#cy writes things

[cypanache]

Okay. Look 👀 hear me out. Abbot x Mohan soulmate AU …

But like neither of them are particularly happy about having a soulmate because Abbot’s mark showed up after he was married and Samira’s parents were soulmates and she watched how much it fucked her mom up when her dad died. So they spend the first few years of Samira’s residency avoiding each other until the MCI …

I feel like the unhealthy coping mechanism possibilities here are strong.

[cy-fi-theansweris42]

So @keferon's Empurata Prowl posts are living rent-free in my mind, lol. I just had to write out the scene from this post so look out for the angst below the cut!

(Tumblr please don't kill my formatting--)

There's someone in front of him.

Prowl doesn't dare make a move, doesn't dare let the mech in front of him know he's awake and aware now. Doing so runs the risk of them putting him under again if they're an enemy, removing all possibility of escape (awake the chance is small; 25%. Unconscious— he doesn't need to run those numbers to know it's zero).

He will not lose this chance.

He waits, hoping his vision will improve enough that he can see more than the darkened silhouette moving in front of him, that his hearing will lose the staticky quality it took on the moment he regained consciousness and he might recognize a voice. It's taking every ounce of willpower he has to keep his doorwings from fluttering ever so slightly to gather data on his surroundings.

It's taking everything in him not to run away as the restraints are undone, to keep his doorwings from flaring high and wide to scream stay away, danger, threat in a way that a small buried part of him wants to scream.

(He will ignore that part. Emotions have no place in trying to plan an escape. Fear can cause one to act too soon, to lash out when they should be biding their time waiting for the moment with the highest chance of escape. Tactically, emotions lower the chance of a successful escape.)

He has to wait, he cannot lose this chance to escape over something as trivial as emotions. Not when that runs the risk of more being done to him.

He will not let them do anything else to him.

So Prowl stays as still as possible as the final restraint is removed, not daring to try and run. Not yet. They would be prepared for him to try and escape the moment he could, they would plan for it. If he waits, pretends he's not aware enough to realize he's free to move, they may slip up, may give him the chance to escape successfully.

…Or he could be missing the only opportunity he'll have, and he doesn't even know it.

He doesn't know enough. There's too many unknown variables.

Number of enemies: 1 (or more) Location: Unknown Route to exit: Unknown Status of allies: Unknown Chance of successful escape: Unable to accurately calculate (no more than 30% at best).

He wishes he could see more, see who's in front of him, who the taller mech who just came close enough for him to notice is (had he been there the entire time?). He wishes this static in his audials would go away so he could hear what was being said. He wishes he could move his doorwings freely and know if he was surrounded by enemies instead of just not knowing.

(He wishes he had his hands still, he doesn't know if he'll be good enough of a shot with this claws. He wishes he had his face still, this singular optic being a screaming sign of what was done to him and he was helpless to stop it. He wishes he knew what all they did to him, what did they do, what did they do to him—).

He can't help it. He needs to know.

His doorwings twitch, just enough to tell him the two mechs in front of him are the only others in the room. It's enough to catch the smaller one's attention. There's noise, maybe speech, and he can make out their hands coming towards him—

Their hands are coming towards his head, his neck, he thinks he sees needles, and he can't just stand there anymore.

Prowl feels his new claw dig through metal, through the glass of a visor, as the static in his audials crescendos, becomes a roar. His plating is flared, his doorwings spread high and wide, and he is shaking.

He can't stop shaking.

What did they do to him?

[cypanache]

And chapter 3 is up … there’s a little something for everyone in this chapter.

artwork for ricochet by @cypanache

“Anakin–” “Yeah?” “Do you, by any chance, want to fuck my wife?” Obi-Wan doesn’t even look up from his phone as he says it, in the same, mildly disinterested tone he uses for instructions like ‘Take the next exit’ or ‘Let's start with his ring finger’ so that it takes a moment for Anakin to register the question. Then he does and it’s only the fact his reflexes have been honed by years of drag racing that keeps him from crashing the car immediately. Oh god. Oh shit. This is it. This is how he dies.

[king-candybug-backup]

I'm noticing an uptick in comments complaining that most of the current WIR fandom content is Turbo instead of the other characters and, like... you guys know you can search other characters by their specific tags, right??? Or exclude Turbo from search results by temporarily blacklisting him in your filtered tags?

Idk, it's just weird to me to be discouraging towards people making fandom content just because it's not the specific content you want to see, like, it's ok to want to see other content, but complaining about how other people aren't catering to your tastes enough instead of just making the content you want to see yourself is kinda bad vibes, y'know?? (And that's not to say that I think those comments are intended out of malice of course, I really don't think they are, I just wanted to point out that it can come off as a little entitled, as well as discouraging towards people who just want to draw Turbo, which is something that should be fine if that's what they want to do. Fandom should be fun for everybody, and there's lots of tools available to curate your experience with it!)

[vacantgodling]

random plot

[astramachina]

whatever, here's my top ten because they're my top ten for a reason. 😤

Lovely Things - JT Music, Andrea Storm Kaden

2. Back for Another Bite - JT Music

3. Gracefully Into the Abyss - Leon Riskin

4. Stuck Inside - Black Gryph0n (this bitch was in my top 5 two years in a row what the fuck)

5. Let Me Out - ApAngryPiggy, Dawko

there rest are going under a cut bcs i realized the spotify previews on desktop are HUGE rather than the slim ones on mobile

6. The Party Isn't Over - JT Music, Andrea Storm Kaden (i was confused by this one but then i realized that it was squeezed between two songs i liked a lot so it just... got to play a lot? i personally don't think it deserves the sixth spot but oh well)

7. Labyrinth - CG5, Caleb Hyles, Dagames, Fandroid!, Dawko, et al.

8. Built in the 80s - Griffinilla (in my defense this one's really fun to sing along to sdfkjh)

9. Shadow Bonnie Remix - ApAngryPiggy

10. Afton Family - KryFuZe (aka the second ever fansong i ever heard and pushed me over the edge so hard it wasn't even a push it was more like getting sucked in by the gravity of a black hole. literally this song is the reason i'm here. everyone thank (or not) kryfuze for my downward spiral. i'm stuck here. trapped in the event horizon. i can't escape. i am spaghetti.)

[thedeadthree]

crawling out from ye olde cave covered in blood to show the besties the first of the tbn w/itcher fic pinterest boards.

[2d-dreams]

my gayest, you've been through so much

[dilfkuza]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 龍が如く | Ryuu ga Gotoku | Yakuza (Video Games) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Kiryu Kazuma/Majima Goro Characters: Kiryu Kazuma, Majima Goro, Kashiwagi Osamu mentioned Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Chairman Kiryu Kazuma, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Injury, Loyalty, Kissing, Bruises, Implied Sexual Content, Character Study, dog metaphors, Secret Relationship, is it really secret if everyone assumes you're boning anyways?, KazuMaji Week 2023 Summary:

Every chairman needs his enforcer and his second in command, people he can trust despite whatever happens. When Kiryu accepted the position of Fourth Chairman, he was lucky to get two-in-one. Or, Kiryu's term as Fourth Chairman is most notable for his lapdog.

Kazumaji week Days 4+6: Outfit Swap, Alternate Universe

[cypanache]

Prompt me please

I am suffering from a terrible case of being *way* too in my head on my WIPs. So in an effort to shake things up, I am throwing open the ask box.

Ask me anything. Prompt me anything. Really. I’m begging you.

Ask about a current WIP. Prompt something whether new or for something I’ve written or something I’ve only talked about. Really I’m wide open. Anything to get me to stop overthinking. The only thing I ask is that if you ask me to write something for an in progress WiP you don’t hold me to it later.

[welcometoteyvat]

the rarepair pipeline really is just (wants to see two characters interact) (the only people who make content of those two interacting are the shippers) (doesn't mind them having a romantic relationship and thus is converted into the rarepair)

[euphoricbi]

RANDOM BUT, writing for myself like this.. makes me really happy..

[jongace]

🥲

[cy-cyborg]

The Jaws Effect and what it means for media representation

The Jaws Effect is the name of a phenomenon that described the panic and fear that sprang up around sharks, fuelled by Steven Spielberg's movie, Jaws. While the fear of sharks and other marine predators had always been a thing, Jaws launched the fear of sharks, and Great White Sharks in particular, to new (and mostly unfounded) heights. Most people will never encounter a real-life shark and so their only knowledge about the creatures come from movies and other forms of entertainment. Entertainment that largely portrayed them as mindless, unfeeling killing machines. After Jaws, sharks became a staple in the creature-feature genre of movies, which only perpetuated the idea of sharks as dangerous monsters even further, reigniting and reconfirming the beliefs the public held about them in the process. These ideas about sharks are, of course, not true, but the misconception and fear has had a real, observable impacts on shark populations, shark conservation efforts and even laws and legislations surrounding sharks and shark conservation around the world.

Ok but Cy, this is a blog about disability and disabled representation, what do sharks have to do with anything you talk about? Well, Because The Jaws Effect is just one of many examples that shows how massive of an impact representation in the media can have, for better or for worse, especially when talking about subjects the public generally knows very little about.

This conversation is not unique to disability representation, nearly every person I've seen who's talked about how to write and design characters from any minority brings it up eventually, but the media we consume, the movies we watch, the books we read can all have big impacts on people's perceptions on those topics. When talking about disability specifically, it's an unfortunate reality that not many people know all that much about us, and so, much like sharks, for many, their only real exposure to disabled people is through the media they consume.

If you don't know anyone in a wheelchair, and your only knowledge of life as a wheelchair user comes from books and movies like Me Before You, of course you're going to (spoiler) come away thinking that life in a wheelchair is horrible and death is better than living like that. If you don't know any DID Systems and your only exposure to a condition like that is through movies like Split (and honestly, a number of other horror movies and crime shows) of course you'll think people with DID are unstable monsters who could become violent any moment. If your only exposure to autistic people is Music, then it's not shocking that you might think Autistic people are "trapped in their own minds," completely unaware of the world around them and lacking any kind of agency. As much as I'd like to be able to say these are "just movies" or "just books," and that if we don't like them, we can just not watch them, they all had an impact on the real world and real people's perceptions of the disabilities they depicted, as do the many, many smaller examples of bad representation.

This is why I personally spend so much time focused on the portrayal of disability in the media, why so much of my content is focused on creating resources for creators to represent us better, and why I think writers, artists and other types of creators should care about the representation they include.

Unfortunately, people believing misinformation and stereotypes, while annoying, isn't the worst of the impacts bad rep can have. If a stereotype is prevalent enough, and enough people believe it, it can both put us in harms way and cause us to loose access to things we desperately need and things designed to help us. One really common example of this is when movies and TV shows show a character getting up out of their wheelchair, and use this as proof that the person is faking being disabled. However, in reality, there are many disabilities that might mean someone has to use a wheelchair, even if they can still walk a little bit or stand up. The stereotype of someone standing up from their chair being a fake, especially when it's reinforced over and over again in the media, leads non-disabled people to believe that anyone who stands up from their wheelchair is faking, and results in a lot of real disabled people being harassed and denied things like access to disabled parking, toilets and other accessible spaces. There were even a few cases of people reporting those they see get out of their wheelchairs to Centrelink (The Australian "welfare" department, for those not familiar) as frauds, and while these investigations don't usually go far before someone realises what's happened, it has, on occasion, resulted in people loosing the income they depend on to survive, even temporarily.

But the impact of representation, of course, can go both ways.

I was in high school when the first How To Train Your Dragon movie came out, and at the time, I didn't really like people being able to see that I was a leg amputee because I was sick of kids in particular staring, pointing at me, asking their parents "what's wrong with them?" or asking me directly, "what's wrong with your legs?". I wore long skirts and big, bulky tracksuit pants to keep my legs covered, something that became dangerous in the hot Australian summer, but I didn't care.

But the impact of How to Train Your Dragon came in two ways. The first, was that it was one of the first times I'd seen an amputee (or rather, multiple amputees) who didn't keep their prosthetics covered or hidden, and it gave me the little boost in confidence I needed to do that myself and wear clothing that was more comfortable and functional. And second, the comments from children changed, albeit slightly, but enough that it was noticeable. The questions and comments went from "what's wrong with you?" to "oh cool, your legs are like Hiccup's!" I even had one little girl ask me once if I had a pet night fury. They went from being scared of me and my legs, or at the very least concerned for me, to genuinely curious and impressed. While reactions like that did become less and less common over time, they didn't fully go away either. Even today, I occasionally get young kids asking me why I have legs like hiccup. A friend of mine who was born with one arm shorter than the other and without fingers on that side had a similar experience with the movie Finding Nemo. Her disability was a bit more complex than what I described here, and she always found it hard to explain "what happened" to small children, however, after Finding Nemo came out, she was able to simply tell kids "this is my lucky fin, like what nemo has!" and that was enough to take her from someone "scary" to these kids to someone like their favourite characters.

Of course, it's much easier to see the impact positive representation can have on people's perceptions when we're talking about kids media, but it's not exclusive to it either.

When it comes to a minority like the disabled community who are so thoroughly misunderstood by the wider public, misinformation can and does spread easily. What people see and read in the media they consume plays a big roll in how people perceive the real people attached to the stereotypes. We often hear people say "Fiction imitates life" but the reverse can and often is also true, life can imitate and be influenced by fiction, and those of us creating should be mindful of this, especially when we're talking about a group of vulnerable people.

[Thumbnail ID: An illustration of a Great White Shark swimming near the rocky bottom of the ocean, surrounded by silver fish. In the bottom left corner of the image is "The Jaws Effect and what it means for media representation" in big, white bubble text. /End ID]

[evecolourshock]

@murderbees you gave me more ideas. This starts off sad and gets better... much later. You have been warned.

Tron- zler? Tronzler looks longingly out at the city. Alan_One is out there somewhere, helping rebuild the Grid - possibly looking for him, but he- he can't. He's not- Alan_One calls him Tron, and glitch does it feel good for his User to call him by his actual name, but...

Too many look at him and still see Rinzler. It's safer for everyone if he stays where he is, up here in the surveillance tower where he can't be seen.

SamFlynn was the one who started calling him Tronzler, back in those first few cycles when he'd just been tossed out of the Sea, choking and spluttering on tainted energy, barely sure of who he was. The nickname had not helped - was he Tron? Rinzler? Both? Neither? Someone else entirely? He hadn't known. Still doesn't, on his bad millicycles - the Rinzler virus was purged by his User, he himself repaired and coaxed back into operation as best as he ever will be, but the memories remain and he can't just let them fade away. Not after what he's done. But the nickname has stuck.

SamFlynn startles when he turns on the light, and Tronzler flinches. He- damnit, he was doing so well! No matter how much he wants to sneak up and appear next to the Users the way Quorra does, the way he used to, he- he scares them for more reasons than he used to now, and more than once he's had a disc drawn on him when he was only trying to do... what he's been told. Reclaim as much of himself as he can.

He tried once, with Alan_One. Came up behind him, silently as he could, said hello to startle his User. But Alan_One had clutched at his chest in fright, had told him not to do that because it had "almost given him a heart attack", and- Tronzler's never done it since, no matter how much the distance it creates hurts.

This one thing, the one he yearns for - the camaraderie, friendship he used to have - will be out of reach for him for good. He thought he'd been doing so well at announcing himself, making his presence known, but... apparently not.

He flees. Tries not to show it. Hopes he's left fast enough to avoid the probably well-meaning but grating concern about a resurgence of Clu's virus.

He's not even sure how he makes it out to Argon's border, but the lightcycle (when had he rezzed that?) is hot between his thighs so he must have been pushing it to its limits. Beck would tell him off for that, it's not good for the cycle. Not good for him, either.

Beck...

Tronzler can barely bear looking at Argon's bright lights. He doesn't know if Beck still lives, and something in his core twists painfully. He shouldn't be here, sullying his protégé's home with the voxels on his hands.

He sits down, feeling rather small. There's a little energy pool to his left, a Bit swooping over it every now and again. There are rocks scattered everywhere - one digs into his back, and he'll have to move either himself or it soon if he doesn't want to be sore there. Static-snow drifts down around him, numbingly cold.

The flakes on his eyelashes hide the tears he's newly able to shed. Glitch does he feel lonely.

Even back when he had no one to rely on, after Cyrus but before Beck, when even Able refused to speak with him... he's never felt this alone.

Sitting out in the cold and snow, an indifferent Bit his only company, Tron cries.

He doesn't move until the beacon flashes, telling him the Users have gone back to their realm. If he- no. He can patrol the Outlands until they come back (if they come back, part of him whispers). Stay away, so others don't have to look at him and see their ghosts.

He waits for Alan_One in the surveillance tower on the Users' next visit, perusing through a report he's collated and hoping it'll make sense. All the lights are on this time, and he's standing in the middle of the room no matter how much it terrifies him to be so exposed.

As predicted, Alan_One is proud of his performance. He still gets an indecipherable look from his User, and pretends to be busy dealing with something mindless. He hasn't moved from the middle of the room - standing is exhausting, but at least SamFlynn and Quorra aren't tiptoeing around looking for him-

Tronzler jumps right out of his circuits when someone chirps boo in his ear. He whips round - who is there left who would have the audacity to-

Alan_One looks confused, SamFlynn and Quorra outright stunned. Tronzler's entire worldview narrows to the fluffy-haired menace he thought he'd never see again, grinning unrepentantly and looking far too pleased with himself. "Got you, Tron!"

Tronzl- Tron makes a choked sound, running scan after scan over what he sees to make sure everything's real, and then wraps his beta in a hug. His shoulders shake, laughter and tears both. "Beck. Beck. You're okay." He murmurs, overwhelmed and proud and so Users-damned relieved.

"I'm here." Beck hugs him back, arms crossed over his discs, and Tron sags into it. "I missed you too." Tron can hear the smile in his voice. "Got you good just then, huh?"

"You did." Tron chuckles wetly. He lets Beck steer him away - somewhere safer, where he can collapse out of sight from those he can't afford to show weakness to.

He doesn't let go of Beck. Not for a long time. It's a little ridiculous, on the face of it - he's a fully-developed Program, a hero (a monster), the pinnacle of self-sufficient and autonomous... he should not be this attached to a beta. But with Beck here... he's not lonely any more. Because Beck gets him.

Beck pounces on him, spars and wrestles and roughhouses with no fear for his own safety. Steals his reports and won't give them back until he's had a nap or some energy or both. And tries his hardest to startle him. Sometimes it even works, and Tron relaxes enough to start doing it back.

He starts smiling again. Laughing. Still puts on that stoic facade for the Users and general public, but... Beck's suddenly at his shoulder, normally on his blind side, and Tron's shoulders drop from the loss of tension.

He's treated to Beck defending him too, after he'd crept up on Beck in his workshop and had startled him (a four on Ram's scale - Beck had known he was there, but wasn't sure where, and trusted him not to appear until neither of them were at risk of injury) and SamFlynn had been passing at the wrong time.

"If he spooks you, he likes you! He's done that for ages! Well before Clu." Beck scolds the User - snippy and past caring, and thoroughly unimpressed. "It's Tron-speak for you're my friend, and you gotta at least try to reciprocate to let him know you don't hate him! Figured that one out in the first three millicycles of knowing him, and I thought you were supposed to be better than us Basic Programs - least, that's what your Creator was always saying, with his actions no matter how pretty his words."

It was closer to the end of the eighth, but Beck's allowed to exaggerate to prove a point. And... he's not wrong about Flynn, though that is another exaggeration. The User just... didn't think anything in or on the Grid mattered too much, because to him it wasn't real.

Beck stalks out, and pulls Tron with him. He only looks back once, enough to see SamFlynn send a complicated look at their backs. Tron shudders, and feels Beck pull him in a little closer.

"How come you're here?" Tron asks quietly, laying with Beck in a dark room - the best way to have heavy conversations, in both of their opinions. "You've got... a whole life, back in Argon, why waste it on me?"

"I found your signal, and- what friend would I be if I let you suffer alone?" Beck traces Tron's scars, the glamour not active for once, his beta's head resting on Tron's chest. Tron closes his eyes - Beck doing that feels nice, one of the few times it doesn't hurt. "And I'm not wasting my life, I'm spending it with you. Because I want to."

Tron curls into Beck, feeling small. This time, at least, there's safety to go with it.

With one friend back, Tron starts drawing away from the Users. He no longer craves their acknowledgement or notice, certainly stops trying to change himself for any semblance of a friendship. He can be professional with the Users, and that- that works out better for everyone.

Less messy and desperate, at least for him, and nobody has to worry about him being in dark corners any more because most of the time he's not even in the same sector.

It isn't until Alan_One comes looking for him that Tron thinks it might not be that easy. But he's three drinks in, and Beck's most of the way overcharged on the same, and they're both giggly after stories of the funniest times they've startled people by accident, and Tron just can't bring himself to care about complications right now. He waves the User over, because it's polite, but he channels some of the excess energy to his emergency stores and Beck does... something similar, he supposes. He's not actually sure how Beck's system handles charge management.

Discussion for later. Either way, they're both mostly sober by the time Alan_One pulls up a chair.

Tron brushes a curl out of his eyes absently, pulling up his glamour in the same instant - he's in full circuits because the only Program he knows of left that remembers him in them is sitting right next to him, his glamour was off (Tron doesn't scar, according to the gossip, and he and Beck both scoff), and he's trying to figure out how he wants his hair. Certainly not short ever again, after his head was kept shaved to fit under Rinzler's too-tight helmet full-time, and the Encom style is both too distinctive and outdated. He thinks he likes this long style, down to his shoulders and kind of wavey. Totally unrecognizable to the masses, which is a weird thought when pre-Clu and during the start of the war his face was plastered everywhere.

Tron hopes Alan_One didn't notice the facial scar's discolouration or his blind eye. There's only so many well-meaning suggestions or offers he can handle before he's going to take Beck up on the offer to move into the Garage's attic and not come out again, Users and responsibilities be damned.

Beck picks up on his mood, and discreetly orders two of the strongest drinks the bar is allowed to stock, as well as something User-friendly. Tron approves - he thinks he's going to need it.

"We really screwed up, didn't we." Alan_One murmurs, and Tron elects to blink in feigned innocent confusion at him instead of snapping back with something bitter and sharp. He's still hurt, he finds, and doesn't want to find out how much.

Beck has no such reservations. "You did." The beta growls acerbically, guarding Tron. He's finally grown teeth, to quote a User phrase, but Tron still wishes he hadn't had to.

The drinks arrive, and his is a sweet white thing that sets him rumbling happily from the first sip. He can't be bothered swallowing it - stifling it - like he normally does around Users and those who don't know him, and Beck leans into his side. "Knew you'd like that." Beck tells him, proud of himself.

"You have excellent taste most of the time." Tron agrees serenely - doesn't bother avoiding the punch to the shoulder as Beck's circuits flare in embarrassment. "But then again, you befriended me."

"I've known where you lived since right after the Purge, do not test me. Your eyebrows will be forfeit." Beck threatens, Tron laughing at him.

"You've known each other... a long time, then?" Alan_One ventures, trying to find an answer to something. What, Tron couldn't even begin to guess.

"A thousand cycles as of... right now." Beck checks his internal clock - much more reliable than Tron's, these cycles. "Literally."

"Happy anniversary to us." Tron hums, tapping his glass against Beck's just for the excuse to lean in. "And to you failing to hit me despite repeated attempts."

"I got better." Beck shrugs, sneaking his cold fingers into the collar of Tron's gridsuit to stave off the normal snarky comment back.

Alan_One watches them interact, bemused. Tron supposes he understands - he's always been painfully prim and professional on-duty and around the Users, while here in this little back-alley bar he's just himself. Out with his friend.

"To Bodhi." Tron continues softly. "And other absent friends."

"To all our absent friends." Beck murmurs back, eyes half-lidded as he swirls the violently green concoction in his glass. "Yours, mine, and both."

Tron doesn't want to interpret the look on Alan_One's face. Not now, not when he's finally been able to make time to mourn - when he's given himself the chance even his own User denied him to remember everyone he's lost. There's a list of names longer than he is tall, growing every cycle as Tron slogs his way through the reports and censuses to find out who's left... and which ones he's the reason for losing.

Beck normally walks off with the hard ones, updating Tron's lists without Tron having to see what he's done typed out in painful and meticulous 12-point font. Sans serif, because it's easier to read.

He doesn't know what he did to deserve this beta. This brilliant, loving, selfless beta, who doesn't mind Tron's different now - because he's different too. Who looks at Tron like he matters, even after all he's done, and to deletion with the opinions of the rest of the Grid.

Alan_One makes a quiet sound - a choky, pained one - but Tron's scans tell him his User is still functioning fine so he's not actually hurt. That's good - Tron is not equipped to treat anything worse than a skinned knee right now, and even then he's not entirely sure he can do more than just offer the patches and explain how to put them on. Too many of those well-meaning restrictions - luckily, Beck carries a full Monitor-issue medkit at all times, or Tron wouldn't be able to treat himself or Beck either.

"Mind the portal." Beck reminds Alan_One. "It's a long way, and neither of us can get you there." Tron could, he's managed his charge enough, but... he doesn't want to, and his restrictions mean he can't actually be on what's left on the bridge or the platform anyway. "Too limited in where we can go." Beck continues pleasantly, but there's a slight hint of malice - or, more accurately, malicious compliance - in his voice. "After all, if Tron can't go, neither can I." Beck could. But... Beck has borne the Tron name these past thousand cycles, and nobody's clarified which Tron isn't allowed. So Beck's decided it's neither of them.

Beck keeps on finding excuses not to go to pretty much any main bar for the same reason. Tron hasn't been banned from this one yet, so Beck's happy to go with him, but his other friends were so baffled Beck refused to set foot in Zuse's new place - at least in that case, Tron's only banned until he pays or works off his share of the damage to the last one, and he's nearly done so with a bit more to offer as an apology. He hopes Zuse will like the painting he's been trying to do - Encom scenery is pretty, and will go well with the new bar's theme.

Alan_One looks stricken, but the eighth-milli warning chimes and he has to leave.

It's not until several work-cycles later Tron manages to actually set foot in what's left of his Spire, no longer banned from what had been his home. He curls up in his room, gaze fixed on a picture of Yori and Dumont and Ram and himself (barely visible, up on his toes to peer out from behind the other three, ready to spook them all), and tries to remember the last time he didn't want to claw out sections of his own code.

He doesn't leave the Spire, so Beck moves in. It's... nice. Beck knows when to distract him, when to stay away, and when to quietly keep him company. And when to drag him into unburying another room. Tron has never built this many actual walls before, and it's a nice repetitive task.

Of course, none of the Users let him be alone on the few times he has to actually do work. It's a gridbug swarm that's the tipping point.

He's missing one arm, has a few bites taken out of his chest, because of course the lingering damage makes him a target for the cursed things. SamFlynn fixes the problem that caused the swarm in the first place, and Tron can't help shying away when the User turns to fix him.

"Can't you-?" Sam cuts himself off at whatever Tron's face does. The User doesn't want to get close - doesn't hate him like Quorra does, but has voiced several times now he's worried Tron's going to be Rinzler again like a thrown switch. "Just let me fix you, man."

Tron wants to scream. Feels the distress purr creeping up his throat, the only sound he had left he could make when Clu had the rest of him. "No." He grits out, backing off and shaking his head. "No. Never again." Most of his restrictions were put in either by SamFlynn or on SamFlynn's insistence, he's not risking even more bars to his newest cage. He thinks Quorra's indifferent suggestion of deleting him might have been kinder.

"Fix yourself then!" SamFlynn throws his hands up, frustrated.

"I can't!" Tron snaps, tears threatening and that traitorous purr starting up. "You made sure I couldn't!" SamFlynn freezes, but Tron plows ahead. "And I'd rather spend the rest of my existence like this than let you chain me more!"

The User steps towards him, and Tron activates his new distress beacon. He hears the roar of Beck's lightcycle - the Renegade's light cycle - and feels no shame in yelling out to him any more. "Beck, help!"

He's scooped up by a white blur, and lets himself crash out. Safe.

Tron staggers out of his healing chamber for the first time in longer than he likes remembering. Beck catches him, as sure and constant and steady as Tron remembers him being.

"I have you." Beck murmurs, wrapping Tron in a hug. "Thank you for calling for help."

Tron sobs into his beta's shoulder.

"You can't take any more than this." Beck tells him quietly. "And you shouldn't have to."

"I'm Tron." Tron bites out derisively.

"And so am I." Beck's brown eyes glitter, metal-hard. "They don't get to hurt you any more."

The next time the Users are on-Grid, it's Beck they're dealing with - or, more accurately, the Renegade.

There's a reason Beck more than deserves to be called Tron's successor.

He's sharp, vicious, dangerous with his words. Almost as much so when the weapons come out. Tells them bluntly that they hurt Tron so now they're dealing with him. Brutally efficient with his actions and reports, taking all of his training and cranking it up until there's nothing they can use against him and not a single shred of patience or leniency left - exactly how Tron had been when training him, but whole and capable on a level vastly exceeding what they're used to.

Showing how much they'd taken from Tron.

Quorra refuses to step foot back in the Grid for a while after Beck chews her out in public for trying to undermine him simply because he wears Tron's tetromino... likening it to her being hunted for the mark on her upper arm. It's a low blow, one Beck normally wouldn't stoop to and neither would Tron... but Cyrus would, and Beck's no longer afraid to copy a line or three from his predecessor's manual. Tron can think of several bombed Occupation strongholds that could attest to that.

And when Beck doesn't want to be found... he isn't. Not until it's too late.

If SamFlynn thought Tron could hide in dark corners, that his sudden appearing act is something to fear... he'll be having to rethink that. Beck has learnt malice, and isn't being nice. Sure, Beck sometimes spooks his friends or Tron or on very rare occasions some of the older Monitors in play... but it becomes easy to tell when he isn't playing. And SamFlynn bears the brunt of it, because Beck holds grudges and hasn't forgotten the way Tron retreats from the younger Flynn in fear wherever possible. And he's appearing from thin air while wearing bright white.

They called Tron a threat when he was trying to be nice, and now they have a Tron being a threat. Or, at least, threatening.

Argon's the first to notice it. They've had Beck's Renegade the longest, it's not hard for them to tell the one in Tron's circuits being an absolute nightmare is their normally happy-go-flippy quippy friendly neighbourhood menace. Mara's the one to approach him about it, and Beck makes sure SamFlynn and Alan_One are in earshot.

"What gives?" The lead Mechanic demands, and the Renegade laughs hollowly.

"Tron was derezzing himself trying to be what they wanted him to be. I've already lost my mentor once, I'm not letting it happen again." He rattles out, clearly angry. "They wanted him to be what he used to be, and expected him to be a threat regardless. Nothing was good enough... so I stepped in. They think he's a monster? I'll give them one."

Argon closes ranks around Tron and Beck. One intrepid hacker manages to dig up what was done to Tron to make him what he became, and while he'd rather that footage stayed lost and buried there is an outpouring of respect and solidarity.

He fought to the end, kept fighting even past it, and it flips the attitude towards him on its head.

Purgos follows. Tron suspects it's because most of the inhabitants live for chaos or were victims themselves - often both.

Cyrus shows up in the Spire again, making Tron jump out of his circuits in the process, and stares at him for a while before disappearing. Tron would be worried about that, but then there's reports of two Renegades instead of one and the second is both wildly circuited and suggests explosions as an answer to everything - normally vetoed by the other, who argues back most of the time that it's far too kind and dying is the easy way out.

Tron's worried regardless, but the more they argue the more obvious it becomes Cyrus is just saying he'll explode something to find out what Beck's counter-argument is. It's a game at this point, and Beck seems aware of that... even if the enthusiastic adoption of glitter bombs is grounds for concern on an entirely different level.

Alan_One tries to find him from both sides of the screen. Tron and Beck do their level best to make sure that doesn't happen - once struck, and all that.

Cyrus suggests using the rectifiers to break the restrictions, and Tron's ashamed to admit he considers it before Beck reminds them both it would require tampering with Tron's code, and... he's had enough of that.

There's a kind of charge in the air Tron can't identify, dropping a baton off to Beck's friend with the unfortunate hairstyle and trying to do it without notice. He succeeds, and gets most of the way down the street before someone materialises at his shoulder. He turns, expecting maybe Beck or Cyrus now the latter's started doing it in fun again.

It's neither of them. Terror seizes his core for a moment before he wrestles control of it again at the sight of his own User's face. Once, he'd've scolded himself for the reaction, but... the more he thinks about how he was treated, the more he thinks it's justified. He- he can still barely act outside of designated tasks without permission, the last thing he wants is to be muzzled again-

Mara, bless her core, spots him and sweeps off with him, chattering insistently about a faked gridbug alert, and he thanks her quietly when they're far enough away. She grins at him, and he's reminded of the fanged mouth adorning her helmet - and those of her fellow Jolly Tricksters. There'll be new graffiti by the start of the next work cycle for sure.

He tries not to think about the guilt and heartbreak on Alan_One's face at whatever look had flashed across Tron's.

Mara presses a pack of patches into his shaking hands and tells him to be careful. It's only when he's hidden back at the Spire that he realises they don't burn like he's holding a Virus any more.

It becomes something of a routine - Tron hides in his Spire as long as he can until the loneliness gets too much to bear and he has to risk venturing out, Beck and Cyrus both go full Renegade-issue malicious compliance and keep all three Users occupied (and if Quorra thought Beck could be cruel and cutting with his words she would be in for a rude wake-up when Cyrus starts in on her for the Tron-related double standards), and the roughly quarter of the Grid's population that makes up Argon and Purgos run interference when they can.

And little by little Tron's restrictions fall away. He honestly doesn't know if they're time-bound, switched off but dormant in his code, or gone entirely, and just gets warier and warier the more he's seemingly freed from them.

After all, Clu did the same, only to reactivate them all and trap him in the back of his own mind so Rinzler could be written over the top. Sleep is a fitful, nightmare-filled thing, unless both of his Renegades are in sensor range, when it feels like every moment could be his last.

The Spire is stifling, but it's the only place he feels safe.

Tron rumbles quietly at Beck, getting a few chirps back. Cyrus beeps something rude, but doesn't move from where he's sprawled across both of them. They had been at work in the surveillance tower, but then SamFlynn had asked Tron if he was feeling better and Tron had actually managed to crash himself trying to both answer truthfully (another limitation, still not gone) and say something that would appease the User. Beck and Cyrus had worked together to carry him out, curling up in a small dark room and waiting patiently for him to reboot. They've learned by now he likes having tight situational parameters freshly after something like that happens, so he can feel secure and know where everything is, and that actual language is a lot too much for him for a while afterwards.

Apparently SamFlynn had been horrified when Tron collapsed, even more so when both Renegades had sprung into action before Tron hit the floor. They hadn't let the User come one micron closer, and Tron warbles in thanks. He's had enough of anyone in his code without permission.

He hums softly, content to lie where he is and be comforted, and two equally sleepy hums answer him. It's nice to not be alone.

Tron doesn't see Quorra. Not because she's not around - he feels her eyes on him almost always, if he has to come in - but because Cyrus has made it his personal mission to scare her off. Tron didn't join Clu's forces willingly, but Cyrus did. Granted, he was new and stupid (his words) and genuinely thought they were doing the right thing, but he joined of his own accord and makes no secret of it. Most of Quorra's arguments about Tron fall flat in the face of Cyrus' biting admissals and the comparisons he uses to reinforce them.

Beck tends to drag them both off to wherever his temporary workshop moved to this time, and Tron spends work cycles upon work cycles losing himself in painting while Cyrus has far too much fun playing with power cores. The Mechanic moves it every time the Users start coming too close to finding it, and sometimes Tron has fun exploring and searching for wherever he's put it this time. He only finds it because he knows Beck, and even then it's difficult.

The next time Tron's asked how he's feeling, he reels off a blisteringly sarcastic response before his processes catch up and he realises what he's managed to say to Alan_One. Tron's circuits flare blue with embarrassment, and he turns on his heel and walks out, heading for the roof, the sound of his User calling him back ignored and echoing behind him.

"What happened?" Cyrus asks, finding him perched in a ball on the topmost receiver platform.

Tron mutters into his arms, and then tilts his head over so Cyrus can hear him. "I may have just said fucking fantastic, I love feeling like I'm about to be overwritten again to Alan_One. As- he asked me how I was, and you know what I'm like with stupid questions."

Cyrus stifles a laugh, the glitch. Tron glowers at him. "Come on, think about it! Sure, not the best thing to say, but... you spoke to him like you do us."

Tron blinks. Cyrus is right, but... that doesn't make it easier.

"We'll do what we can about the consequences, but... you spoke like you." Cyrus pulls him away from the edge. "That part's a win." Tron hums, letting the young ex-soldier lead him wherever he wants. And where Cyrus wants to go... is apparently an off-the-books clinic. "Been scoping out this place for a while now, they're good. And they accept me, so. You're more than fine."

The examination is thorough, with Tron able to see all of it as it happens, and with a handy running commentary of what the medics are looking at in terms Tron understands. He's bluntly told his frame's mangled (no shit, he drawls, and gets a laugh from the assistant medic), but the parts he's almost afraid to know...

The restrictions are gone-gone. And not coming back. Neither is what's left of Dyson's energy-sapping gift.

Tron has no idea what it means. Sure, he's running far better - if he considers running better to be equal to crashing less - but... what is the Users' game here? What could they possibly hope to get by doing this? They're not earning his trust, since they put most of those things in in the first place, and they're still messing around in his code despite him trying to be clear he doesn't want anyone touching it. They're not getting an obedient little script to order around, because thay'd put more restrictions in if that were the case, and if anything they're giving him freer roam than what he had at Encom. They're not keeping him where they can see him, because the trackers are disappearing along with the restrictions and he can hide pretty well with them - let alone without.

"I can find out." Cyrus murmurs, when Tron tells him all these things - he'll tell Beck too, later. When he's back from patrol. "I'll even be nice about it." One corner of his mouth quirks up, and it's that that has Tron nodding once.

Cyrus' definition of nice involves getting the truthful answer without inflicting injury. Psychological warfare is not off the table.

SamFlynn and Quorra both feel guilty, the former far more so than the latter - apparently there's some odd User variant of hero worship going on there, and Tron's crashes have really rattled the young Flynn. Alan_One... Alan_One just wants Tron to be happy, and has realised there was very little left he could do that would allow him to be such. Or, at least, that's what Cyrus interpreted it as, because they both agree Alan_One's rambling explanation makes very little sense.

Tron laughs when Beck pins him, only to be tackled off by Cyrus. It had started out as a teamwork exercise for all three of them, but Cyrus had taken the opportunity to push Beck into the wide, deep channel of energy surrounding this particular training room, only to be dragged in himself, and Tron trying to break up the resulting wrestling match had resulted in both of them tackling him into the channel.

So, three-way splash fight come sparring match, with the simulation they're supposed to be running through shut down and abandoned. This is more fun, anyway.

None of them notice SamFlynn come in with a brand new Monitor squad until Beck's flung into him, and even then the visible reaction is for Beck to throw an apology over his shoulder and launch himself right back into trying and failing to make Cyrus taste the floor mats - not least because Tron trips him and feigns innocence until the beta pair knock him into the energy channel again. Tron's not fooled - Beck's first reaction was an aborted attempt to punch the User, before noticing the newly rezzed team around him. But damnit, now is play time, and no User is going to spoil it for them.

"What were you doing?" One of the new Monitors asks them curiously.

"Well... we started off with a teamwork sim, but none of us wanted to do it." Cyrus shrugs.

Tron chuckles at him, flicking wet hair out of his eyes. "We were still technically doing teamwork exercises, just... not formal ones or simulations. A large part of leading a cohesive team is knowing when to stop training - or not start it - to make time for having fun. Occasionally having fun becomes a competition on how many times you can throw someone else in the pool and do your best not to get thrown in yourself." He shrugs. "Or, at least, it does for us. Every team is different."

"How do you know that?" The rookie asks, all big innocent eyes and not a single shred of recognition in them. It's bizarre, but... nice, too, not having to act a certain way simply because someone knows his name or face. "Is there some kind of... sub-directive? Manual?"

Tron softens, looking at them. "There isn't, if you're not written with leading a team in mind. You have to figure it out yourself. Spend time with each other, find out what all of you like and don't like, how you work both separately and together - for instance, my pattern recognition isn't the greatest, but you tell me there's a threat in an area and I'll find it far quicker than most, and between them Wraith and Renegade more than cover my blind spots because they know what and where they are." Figuratively, and literally, he adds to himself. "I had... a few false starts, with working as part of a team, and more than that on leading one. The first was a five including me, and... we fell apart spectacularly through a few different factors, but one of them was we didn't make time to get to know each other. We only interacted when either training or on duty, and it crippled us in the end. You have to communicate, to trust each other without hesitation, watch each other's backs... listen to us old guard and ask us if you get stuck, because chances are we've made all the mistakes and then some, and know what the consequences can be. And never be afraid to change what you're doing. I'm still unlearning some old habits that are familiar and comfortable but don't help me with... pretty much anything, now, and learning new ones to hopefully do better - with a lot of help and advice from my friends. Change is a good thing, but you do have to be careful with it too."

One of those old habits is not using his words enough, as Beck put it. If he can't handle talking, that's different, but if he can then he needs to actually say stuff and not half-say it then hope the recipient can fill in the gaps themselves.

"And along with all of that-" Beck chimes in, popping up right next to Tron and making him jump a little. "-learn how your team and friends show that friendship. They might make you things, spend time with you, squish you because they like to sit or lie on you... or they might show it an entirely different way that others don't understand, like showing up where or how you're least likely to expect them. Because they know you know they won't hurt you, and they trust you not to hurt them in return. Learn it, respond in kind."

Tron raises an eyebrow at Beck - that was pointed. It's an important lesson, though, and even SamFlynn seems to contemplate it. They bid the group farewell, and Tron feels... lighter. A bounce to his step that's been missing far too long.

"You really don't like Q, do you." SamFlynn observes, when Cyrus runs the ISO off yet again for another biting comment.

"She's not exactly proving Clu wrong." Cyrus sneers, still huffy. "Unlearning prejudice isn't easy when that's the only example left." He stops, closes his eyes, visibly counts until he calms down, and sighs. "I get it, we killed off her people or did worse than that to them, and she's right to be angry. But Tron was doing his best despite everything stacked against him, and doesn't deserve to be the target."

"So..."

"I joined Clu's side because at the time it seemed like the right one." Cyrus interrupts whatever SamFlynn was going to be saying. "Resources were tight and we had these new weird directiveless beings multiplying uncontrollably with no clear source, and when your entire existence relies on having and following a clear directive? Something hardwritten into the very core of your being? I, like most of my unit, was terrified. And Clu could tell. He was... well. You met him. Charismatic and powerful, knew exactly what you wanted to hear and how to say it so no matter your views you agreed with him."

"I was new, didn't know any different. Not much of an excuse, but... at the time, my everything revolved around my directive of fighting for the Grid and Clu made it out like the existence of ISOs ran completely counter to that. Of course I signed on, I wanted to fulfil my directive."

"Figured out later that what Clu was really trying to aim us at was individuality and free will. ISOs could choose for themselves what they wanted to be, that threatened his perfect system ideals, so they needed to be eradicated. Users have this habit of changing, and change threatened his static utopia, so they had to go too. At the time, with how he said it... it made sense."

"So what changed for you?"

"I'll get there. Story's gonna come out anyway, might as well make sure it doesn't get too twisted in the process." Cyrus hushes SamFlynn. "Tron got brought in, and... my commanding officer was brutal towards him. Derezzing would have been kinder, for sure, because my CO tore him apart. But... Tron was just following his directive, same as me, and I didn't understand why he was being punished for it. My original plan was to just let him escape, but he was too hurt for that so I went with him. Still protecting the Grid, fulfilling my directive, but a different CO and different parameters."

"I... didn't cope with the new parameters. And in trying to muddle through on my own... I lost my way. I saw all these Programs with their own identities, thought them all potential threats, and took action to remove them. I can see now it was wrong, but at the time... again, it made sense." Cyrus makes a big sweeping gesture at the bustling city. "Cutting a long story short, mostly because I spent it in solitary confinement because Tron couldn't bring himself to derez me but didn't want to let me loose either, I tricked Beck into letting me out and nearly derezzed him in the process. I didn't- I wanted out to continue fulfilling my directive, and didn't care who I went through to do it."

"Beck beat me. Twice. And in the process showed me he was the very thing I was supposed to be eradicating - someone who'd chosen to act outside of their directive. So I watched. Waited. Looking for an opportunity to take him down. But... nothing like what I'd been told would happen was happening. No gridbugs, no warping, no corruption... certainly no viruses. He was just. Fixing batons all work cycle, fulfilling his directive, and then choosing to go out during the rest cycles to fight and defend and be Tron while the real Tron was still trying to recover from what my first CO had done to him. And nothing was going wrong."

"This continued for ages. I was so desperate to find out what was going on. For an excuse for round three." Cyrus laughs to himself, and there's still a hint of that deranged cackle to it. "But... nothing got worse, there started being positive change because the Grid in that little corner was protected and the people were safe... and I guess I got bored and jealous. I figured... if a Mechanic can pick up Monitor duties just fine, surely a Soldier like me could do something else too - I picked Medic, in case you're wondering, and it's an awful lot easier taking Programs apart than it is putting them back together."

"Beck showed me we weren't static, that directives weren't absolutes. He was the first I knew of to be like that, there may have been others. It's taken me a long time not to attack anyone who makes their own choices on sight, and it's not because doing so would make me a hypocrite - it's because to me it makes them a threat, and I have to remind myself they're not. The ISOs had nothing to do with my perspective shift, and Quorra isn't making it any easier to unlearn that initial reaction to her people because she keeps on trying to spark conflict."

SamFlynn nods in thought, and Tron watches him from the corner he's been staying out of Quorra's way in. Cyrus meanders back over, tucking himself into Tron's side - he didn't mean to spill his life story, but sometimes Cyrus doesn't know when to stop talking even about the stuff he normally wouldn't share.

It becomes... easier to be around SamFlynn. The young User is still as brash and contradictory as his Creator, but he at least stops and listens and tries to learn. It helps he's not antagonistic, and once Beck eventually warms up to him they get along pretty well. It's not uncommon for them to be hanging out in Beck's workshop together - or racing on the reinstated lightcycle tracks.

SamFlynn even takes to doing a modified version of their appearing acts - sneaking into a room as subtly as he can, and whistling or yelling a greeting from far enough away to not be encroaching on personal space the way they do with each other. Startling through sound, rather than proximity. It doesn't work very well - User steps are loud - but he tries, and sometimes they humour him.

The first time SamFlynn tries it on Tron, Tron's startle reflex is the same as when his betas do it - tackle the offender onto the nearest soft surface. He gets a yelp in response, but... when that's all he does, aside from lying on the User smugly for a bit... SamFlynn beams at him, fear forgotten for the moment. He eventually figures out the User likes the affectionate mild roughhousing, craves tangible pressure to reinforce he isn't alone, and discreetly gets Beck and Cyrus to start doing it too where possible.

Tron warbles, gazing out at Argon from his Spire. Fifty cycles since Clu's defeat - a whole User year. Programs have long memory banks, but people are starting to heal. Beck's sprawled out on one of his settees, semi-dormant, Cyrus doing his best to squash Beck into the cushions. Mara and Zed, originally wide-eyed and awestruck at being anywhere near him, sit huddled together in the other settee and appear to be plotting something, a few more members of Able's Garage cluster milling around near them. Bartik and Hopper sleep tangled together on one of the new temporary beds, patched wounds healing to faint scars with Cyrus' help. Even Beck's sort-of frenemy Paige is here, going through what looks like anatomy notes as she cross-trains herself back to Medic - inspired by Cyrus to try again. The beacon lights - Users on the Grid - but Tron doesn't feel like moving so he just flicks a message off to let them know what the occasion is and that he's taking time to reflect and mourn.

He gets three messages back. Quorra's he deletes two sentences in, as it's mostly her asking him who he has to mourn (every fully developed Program he knew except two, including several she's also mourning, and his third real friend) and calling him a murderer (not willingly, but she doesn't seem to care, so wrapped up in her black and white world). Alan_One's is... somewhat formal, a stilted acceptance and granting him permission for it. But SamFlynn...

I understand, man - today's hard for me too. Take what time you need. It's barely two sentences. But the knowledge that SamFlynn is struggling too...

No User has ever seen Tron's Spire. He thinks, for this one, he just might change that.

Tron gets an armful of blotchy-eyed, brave-faced User, and tugs SamFlynn over into the pile of betas he seems to have started amassing without warning. Gaining a User beta... at this point, seems about right for his luck. "He lost his remaining Creator after only just getting him back. We got... freedom, or the start of it, but... all he got was loss." Tron explains quietly, and SamFlynn gets to find out the comfort that is being in the middle of a beta tangle.

Beck only mildly protests about ending up at the bottom of the tangle, mostly grumbling about joints poking him in non-existent organs, and Cyrus is ecstatic about the tangle in general if the way he's trying to lie across everyone at once is any indication.

SamFlynn misses the beacon's extinguishing twice in a row, spending most of the time either sleeping or chatting to Tron's betas. Alan_One - or, at least, Tron assumes Alan_One - keeps re-lighting it using oranges as the input item until SamFlynn- Sam eventually goes back to his world feeling much less guilty and broken.

That's a feeling Tron knows all too well.

Quorra confronts him next, grilling him with questions, but she's so small and unsure Tron barely recognizes her as the same Program who sneers at him every time she spots him. "Why didn't you derez?" She asks quietly, at last. "I- I finally saw what he did to you, why didn't you derez?"

"I'm not designed that way." Tron tells her, voice heavy. "I wanted to - hoped to. But I couldn't. My code wouldn't let me, let alone his greed." Quorra shudders - he doesn't blame her. "For what it's worth, I tried."

"I don't know if I'm glad you're here." Quorra's eyes trace his tetromino, and Tron fights the urge to switch it off. "But... I'm glad you broke free."

Tron laughs quietly, brokenly. "I didn't. Clu's cage had to be fortified every six cycles to hold me... and it was overdue. I didn't escape, they miscalculated. And even after that... apparently I don't get to be free." Quorra looks at him in shock. "What did you think restrictions were? I can't go for a proper run, and while I can at least hold medical supplies now I still can't use them. If someone gets hurt I can't help." He shrugs. "But I can say what I think now and not be punished because you don't like it, so I guess that's something."

He leaves Quorra to her thoughts, pulled away by duty - one of the rookie squads came across a giant codeworm, and thankfully didn't try to engage it by themselves. Now is the time for the problem to be solved with explosives, and Cyrus has a new missile launcher he's been desperate to try out.

Tron comes back mildly singed, but he at least still has both eyebrows and most of his hair - Cyrus has neither, and is covered in soot from faceplate to boot. Not that it stops him from chattering excitedly about payloads and detonation delays and far more technical things than Tron understands. The worm is derezzed... the crater where it used to be is a problem for another cycle.

He also comes back to another problem. Beck, when threatened - or occasionally just because he can - bites. Tron pinches the bridge of his nose at the sight of his beta, jaw clamped on someone's arm. Pavel, he identifies after a moment, though how the wretch survived this long is beyond him. "Again?"

::He spooked Sam!:: Beck broadcasts indignantly. ::He spooked Sam, and Sam was actually scared because it was a not-fun spook, so I bit him.:: Tron raises an eyebrow at Beck, who spits Pavel's arm out sullenly... and then a few more voxels from what he's actually managed to bite off. "He's with Bartik and Hopper now, they wanted to teach him some new disc tricks."

"And you are going to the medics for whatever you've picked up by biting. Again." Tron tells him, then relents a little. "Or to Paige and Cyrus. Your choice."

"Paige and Cyrus." Beck chirps immediately, already running off. "See you!" Pavel skulks off too, in the other direction.

Tron sighs fondly, shaking his head. "That kid."

"That looked like you had it in hand." Alan_One emerges from a corridor, and Tron's spine stiffens a moment. "Did-?"

"I didn't teach him biting, he was like that already. I taught him strategizing and how not to break his hand when punching." Tron cuts Alan_One off dryly. "Beck does what he likes, and I drag him out of trouble if he needs me to."

Alan_One chuckles, and falls silent for a moment. "I still scare you, don't I?"

"Many things do." Tron answers. It's not a no, and Alan_One tells him as such. "Not much I can do about it either way except try to separate rational from irrational fears."

"Is it?" Alan_One asks him quietly. "Rational or irrational, I mean."

"I don't know yet." Tron eyes his User. "You made me. But easier than you did that you could unmake me. Or twist me up so much I could not recognize myself - if I even knew who I was before, at the end of it. It's happened before, to me and to others I knew."

"I wouldn't-!"

"I know you say you won't. But I don't know if I can trust your words, and that's the scary part." Tron tells his User gently. "You mean well, but... all the good intentions in both worlds don't fix the consequences of actions."

"I-" Alan_One sighs. "I wanted to help."

"But didn't ask what kind of help was needed, or even if it was." Tron shrugs, starting to lead Alan_One out of the hallway and into a more private room. "I had to learn when to step in and ask how I could help too. And sometimes the best help is staying out of the way."

"Would it have been?" Alan_One asks him. "You were-"

"In pieces. Still am, where it matters - used to matter." Tron shrugs, voice far brighter than it seems it should be. "But I was healing. Finding who I was again, balancing it against who I became. Figuring out how to make amends for what I did and what was done by my hands, putting myself where my betas could find me if they wanted to look. Working out how to be me in a world that doesn't need me - been trying to work that one out since Flynn moved me here, and I thought I'd almost got it. But... as soon as I'd started all of that... I couldn't do it any more, because you said I couldn't and made sure of it."

"I thought structure would help."

"You designed me to learn. And I did. I do. Rigid structure stifles me now. It wasn't so bad when I was new, but I'm not new any more. I've learned what it feels like to be free, and to be caged, and the former is much more preferable. I can learn to live with myself that way - I owe it to the dead to remember them." Tron shakes his head. "I'm not the only learning Program here, and the others are far more sophisticated than me. Rigidity is torture for me, and Clu knew it... for them, it's a death sentence, or worse."

"I'm not Clu!" Alan_One yelps, aghast. "I'm not like that-"

"Then why am I still caged?" Tron raises an eyebrow, knowing Alan_One has no answer. "Why are others? What did we do to deserve it - to deserve this?" He flicks on a light, revealing rows upon rows of quarantine fields, each Program little more than a ball of pain within. All the quarantine fields bear Alan_One's signature, one way or another, and Tron can't release them - he's tried, ever since he found them. "Either put me in one too and be done with it, or let us all go. But before you do... please, tell me what we did for this to be an acceptable punishment."

Alan_One's face crumples. "I- I'll fix this." He promises, turning away.

"How?" Tron challenges. He doesn't get an answer - isn't expecting one - and stays where he is long after Alan_One leaves the Grid.

The moment one of the quarantine fields starts flickering, Tron pings Cyrus. By the time the field finally dissipates, there's at least five full clinics' worth of medics ready to triage and treat crowding into the room. Tron honestly hadn't known Cyrus knew so many, but all of his betas are full of surprises.

Cyrus nuzzles Tron's shoulder, brushing past him to catch a... oh Grid, that's an alpha-stage tumbling out of a field with a cry of pain, barely compiled for the first time and yet sealed away.

"Can I help catch them?" Tron asks lowly, Cyrus' head tilted so he can hear. "I can't help like you, but..."

"Focus on the youngsters - Security helps them feel safe and makes Medics less scary." Cyrus instructs. "The fully developed... only if they're liable to hurt someone or themselves."

Tron nods, slipping into the containment rows and doing his best to not get in the way. He can do that.

By the time the last field flickers off, Tron has no less than a dozen betas and a handful of alpha-stages clustered around him. Cyrus helps out, being as soft and gentle as the former soldier can, but Tron needed to hug his beta (not a hard ask) before the new cluster allowed him anywhere near. "I think I'm going to need more bedrooms in the Spire." Tron rumbles softly, and Cyrus grins at him.

"Going soft, old man." Cyrus teases, and Tron leans forward so he can press his forehead against his cheeky beta.

"You know it."

"Soft's a good look on you." Cyrus tells him quietly, showing one of the alpha-stages an array of decorated patches and asking them to choose which one they want on their scuffed knee. "So's peace."

"Family." Tron corrects him, allowing one of the betas to climb up onto his back so he can carry them. "No such thing as peace, but... it's the good kind of chaos now. I have a family, and I wouldn't give any of you up for both worlds."

silly tron hc

Tron likes to sneak up on people and scare them. Like hiding around corners and showing up behind people.

Was looking at clips of Uprising(again) and when he pops up to talk to Able, he always surprises him. Like, turn around see him and wonder if you'll die for a second, but no it's just Tron.

He likes to scare his friends. He's a security monitor so I'm sure he's more than capable, and he thinks it's funny. He won't laugh or smile, but his shoulder shake just slightly.

He does the same thing to Beck, but justifies it and calls it training. They both know he just likes to scare him a bit. As Beck gets better, sometimes he just pretends not to notice. Beck attempts to sneak up on Tron, but it rarely works. Tron's happy because it's the first time someone has done it back.

It's a sign of affection because he is genuinely scary. Tall, strong, and more than capable of killing most programs. If he scares you, it's because he trusts that you know he would never actually hurt you.

Flynn hated this btw. Not genuinely, but he got way too many scares since he was closest to Tron. It's endearing in the I don't know why you're like this way. During his exile, Quorra would sometimes sneak up on him. It made him nostalgic, man, he really misses Tron.

Clu hated this, genuinely. He's the system admin, why would Tron try to scare him? It also reminded him that Tron would always be the better fighter. As Clu and Tron drifted apart, he stopped scaring Clu. There's an odd part of him that misses it.

Rinzler doesn't do this, not on purpose. By accident he'll still sneak up on people. He's not sure whether or not he enjoys their fear.

Tronzler doesn't do this, until much later. By accident, he'll sneak up, but it just reminds him of all the things he did. It takes a lot of healing for him to start scaring people for fun again.

Bonus:

Yori thinks it's funny. Since they were counterparts, she always had some sense of him. He can't completely sneak up on her, so he had to get creative. He'd follow her around, wait until she got impatient to see him, and then he'd pop out of some weird place no one knew he could get too.

Ram loves it. Yeah it's a little scary but Tron would never really hurt him. And besides, it's fun to wonder where he'll appear next. It's nice getting visited by his friend. He likes to rate how scared he gets, on a scale from 1-10. Tron is always aiming for 8, just enough to scare but not enough to genuinely distress someone. Unfortunately, since Ram enjoys getting scared, it's hard to hit above a 6.

[thedeadthree]

the brainrot is brainrotting !!!!!!!! 🥀🥴🤧