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evecolourshock · 3 days ago

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Fic inspired by this fake-tweet from @coupleofdays - I swear the initial plan was hilarity, not hurt/comfort.

Tron hesitates before retracting his helmet. It's less than a nanosecond, unnoticeable unless someone knows him - and this beta, Beck, does not - but still...

Is he really going to do this again? Is he really going to risk this again? Two Programs know for certain he survived, and most cycles that feels like two too many. Is he really willing to add a third to the mix?

If he does, that's one more Program he has to trust not to betray him. If he doesn't- if he doesn't, this beta's going to get himself killed.

The choice, laid out like that, is easy.

Tron's helmet retracts. His suit blooms white. His circuits ignite.

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. The stealth suit is designed to take as much strain as possible off his scars, as well as give him a way to blend in. The white armour takes more energy than he really has available to maintain.

Tron masks the pain with a spine forged from steel and the vaguely-disappointed look he and Able both mastered to command their respective groups of unruly betas - it certainly worked on Flynn.

Tron's prepared for a lot of things. Awe. Disdain. Hatred. Indignation. Fury. He's failed to protect the Grid, failed to adequately perform his function, and far too many have paid the price. Even now, he can do very little, and he's braced for the inevitable accusations.

Beck looks at him with vague recognition. "Are you Tron?" The beta asks him warily, still in a defensive pose.

That's good. Tron approves. Decent survival instincts. "Yes." He feels like a shell of himself, scar beginning to creep back onto his face - he'll need the healing chamber again before long - but... he's still himself. At least for now.

"Why?"

Tron freezes. Buffers. That-

How in any Realm is he supposed to answer that? Is- is Beck asking him what makes him Tron? Is he asking why he's named Tron? Is he- Tron doesn't even know.

Why is Tron. How to cause an existential crisis and a logic error cascade with a one-word question.

There's no- Beck's not mad at him. Hasn't lashed out beyond the defensive attempt to stall or incapacitate a perceived enemy in a situation Tron manufactured to be exactly that. Doesn't seem inclined to treat him as anything more than just another Program.

Tron-

Tron doesn't normally get that. Not since the early cycles.

Beck doesn't give him anything to react to, actually, just standing and waiting for his response, and-

Tron doesn't know what to do. And he's far too close to crashing for his liking.

"Whoa, you don't look too good." Beck is suddenly far too close, how-

Oh.

That's an energy pouch.

They're not common, but Able makes his betas carry those, in case they need a snack partway through a trip.

Beck's... one of Able's betas. Tron thinks.

He's not sure of anything, any more.

Why is Tron?

Even the virus normally gnawing at what's left of his internal defences seems to have stopped to let him ponder the question.

Belatedly, he takes the energy pouch. He- he can't remember the last time someone was able to just hand him stuff.

Beck's... touching him. Willingly. Without hurting him. After Tron's plan to scare him into not getting himself killed went six ways sideways off a cliff. "Okay, you sit." Beck coaxes his legs into folding, and Tron-

Tron can only comply. It should scare him, but-

Well. Tron's barely functioning at the best of times, lately. He's definitely not functioning now.

Beck frowns, and Tron's dimly surprised to feel a rudimentary medical scan wash over him. That's not standard for a Mechanic, beta or no. "Oh." Beck breathes - Tron can't decipher his tone, but he doesn't think it's a good one. He-

Beck's chest makes a remarkably good pillow. Like Nord's did. Tron tries to ignore the spike through his core - Nord's gone. Rectified. Tron couldn't save him, just like he couldn't save Clax or Reeve or Anon-

His whole team. Gone. His fault.

Tron might be able to work independently, but... that doesn't mean he prefers or likes it. How long has it been, since he had a friend? Since someone wanted to spend time with him for who he is, not out of obligation or because they wanted something from him?

Why is Tron.

Tron isn't sure he exists as more than a shell and a title, any more. He likes to say Clu took everything except his name, but... Clu's all but succeeded in taking that, too. He tries to muster up some rage - at Clu, Dyson, himself, someone - but he can't find any.

Someone's pinging /grief into the air, so thick and heavy Tron can feel it on his tongue.

"I have you." Beck murmurs, sounding older than a beta. More familiar with him than someone Tron just met.

Why is Tron.

Tron shakes, feeling his code unraveling at the seams whether he wants it to or not.

Why is Tron.

He's lying down. Beck's a comfy mass underneath him. This feels... familiar. And nice.

Why is-

"Sleep." Beck instructs, fingers dancing across Tron's disc, so far away he might as well be back in Argon.

And, despite himself, Tron does.

Beck eyes Tron - The Monitor himself - asleep on his chest. He's... small. Smaller than Beck expected.

Not physically, and probably not by choice.

But still small. And those scars...

Beck's not a very good Medic. He's not supposed to be a Medic at all.

But Medics look after their patients. Protect them. Heal them. Give them somewhere they're safe, chase off infections and threats alike. Or, that's what he's heard Programs who're supposed to be Medics say.

Beck knows Tron needs a Medic. His diagnostics say so. And since he clearly has no one else...

Beck will have to do.

#make grim use eir ao3 challenge #tronfic #tronblr #i swear this was supposed to be fluff when i started

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brightsun-and-darkmidnight · 6 years ago

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Heartbeat: A Fragile Reminder

TITLE: Heartbeat: A Fragile Reminder

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 20 / ?

AUTHOR: brightsun-and-dark midnight

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki falling in love with a Midgardian and his words to Thor about Jane during Dark World coming back to haunt him. “It would be a heartbeat. You would never be ready.”

RATING: M for Mature

NOTES/WARNINGS: ~▪︎~FOR THE WHOLE STORY~▪︎~

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Check Masterlist. It's going to be a long read. I try to keep each chapter around 3,000 words.

My Ao3: brightsun_and_darkmidnight

!-!TRIGGER WARNING(S)!-!

So many triggers, read ALL of them!

Swearing. Angst. Death. Depression. Violence. Self-harm. Regret. Carelessness for safety. Doubts. Torture. NSFW. Smut. Fluff. And Of Course- Mischief.

Summary: The new Avenger.

~ ~ ENJOY ~ ~

Everyone was watching the news after Alicia's interview.

The news a background sound to Alicia as she looked out the window and sipped tea. Alicia thought she heard it all.

Her bullies claiming to be her friends.

Loki wasn't good for Alicia… She was too innocent for him.

Alicia glanced at the TV as they talked about Asgard, 18 people dead. Is she really cut out to be an Avenger? Alicia's words, 'the Avengers created their own mess before being heroes' the headline along the bottom.

She was able to drastically minimize casualties and handled the situation very well.

Someone Seriously reiterated how Loki got Alicia. Another jumped in, "Careful, Alicia just might give you that look when she's pissed off and give you a well thought out comment to get you away. Besides we know from past interviews, Loki said she had charm."

There was a laugh between the reporters as they agreed and then they went onto the weather, joking Thor was in a good mood today and the sun was expected to stay out.

Alicia glanced at Loki who was staring at his tea with his fingers tracing over the ridge and handle. Alicia smiled at him and pushed her unworried thoughts aside as she grabbed his restless hand. His eyes flickered to hers.

Alicia asked with a caring smile, "Worried about something?"

The annoying voice with the usual insult, "Loki is putting on a show, he is a full on diva."

Alicia glared, "One more word Tony and I'll tie your lungs together."

Tony gestured towards Alicia, "I'm really starting to question if Loki is the one to worry about."

Clint warned Tony, "she could make you suffer slowly. She learned a few things from her sister-who specializes in torture."

Alicia smiled as she lifted an eyebrow to challenge Tony.

"Ok Sour patch kid." Tony snapped his fingers and clapped loudly. "That's your hero name."

Loki suggested, "You could go with sour patch kid." Alicia glared at Loki. "Sweet and sour?"

Rolled her eyes half heartedly as Alicia thought back to things she was called before. Mostly insults. Then one stuck. She looked at Loki, speaking loudly, "Peacekeeper."

Realization hit his face quickly, "you can't be serious. That is a direct challenge to Luit."

"He got the name from our fan base." Alicia sipped her tea and spoke nonchalantly, "Have you found those cuffs yet?"

Loki held her stare and then narrowed his eyes as he spoke, "We are not doing torture training."

"It's going to happen." Alicia played with the rim of her mug, "Marci is already working on them…" Alicia's eyes fell to her moving fingers, "and she's almost done."

Alicia heard Loki stand abruptly and looked at him. His hand picked relentlessly at the other and his gorgeous emerald eyes were wet. "You have no idea what you are doing. No idea what that is going to do to you." His words were caring but growl was prominent, then the words were harsh and his voice was strangled. "Must you be so mindless when it comes to your well being? You need babysat every second because it's so hard -impossible, to keep you safe."

Alicia was startled when Loki hit the table at his last word. The words stung in her chest. Her eyes burned with tears. Ever since she..hurt herself Loki never really left her side. If he did, there was this look he sent any one in the room before he left. Alicia realized she was being baby sat. She was this burden everyone needed to watch constantly.

The room was silent. Friction from the oxygen moving in the air could be heard. Maybe it was the loud thump in her ears as her heart constricted. Alicia rolled her lips into her mouth as she looked at the dents and splinters Loki's hands still rested in. Her chest stopped expanding and contracting so her breath would not hitch and shake.

Alicia knew from a sideline experience Loki lashed out when hurt or pushed to far. Maybe she has been this huge stressor. There was this voice of reason, saying Loki cared but he was just overwhelmed. Alicia saw his frustration. He has been trying so hard to keep her safe but the future had different plans.

Alicia stood slowly, staring at his chest. Not able to make eye contact. She saw his hands clench tighter and she swallowed to force her heart back into her chest. Her fingers graze the table as she walked past him. Let her hand ghost over his, hesitated to give that reassuring squeeze. She whispered, "we need time to cool down."

She walked out, using her vague memory of the new place to get her to her room. Tears blurred her sight but she wouldn't let them fall. Not until she locked the entrance door to her meeting room, the one to her bedroom and collapsed on the floor in heart wrenched cries.

Loki stood straight. Hands opened and rested on the table. He stared at indents then turned to go the way Alicia just walked. There was a familiar heavy hand on his shoulder. Loki dipped his shoulder and kept walking but the hand gripped so tight it was uncomfortable. Finally, a reasonable reaction for his outburst.

"You both need space."

Loki turned and glared at Thor, so tempted to plunge something sharp into his brother.

What would Alicia do? What would she say?

Loki locked his jaw and tensed his muscles so he was still. Closed his eyes and breathed. Thor was right. Loki had been suffocating their relationship because he was worried about her. There were no guarantees of safety, thus, his insistent watchful eyes. Loki got out of the grasp and went to the window. He picked at his hand in thought of how to make it up to Alicia.

The picking got worse, especially as the reporters on another TV talk show discussed all their distaste for Loki and how Alicia was way too good for him. How dare Loki believe he could have someone so perfect. He had magic over her. Had her so deeply mind controlled she couldn't break free.

Were they right? Loki cast many illusions in his time of loneliness… could he have put her under some love spell? Loki's eyes closed as his jaw rolled then closed. Lips pressed together in a firm line. Had he messed up even the slightest thing when he put her to sleep?

"We will go check on her." Jane spoke up.

Loki opened his eyes. The sun set Alicia never got to finish, was gone. The lights of the city below shining as the sky got darker. The stars were unable to be seen with the light pollution, but Loki had seen enough stars for the rest of his life. His eyes saw Natasha lead; Jane, Valkyrie, and Pepper. He knew they would care for her.

His eyes fell to his hands that insisted on healing the small skin that was picked away.

Why must he heal so fast? It wasn't Seder. It was his damn blood, his heritage. It had always been... Odd. To heal so fast. He remembered his mother being so distraught at his arrival at the medical rooms for treatment.

He had a wound that was brought on by fire serpents. The Hel fire would not heal on his skin and it hurt so terribly that he could not focus his Seder. His mother's grim face filled with expectations that he had not known yet. Now he understood why she insisted on her personal room and sent the others away. Even sent her own healer to the other side of the door.

Loki looked up and saw Thor talking with the others near the loud TV. Turning from the reflections Loki stepped with purpose to the real world.

"Thor, has Eir assigned a healer?"

Thor blinked and his eyebrows scrunched. "No. She hasn't, but she is gathering the best healers for Alicia to potentially be paired with. You know there is a system."

Loki growled, "I know."

Thor patted Loki's shoulder and promised Loki, "I will call her now to check on progress. Go relax before the party."

Loki nodded and swallowed at the disappointing promise.

Alicia's tears had poured out of her when she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. It was Pepper. The others were behind looking down at her, making her feel; like a burden, weak, and pathetic. Natasha picked the locks when Alicia did not come to the door. They helped her onto the bed and Alicia quickly put up her brave and strong facade. She teased herself and said she was being absurd.

Jane leaned forward to be seen, once Alicia saw her she spoke. "You have been so stressed. We see it. You have worked yourself constantly and it's no wonder you need a break. Loki doesn't let you breathe."

Alicia wipes at tears, "he knows my worries of the untold future. Loki is tortured at the idea I will be harmed again. He was..terrified when he found me. The knowledge that could happen again is...unnerving."

Jane stared at Alicia with concerned eyes, speaking softly. "Thor is pushing the issue of getting you a healer. He called so many times Eir told him not to call and she will get a hold of him...but there is a process."

Yes… the damn process. Driving everyone, especially Loki insane with the wait.

An Oracle focuses on the witch in question with the chosen healers in the room. The Oracle warns them all of challenges the witch will throw at them. Once the ones up to the challenges are left in the room they sign a contract. The vision that is the most vital is burned to the healers mind and they have to figure out how to heal themselves so they could heal the witch. There is a contract the healers go through so they can not give information concerning the worst vision.

Alicia looked at her hands, she was told by Eir it was going to take time to find her someone that was compatible. It was just a safety precaution to allow the healers mind to fix itself so they can heal the witch through anything. The part of the contract that kept the secrets, to let the future unfold naturally, is that they can not tell what the Oracle showed them. The Oracle's contract is a spell so they can not tell anyone the vision or they will die as their voice box swells and closes off any air.

Alicia swallowed, her hands shook a little and played with them. "Are the healers having a hard time? I mean, if I didn't already have the worst vision, yet...what's in the future?"

There was silence. A heavy question hanging by a frail tie.

Alicia looked at the clock as a servant came in after a quiet knock. Alicia stood and smiled, "I guess we have to get ready."

"If you need anything."

"Thank you Natasha. I will be alright." Alicia waved her hands towards the door, "go get ready. I will see you all at the party."

Alicia's servant did her hair in a half updo. Bangs framing her face with loose curls that cascaded to her waist. Her make up made her glow compared to the flushed and tear stained cheeks. Alicia's eyes were dark from despair but the eyeshadow of darker natural colors helped push her usual bright eyes to appear as normally displayed.

"You really know how to pull someone together…"

The servant smiled into the mirror, "you are always put together when I arrive."

Alicia muttered a quiet thanks from embarrassment, she had not realized she spoke allowed. Once the look was complete, Alicia looked in the mirror. Loki's colors decorated her and she hoped he was alright. She wished they would be able to fix the tension that was left unattended.

Loki was in the party area, watching eagerly for Alicia to arrive.

"Do not worry Brother, she will be here. Jane swore Alicia was fine."

Loki didn't say anything but his eyes darted to the various entry points. Each face was not hers. He saw hundreds of faces but none of them held the beauty that adorned Alicia. Loki was turned and guided to the bar.

A relaxed, carefree voice reached his ears, "You are going to feel like an eternity passed if you keep waiting like that. You need a distraction."

"Valkyrie, I'm not drinking."

"Just a glass of wine. You will be relaxed." She poured Asgardian wine into a glass and she drank right from the bottle.

Loki wanted Alicia's touch but he could not have it. Loki took a drink, this would have to do till he had Alicia in his arms. No one comforted Loki. It was obvious Alicia was the favorite for everyone, that Loki was the one in the wrong… As usual. Everyone was listening to her about the damn torture training. No one understands the pain she would be in. His hand threatened to shatter the wine glass but he envisioned Alicia's hand in his.

A woman sat close to Loki at the bar. She pointed over his shoulder and he saw Alica talking with a man. He moved to get up but the woman held his arm. He knew the woman was Asgardian just by her grip. Her voice was low as she states, "she seems to be having a great time without you." The woman's hand went to his chest and the slightest amount into the jacket where her fingers drew signs onto his taunt muscles.

"We could have a good time too." Her smile and voice were heavily suggestive. The woman's eyes tried to unlock his mask but were unable to shine a light through like Alicia. Everything about Alicia was subtle, a respectful and unnoticeable display of her needs for him through a flirtatious side glance and shoulder raise. It was when Loki would smirk at her and pull her a little closer she would bite her lip.

The woman's tongue slid across her lips and said, "I heard of how rough you love to be. You can't do that with her." And that hand went lower in his jacket, "you can with me."

Loki glared and plucked the woman's hand from him, "I am not interested." Loki turned and did not walk with the gentleman prance as he started out with. Loki fully prepared to tear the man apart and his intentions must have been obvious because people were getting out of his way.

Alicia's back was to him until she pushed the man away and snarled at the man. "Touch me again and I will cut your hands off finger by finger." And Alicia turned. She stumbled back as she almost collided with Loki. Anger on her face as she huffed. Then she looked shocked, relieved, and a little worried when she finally took in his face. "Loki."

Her anger fit with his colors, appropriate if taking in the meaning behind them. But her beauty brought life to his colors in a positive light.

"Love, are you alright?" It was many questions in one. Referring to before and now.

Her smile was warmer, "better now." Loki followed her glare then took her to the bar once she said, "let's get a drink." Alicia tugged on his hand, "he is not worth the attention." Eyes followed them to the bar, Loki got the same Midgardian wine as Alicia. She went to the deck outside. "I was trying to get to you but that idiot stopped me." She rolled her eyes in frustration as she took a rather large gulp of the wine.

She never let him go. For their image first. The man's well being… was the reason Loki wanted released. Loki knew she realized his plans, thus not letting go. They had an image she was trying to maintain.

Alicia was staring towards the city, eyes following the cars on the streets below. The light from the obnoxious party illuminating her skin. She did not match her surroundings. She was too...godly for anything other than marble, gold, and with the view of a natural landscape. Loki longed to see her in the settings of his home.

In Asgard.

The wind blew hair in her face and Loki instantly used his hand to pin the offending obstruction away. Her eyes met his. Her makeup was in place, even though Loki would always insist she went without it.. He agreed, unspoken, that it did enhance her beauty.

Her hair was blowing in the now gentle breeze of the warm summer night. Her neck wrapped in a simple choker and rope necklace that hung along her breasts that were enhanced by the tight top. Loose shoulder less straps that took his eyes back up to her collar bones, were those straps should have been designed to be.

Her head leaned into his hand. Encouraging the touch. His eyes closed as he felt the tight feeling leave his chest.

Loki felt her gentle kiss on the palm and her warm breath as she spoke, "I love you. I appreciate your worry but…" her face turned so he could take in her every feature once he welcomed the current world. He was prepared to face his punishment. "I hope my healer is assigned soon. We haven't had very much time to ourselves recently and I feel...smothered."

That was it? That was his punishment? She desired space… "I apologize. It was not my intention."

Alicia smiled, "I know… You are worried." Her eyes looked all over his face and her hand went to his chest to rest there. Her breath was deep, "you are so handsome."

Loki smirked, "I'm handsome? Just solidifying this now?"

Alicia rolled her eyes, "I guess you are if your going to be so cocky about it."

Loki hummed and took her hand, "let me have a look at you." He spun her slowly.

The dress flared out after her waist, the slit was perfect for him, but not for public eyes. The dress lifted in the spin to show her heels that were just two inches and he couldn't help but be amused. She was clumsy in anything higher. Her shoes were a simple ankle strap, similar to their first date. Loki let her stop spinning and she gestured to herself, "am I to your satisfaction?" The dress wrapping around her at the stop and moved back and forth till it stilled.

Loki smiled and kissed her gently, "always." He grinned with teasing words on his tongue.

"You better think before your next words."

Loki chuckled and then inspected her first, "you didn't spill your wine. I'm impressed."

Alicia huffed and gave him a tap on the chest. "Forget the wine, I need it. That man got away with his hands, I'm impressed with myself for that."

Loki couldn't stop the laugh from escaping his throat, "You are starting to sound like me. Treasuring small accomplishments to everyday civilians."

"That guy pissed me off."

"Shall I take care of him?" Loki turned to go towards the bustling party and smiled when he felt a tug back. "I can't just let him go for distressing a fair maiden."

Alicia fanned herself as if she was a fair maiden that needed saving, "Oh, how very heroic of you." Alicia threw herself into his chest and blinked up at him, "my hero."

Loki laughed but didn't miss the chance to play along, "do my heroic actions get a reward?"

Loki could tell she was trying very hard not to laugh and keep up their act, "you may grace these lonely lips with yours kind sir."

Loki smiled, "as you wish." He kissed her slowly, as if it was the tender first kiss from an actual hero.

Someone cleared their throat and Alice giggled as she pulled away to hide her face in his neck.

"Make out later. We got shots and dancing to do." Susan pulled Alicia to the bar as Alicia yelled at her not to have too much but Susan claimed she has not been out in a long time. The two of them did not hang out in a long time and needed to relax. Susan slapped the bar, "Two shots!"

"Susan, no." The shots came as Natasha smiled and told her to enjoy herself.

Susan held her shot glass out and said with a slur, "you are getting on the floor with me. Shot or not. I still can't believe you have magic. "

Alicia looked at Loki. He looked highly amused.

"He hasn't seen your club dance?" Susan slapped the bar urgently, "two more shots!"

"For your sake, I'll take the shots. This is it for both of us." And Alicia threw back her head and grimaced.

Susan winked at Loki, "You're going to love this!" Susan pulled Alicia to the dance floor quickly after Alicia gave Loki a long kiss and a heated stare. "Make eyes as you dance, give everyone something to watch."

There it was. The reason Alicia was so reserved. People to watch.

Loki wondered if the alcohol would make her forget the image she showed. As soon as Susan was on the floor she instantly started to dance. Susan was dancing as if someone was grinding on her from behind… Loki watched as Alicia eased into it, so unnaturally nervous. She danced timidly at first and was barely able to keep her eyes on Loki.

Loki watched with interest. A few songs in and Alicia was mostly keeping eye contact with him. Taken by the alcohol as she swayed her hips and the rest of her body followed as if her hips were the puppet master. Everything flowing smoothly and looked as if her hips were the source of the energy. Her hands moved as if to showcase her hips then would go to the sides of her body and rolled so smoothly.

"She dances like a Sakarian seductress." Valkyrie said and then took large swallows of alcohol as she watched Alicia from around the bottle.

"A goddess of fertility." Thor replied and took a few gulps of his beer as Valkyrie pointed at his reply and held her drink up in cheers.

"Seductress and fertility? I already said no little Loki's." Tony pointed at Loki, "don't even think about it." And then Pepper tried to get Tony to end the party.

Loki didn't pay any attention to them. Alicia was dancing. So inviting. So.. sultry and seducing. Loki noticed he wasn't the only one swayed by her moves as he watched the same guy from before moving towards her. Loki was already preparing to get up.

Alicia felt hands on her hips from behind. She knew immediately Loki was not the one getting friendly with her. She pried the hands off her and turned with a glare. It was the man from before. Not able to keep his balance and a crooked grin. His heavy slur was further proof, "Still too good for me? You with those secrets you kept..? I bet you keep secrets in bed… Loki is probably.."

Alicia ignored the man's rambling that never really ended in a complete thought. She stayed out of reach of the man and kept Susan behind her, "you are drunk. I suggest you leave."

Alicia heard Susan saying she would go get security.

"Does Loki overcompensate with his ego?"

Alicia laughed at the ridiculous question, "I assure you he doesn't need to overcompensate for anything."

"So screwing a whore like you is easy." He grabbed Alicia but she got out of his grasp and pushed him away. He stumbled into people, thus getting attention, "Come on baby doll, Let me take a turn. I don't mind sloppy seconds."

Alicia saw movement, and Loki was coming towards them. She instantly felt sober, Alicia knew there would be trouble, more gossip for the media. "You need to go."

"Only if you come with me." The man's grin seemed to grow as Alicia pushed on Loki's chest, repeatedly telling him she was fine. "The whores beast has him tamed well. She must be a great fuck for him to not add her to the list of people he killed.. like he killed all the people of New yor-"

That was it. She had it with everyone. The whole world knew she was not defenseless now. She debated if she should keep pushing Loki away, let him go, and then the idea she has always wanted to do. Alicia said, "fuck it." She turned and knocked the guy on his ass as he sported one hell of a bloodied lip. Before Alicia could do anything else, Loki grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her to him.

"No baby doll. You're the one who takes it rough…" Alicia tried to pry Loki's fingers from her that were holding tightly and might be bruising her. The man got up and stumbled forward, effectively falling on all fours. He gestured under him, "I'll show you a more gentle approach than the monster."

That made her stomach turn and her to see a pitiful excuse of a man. She was held onto by Loki as she tries once more to get to the man. "you want added to my list?"

Security finally pulls the man to his feet. Loki growled, "Get him out of here, or I'll let her go."

The man laughed and slurred more insults at them. Then he heaved up a foul amount of alcohol, causing everyone to groan and laugh.

Alicia smirked as Susan stood in front of her, "just like old times."

Alicia groaned, "don't remind me."

Loki was pulling her away and he was smiling. "I think you can kiss your perfect role model image away after tonight, Darling." Loki hummed as he pulled Alicia outside for fresh air. He put her against the railing and trapped her with his body. He eyed her with amusement and desire. She stared back as her arms on his shoulders, moved fluid but not organized anymore. "Perhaps we can have fun in public now?"

Alicia's slur was becoming obvious, "maybe. Nothing too crazy. I don't want anyone thinking they can join." Her lips found his neck as she grumbled, "I want you to myself.."

The working of her mouth was holding purpose as it worked against his skin. Loki chuckled slowly, "Are you possessive when intoxicated?" She sucked a little more causing Loki to teasingly purr, "keep that up and you'll leave a mark."

Alicia pulled back and eyed the area Loki felt a little more chilled from the crisp air. "That can work." And she grinned up to him. Her fingers pulled him by the neck as she kissed him with fever. Loki let her have a few seconds of fun before he pulled away from her and she whined his name. Loki picked up Alicia as she was losing the ability to stand.

He asked, “You had more than you should have, didn’t you?”

“Maybe a bit.” Alicia said pinching her fingers together.

Loki could tell she was in a very fuzzy state of mind. “Come on, Darling. Let's get this out of your system.”

“What are you going to do?"

Loki picked her up and carried her swiftly through the party. Alicia groaned, telling him not to move so fast. He took her to her own room. Through her personal living room set up for her personal meetings, then to her bedroom. Keeping in mind to move her slowly onto the bed. He removed her clothes slowly as well but left her underwear on for now.

Alicia groaned, “Loki I don’t think I can have sex.”

“I know, Love. That is not the plan tonight. We need to get that alcohol out of your stomach before it gets too far into your system.” Loki picked her up and took her to the bathroom. He put her in front of the toilet.

“Oh come on. Please don’t make me throw up in front of you.” She was starting to visibly wobble as the legal poison worked its way to her system.

Loki held her hair and pressed his hand to her stomach letting his seder work, “No other way Love.”

Alicia tried moving his hand away as she started to gag, “Loki. please don’t.”

It must have been 10 minutes of expelling the liquid. Loki gave her breaks to let her get her strength back. She groaned how she promised to never drink ever again. “Good Love. I really don’t want to do this again.” Then he let her finish expelling everything in her stomach.

“I feel so gross. I can’t believe you made me do that.” Alicia wiped at her face with a wet cloth Loki put in front of her. She stood and went to the sink. She brushed her teeth and ignored Loki, even though he was making himself busy getting a bath ready. She stood there and stared at the mirror where Loki stood now. His hands were running up and down her arms and sides. He unclasped her bra and helped it slide off her body. What was in the mirror was bare. His eyes meeting hers and stayed on hers even though she was exposed. Alicia turned and hugged him, “You really didn’t need to do that.”

Loki followed her gaze to the bath, “Satisfied in everything, Love. Anything you need. Anything you want will be yours.”

“What if I just want you?” There was still a slur...

Loki pried her hands from his erection, “You have me. But. Not tonight, not that way. You need rest. You are going to have a hellish morning."

#Heartbeat: A Fragile Reminder #brightsun-and-darkmidnight #chapter 20 #loki #check triggers #check description

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evecolourshock · 1 day ago

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Given @betasuppe and I had a similar idea but it was mostly Beck using the weird coding quirks instead (here)... have continuation of that, and a story!

Beck squints at Tron for a moment. Launching oneself with a weird reaction to jumping into a corner? Falling through the floor?

"...like the time I accidentally teleported to Bostrum, before there was a Virus there?" Beck asks cautiously. "One moment I was on a staircase in Purgos' back streets, the next middle of Bostrum's industrial area. Everyone was really nice about getting me home."

Tron does that thing where he'd be smirking if he could... and giggling if he wouldn't ruin his reputation. "Yes."

"Can you teach me how to do that on purpose?"

Tron, Beck thinks, would be beaming if his face could move that way.

It takes a while for those lessons to start, but Beck's... kind of looking forwards to them? So much so there's a spring in his step noticeable enough for his friends to comment on it, for Able to try interrogating him for why he's in a good mood, for Pavel to try and fail to drag him down again.

Tron raises an eyebrow at him the next time he's in the lair. "Eager, are we?"

"Curious, excited, and a little apprehensive." Beck rattles off, choosing to be honest. "But the more we can do, the better we can outsmart them, right? And... this looks more fun than just hitting them until they fall over."

Tron... softens. That's the only way Beck can describe it. "Correct." He murmurs. Then-

One step. Tron's on the observation platform, then he's in front of Beck. Twenty paces' worth, traveled in an instant.

Beck bounces up on his toes, part surprise and part delight. So cool. "I guess that'll be lesson... three?" He teases, knowing Tron's pace of teaching by now.

"Four." Tron corrects, clapping Beck on the shoulder. "Lesson one is finding the right place to do that. And... that's best done practically."

Beck grins at his mentor. "Good job I've got time off work for a while, then." Spending time with his friend, out exploring? Sounds like a good time to him.

Beck pokes his head, and then his whole body through a wall. He's supposed to be laying low, sleeping and working and generally pretending to be a normal Mechanic...

Tron needs him more, right now.

"Just me." Beck murmurs, curling up with Tron. One hand comes to cup his shoulder, too low on energy to squeeze hello. "You're safe. I hid the way in."

His mentor raises his weary, scarred head, wounded and weakened by torment he only just managed to escape. Pulled to safety through a short-lived glitch point, clear across the Grid - so similar to the one Beck found all those cycles ago, used on purpose before it got deactivated via copious amounts of explosives.

Beck doesn't want to know what his body count is now. He suspects it's higher than either of them ever wanted.

Tron shudders, then relaxes. This little... nowhere-space, a room with no doors, is the safest place Beck could bring him after the rescue, and he knows it. Doesn't mean he's not terrified of someone finding him anyway.

Beck rumbles a low hum in his chest, a content Mechanic reassuring his friend. He passes Tron an energy pouch - helps him hold it, when Tron's fingers spasm and shake too much. "We'll be okay." Beck promises, quiet and sure. "And- hey, when you're healed, we can go find that spot where you can drop into the caverns again. Explore the crystal caves."

Tron's face does that thing where he'd be smiling if he could.

Beck smiles back, soft and gentle.

Tron using speedrunner strats to get around during the occupation

Beck: I called you two minutes ago, how’d you get here so fast?

Tron: You know that triangular warehouse on the south corner at the end of Roy Street? If you jump backwards into the third corner at just the right angle, you can break the physics engine and launch yourself out of the skylight at a ridiculous speed. I wingsuited the rest of the way.

Beck: I can’t tell if you’re joking.

Tron: Kevin sucks at making corners.

Beck: Is this like that time you told me to ‘just clip through the floor’ when guards were coming?

Tron: That was my mistake. Clu’s been fixing them, the bastard.

#tronfic #tronblr #make grim use eir ao3 challenge

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evecolourshock · 2 months ago

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Well fuck, I gotta do this now, since you asked politely :) sorry if Yori's a little OOC, she's a darling and I love her but I can never seem to get her voice right.

@fourbitsinatrenchcoat here you go :D

Beck cocks his head, because puzzling out his current situation is a great distraction from the knowledge he is well and truly in over his head.

He's never seen that many guards for a single stasis chamber before. Especially when there wasn't supposed to be anything here. The stasis chamber jolts as it gets settled into a pallet, one corner flickering - Beck bets he can use that to hack it.

"Careful!" Someone hisses.

Dyson.

Damnit.

"If she escapes, the Luminary will have all of us derezzed!" The General snaps. "Null units, the lot of you." He complains. "Just get her on the transport, and no more mistakes."

Beck has to get whoever that is. Bad for the Occupation is normally good for the Renegade. He doesn't-

He's not going to bring them straight to Tron's lair. That's just generally a bad idea. The Garage is also a bad idea...

Eh. He'll figure it out later.

...Beck cannot believe it was as easy as "steal an armour set and a forklift". He just can't. How is their security this lax - sure there's lots of guards, but nobody vetted the driver of the damn forklift that showed up to move the pallet.

Dyson really should know better. Maybe he's too frazzled right now though.

Beck's not an idiot, so he ditches the stolen armour and goes hunting for trackers the moment he's out of sight. A diagnostics scan brings up details about whoever's in the chamber unexpectedly, and he feels his eyebrows hit his hairline.

Damn that's an early compilation date. Pre-this-Grid kind of early.

Maybe Tron knows her.

Later, later. Trackers disconnected and removed, he takes his rescuee somewhere he's been thinking of building his own base.

It's not much, certainly not at the level Tron has in his lair, but it has a charging berth and medkits and supplies, and a containment area. Good enough for now.

She doesn't stir when he finally deconstructs the stasis chamber - what medical scans he can understand tell him she'll wake up on her own as the effects of the chamber wear off. There's no sign of rectification - that's either good, or really really bad, but Beck's an optimist at core.

He did, after all, notice Tron had been rectified when even the Monitor couldn't, and managed to tweak the healing chamber to actually be able to deal with that instead of mask it. Tron's been looking leagues better recently for a reason.

Again, Beck's not an idiot - he still makes sure she's in the modified quarantine unit and shouldn't be able to get out of it. Precautionary measures don't hurt.

He switches his circuits from Renegade to the knowingly terrible versions of Tron's he used pre-Renegade. Not his civilian circuits, obviously a disguise... but also an extra layer of misdirection away from him being the Renegade. Because of course the Renegade wouldn't be caught derezzed in something so amateur (never mind the extra armour panels he's been able to add, now he knows how to make them).

And now, to wait.

The lady wakes with a muffled yawn Beck only just catches through his own exhaustion. He's taken naps of course, here and there, but... up all rest cycle, not enough sleep. At least he has the work cycle off.

Tron's a sleepy grumble in his comms, probably fresh from the healing chamber and wondering where on the Grid Beck is. He pings off reassurance that he's safe first and foremost - nobody needs a rampaging fugitive Monitor on their hands - and then alerts Tron that he's somewhat accidentally found, and then on purpose liberated, someone who seems to be of importance.

Tron demands explanations as to who and how, so Beck sends him a picture of the lady currently investigating the walls of his containment unit.

The stunned silence echoes. That's definitely an interesting sign - Tron's very rarely shocked out of lectures.

...Beck very nearly misses the first choked sob. "Yori." Tron murmurs, full of longing and disbelief.

The lady - Yori, if Tron is to be believed - catches sight of him eventually - Beck sees the veiled shock on her face, which quickly gives way to suspicion. That's... fair, he supposes. In this particular get-up, he's pretty clearly not Tron, despite wearing Tron's ident.

"Who are you?" She asks, defensive.

"Depends who's asking." Beck fakes Tron's voice... deliberately badly. Exactly how he used to, when all he had to mimic was footage scraps someone had tried to wipe from existence and not quite succeeded. Knowing Tron, he can do a better impression, but... better to hide that connection for now.

She snorts at him, and he can hear Tron suppress a shaky laugh over the comm. Beck grins under his helmet - he likes amusing Tron, makes him feel like he can help his friend in more ways than just with his job. "Well, you're certainly not my counterpart." She tells him, raising an eyebrow - as if the news is supposed to startle him.

It does, but Beck paid attention during Tron's lessons on How To Not Let The Enemy Distract You. "Truth?" He asks Tron quietly.

"Truth." Tron answers shakily. "I thought she'd been derezzed or-"

"Rectified." Beck completes softly, when it's clear Tron can't bring himself to say it. "She's clear of that, as far as I can tell." Tron makes a noise somewhere between a gasp and a sob - definitely fresh out of the healing chamber, that's the only time he's so expressive - and whispers a thanks to every deity he can think of. Users and otherwise. "I take it she's safe, then?"

"Yes." Tron breathes, and Beck chooses to take that as permission.

Retracting his helmet nets him keen eyes, and Beck lets his circuits shimmer back to civilian. "Sorry about the suspicion, Miss Yori, can't be too careful any more." Beck relaxes his posture, opens up, lets himself be warm and his actual age. It works, given how she relaxes in kind. "Just precautions, but a friend vouched for you."

"Must be some friend." Yori hums, sizing him up - Beck's definitely sure she's not checking him out.

"He is." Beck wanders over, deactivating the containment area with one hand and offering her an energy pouch with the other.

...does not let her see how he deactivates the containment. Even Tron trusts wrong sometimes, and Beck's determined to still have some secrets. Just in case.

"Anyone I'd know?" Yori asks, teasing in her voice.

"Mmm, you could say that." Beck grins, tapping his sternum four times - a gesture Tron uses to soothe himself. "So do us both a favour, yeah?" He abruptly goes serious, hair and plating fluffing out in an intimidatory display. "Don't break his trust."

Because Cyrus is a fresh wound. Because Dyson is a festering wound. Because Yori's betrayal would kill Tron, one way or another, and Beck refuses to let that happen.

The lightrunner ride to Tron's lair is done in silence, Beck using what by now is intimate knowledge of the glitches and shortcuts and general weirdness of the Outlands to obfuscate how to get there. Doing this makes Tron's head hurt, but... he trusts Beck to maintain secrecy this way. Yori stays quiet too, processing everything Beck's allowed her to know.

Tron's making an effort to be welcoming, near the entrance instead of manning his surveillance array. Beck gives his mentor privacy when he and Yori reunite - Tron hates the vulnerability that comes with emotions, the least Beck can do is make sure nobody's going to interrupt them.

Besides, he has reports to write.

Yori cajoles Tron into sitting down and resting, talking and comforting each other. It's... not easy watching them (Bodhi - Beck's core aches with loss), but at least Yori's seeming to hold true to her promise not to hurt Tron.

It takes ages for the discussion to wind down, for Tron to accept help to stagger to his healing chamber and let it close around him.

Yori watches him with sorrow in her eyes. "How can I help?" She asks Beck, when he nears.

Beck grins, and it's the fanged one he doesn't let Tron see. "So, I have this plan to overthrow Clu..."

Because nobody hurts Tron and gets away with it. On that, he and Yori can agree.

a while back I drew a concept for Uprising Yori -- but thanks to the power of me learning 3D modelling, I've made it a reality (:

#tronfic #yori fic #make grim use eir ao3 challenge #if you saw this incomplete : No You Didn't

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evecolourshock · 12 days ago

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WYN HOLY FUCK-

Your art is fantastic as always, I love it ♡♡♡

You gave me fic ideas omggg ♡♡ Beck being the light pulling Tron out of the darkness holy fuck that fits them so well!!! I know this is a post-Legacy piece but. Wyn. Wyn their entire dynamic is Beck being the light in the dark. Beck saving the Grid AND TRON from the shadows of pain and suffering as best he can, beating them back with optimism, hope, and stubbornness. And he's daring to do all of that one. Last. Time. For Tron.

Because he knows Tron needs saving too.

Fic

Beck squints through murky waters, the Sea still stirred up from reintegration's blast. It's dispersed the poison, made the Sea safe again, but...

He can't glitching see.

And Tron is down here somewhere.

Beck just knows it.

His helmet's got a limited supply of air. He can't stay down here much longer. Tron must be running out too.

Beck flicks his visor to clear - the black tint hides his identity, but it's not like there's anyone here to recognise him and he can't see very well through the gloom. The loss of the extra shading helps, but not much.

If his calculations are correct, Tron should be somewhere around here. He has to be. Because if Beck doesn't find him on this pass...

Well. There won't be another pass. Tron will have run out of air, and time.

Beck will have failed him. Again.

Locator pings are useless down here. Beck fires a few off anyway, desperate enough to try, but swiftly resorts to using his hands and feeling through the silt.

Nothing.

Noth- something.

Something!

Beck traces the something carefully. A finger. A hand. He kicks, stirring the silt a little more, getting close enough to see.

He- he knows this hand. Has felt it on his shoulder in comfort, held it in his own for reassurance, has bruised in the shape of its knuckles before he learned how to turn blows aside and dodge.

Tron.

Beck unburies an arm, brushes silt off a helmet. The blank black one-piece doesn't scare him like it does so many others - it's just Tron. Scared, scarred, lonely Tron, kept in a cage made from his own frame and forced to do all the things he'd rather derez than attempt.

Beck coaxed him back to that jovial, friendly, sassy sweetheart warrior he used to be, once. Hopefully he can do it again.

Beck gets Tron free to his waist, but it's far too slow for his liking. He can't pull Tron free, but doesn't have the time to unbury him from the bottom of the Sea by hand-

Alternate technology application it is.

Beck angles himself so he's holding Tron securely against him. His friend's head lolls against his shoulder. "I have you." Beck can't help murmuring. He takes a single breath, closes his eyes...

...and triggers the wingsuit he stole from the crashed carrier.

It almost immediately starts sputtering, then retracts in again - waterlogged, damaged, irreparable - but that one thrust of the jets blasted enough of the Sea bed to free Tron's legs.

Beck hits the emergency release, leaving the wingsuit to decay, and swims upwards as fast as he can.

The Sea almost seems to help him, a strong current pulling him and Tron upwards. The white of Beck's suit gleams against the black water. Somewhere up above is a recovery craft manned by Mara and Zed - Beck's probably going to startle them both, considering he hasn't told them he's the Renegade still and dived in with his circuits still civilian - but they're scouring for movement and won't leave him to drown.

Tron, Beck's willing to bet, will be the last survivor they find.

"Hang in there." Beck urges quietly, even as his helmet begins to crack. Tron's is still whole, but probably not for long.

The surface isn't far. They just have to survive long enough to get there.

Beck's helmet fails less than four body-lengths from the surface. He's exhausted. Legs thrashing against the water, trying not to be dragged back down, Tron a dead weight in his arms but still glowing steady.

But he pushes through.

Failure is not an option.

Not now.

Not when he's so close-

Zed hauls him up and over the side of the recovery craft, already swearing at him. Beck ignores him, focus narrowing to Tron. Still breathing.

That's good.

"Help me dry him." Beck demands, wobbling to his knees. His voice drops to the Renegade's growl naturally, edged with authority he's picked up over the cycles.

Zed's halfway through complying before he realises what he's doing. He hurries back with towels and a million questions, but Beck quells him with a look. That's a later issue.

By some miracle Tron has his disc. Beck triggers the manual override for Tron's helmet, forcing it to retract.

No water spills out.

It held.

"Thank glitch." Beck slumps, folding a towel so it's comfy under Tron's head. He takes one of the big fluffy ones from a buffering Zed's arms, trying to rub some life back into Tron's limbs. "Come on." He coaxes, gentle like he hasn't been in a very long time. "It's me. It's Beck. I got you. Just like you got me." He nuzzles Tron's cheek. "Don't you give up on me now, Tron. We beat that virus eating you, a little water's not going to be what takes you down."

One hand curls. Tron's face twitches. His head jerks a little.

Just like when he was dying. But this... Beck can feel him getting stronger. Coming back.

"That's it. Come back to me." Beck cajoles, lifting Tron's left hand to his shoulder so Tron can sense him. "You're my friend. And I'm your friend. And I'm gonna protect you just like you did me." He murmurs.

"Everything's gonna be okay. I promise."

The sky is falling, let’s try to catch it

#make grim use eir ao3 challenge #tronblr #tronfic #let beck save his dad

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evecolourshock · 2 months ago

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Tron has to do a double-take, the next time Beck shows up at his hideout. There are a half-dozen creamish yellow... things. Adorning his the beta's head like a crown. Darting in and out of his hair, making Beck's carefully maintained spikes fluff out in all directions.

When Beck manages to coax them into getting off, it becomes clear they're newly rezzed Bits. Four or five millicycles old at most, from the size.

"Mara found a box of Bits, tied shut and with a heavy grate on top so they couldn't escape." Beck explains, before Tron can figure out how to ask. "So of course she brought them into the Garage. Couldn't leave them there like that."

Tron understands - Yori had done something similar to his apartment back on Encom. "And successfully argued to keep all of them." He not quite teases, a little too nostalgic to give it any bite.

"Yeah." Beck hums, letting one baby Bit roll across his palm. The rest quickly follow, back and forth, squeaking what one cycle will be delighted yeses. Tron creeps over and spreads his own hand for them to explore, giving in - no training today, probably, but the Bits Beck brought are too cute for him to be annoyed about it. "Didn't realise until the adults wobbled their way out of the box these little guys were in there too." Beck pets one that can't quite seem to hover properly. "I've been trying to take care of them - they were so tiny and translucent, didn't look like they were going to make it." He chuckles when the others mob his fingers, begging for pets themselves. "But they're fighters, and don't give up that easy. Do you, lil guys?" He coos, and the Bits flash pinkish-red cheerfully. "Yeah, that's right. You're so strong already, gonna be even stronger when you grow up."

Tron honestly wouldn't have guessed the poor things were starved and abandoned - they're doing so well under Beck's care, awkward flying and all. "You've certainly made sure they can thrive." One tumbles a little too close to the edge of the bench, and Tron cups his hand in case it needs catching. It doesn't, hovering wobbily back to its cluster, and they start trying to march their way up Beck's arm - alternating between yes-pings and no-blats on their way. "Cheeky little things."

"It's kind of all them." Beck laughs gently. "I just helped." He glances over at Tron, a line of Bits over one shoulder. "Sometimes that's all someone needs. A little bit of help."

Well. "Then they're certainly in the safest hands for it." Tron murmurs. He's so damn proud of this beta.

from nov 2021, which i dont think ill ever finish :') based on an incorrect quote i think

------

Mara, holding a box: Able, what would you do if I came to the Garage with a box full of stray bits?

Able: Mara, what's in the box?

The Box: [bit voice] YES YES YES YES YES

Mara: ...I think we both know.

#make grim use eir ao3 challenge #beck and his emotional support Bits raised from babyhood #tron and his emotional support beta

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evecolourshock · 3 months ago

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I like this headcanon a lot :) but also ended up with Thoughts that delved into Sad territory, so I have a fic.

"Do you guys have first words? Or, just, first thing you ever said? Do you remember those?" Sam asks, draped over the back of a chair and glancing at the trio of unlikely friends he's brought home for the night. It's two in the morning and he's three beers in, a bad combination for driving, and the Grid's not going to burn down when it's shut down anyway. "I mean, I was a weird kid and apparently my first word was elbow of all things, but... what about you guys?"

"Greetings, Programs." Quorra grins, smug about Marvin choosing her lap for his bed. "Ophelia was so proud of me for that."

"Hello World." Tron rasps out, voice rough with healing but getting better every time Sam sees him. "Same as most Programs." He frowns then, looking concernedly over at Beck - tucked in small, trying to let the conversation wash over him.

Something's wrong. That's the only thing Sam can think of. "Beck? You okay, man?"

"Yeah, yeah, I just- does it count as first words if it was an entire sentence and I was already halfway through beta?" Beck laughs nervously, not looking at anyone. "Because, all of this-" he gestures at everything from his neck up. "-is kinda... aftermarket. So. I didn't speak until much later."

"...aftermarket?" Sam asks hesitantly.

"I didn't exactly... get created with a voice. Or a face, actually. All helmet." Beck's voice gets quieter. "My production series was... rushed. Missing nonessential components - faces are cosmetic for us, at the end of the cycle, so we didn't have them. Didn't need to speak when we could just ping others, so... didn't have voices either. There- there were only three of us ever made, and... I'm the last one left."

"Anon." Tron's voice cracks with grief. Quorra's face falls.

Beck nods. "The first of us in our Security-based suite, AN-One-Thirty-Seventy-Twenty. Anon. Then me." He hesitates. "Then Cyrus. A Monitor, and two Supports. Mechanics, and Demolitions. I didn't know until- until he was gone."

Tron freezes. "Then-"

"Cyrus got his face because of them." Beck growls the last word. "And it ruined him, corrupted long before he met you. I got mine when Able found me a Medic who'd do it without asking too many questions - if Cyrus had had that chance..." Beck shakes his head.

"I'm sorry." Tron reaches for Beck - is pulled into a hug when he's close enough.

"You taught all of us." Beck mumbles into his chest. "We survived longer than we would have without you." He pulls away after a moment, teary but weakly smiling. "Besides, I think my first words fit here too."

Tron hums questioningly.

"Thank you for giving me a chance to live."

Tron franchise headcanon: Newborn programs always say “Hello world!” as their first words :3

#the timeline doesn't quite line up BUT WHAT IF-#poor baby b #hugs needed #tronfic #make grim use eir ao3 challenge

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evecolourshock · 12 days ago

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"Beck." Able confronts him, out of sight of the others. That's good - Beck doesn't think he can take any teasing from them right now. "I know you snuck out last night."

Beck curses internally. Act dumb! "Who's Beck?" Not that dumb!

His saving grace is that he delivered it so flat and deadpan it's easily written off as a joke. Sarcastic, sassy, hiding every emotion under it...

...like Bodhi used to.

Bodhi, whose nine hundredth creation anniversary was last night.

Bodhi, who Beck was hoping to give his forever to.

Bodhi. Cut down by a soldier for daring to question them.

Bodhi. Beck's best friend, who he'll never get the chance to see if they could be more.

Able freezes, buffering for a moment.

"I had to get out." Beck admits quietly. "Couldn't stay here. Not last night." The Renegade had been on something of a rampage, blowing up vehicles and putting a lot more force into his punches than usual. Screaming, sobbing, raging and crying under his helmet for a friend fiercely mourned. Tron, tellingly, had let him. "I stayed safe, stuck nearby - was on the roof most of the night. I just couldn't be inside."

"Beck-"

"Don't." Beck nearly snaps. "Just- don't, Able. Please. Not now. I'm already late for my shift, and Zed's annoyed with me enough as-is. I get it - flighty, irresponsible, unreliable, reckless, blah blah blah. I don't have my feet under me because my other half was ripped away. And sure, that might not be an excuse, but-" he breaks off, breathing hard. "I'm barely functioning, Able. Especially today. Spare me the lecture please. I'll do better when I figure out how I'm supposed to run as half a Program."

He stalks off, leaves Able standing there. Ignores Able calling him back. Can't stand the pitying looks in the workshop - everyone heard, great. "Hey Zed, let's find out if I can actually get through a shift, yeah?" He grits out through a smile that feels as false and fake as the Occupation's promises to make things better. One millicycle of peace, that's all he asks.

Just one. For Bodhi.

Able: Beck, I know you snuck out last night.

Beck: *internally* Act dumb.

Beck: Who’s Beck?

Beck: *internally* Not that dumb.

#make grim use eir ao3 challenge #tronblr #ow i wrote angst again

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evecolourshock · 21 days ago

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Fic idea, thank you :)

Tron looks at the other version of himself, concerned. Legacy Tron - a misnomer, he thinks, given the sleek streamlined version is so much newer than himself - does his best not to meet his eyes.

SamFlynn has ported the new one over not too long ago, assuring Tron he wasn't replacing him but saying that "the guy needs to recuperate somewhere familiar and not... totally broken" with a look Tron didn't know how to decipher - and wasn't that a surprise, a new User on the Grid for the first time since Flynn himself and knowing it existed - promising to come back once he'd repaired the other system. It must be taking quite some time to repair - must have suffered an unfathomable amount of damage.

Since then, his newer version's been keeping to himself. Always watching from afar. Hiding from Yori - from Yori, despite how important she is to them both. Anxiously fretting over the Programs still in development - fussing over the Maintenance designates most of all. Tense and skittish around other Monitors - less so around Tron, but still wary and flinching and waiting for a blow that never comes.

"What happened to you?" Tron whispers, and his other self flees.

Legacy Tron comes back later. He always does, creeping into the room set aside for him. He's recently started drinking the energy left for him too, a tiny victory but one Tron will take.

Tron's staying up late, this cycle - a few reports to write, nothing major but he's been ignoring them and can't any more. So he's awake to see his other self slip soundlessly out to clean and put away the glass, only to freeze on seeing Tron still up. "It's okay." Tron soothes, before other him can bolt. "Just got reports to finish, about those Gridbugs two cycles ago. No one's requested it yet, but... I'd rather have it available just in case." He grimaces. "Though writing it is... not the most stimulating of activities."

There's a ghost of a smile on Legacy Tron's face. Progress.

"Thanks for defending the betas from that malware, by the way." Tron adds, core aching at how his other self both retreats and perks up at the simple praise. "I didn't even know it was there until you tackled it. Good job." He smiles gently, watching his other self glow brighter. "You did well."

"Could have been faster." Legacy Tron whispers out, voice rough and raw with unseen damage tearing through his vocoder.

"You were faster than me. And you were fast enough to protect and save them all." Tron pats the seat in invitation, making sure there's enough space for his other self to feel comfortable instead of crowded. "I think that's more than good enough."

"I must be perfect." The vocal growl increases to a clicking rattle, Legacy Tron's circuits careening wildly into orange, flickering and winking out at random. Tron gets a glimpse of abject terror painting itself across his other self's face before a blank black helmet gets most of the way down over his face - his hands physically forcing the edge up to stop it closing as his mirror starts glitching.

His other self is more scared of whatever this is than Tron was of the MCP and Sark and their army of Red Guards combined.

"Hey, hey!" Tron catches the edge of the helmet, straining to keep it open. "You were- you were perfect out there." He chokes out, even as his other self settles a steady amber and that hum grows more predatory. "You were, I promise. The rest of the situation wasn't ideal, but that was outside your control. You did your best, and your actions once you had control of the situation were perfect. That is- that's what matters, right?" Blue begins to return, creeping through circuits blazing far too hot with stress. "You did what you could, and you did it perfectly."

The orange recedes. The hum winds down. The helmet retracts.

Legacy Tron does not stop panicking, clawing at himself like he can yank whatever that was clean out of his core - heedless of the damage he does to himself in the process.

Tron pulls him into a hug instead. "You're okay." He tries to reassure. "You're okay. Everyone's okay." Circuits scorch lines into his external layers, discolouring the white with damage-grey.

Not damage to him, he realises in horror. Old damage on his mirror. Flaking off, pixels dropping like dust - whole voxels simply crumbling away.

His mirror's eyes close, body twitching involuntarily as he falls apart-

Tron activates every distress alert he has, scooping up his mirror and taking off in a dead sprint for an I/O Tower.

It's nothing short of a miracle Alan_One regularly works late on what the User display clock informs Tron is a Friday, whatever Friday means. Normally Tron wouldn't be allowed inside the Tower's main chamber when someone else is using it, especially when the exchange involves repairs of this scale, but-

But it's his mirror in the beam, whimpering with fright until Tron had held his hands and soothed him with quiet words of reassurance. His mirror, battered and beaten and broken, wounded beyond Tron's comprehension.

His mirror. Dying. And were it not for a freak glitch, with no one to save him.

Abandoned by someone Tron thought a friend. Suffering, and thinking it what he deserved, for things that were not and could not be his fault. Blamed and persecuted by a world he'd given up everything for.

Tron, he finds, can hate Users just as easily as he can love them. May Flynn - Kevin, not Sam - never find peace. Not after this.

Tron can feel Alan_One poking at his code every now and again, copying parts of it in an effort to repair, reinforce, and rebuild whole swathes of his mirror where there's simply nothing left. A vile orange thing oozes out of his mirror - Tron snarls at it, activating his improved defences and burning it out of this holy place. It doesn't get to hurt his mirror. Never again.

It's only his proximity that lets Tron feel his mirror stiffen when Alan_One approaches his memory core. Tron takes a shaky breath, then crosses beyond blasphemy. For his mirror.

Not there. He gently pushes the probe away, reaching out to communicate directly with his User the way Flynn once showed him. No change. Only fix.

Tron's User-speak is rudimentary. He's never done this before without a translation matrix helping him out. Alan_One doesn't answer for several millicycles, and Tron does his best to comfort his mirror in the meantime.

When Alan_One comes back, he leaves Legacy Tron's memory and directives alone.

"There we go." Tron murmurs, once Alan_One finishes. His mirror rests in his arms, healed and solid and whole. Legacy Tron doesn't stir, but he's peaceful for the first time since Tron met him - hopefully a good sign.

Ram is waiting outside the chamber, sorrowful and knowing. "You too, huh?" He asks quietly.

Tron hesitates, parsing through what Ram means, then nods. "Us too." He confirms, letting Ram inspect his mirror. "From after. He'll remember you."

Because Ram has a mirror too, on another system. Maybe several mirrors - the revived Actuary doesn't actually know, and may not even be the original. He's not the only Ram around, at least in theory.

He's the only Ram Tron's met, befriended, and fought alongside. And the only Ram who remembers doing all of those things.

"What's going to happen to him?" Ram asks, running a hand through Legacy Tron's hair.

"He came from another system. I- I'm not sure I can let him go back." Tron admits, a little shamefully. "Not wanting to keep, but... he was hurt there. I don't want him hurt again." He sighs. "But he has friends there. Not many, and all hurt, but... friends. I'm guessing at least one beta - he keeps trying to look after the ones here. Staying will hurt him too."

Ram hums, used to Tron's nature by now. "Is there a way for both? Link his Grid and ours somehow? Then he has his friends but you can protect him too."

"I... can ask." Tron thinks it over. "His system is... damaged, but it used to be part of ours. Perhaps connecting it back to a stabler framework will help."

Legacy Tron stirs then, a pained whine slipping from his teeth as he boots up. "What happened?" He grits out, then touches his throat and glances at Tron with wide eyes.

"You collapsed." Tron helps his mirror sit up, but puts a hand on his shoulder when he tries to stand. "Alan_One only just- only just managed to make repairs in time." He's still dusted with the pixels his mirror shed, still keeping contact with his mirror to make sure the Program's still there. "We nearly lost you." Tron's voice is thick, relieved but still so scared. He can't lose another. Not like that. Not his mirror.

Legacy Tron's eyes tighten, but Tron can see the quickly squashed flicker of fear.

"I... asked him not to change you." He reassures as best he knows how, rubbing circles in his mirror's shoulder. "He didn't touch your memories or directives. Only framework."

His mirror checks his face for a lie. Tron's core cracks a little - who did this to his mirror? Who made him so afraid to trust? When Tron gets his hands on them, he doesn't know what he'll do but it will not be kind or quick.

Regardless, Legacy Tron relaxes. "Thank you." His eyes flutter with exhaustion still.

Tron presses a kiss to his mirror's hair, dragging up memories of Lora_Prime comforting JetBradley to guide him. "Any time."

ok so hear me out. tron wasn’t ported wholesale from the encom system. Flynn is stupid but he’s not stupid stupid and was like “this guy has the perfect life I’m not removing him from that” and made a copy of tron to bring into the new system. ok now imagine encom grid tron meets legacy grid tron. the angst inherent

#tronfic #grim wrote hurt/comfort again #make grim use eir ao3 challenge

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evecolourshock · 2 months ago

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Tron pouts, curled up on the floor of his folders.

New folders.

Whatever.

He's done them all up painstakingly pretty, agonized over wall colours and carpet and accents and generally fried his processor trying to choose between cushions and lamps and so many fantastic decorative things...

Only to find out Flynn has minimal intention of bringing Yori. Tron had to walk away, otherwise he would have lost it.

He's tried asking - nicely, and then less so. He's tried pleading. He's tried cajoling. He's tried bribing. Every avenue he can think of short of threatening Flynn somehow, he's tried it.

All failed.

Which leads to now. Sulking like a beta, refusing to come out of his room and talk. He does his job, not that there's ever much to do, but... other than that? Tron is very pointedly not engaging.

No Yori, no Tron. That, he's decided, is how things work now.

Flynn tries to ping him again. Tron swats the notification away. Blocked. Denied. Install program YORI then try again.

It is absolutely the pettiest thing he's ever done. But damnit, Tron did not get separated from his counterpart for millicycles on end, reuniting after who even knows how long after defeating a tyrant beyond compare, only to never see her again because his friend is an idiot.

He growls at Flynn's next ping, swatting that one away too. Blocked. Denied. Install program YORI then try again.

Telling Flynn in his own vernacular to fuck off unless he brings Yori and grovel for forgiveness is tempting, but Tron's determined to keep being petty. It's entertaining.

A proper message pops up - Flynn must be on the Grid now, then. "Look Tron, I know you're mad-"

Tron puts his fist through the alert screen, watching it dissipate into glowing motes. Blocked. Denied. Install program YORI then try again.

On and on, he does this. Maybe this time, he'll get results.

(It takes about a week for Flynn to cave, stymied at every turn until he finally gets Yori and brings her over. Tron still considers Flynn his friend, but... that doesn't mean he trusts the User, any more.)

Kevin: Look, Tron, I know you’re mad at me, but you can’t just shut me out.

Tron: Access blocked. Check connection settings and retry.

Kevin: Come on, man. We can talk about this.

#tronfic #make grim use eir ao3 challenge

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evecolourshock · 6 months ago

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Fic idea time! Tron's been in many games, some lethal some not, what about him blurring the lines between... earlier ones than that?

Tron heaves a breath through gritted teeth, somewhere between a grin and a grimace. Beck's getting good now, enough to make him actually exert himself to stay ahead, and as much as he enjoys the challenge his scars...

He shakes his head, twists out the way of a leg sweep Beck almost slips past him. Not the time. "Good." He grunts out, striking open-palmed to make Beck lean back. It's not enough to make his friend overbalance any more, and Tron's bared teeth inch closer to a grin. Very good. He's learning.

Beck stalks around him, eyes gleaming with thousands of calculations, and Tron-

Tron gets distracted enough for Beck to clip his side with a kick. He growls, wordless, amused, and a little annoyed at himself. He's normally better than this.

But damnit all to whatever Users mean by hell, Tron's having fun. And Beck's pushing at his limits, learning how to get around Tron's defences and apply his function to a fight, and if Beck can beat Tron he can beat anyone, and if he just calculates a few nanoseconds faster-

Tron falters.

Beck pulls a strike at the last moment, palm close enough for Tron to feel the heat radiating off Beck's circuits on his cheek. "You okay?" Beck backs off a little, knowing even before Tron does it's time for a break. He's learning that, too, and Tron's so proud of him.

It's just-

How can he answer Beck's question, when for just one moment fluffy black became curly grey-tan? That bold lines became a maze on a jacket fought hard to keep? That Mechanic became Actuary, that salle became ring, that young became peer, that black became white and Tron saw a long-gone friend instead of the one here and now?

Who is he betraying, when he conflates the two? Tron's core creaks dangerously at the mere thought.

Beck takes his silence for the negative response Tron can't bring himself to voice. "The MCP is derezzed." Beck tells him quietly, voice sure and calm, clearly thinking of the last time Tron's attention wavered during a spar and trying to bring him back from that buried precipice of fear - when Tron's strikes changed from instructive to desperate, thinking he was back in the Gladiator Ring. "You're safe. The UNIX timestamp is nine-zero-one seven-five-six zero-seven-three three-five-B F-B-four A-nine. You're at your Spire - your home in the mountains near Argon City. The only life around aside from you and me are the Bits in the underground caves near Theta Section."

It's... endearing, Beck's rambles as he tries to ground Tron. And effective, too. He has no idea where Beck learned this new skill, and a flash of that infamous curiosity of his he thought long suffocated makes him want to find out.

It takes him a little while to notice Beck shepherding him to the benches he'd caved and added so they had somewhere to sit when discussing new tactics or moves, even longer to notice the glass of energy in his hands - he notices that when he feels the first sip reach his reserve, and with no small amount of wonder realises it's the first time in a long time he hasn't been wary of anything handed to him.

Because Beck wouldn't do that to him. Doesn't think he can worm his way into Tron's trust (or... other things) by plying him with gifts that have invisible strings. Beck just... treats everything practically, and if Tron cam't get it himself for some reason has no qualms about fetching it for him. To Beck it's simple. Easy. He has functioning hands and sees no reason for them to be idle if something needs to be done.

Rather like someone else Tron once knew.

Thinking of... Tron's feeling brave, right now. Brave enough to let Beck in past his guard, to allow him just that little bit closer to his vulnerable core. He takes a shaky breath. "Did I ever tell you about... he'd be the first Renegade, probably." One corner of Tron's mouth curls up, the closest he can get to a smile. "We didn't... call ourselves such, at the time. But he'd probably be the first one, if we'd had the title back then."

Beck shakes his head.

Tron hums quietly, understanding, mustering the courage to risk poking at grief long-buried. "He was an Actuary Program. Calculated... heh. I never really understood his function. Loans and annuities and insurance and many things that made sense to Users and the Programs that helped them. Clever, sneaky, cheeky little thing, for all he was a bit older than me. Lethal at Jai-alai, and nearly my match in the Disc and Lightcycle arenas."

Beck's eyes widen. "What was his name?" He asks in a near-whisper, awed but also aware Tron doesn't use the past tense without reason.

"Ram." Tron murmurs, pulling up a memory even now so crisp and clear - Ram's laugh at the energy springs, bright and playful, flicking some at Tron teasingly as they took a respite... dumping a discful on Tron's head after he pushed his friend into the shallows, long before the MCP got hold of either of them. "His name was Ram. He... he was my first real friend."

Beck snuggles into his side, warm and curious, and Tron swears he can feel a life long-gone drape over his other shoulder. "Tell me about him?" Beck asks, and-

Just this once, Tron does.

Thinking about how much Tron loved the games in Betrayal before they turned into killing games. Beck participated in games with the garage gang. Do you think their sparring/training ever brought Tron back to the days of the original games? Do you think some small part of him was happy to be fighting again, without the goal of derezzing his opponent?

#tron and ram were best buds i do not make the rules #poor tron misses his friends damnit #let him be soft this once #art and conversations #make grim use eir ao3 challenge

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evecolourshock · 4 months ago

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What if an AU from that point tho, featuring Uncle Zuse making sure his nephew (all grown up now) gets home...

Gem bringing someone new into the End Of Line doesn't happen all that often any more, but that's more a lack of new Programs to introduce than anything else. The new guy looks lost and confused and adorably determined, but he's hiding a lot of fear under that expression and Zu- Castor, he's Castor now, keeps forgetting that - Castor tries to extricate himself from the latest attempt at tracking down himself to find out what's going on. No newbie should be that frightened, especially not in his establishment.

"I brought your boy. Flynn." Gem murmurs, half-sultry in the way that means she's done something Castor's probably not going to like. But he can't think about that right now, because-

Your boy Flynn.

Boy Flynn.

Sam.

Why, Castor hasn't seen him since he was a tiny thing, barely knee-high! Sam's bigger now, much more developed, but Castor can still see that small curious mischief-maker he used to look after when bigger Flynn had other things to do.

Sam's probably forgotten him by now - User memories don't function like Program ones, and it's been a long time. But Castor has not, so he pulls Gem aside with a low growl. "What did you do."

"Enforcers will be here shortly." Gem tells him, looking like she thinks she's done a good thing. That look swiftly disappears when Castor snarls and pushes her away. "But, the reward-"

"Not worth his life." Castor hisses. "Bigger Flynn, whatever, he abandoned us and will get what's coming to him. But not the little one. Did nothing wrong."

Gem frowns, puzzled, but Castor sweeps over to Sam quickly. He can't burn time like that, need to go now, they're on the clock-

"I'm looking for Zuse." Sam tells him quietly, even before he says hello. "An ISO named Quorra sent me."

"You found him. Now Quorra, Quorra, Quorra..." Castor muses. "Ah, yes. The one that got my bar burned down the first time." Never mind he was sheltering others at the time - really disillusioned him to the idea of rebellion, if nobody was willing to help those in need of it.

Sam winces.

"Her actions aren't yours." Cas- Zuse shrugs. Sam wanted Zuse, he's getting Zuse. Knew Zuse, too. "Passage out, yes? To the beacon." He chivvies Sam off towards his stash of vehicles. "Come, come, no need to stand around waiting." Sam trails him like a lost Bit, scared and forlorn. Damn Clu for scaring this boy. Damn him all the way.

"No, no, no, these just won't do." Zuse frets to himself. None of the batons he can grab easily are... well. They're not good enough, all aesthetic and no substance. He needs-

"Ah!" He snaps his fingers. Pulls a lever. He's only pulled this lever once before, during an evacuation, trying to give everyone their best chance of survival. The lever glows, falls into his hands - a personal baton with a few extra tricks - and he scoops up an exposed silver-white slim thing. The only one left in the hidden drawer - he didn't see much point in replacing the rest, after their creators disappeared into the wilds. Wouldn't be the same.

"Never thought I'd need this old thing again." Zuse murmurs, passing it to Sam. "But it's better than all of theirs." He smiles kindly, really - it's been too long since his smiles were real, and maybe it shows. "Ever flown a lightjet before?"

Sam shakes his head. Zuse would have been pleasantly surprised and a lot wary about a yes.

"Alright. Now, they handle a lot like a lightcycle here, no fancy User pilot skills needed." Zuse soothes. "Only difference is adjusting height - you use your legs for that. Pull your heels up towards you to go up, push them down to go down. Simple, yes?"

"Heels up to go up, down to go down." Sam repeats. "Got it."

"Good lad." Zuse claps him on the shoulder with one hand, inputting the command to iris open his launchpad with the other. "Now just stick by me, and we'll get you home safe."

i rewatched legacy recently and i cannot believe gem says "i bought your boy flynn" to castor like wtf that's so funny

#leaving it here for someone else to continue #castor/zuse isn't bad he's just disillusioned #make grim use eir ao3 challenge #tronfic

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evecolourshock · 1 month ago

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Wyn, your art is amazing!!! I love your older Beck, he's such an Unit of a guy, but your Cyrus!!!! Holy hells your Cyrus, where to even begin. He's long and lanky and has clearly been through hell. He's bunched up and defensive but radiates the vibes of a feral cat about to fight the whole world so it can't hurt him again. Leaves claw marks in everything he knows, clinging so tight because he doesn't know what he'll be if he lets go. He's desperate, and... damn. You've really figured out how to invoke sympathy for this chaotic wreck of a person, and I love your version of him so much.

So, with that in mind, have a fic ♡ you figured out how to break my heart with this guy, and I have no words to describe how happy I am you did.

Cyrus doesn't know why his feet take him here. He staked claim to Purgos, haunting the streets and bringing pain to any of Clu's forces trying to do the same. He's no Tron, and it burns still, but the Wraith is whispered about in every dark corner and satisfaction curls through him at each mention of his new name.

And yet.

And yet if he lets himself wander, he always comes back to Argon.

To a Garage in Argon.

Or maybe to the "mechanic" in it. He's not sure.

Beck... Cyrus doesn't know how he feels about Beck, any more. It used to be jealousy and rage and hate, for an upstart taking what was his and bringing hope instead of fear-

Now it's all muzzy. Complicated. The hate is easy, but it doesn't bite the way it used to. Jealousy and rage, much the same, blunted by the new emotions running alongside them.

Pride, even though he doesn't like admitting it. Beck's strategy worked. Even the refusing to kill part - Cyrus doesn't know if he should be irritated by or admire Beck's dedication to a cause similar and yet executed so differently to his own. Argon loves Beck's Renegade, even after Cyrus' attempts to take the title back by force. Cyrus can, at least grudgingly, appreciate that.

Respect. He's fine with admitting that. Beck's a good fighter and even better strategist, especially now he has all that height and bulk to back his presence up with. Doesn't need to get scrappy any more, when just showing up from nowhere can get whole squads to flee from Tron's white-clad spectre of an apprentice.

Longing Other things. Cyrus doesn't want to explore them.

Cyrus does his best to stay in the shadows. Even discounting his dulled, wild circuits, he doesn't belong here and it shows. He's thin. Lanky. Pushing the limits on how little energy a Program needs to survive. Purgos has so little resources compared to Argon, and Cyrus would attempt to steal as much as he could if he didn't know just how guarded it was.

He doesn't have the energy for that. Not any more.

Beck steps into the street, and Cyrus tries to muster up some envy. The Renegade looks good. Healthy and strong, confident and assured, completely unlike the awkward insecure youth he'd once been.

Brown eyes spot him, harden with the steel Cyrus knows hides deep in Beck's core. And yet-

Beck's still so damn soft, once he properly takes in the sight of Cyrus leaning against the wall of the Garage. Cyrus knows he doesn't look all that great, thin and tired and dull, but he tries to twist his lips into a cocky grin anyway. "No hug?"

Never mind a hug from Beck could probably crush his chest. Never mind he's almost hoping for a hug, just to interact with someone and for it not to hurt.

"Didn't think I'd see you again." Beck comments, and sure there's sharp wariness to his tone but the recognition - and dare he say relief? Cyrus feels his grin get more natural, even if it shrinks.

"Found something to do." Cyrus inspects his nails, irritated by their chips and brittleness but resigned to them staying that way. "Something better." He purrs, though it doesn't curve his words the way it used to. "Though I see you've been busy in my suit." The lie falls off his tongue instead of rolling, bitter and sharp instead of smooth - that suit was never his, not really, and in watching Beck he knows that.

Not least because Beck's made it his own, adding long panels and a better collar and even a damn sash until it's something wholly unique and fluid. Cyrus isn't sure what style the Renegade armour now follows, but it suits Beck.

"Not yours any more." Beck retorts swiftly, still lacking the bite to make it land properly.

Cyrus inclines his head slightly, and the acquiescence doesn't hurt like he thought it would. "No, I don't suppose it is." He murmurs, voice raw and weary.

Beck's still looking at him, all soft and caution and-

"I don't want your pity." Cyrus snaps, forcing hinself to dredge up some of that rage and hate keeping him going. He reaches for Beck, sees the Renegade stiffen - a flash of old fear, good-

Drops his hand. He's too tired for a fight, even if he wants one just to feel something. "Don't pity me." He repeats, trying to hold on to the energy his temper provides. "You won." His lip curls in a sneer, though it's not aimed at Beck. "Be glad about it."

"Why?" Beck asks him, and Cyrus stalls. "What good would it do?" Beck steps closer, and Cyrus hates himself for backing up. One hit and he's done for-

Beck pulls him in. It's half-pin, half-hug, and Cyrus feels his knees buckle. "It's not winning if everything's still broken." Beck tells him, and Cyrus doesn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"You think you can fix this?" Cyrus chokes out, words grinding in his throat. "Look at me."

"I'm a mechanic." Beck tells him dryly. "And you of all Programs know how stubborn I am." He backs off a little, hands still on Cyrus' shoulders. "And I've been getting bored lately anyway."

Cyrus wants to tell him off, to snap and snarl about not needing Beck's charity, about how he's not a glitching project-

But Beck's voice is light and teasing. His eyes are glowing, looking forward to a new challenge. His hands are warm and steady, firm yet gentle with Cyrus (brittle, fragile Cyrus, treated like he means something even though he feels like "Cyrus" means nothing at all).

"Can't have that." Cyrus mutters, trying to keep the swell of emotion he doesn't dare name held in his chest instead of leaking into his voice. "...I'm kidnapping you." He announces. "Just so you know."

"Ah, yes. For the reputation." Beck agrees far too easily. "Of course. I'll put together a convenient collection of supplies to grab at the same time, then. It'd be a shame to leave behind such a tempting bundle, especially when it's all packed ready to go and just sitting there." He grins broadly, itching for something to do.

Cyrus bursts out laughing. This giant idiot, got him feeling all soft and happy.

"Bring your suit." He advises. "Think we could use a bit of your hope."

At the end of the cycle, we’re still the same… right?

#wyn i love your art so fucking much #got you a story to go with them #not my art but damn that's cool #tronfic #tronblr #make grim use eir ao3 challenge

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