Expo, 32, freelance film and video editor and professional nerd living in the Pacific northwest.
Things that are Kes’s fault somehow:
There once was a senior exec
Whose programs were absolute dreck.
But of one disaster
He wasn’t the master….
At least the man didn’t write Beck.…you’re welcome? XDDD
Also, for those interested, all of my Tron fic (above drabble length) is now on AO3! (My non-Tron fic is still on ff.net, waiting to be imported in my imaginary free time.)
Viking, you are a national treasure.
/breaks my artblock with a Roy
#it’s always the quiet ones >3
Always reblog Roy <3
Wrote this for an old, old, old ficlet meme which I am still way too far behind on. It’s for remorsebot, whose Rinzler is a thing of
terrorbeautyamazingness, and it references my central conceit from loop while answer, because I find it a handy bit of headcanon for situations like this.Fandom: Tron (pre-Legacy).
Genre: G, gen, angst.
Summary: Everyone has a breaking point. Some just haven’t found it yet.
Title:might as well be walking on the sun
The little program didn’t change much. He was one of the incorrigibles, a minor crowd favorite, frequently advancing to the final round, as if he enjoyed being derezzed over and over again. He fought with enthusiasm and ingenuity, tender toward lesser opponents but giving his all against more powerful ones.
He played the game. Rinzler liked that. It was his offtime behavior that needed work.
This is heartbreaking and beautiful and awesome. I wouldn’t want to be on Angry!Ram’s bad side…
“Yeeeeeeees,” Chirps the bit, rolling from side to side, “Yesssssssss,”
Ram stares at it. Then he pokes it for good measure.
“Nononooooooono,” It responds, slugggishly pulsing red.
Ram cannot help but smile at the little bit as it rocks back and forth in the small puddle of energy it has found itself in. Slowly, he curls his hands around it, gentle so as not to startle it, and raises it out of the puddle.
“Nooooooooo,” It wimpers mournfully.
Ram rubs the sleeve of his suit over the little bit, trying to dry it off. “I think you’ve had more than enough, little guy,” he murmurs to it.
“Yes,” It agrees, and bobs up and down weakly once.
Ram smiles at it again, and tucks it carefully into the crook of his arm “Come on,” He says fondly, “I’ll take care of you.”
Oh my god this is the cutest thing I have ever read ;_;
This… kind of came out of nowhere. Also, one thing that sometimes seldom gets mentioned in discussions of Flynn’s subsequent harebrained decisions: of the trio who broke out of the Game Grid, he was the least mentally prepared, and who’d go and tell a counselor you have PTSD from being trapped in a video game?
Fandom: Tron
Genre: G, gen, random scene
Summary: On the other side of the screen, it all looked so different…..
Title:one minute I held the key
“How far who got?”
“Hmm?” Flynn blinked, looking up from the black desktop and fighting an urge to wipe it blank. It wasn’t as if he was doing anything he wasn’t supposed to be doing (this time) — ENCOM’s new senior exec had plenty of reasons to investigate how far a hacker had gotten into the company’s mainframe last month, even if he’d actually been that hacker.
(It didn’t feel like a month. Strange, still, to see Roy leaning in at the door, tousle-haired and eager for a chance to help out, as though the actuarial program who’d worn his face had never lived or died.)
“I’d just come up to ask about getting someone else in on that project,” said Roy, tilting his head curiously, “and you were saying ‘so that’s how far you got’. Still going through the old data from the MCP?”
“Yeah.” Flynn flopped back in his seat, working his neck back and forth, suddenly glad to have a real person to look at. It’d been all too easy to let the silent figures scrolling across the desktop translate back into forcefields, tanks, and endless broken terrain. “Trying to map out what his defenses were like. I got an information retrieval program in there right before everything blew up, but the MCP just… pfft.” He tossed a hand to one side to cover uneasy memories of people dissolving at his feet.
Roy rounded the desk to see, apparently taking the explanation as an invitation. He tended to do that; it was always amusing to watch Bradley’s stoic act fall on its face when the little guy was around. Funny, that the two had turned out to be sharing adjacent cubicles. There really was no such thing as coincidence.
The young programmer narrowed his eyes, picking up on the convergence almost immediately. “Wow, they just sailed right in after it, didn’t they? What are those even supposed to be?”
“Recognizers.” Flynn stared at the screen, his own voice sounding distant even to him. After the tanks, it wasn’t a huge surprise, but the familiar lines of script no longer conjured up the same prideful excitement he’d written them with. “He used my own programs to keep me out.”
Roy kept quiet for a moment, solemnly studying the way the jacked game code had gone after the intruder. Most of ENCOM’s programmers would have simply run the logic through their heads with no inkling that it could exist in any different form. Roy had as little inkling as the rest, but he let himself care all the same. Good philosophy, Flynn thought, to care about everything.
“Yeah,” murmured Roy, “that’s where they stopped it. Got through a couple, but there were too many of them. Must’ve been a tough little program to get that far, huh?”
Must’ve been.
“Clu,” said Flynn, feeling something draw tight in his throat. “His name was Clu.”
___
Oh, man, I love this so much. My creys, though. Let me show you them. ;_;
infiniteviking replied to your post: ::suddenly notices that there’s a major typo in…
I can correct it in my reblog? But honestly I did not notice it. And I ALWAYS notice typos.
Awww, thank you, that makes me feel better ;_; Basically what happened is I somehow wrote “meaningless” as “meanless”, and when I saw it I kind of shat bricks. (No, I do not suffer from OCD, why do you ask.) Anyway, you don’t have to fix it! I’m mostly just glad you liked it enough to reblog it at all :)
That damn orange.
#I bet they put it in the games #And Sark yelled at it because it wouldn’t compete #And it became a symbol of passive resistance for the whole grid
Reblogging because ROFL your tags.
New crack headcanon ACTIVATE.
Viking, you win the internet.
Roy and Ed Sr one-sentence ficlet for adventuresinartrage:
“Sir, yes, sir!” answered Roy brightly, with a broad smile that twinkled dangerously in his eyes; and later, when Dillinger’s desktop started playing 8bit heavy metal that couldn’t be turned off, no one ever managed to prove a thing.
AHAHAHAHAHA. Oh Roy, ILU.
