but click the title to see it on A03 if you wanna subscribe! And hey, if I screw something up in the lore or the something, sorry, im new 🫠🧡

[astercontrol]

Ok so

You know how I love to imagine a world where the original copies of all the programs from Tron 1982 get to go on happily doing their jobs and living their lives within the Encom system

(whatever may be going on in that OTHER Grid)…

I like to imagine Tron and Yori and (rerezzed) Ram are all so good at their jobs that they're kept online permanently as Encom programs, upgrading as needed to keep up with the times, and that this goes on pretty much forever.

(because I want all my sweethearts to live happily ever after, okay!)

But… today I just realized the further implication of that...

The one where… if the events of Legacy still happen…

Sam Flynn is breaking through Encom security on a yearly basis to play pranks

Meaning:

Either he's regularly defeating Original Tron at the system security game...

...Or… Tron, somehow, is recognizing him and deliberately helping.

…I'm not yet sure what to do with this thought

But it is making me FEEL things

[datamodel-of-disaster]

Question, in your fanfiction The Five Stages of Rectification, you wrote how Tron is a picky eater (In of which a headcannon I love very dearly) and it raised a few questions, what foods other then what were mentioned would Tron like to eat in your fic?

So, I think Tron prefers to eat things that have a predictable, non-complex flavour pattern. He likes bland food, and if it has to have a texture, he wants it to have a consistent texture throughout (like pasta or crackers).

I headcanon that a part of the sensitivity of his “threat matrix” as a security program translates in the flesh into an over-sensitivity to flavour and texture -you know, like how most small children instinctively shy away from overly complex flavours out of an inborn instinct against poisoning. For whatever reason, a part of his flesh subconscious has decided that food is a potential threat, and thus, eating is not very relaxing for him. Inconsistencies are danger.

Alan has managed to get Tron to eat pasta with béchamel sauce (rather than just bland), sushi rice (sans fish), meat and veg broth (sans chunks), and even -in a Herculean effort to get some vegetables into the man- tomato soup. The trick is to add a good spoon full of baking soda to smoothen the acidity.

[ivorydragoness44]

Rinzler x program!Reader: Inquisitive

Word Count: 1,157 Notes/Warnings: End of the Line Club scene of partying and drinking, however quite calm. Rinzler purring, implied anxiety and wariness of CLU, dancing, suggestive conversation, and pining over Rinzler. Summary: The Reader goes to the End of the Line Club after work in the evening, they did not expect Rinzler to arrive and interact with them. Will he be able to speak willingly?

~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~

    The simulated sky had darkened and the lights of the city illuminated brightly. With your work completed for the cycle, you had only one thing on your agenda. The End of the Line Club. There was a high probability of a multitude of other programs investing in the same task, but you did not care as much this time.   As the elevator doors opened, you were welcomed by a lively sight. Programs littered the premise. Many lounged on the furnishings, speaking with their friends, while others populated the dance floor.   Heading straight toward the bar, you waved to a few other programs you recognized from work.   “Haven’t seen you in cycles,” the bartender greeted.   “Work tends to keep me busy. I’ve been preferring the quiet of my apartment.”   He nodded, but otherwise did not push the subject. “One I’m finished with work, coming right up.”   You smiled and took a seat. It was not long before he handed you a glass of blue liquid. “Thanks,” you smiled in kind and took a sip.

  The drink was pleasant, almost refreshing, but that was not what was strange. In front of you, the bartender’s eyes widened suddenly. His entire body froze, but his attention was not on you. Lip trembling, he excused himself, and darted away to serve another customer.   There was scarcely a moment for you to internally question the situation before you heard a familiar purr. Rinzler. It was no wonder that anyone within your current range of sight became on-edge.   “Rinzler,” you acknowledged.   The primary enforcer of CLU stepped around to your side, his helmet centered and focused on you.   “Here to finally take me in?” You asked, taking a swig of your drink before nearly choking on it.   “No,” Rinzler said firmly. He hardly said anything, ever. His head tilted at your response.   Clearing your throat as discreetly as possible, you remained still. Silence hung for a few moments, then you grumbled into the rim of the glass. “Trying to blow my circuits.”   Purr.

  You hid a smile as you took another drink. Setting down the glass, you rubbed your thumb over the smooth surface. In thought, you wondered if you could at least get him to answer a few yes and no questions. If only to hear him speak some more.   “Did you overwork yourself today?”   “No.”   “Did you complete all of your tasks?”   “Yes.”   “Were you asked to finish tasks for this cycle?”   Purr.   Hiding a smile at the thought of your next question, you shifted in your seat. “Are you operating at maximum performance?”   “Yes.”   An even easier question struck you, though you were certain at the answer. “Did you lose at the Games this cycle?”   “No.”   There was no surprise with the response he gave. A program could take one look at him and come to that conclusion themselves.

  There were a multitude of question, almost infinite that you could ask him. But there was at least one that unsettled you. Did CLU send you?“   “No.”   Relief. The tightness in your chest that you had not realized formulated at such a thought released.   You peered at him from the corner of your eye.”Did you follow me here?”   Purr.   Turning your head, you regarded him fully. “Do you want a drink?”   Silence surrounded him. Not a single syllable, click, or purr. Though, your eyes flickered dow as his hands flexed at his sides.

  Finishing the rest of your drink, you left it on the counter. With a small spin of the seat, you faced him. “Do you want to dance…with me?” For some reason, you thought it necessary to specify. Just in case.   Purr. Rinzler’s head inclined closer.   “You’re a mysterious one,” you whispered, gazing into his visor. Gently, you tapped his chin with a single fingertip.   Purr.   A light giggle escaped you. Humming in thought, you reached out again. The center most square cluster of orange circuits on his chest became your next target. The glow of those few circuits brightened for a few seconds. You were intrigued, to say the least. May it be the effects of the energy drink or not. Passing a finger across and down the same four sets of circuit clusters equalled the same result.   “Easy with that,” the bartender warned in a low voice. He continued walking passed, not wanting to be near the program beside you.   Rinzler purred again, sending the program behind the bar zipping off to the other end of the counter.   You were amused, but at the same time felt a little bad for him.

  Resting your head on your hand, you seriously considered walking Rinzler to the dance floor. As you looked at him, thought, you would much rather not be the only one dancing, likely scaring everyone off. Still, it was tempting.   As you continued to look him over, he did not seem to mind. At least, until his head whipped over to the side.   Slowly striding through the entrance of the club was CLU. Donned in his signature black and orange, he was hard to miss. Especially with his crew of three guards flanking his sides.   “Maybe another time,” you mumbled to Rinzler with your head low. Glancing at him and scurried away as nonchalantly as possible. Weaving and blending into the crowd easily, you eyed CLU in the slightest at the edge of your vision. With him in the vicinity, you wanted to stay among other programs.

  A friend of yours slid to your side. “Be careful with that one. It’s only a matter of time until—”  “Please don’t,” you asked.   The two of you subtly eyed how CLU walked up to Rinzler. The helmeted program faced him completely, appearing to be ready for any order given to him.   “If it’s any consolation,” your friend said in a voice for only you to hear, “if you want to mingle your circuits with his, if you haven’t already, I’ll respect that.”   You smiled in amused disbelief, shaking your head. “How much did you drink?”   “Oh, you know that has nothing to do with it. Besides, we’ve both seen him in the Disc Games and Lightcycle Run…Rinzler never loses. I’m sure that’ll transfer nicely—”   “Seriously, you’re great, you’re wonderful, but please stop while you’re ahead.”   “Yeah…we don’t need them overhearing this.”   “Or anyone, for that matter.”   “Agreed. Want to dance?”   “Sure.”

  The music seemed to bounce up in beat when you finally gave it your attention. It felt good, relieving even, to move freely and rhythmically.   The fun and leisure of it al had you almost completely forget about CLU and Rinzler. Until you were gradually turning in your splendor and smiling in your joy, locking eyes to visor with Rinzler. For a solid moment, he looked upon you. The bright lights of the club reflected off of his sleek helmet. But all too soon, he followed CLU toward the exit.   Maybe another time.

~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~

Thank you for reading!

I'd appreciate a reblog if you enjoyed this fanfic.

And, if you'd like to read more, check out the pinned post on my blog: Masterlist of Masterlists, where you can find all of my other insert readers and imagines.

[fights4users]

Thinking of design again

I made a post before that I still standby that the Encom system is more contemporary 80s design meets a computer where as the grid is “cybercore” and I still stand by that, but this is me pushing a little further and looking at actual design. One of the best things I can recommend when it comes to writing/drawing inspiration for spaces in the digital world is Pinterest. He’s some examples

Encom-

A computer meets 80s contemporary and shapes!!! The Encom system is a lot more abstract than the grid , it’s much more it’s own world than a full reflection of the users. Shapes! Shapes! Shapes! Another aspect I absolutely adore is that it also leans hard into looking like aspects of a computers insides from wire to circuit boards. I can see conversation pits all the rage in the system instead of regular “normal” shaped chairs etc

Grid-

It’s the subway station, airport terminal to Encom’s space age hotel. A lot more late 80s, early 90s influence in how things are designed. Despite the system being mostly abstracts it’s actually the grid that’s much more liminal, it has furniture and mass to everything a very user vibe but also… not enough, huge spaces but not enough in them to feel right- everything looks uncomfortable even though you can tell what it is. Tron isn’t a “Cyberpunk” but I think people tend to call it that as a lot of legacy’s visuals are more generic and not distinctly computer?

[sarellathesphinx]

High Score!

Fandom: Tron (1982)

Chapter: 1/1

Word count: 1,128

Summary: Lora and Alan have some time to kill while they wait for Flynn at the arcade, and luckily Lora’s never been one to turn down a game. Written for the @cindymorganzine, which is still available to download! Check it out!

——————————————————————————

The sights and sounds of the arcade were almost as familiar to Lora as those of the laser bay. Neon signs, flashing screens, beeps and whistles punctuating whatever Journey track blared over the jukebox—she knew them all, and she honestly loved them. It had been a while since she’d been able to visit, but she and Alan had made the drive tonight at Flynn’s request: he was visiting to check in on the place, and he wanted to get dinner with them after. Since making senior exec, it was hard to spend time with him away from the ENCOM building, so Lora had managed to convince Alan to wait for Flynn at the arcade—though it hadn’t taken much convincing in the end.

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[bittercoldbrew]

Genuinely made myself cry writing this one, which is a thing I haven't done in years 😅 Hopefully someone out there will still read it anyway, I'm quite proud of how it turned out 🥹

ALSO I was lucky enough to commission the immensely talented @lycheefreeze to bring my beloved Delphi to life and I haven't been able to stop staring at her and I'm so excited to finally share her here, look upon my baby and weep:

[proto-actual]

happy Finite States day!!!

TWO YEARS AGO I wrote "decompression sickness", which kicked off the "Finite States" micro-universe for my Tron fics (and heralded my descent into becoming tronblr's resident Cyrus apologist).

I'm still super proud of this fic, and I love the version of the Grid that I'm building with the series as a whole. Hopefully I'll come back to the rest of "Mirror Image" soon -- but I'm really excited for the prequel stuff I'm working on with "SIGNAL // NOISE" in the meantime. :-)

(Not-so-fun fact: this story was the last thing posted by the venerable ao3feed-tron account. I know it's not my fault, but I still feel a shred of responsibility. Someday I'll make myself learn how tumblr's API works and write us a replacement.)

[whispering-woodlands]

Obligatory posting of my fanfic also on tumblr just because.

How to Be a Dog

Summary:

A Dog Waits

A Dog Loves

A Dog Hates

Warnings: None? Just general angst, Rinzler does not think very good about himself

Rain is a near constant on the Grid, happening more often than not. That isn’t to say that there are not other forms of ‘weather’. There is snow out in the Outlands but it’s rare that Rinzler is ever sent there. He has heard, in passing, programs musing on the rain. Rinzler doesn’t find it an important enough subject to devote any time mulling over. There’s more important things to focus on.

Usually.

It’s been at least a millicycle since Clu had told him to stay outside of the building he had entered. To keep watch, not move from his post until he was called upon. It’s not the first time Rinzler has been ordered to guard the sysadmin, or just to stay and keep watch over a certain post. But it’s certainly the longest that he’s ever been left to do so outside, exposed, without being given any updates.

For a moment Rinzler irrationally wonders if Clu had possibly been injured or derezzed. No, he couldn’t have been. Rinzler would have felt it, he’s sure. Could Clu have forgotten him? Highly unlikely, at least he thinks so. He’s useful, necessary, at least for now. Clu reminds him of that often.

With nothing else to think about Rinzler finds himself thinking about the rain. He realizes for the first time how truly cold it is. Standing exposed in it for eight hours now it’s soaked every inch of him. The droplets cascade down his helmet in little rushing rivulets like tiny rivers. They plink softly against the glass, the rhythm almost calming. His body feels numb. It’s shattered quickly however. An alert is brought up on the inside of his visor, flashing red insistently.

Energy Levels: 15%

Seek assistance from authorized personnel.

He dismisses the alert and silently curses it. The pain from his scars is a constant, always their ache but the freezing cold of the rain had turned it into an icy numbness. But the rain cannot reach under his helmet, meaning that the only part of him that he can still properly feel is his face.

His face.

Burning, aching, an acidic rot.

The long arcing scar across the left side. Slowly crawling further up, chipping, eating away at him like a virus. But Clu wouldn’t allow such imperfection, this is a part of him. Integral. Necessary. A reminder from a lesson long ago forgotten. A part of him longs to retract his helmet, lift his face to the sky and let the rain wash over his face as well. Let it numb the constant burn until it shifts into a freezing chill. It’s so very tempting. It would be easy, just a small command.

”No”.

Rinzler isn’t sure if the voice that internally rebukes him is his own or Clu’s. He’s never to remove his mask. Not without Clu’s permission. How weak he is to even think of it. He can withstand the pain, it shouldn’t be much longer anyways.

Clu will be back soon.

He just has to wait.

[moon-art123]

So this fic has been years in the making and I finally finished the first chapter, hope you guys like it!

[amberskyyking]

Friend Coded

Chapter 2: Yeah, this makes a alot of sense. Let's save the guy who's constantly trying to kill us!

CW: Suicide themes, brainwashing

Tron fell into the sea, and Beck dove in after him without a second thought.

Tron had gone against CLU. Tron had protected the users as they made their escape, crashing his light jet into CLU himself! Beck had screamed at the sight, terrified that Tron had been killed for real, before CLU’s signature yellow circuits latched on to a spot of falling orange in the air and rezzed up a new light jet, leaving Tron in freefall.

It was the first sign Beck had seen that his mentor, his friend, was still in there since it all went wrong, but that wasn’t why he dove in. That was just instinct. He’d done the same for Paige back when they were still enemies. He’d spared the black guard on the light rail on his first real mission, he’d done everything he could to save Cutler even after he had been rectified, he even fought to defend Dyson from Tron himself when he realized that his hero was out for revenge! So he couldn’t give up on Tron, he… He just couldn’t, not even if Tron himself had given up.

So Beck swam, his eyes stinging in the waters as he focused on the flickering orange glow below him. He couldn’t watch his friend dissolve into voxels in the sea, not after everything! But his circuits were fading. Beck paddled faster and -

No, it wasn’t fading… It was turning. He just barely kept himself from gasping underwater and choking on the spot. The color was changing to white.

That had to mean Tron was still in there! Beck reached out and grabbed hold of his old mentor’s arm, drawing him in. His body was limp, but he lived. Beck’s lungs started to burn. He wrapped an arm around Tron’s middle, kicked off in the icy waters, and when his head breached the surface again he gulped down the sweet, fresh air, just as an explosion tore through the sky overhead.

He hoped that meant what he thought it did. That CLU’s master plan had been foiled, maybe that CLU himself had been defeated by the users after all! But there was no time to think on it. Tron wasn’t de-rezzing, but he wasn’t waking up either.

It took time to paddle back to land with Tron in tow. It took a little longer to regain his strength enough to rezz up a light cycle and heave his friend on board, and during it, Beck noticed a couple of cracks in Tron’s code from the fight that couldn’t mean anything good. There weren’t many places he could take him. Whatever became of the fight, CLU’s forces were still out there, and he couldn’t risk leading anyone back to where Paige was hiding the remaining rebels. CLU or not, Argon had fallen, and with how many programs they lost, Beck knew Rinzler was largely to blame…

But one of the cracks along his shoulder splintered, and Beck gritted his teeth. “Come on Tron!” He urged, looking around for his options and narrowing his eyes at an inconspicuous mountain peak in the distance. “Stay with me!”

It couldn’t be too late, he had to be right about Tron, he… He just had to be! They’d already lost too many programs in a single cycle and Beck couldn’t lose one more, not like this and not to CLU. The damage it took to turn Tron into Rinzler had been extensive, but it couldn’t have erased him completely, even… Even though Tron had done it to himself.

Beck swallowed hard and swung his lightcycle around to speed off into the outlands, along a path he knew well, holding his friend tight. He couldn’t fix that anymore, he couldn’t save him from what was already done, but maybe this time, he could keep him from falling apart.

---

“We’re here!” Beck panted, carrying Tron in his arms towards the old healing chamber as fast as he could manage. “I’ve got you.” He twisted his friend around and placed him carefully inside, letting the strange liquid take his weight, and closed the door. The moment the unit powered up and the cracks that webbed up his shoulder and down his back started to knit back together, Beck slumped to the floor in a heap.

It had been ages since he was here last, hadn’t it? He hadn’t been back since his last mission with Tron. Beck took a nano to just sit there, his arms weak with the effort of saving Tron’s life and then carrying him all this way, and looked around the old safe house. Out the windows he could see Argon City, awash in orange light. The portal wasn’t lit anymore, but the air around it was littered with eerie glowing voxels and the occasional static discharge, left over from the explosion.

Just like the last time they were here.

If CLU has really captured Kevin Flynn, I have to go! Tron had bit out unapologetically. There IS no choice!

But what if it’s a trap? Beck protested.

The portal just lit up and something exploded, of course it’s a trap! I still have to try. You of all programs should know that.

Let me at least do some recon first! We can’t just go barging in-

You can’t just go barging in! I can, Tron had snarled, layering his own black gridsuit with spare batons, explosives, and a little black disk that made Beck’s stomach turn. There’s no time. If you want to help you can back me but don’t stand in my way.

Why are you packing the Killswitch? Beck asked incredulously.

A last resort, Tron replied with a dark scowl, clicking the thing in place behind his own disks.

Better be, Beck mumbled back.

Tron had shot him a sharp look. Beck, you know what they could do. I can’t let them. If CLU were to get his hands on me I would be-

The greatest weapon he could possibly have, I know, I know, Beck said uncomfortably. But there’s got to be another way. You taught me didn’t you? Don’t you think I’d find a way to come through? To save you?

It’s not that simple, Beck.

Why not? Beck retorted. Don’t you trust me?

I trust you to make the hard decision, the right decision, when the time comes, Tron said solemnly, stepping forward with a heavy sigh and clasping a hand on Beck’s shoulder. I chose you to succeed me for a reason, Beck. You’ve surpassed your programming all on your own. You value the lives of other programs, even your enemies, and you’ve never given up fighting to protect them.

Thanks. But that includes you.

It’s more important that you be there for them. They need Tron to look to, and that’s you. It has been for a long time.

Well maybe I need Tron too, Beck had argued, crossing his arms. Ever think of that?

I have, Tron said darkly.

I-

But Becks words had been cut off as another series of explosions went off in the distance, flashes and smoke visible even from here.

We need to go. Now! Tron barked out. Come on!

Beck could still hear those words in his ears today, as he stared back out the window pane at Flynn’s Place in the distance. He squeezed his eyes shut. Both of them had been right that night. It was a trap, Flynn hadn’t even been there, it was all a part of CLU’s plan and they played right into it… And Rinzler was the greatest weapon CLU could have possibly gotten his hands on.

He could feel the rest of the memory surging forward even though he didn’t want to play it, didn’t want to remember right now, but a small beep from an incoming message helped to smash it back down. He opened his eyes and rushed to read it, eager for any distraction, especially news.

It was Paige. His heart leapt. She was still alive.

Occupation forces just moved past the clinic. They didn’t find our base. Those of us here should be safe for now, but many haven’t returned, she had written. Reliable rumors say Flynn re-integrated with CLU. They’re both gone, along with half his army. We need to plan our next move while they’re missing their leader.

Beck shook his head and re-read the message several times over. She was safe but… Who was missing? What happened to them? And if both CLU and Flynn were really dead… What happened next?

He started to type up a response but found he didn’t know what to say. What could he say? She was right, they did need to plan their next move, but for once he didn’t know where to start.

Tron would know, but… Beck wasn’t even sure how much of Tron was left. There had to be something in there of his original code, he turned on CLU at long last, he saved them, but Beck had saved the enemy now, too.

I know what you did already, Paige’s next message suddenly popped up on the screen.

Beck blinked twice at the screen and smacked his hand to his forehead. How do you know about Rinzler? Who saw? He typed back frantically. If word of this got out…

You just told me.

Beck stared at the screen, feeling stupid for that one. At least their messages were encrypted.

And I know you.

He let out a sigh and smiled just a little bit, in spite of himself. Are you mad? He sent back.

I’m not a hypocrite.

Well… That was a yes, but at least he couldn’t really be in trouble for it. Paige didn’t know who Rinzler really was either, none of them did… But at least she understood.

Most of the others wouldn’t.

Beck typed out a quick heart to send back to her, then changed it to several hearts, hit send, and stowed the communicator. He had to think on this, see what sort of shape Tron was in before making any decisions, and that meant facing him, trying to help him, again. Maybe this time, though, it would be different. Beck pushed himself up on aching legs and stepped closer to the tank. It was hard to see much through the softly glowing liquid, but right away, he could tell Tron’s helmet had been pulled back. He could see the silhouette of his face, and it made something tighten in his throat.

“Better now?” Beck asked cautiously, careful to keep the catch out of his voice. “This chamber held you together before. Maybe it can help again.”

Tron turned towards him and locked on in an instant, even if he couldn’t quite see, but the four squares making up the little T on his collarbone glowed white through the liquid. Beck stared at them. He’d seen them so many times now, always orange before, and he always knew what they meant, even if no one else seemed to put together the pieces. So many programs had been arrested or de-rezzed by their true hero and never even known it, and Beck had tried so many times to reach him, all in vain…

“You know… I hope that color change means something this time,” Beck said uneasily, taking a step closer. “There’s a lot of programs out there who wouldn’t want me to do this.”

Tron remained silent. Beck couldn’t remember ever hearing him talk after that fateful cycle when it all went wrong, but he hadn’t taken his helmet off before either, so…

“You crashed your jet into CLU’s,” Beck tried to remind him. “You had the shot. You could have taken out Flynn, but you turned on CLU instead. Why? What happened up there?” He asked tentatively, but still, there was no response. Beck narrowed his eyes at the form in the water as a million other pent up questions came to mind, but only one slipped out. “Did you finally grow past your programming?”

The words came out bitter. Beck hated even asking, he shouldn’t doubt, but it had nagged at him for so many cycles now. Why had Tron been so insistent they go after Flynn that night with hardly any preparation and no recon, fully aware it could be a trap and taking the risk anyways?! Why, once CLU got his hands in his code, had he had never seemed to fight it?! All that time during their training, Tron had praised Beck for growing past his programming, becoming something more, only for Tron himself to never even…

Beck shook his head, trying to clear the churning thoughts from his mind. “Nothing to say?” He sighed. He should have known it would be like this, shouldn’t have hoped for anything else... But whatever happened out there, whatever his programming or how much he followed it, Tron had done something different. He was still in there, he was here, or at least part of him was. “You… Saved us, you know,” Beck told him. “CLU is gone now. He can’t hurt anyone else. The grid is free, just like you wanted.”

Silence. Beck hoped the news would help somehow, but as he stared hard into the tank looking for any reaction, anything at all that told him how his old friend was feeling about this, not much happened. Only the grinding sound Tron made now grew loud enough to hear through the water. Beck frowned. Had the color change meant a damn thing or did it just mean that Tron’s master was gone?!

“Tron?” Beck pushed.

“I’m not Tron,” Tron suddenly growled, and Beck’s eyes widened. “CLU killed him.”

“Sorry but CLU’s not that good,” Beck shot back in elation! The words themselves weren’t great, sure, but hearing Tron’s voice again at all had to be a sign of something! “I told you, I saw what you did today. You’re still in there Tron, I know it!” Beck grinned.

“It’s Rinzler,” Tron snarled, hitting the glass with his hand.

“I don’t think so,” Beck said lightly. “And CLU’s gone. You can’t answer to him anymore anyways, you don’t have to be what he wants you to be!”

The tank began beeping at that moment and Tron turned frantically towards it. Becks smile faltered just a little.

“You didn’t break it,” He reassured him. “It’s just done all it can for you, for now. Come on. Let’s get you out of there… And don’t try anything.”

Beck wanted so badly just to trust him again, but if Tron really thought he was still Rinzler, that could be a problem. He still steeled himself for a nano before opening the chamber door and offering a hand to help guide him out. Before he could even get a glimpse of his face, though, Tron practically fell out of the tank! He stumbled a moment, dazed and disoriented, and Beck reached to help, but that was a mistake. Tron snatched both disks off his back, swinging them wildly through the air and making Beck duck, then tripped over nothing and fell crashing to the floor. One of the disks rolled from his hand.

“Tron! Are you okay?” Beck asked frantically, but Tron didn’t answer. Beck gathered up his hand and looked anxiously down at his friend. Tron’s eyes were unfocused and hollow, his lips twitched, his scar… Why did he have that massive scar again?! Beck blinked at it in disbelief. It had been fixed before, CLU had done it himself when he tried to have Tron rectified, but now it was back… And his face looked different somehow, too. Younger, but with even more scars than just the one that Beck remembered! Shouldn’t CLU have been able to fix those, too? Of course Tron had been in fights but who the hell had been maintaining him?! And what was happening to him now?! He’d collapsed coming out of the tank once before and that had been terrifying, he nearly died and it took extreme measures to have him fixed! Beck took a deep breath and the realizations and squeezed Tron’s hand tight.

“You’re not dying on me this time. It’s not another virus is it?” Beck asked with more confidence in his voice than he really felt. “The healing tank should have helped with the surface damage but… these scars were gone before… Why are they back?”

Tron just stared back at him, his breathing shallow, as his eyes slowly started to clear. Beck waited as patiently as he could manage in the tension, which wasn’t much.

“CLU,” Tron said distantly. “No virus.”

Of course it was CLU, it was all CLU, whatever was wrong with his friend, virus or not! But this went beyond just using Tron as a weapon, this… This was just cruel.

Tron sat up and turned to look at Beck with a hooded glare. “Where’s Flynn?”

“Flynn?” Beck asked, still taking in all the marks on Tron’s face and caught off guard at the question, but suddenly there was a spinning disk at Beck’s throat.

That was on him for not paying enough attention, or maybe forgetting this was still Rinzler right now, no matter who he used to be. Beck probably should have been alarmed or concerned but… He looked down at the disk, then back at Tron, those rigid, sharp lines on his confused, scarred up face, and all he felt was heartbreak. Whatever was twisted up in his old friends code must be causing him so much pain, even now. Tron wouldn’t hurt him, but Tron wouldn’t have de-rezzed all those programs either.

And now, even though he had finally fought back, even though he had almost given everything to protect Flynn, Flynn had died. But Tron deserved the truth. CLU had been lying to him long enough.

“He’s… Gone, Tron,” Beck told him. “I’m sorry…”

“It’s Rinzler,” Tron spat.

Beck pursed his lips in frustration at that. “Whatever CLU told you you were-” But Tron pressed his disk closer to his neck, sending prickles down his skin, and Beck looked up in surprise. “Okay, okay. I’m not here to hide anything,” Beck said, eyeing the thing with a little more nerves than he had before. “If you need to know, Flynn re-integrated with CLU. Neither survived it. The other user they brought in went back to what the users call the real world… They’re both gone, Tr- Rinzler. It’s over.”

He held his breath for a minute as Tron or… Or Rinzler thought it over. Calling him Rinzler didn’t feel right. Tron had never wanted this. He’d even told Beck as much, that was the whole point of the damn Killswitch, so CLU couldn’t use him as a weapon!

It made Beck feel sick. He knew what he saw out there, Tron’s circuits were white again, and Beck had believed all this time that Tron could be saved because he had to! He could never give up on the idea Tron still lived, that he could be saved, but if he was wrong? What if, after the Killswitch and after CLU, there was nothing left of his old code, his old memories? What if Beck had really fucked up that badly?

Tron pulled the disk back from the edge of his neck and stared down at their hands. Tron.. or Rinzler… Hadn’t let go, even with a disk to his throat. Beck wasn’t sure what that meant, but it was better than being de-rezzing him on the spot. Before tonight, Beck knew that he wouldn’t have hesitated. There was something else too, though. After all this time not being able to see his face, maybe without his friend even knowing who he was, Tron looked confused, and… scared.

“Look… You don’t have to tell me what that was about if you don’t want to,” Beck said quietly, looking down at their hands as guilt throbbed in his code. “You don’t have to do anything anymore. But even if you don’t know it, we’ve kind of been through a lot together. You’ve been trying to catch me for a long time, and I’ve been trying to get through to you. So now that you’re here, and they’re gone… I’m not leaving you alone. That’s not what friends do.”

Becks words hung in the air. He hoped that wasn’t pushing too far, even if it was true.

Tron seemed to consider it for a moment, then turned over the disk in his hand. A small image shimmered to life above it, an image of… Beck.

We’re friends… Right? The miniature Beck asked in a voice that sounded so much younger than Beck remembered, all that time ago. There wasn’t anything else after it, the memory cut off abruptly before the old Tron gave Beck his snarky non-answer, but Beck could hardly think. His whole heart was lodged in his throat. Tron still had that, and it meant everything! He barely managed to stammer out the question to confirm what he’d just seen with his own eyes.

“You remember me?”

Tron, or Rinzler, if he really preferred that right now, rolled his eyes in a familiar sort of way. “Vaguely,” He scoffed, returning the disk to his back.

Beck’s heart could have burst. “B-Better than nothing,” He said, unable to keep the emotion from his voice that time and giving Tron’s hand a tight squeeze. “A lot is about to change, but… We can figure it all out together, now. Okay?”

It was important that he knew that. After all this time there was no way Beck would be leaving him alone. Not after his downfall, not after those scars and hurts, never again.

Tron didn’t have much of a reaction to that, but he didn’t protest it either. “Okay,” He huffed after a nano. The grinding sound that had to be from his processors slowed and quieted into something low and rhythmic, almost soothing.

Beck looked at him with a watery grin, but his eyes were already closed. Somehow, that made Beck grin even more. He still hadn’t let go of his hand either, and with how tight his own grip was, Beck probably wasn’t going to be getting it back anytime soon.

He really trusted him, didn’t he?

The realization hit him like a light rail train. Tron, or Rinzler, had just dozed off, right here, with his shoulder pressed against Beck’s arm and their fingers intertwined. He had to be exhausted after this cycle, Beck was too, but Tron had never done that before, and he had done it almost instantly.

How much of that was him, and… How much of it was damage?

Beck exhaled carefully and closed his eyes. After everything today, after all they had been through for cycles on end, if something this simple was bringing his old friend some comfort, he didn’t mind. He would stay here all night if that’s what Tron needed to feel safe, he was tired too…

But it still nagged at him as he tried to fall asleep, as he struggled to suppress the memories that threatened to turn into nightmares in the back of his mind. Flashes of Tron racing to Flynn’s Place through the shadows, fighting past countless sentries along the way and slipping out of Beck’s sight. Spotting him again from the vents, too much time later but not too late, restrained against a table in defiant silence. There was no Flynn, there had never been a Flynn, the entire thing was a trap meant to prey on the one thing CLU knew the real Tron could never resist. Beck knew that now, and so did Tron, but Beck had found him in time to save him, just like he’d done before, just like he promised he could! The machine poised over Tron hummed to life, Beck tore the disk from his back and lined up his shot, and…

And Tron spasmed unnaturally. Beck realized in a horrible instant what Tron had just done. His friend started to convulse, corrosive black acid creeping down his arms and up his neck -

NO! He cried out in the vision, jerking forward in real life with his eyes wide open, gasping for breath.

No…

He’d been there. He’d been right there, he could have stopped it! If only Tron had trusted him to, trusted him back there the way he did now…

Then again, maybe Beck didn’t deserve it. He had never been sure he made the right choice later that night, either.

Beck leaned into his old mentor by his side with a shudder, grateful to be holding his hand tight now, no matter how many times Rinzler had tried to kill him lately. He didn’t stir, which was good. At least they were both still here. They had survived this much. Beck wouldn’t give up. And maybe in time, they’d both be able to heal from their mistakes.

At least, he could hope.

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

Wasn’t planning to post till I had a little more buffer but this thing demanded its freedom so here we are! I’ve got a few ideas now and just might be doomed by the narrative for this to be a long fic now! And I realized I gave Rinzler orange circuits in the pic from my last chapter, whoops, so here’s a revised version with the white ones! They both look cool. This is what happens when you get tricked into fandom I suppose! Chapter 1 below too, if it’s needed 🧡🥰

Chapter 1: Sure, just shatter the box of repressed memories. What could go wrong?

[astercontrol]

I think

If a program just got lasered into the User world, with no experience of drinking or eating User food

(only drinking the system's "liquid energy" and otherwise getting charged on the system's power)

that program would have the most fuckin voracious sweet tooth

Oh you get all your energy through your mouth? Okay so how do you turn this stuff into power? Lemme research what's in it... Holy hack this is complicated

Ok but this sugar stuff? glucose, etc... this is what converts to energy most directly for you, right

This is your way of consuming energy. Ok good to know

ALL the candy in the house. ALL the syrup, yes just the syrup don't bother with the pancakes

I'm supposed to charge myself on about 2000 "calories" of your energy daily. Got it. Buying this extra large milkshake and I'll be good for the day... AAAAA. Why does my body feel so bad later. I GOT ENOUGH POWER

Energy drink? Yes please -- OH HOLY GLITCHING GRIDBUGS THIS IS NOT ENERGY. it is... power-intensive malware that makes you use up all your energy faster and then crash??? Mixed with something that TRICKS you into feeling like you're getting sugar but you're not?? I WILL DEREZZ WHOEVER CAME UP WITH THIS

[datamodel-of-disaster]

So... I wrote a Tron fic.

If you've ever looked the Reintegration at the end of Tron: Legacy and thought that Flynn could have stood to take a little more accountability for his actions and the harm they caused...

Well.

Have this fic.

Yes, this is going to be a Clu Redemption fic. No, it is not going to be easy, pleasant or painless for him. But to be fair, he should know that already. After all... Rectification hurts.

Weekly updates. Not to scare anyone, but I have a massive backlog of chapters.

[circuitsofgold]

Title: The Admin's Siren

Fandom: Tronverse ( set pre-Legacy. Maybe somewhere during Evolution?? Sometime after the Coup since Rinzler exists. )

Characters: Clu, Dyson, Rinzler, Jarvis, Castor/Zuse, Gem, various sirens, black guard, sentries, and misc programs

Pairings: Clu/Dyson, Clu/OFC, Clu + OFC, Dyson + OFC, Rinzler/OFC

Rating: gen ( smut in later chapters )

Notes: The first chapter has no smut in it. Clu and Dyson are in an established relationship. Everyone else… is not. Chapter 1 is more for setting the scene.

Chapter 1

Opal had been preparing for her first client of the current cycle when she got a ping from Gem. She was puzzled and even more so when she was given the instruction to meet her in Zuse's office. She sighed to herself, having hoped she could avoid the entertainer for at least a few micros. She didn't even necessarily dislike him, he was just a bit much at the best of times.

Well, in any case, best to get it over with. She thought before she found herself in Zuse's office. "Opal, my dear, you look absolutely splendid!" The Entertainer greeted her. Inwardly, she cringed. Outwardly, she smiled and murmured an acknowledgment of the compliment. “You both wanted to see me?

And she thanked The Creator when it was Gem that responded to her query. "Your itinerary has changed, Opal. Your clientele has been reduced to one program." And she noted the look of unease on both of their faces. Something resembling concern and maybe something resembling unease on Zuse's face. What was that about? Sometimes specific Sirens were requested by specific programs, normally ones that knew their clients.

"I'm afraid I don't see the issue. I know we sometimes end up being exclusive to one or two programs. Though I can't imagine that I’ve caught any particular program’s eye." Opal responded as she shrugged, absently going over her clients in her processor to pinpoint any repeat visitors. Maybe it was Dyson, who was fairly infamous for visiting Sirens. "Well, Opal, you've gotten the attention of a particular program who doesn't normally request appointments with Sirens and as far as my processor can recall, has never even bothered with them." Zuse responded as he shifted his weight from one foot to another. Well, that eliminated Dyson, if the program never dallied with Sirens.

"You've been specifically requested by Clu and he'll be your only client for the foreseeable future. Look here." Gem instructed as she passed Opal a tablet. Gem had already brought up Opal's schedule on it and it was in gold where it would normally be white. "I can't edit it either. He's locked it to the point only he can edit it." and there was a note of irritation in the other Siren's voice.

"Someone will be arriving to transport you to Admin Tower shortly. I wish I could tell you what to expect but truthfully I don't know what to have you expect from the Luminary. Just…be careful." Gem warned before she took the tablet back and let Opal be on her way.

—

Opal wasn't sure how long she had been waiting though it had occurred to her that she could have just gone to Admin Tower herself. But if she had been sent an escort than she didn't want to inconvenience programs that she could potentially be seeing a lot of if she'd be working with Clu on a regular basis. She knew of those programs as most all the Grid did. She'd even worked with Rinzler once in the past. That program had been a complete mess.

The ship that came to collect her wasn't Clu's throne ship but it was a red lined one. And then there was him. She knew him even before he derezzed his helmet, Dyson, Grand Marshall of the Grid. The only program that outranked him was Clu himself. Opal had to admit that she wasn't entirely sure what to expect with Dyson.

She was just about to greet him when red lined fingers gripped her chin to tilt her head this way and that. She'd worn her hair up since she didn't know the client’s preferences yet but she could swear she was being inspected. "Hm. I've never had the pleasure of seeing you before. Must be one of Castor's personal Sirens. I hear he does like them pretty. Oh well, I'm to escort you to Admin Tower. Follow me."

Opal was aware of her processor racing before he released her. She allowed a few nanos to calm down before she followed the Marshall into the ship. There were a few sentries on board and she wondered if maybe they'd be better for conversation than Dyson would be. She'd be a liar if their first meeting hadn't been unsettling. For now she'd settle in and wait until they got to Admin Tower. If Dyson had been like this what would Clu be like?

She heard a rumble of thunder before she saw the gold lit Admin Tower in the distance. Well, she'd have to meet the Administrator sooner or later if she was to be working with him for the foreseeable future. May as well get it over with and hope she didn't make a bad first impression.

She followed Dyson out of the ship and into the Tower itself. She picked up on some sort of tension emanating from the Marshall but she wasn't sure if she should ask about it or leave it alone. For now she elected on leaving it alone. Maybe if she could get at just one of his circuits she could glean what he was feeling but she wasn’t sure how that would make him react.

Opal found they were in a very large room with windows at the far end. She noticed holograms of miniature buildings scattered about the floor. She'd like to get a closer look but she suspected this was not the time to do so. For the reason for her being there was seated in the throne in a rather confident slouch.

"Clu, I brought the Siren you requested." Dyson announced as Clu's foot swung over the arm of the throne and onto the floor. Requested? Her processor raced as she tried to remember a time where she would have been in proximity of the Administrator for him to request her but none stood out. Maybe Rinzler had said something? "What's your designation, Program?" The Luminary asked of her which was a simple enough query. "Opal."

Clu stood from the throne to approach her. He stopped a few paces away and even from those few paces she could feel the heat emanating from his circuits. "And you work at the End of Line?" "I do." She responded as he started circling her. He stopped behind her before she felt him undoing her bun, which allowed her pink hair to spill down her back. "Much better. Looks more…natural. Don't you think so Dyson? You're the Siren expert here." She heard Dyson clear his throat."Yes, Sir." The response was short, terse, and full of information.

"Dyson, you're dismissed. I'd like to properly gauge our guest's abilities." Clu just about purred which seemed to settle right into her core. Dyson issued a sound that spoke of frustration and …jealousy? Before the Marshall left. She'd be lying if she had said that she hadn't had fantasies about the Administrator. Is that why she was here? Well, she'd have something to tell her sister Sirens back at the Line if that were the case.

"I'm sure you're wondering what I couldn't say in front of our dear Marshall? Well, you're not here for a quick interface if that's what you're wondering." Opal wasn't sure if she were relieved or disappointed at this revelation. "Sir? Then why am I here?" She asked, when she found herself holding a glass of blue energy. "Simple. You work in the Line. If I had my way, I’d blow the place to the ground and start over. However, as I am constantly reminded whenever I suggest the notion, programs go there to unwind after a hard cycle. Morale would plummet.

"The short of it is, Opal, you are going to be my eyes and ears inside the Club. I don't like setting foot in that place unless I have to. This way I don't have to. You go about your routine for your shift but then you report to me." Opal eyed the energy before she took a sip to not be rude. "So I’m spying for you?" "I'm sure you've noticed how Sirens can seemingly go anywhere they please. No one really questions the whys of a Siren being at any location. Now a Black Guard or a Sentry will certainly attract attention. Even if I thought to send them in a different suit." "And you being in the Line would certainly attract attention, my Luminary? Since you rarely grace us with your presence."

She felt the chuckle she got in response to her quip more than she heard it. "That's one way to put it." He responded as he curled some of her hair about his fingers. "It is rather brilliant. Having one of his own Sirens play the spy. Should have thought of it cycles ago." Having him this close, she felt the heat from his circuits again. The feeling itself wasn't anything strange. She'd been in close proximity with other programs to where the warmth was comforting but this was…

If she didn’t know any better, she'd think he was overheating. She had noticed his rather deep breathing as if it were an effort to cool himself down. Opal wanted to ask but didn't think it was her place at this nano. "You can stay the rest of the cycle and you'll return to the line for your shift the next cycle. Let them think what they want. I'll have… someone else escort you back. I have a feeling the Marshall will be rather unpleasant until I can explain."

And then a Sentry appeared to what Opal assumed was an unspoken summons. "Show our guest somewhere where she'll be more comfortable for the rest of the cycle. Opal, I await your report the next cycle."

[fights4users]

Fic related questions-

Want to state right off the bat that I don’t really think it’s possible for the reverse to happen, that being a program in our world (I already made a post on the quorra thing) however this fic is based on the silly “government please don’t take away our friend” movies of the 80s (ET, short circuit etc.) it’s Au.

That being said despite not believing it to be possible in canon I have a few questions pertaining to the fic and a program in our world:

… would they be naked? Or would the suit remain on, this is Encom era where it seems much more apart of them™️ but I’m not sure.

Animal encounter! This is more a you choose but what’s the first encounter a squirrel or perhaps a main character’s dog?

Give me some horrors to put them through™️- just mundane things that would likely freak a program out aside from everything in general.

… Way to get them back home, I know what I’m going to have happen to get them here but idk what explanation I could give to get them home. It’s harder than just jumping into a beam.

Music! Something synth heavy within 82-83 time period, I need something to play on the radio. I know a lot of good songs but they’re a few years after.

[ivorydragoness44]

Tron x program!Reader: Game Changer

Word Count: 667 Warnings/Notes: Angst, mentions of derezzing of a program, and complimenting Tron. Summary: The Reader, a program, seeks out Tron in regards to the new rules during The Games.

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  The microcycle was almost complete in the Grid. Almost. It had been quite a while since the disc games had ended. You usually enjoyed watching the events, and to witness the skills of other programs. However, this time you walked away from the stadium alone in your state of grief and mourning. Outside of those feelings, you only had one thought. And that thought drove you to seek out Tron, the protector of the Grid and the programs within it.

  As you waited in the elevator, rising to the End of the Line club, you battled internally. You did not want to think back to the events of the Games. Remembering the derezzing. How the data crumbled into a pile of what was left of a program.   The elevator stopped and the joyous sounds of the club reached your sensors. Walking over the gridded flooring, you made your way straight toward the counter for the bar. It was a better start than any. Maybe Shaddox knew of Tron’s whereabouts.   Tron was always there when a program was in need. It was practically common knowledge. Whether it be Gridbugs eating their way through the architecture or a simple little misstep. There was nothing he could not protect you all from, and it showed.

  As you neared, you saw the tall and broad shouldered Shaddox standing behind the counter. He was already conversing with another program hunched over their drink. Tron.   Shaddox looked over toward you with a greeting smile as you approached.   Tron turned his head with a defeated smile as you sat on the stool beside him.   “Hello, Tron.”   “It’s good to see you, my friend.”   “Likewise, though I hope I am not disturbing you.”   Tron’s smile grew. “No. You could never. Is there something that you want or need to discuss?”   “Yes, actually. I went to one of the Games recently—I hadn’t gone in a while, but my friend wanted to compete again. They’re quite good. Not as good as you, of course,” you smiled briefly at the memories. However, even Tron saw the fall of your expression. “My friend…he did not win his last game and Clu’s guards derezzed him. The other programs did not seem surprised. Some even cheered. I don’t understand, Tron.”   Tron’s brows knitted together, his gaze downcast. “Clu has changed the games. Under his orders, his guards derezz all losing programs.”   You leaned closer, hopeful. “Can you talk to him about this? Change his mind by helping him see reason?”   “I spoke with him about this very issue. However, he thinks that what he is doing is right; helpful and a solution to a problem.”   “He doesn’t understand?” Your voice small in the lively club ambience.   Solemnly, Tron looked to you and put a gentle hand to your shoulder. “I am sorry for the unnecessary loss of your friend. Truly, I am. But I fear that Clu will not change his decision.”   Putting your own hand on top of his, you gave it a small squeeze. “Thank you, Tron. And thank you for everything you do to protect the Grid and all programs. The change in the Games, the derezzing of innocent programs, I’m sure is difficult for you. But just know that there are programs who appreciate you.”   A sad smile quirked up a corner of his lips. “I wish I could do more.”   Pulling his hand to his chest, you shook your head and released his hand. “You already do so much, Tron. You’re only one program.”   “Protecting is what I am meant to do,” he affirmed. “I will do what I must.”   Tron straightened to his full height. “I have to go now, but please stay. Try to enjoy yourself. Shaddox will be more than happy to assist you,” he smiled at the program.

  Shaddox and yourself watched as Tron left toward the exit. A strong walk amongst the fluid motions of the crowd.   “He’s very dedicated,” you observed respectfully from afar.   “He’s the best.”   “Indeed.”

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Thank you for reading! :)

If you'd like to read more fanfiction from me, check out the pinned post on my blog: My Masterlist of Masterlists.