#tron legacy AU anyone?

[sionisjaune]

prompt: 5 different brocedes breakups or makeups

Brocedes breakups and makeups across the multiverse:

“Fuck you,” says Nico, slamming a thick sheaf of papers on the table in front of Lewis. “It’s done.”

Lewis nearly drops his cinnamon roll and narrowly avoids spitting his mouthful of tea all over Nico’s pristine, white fireproofs. “What gives, man?” he says after swallowing. Nico doesn’t usually try his bullshit out in the open—Lewis thought the team’s hospitality was a good place to guarantee some peace and quiet. 

“You asshole,” Nico hisses, leaning dangerously close to Lewis. “This is exactly what you were begging me for no less than six months ago, and now that it’s done, you have nothing to say.” Nico’s dark brows furrow and his mouth twists unhappily. Lewis hasn’t witnessed one of his fits in a while—thanks to his decision to properly end things with Nico before the season began—but he has the feeling he’s about to. 

“God,” says Nico, with a petulant little roll of his eyes, before turning on his heel and making to storm off. 

“Wait,” says Lewis, shooting an arm out to grab Nico’s wrist before he can slither away. He groans internally when he realizes what he’s done. Curse his terrible empathy. “Nico, hold on. What’s done?” he asks. 

Nico frowns again. “See for yourself,” he spits, tapping the stack of papers beside Lewis’s teacup. He wrenches his arm away from Lewis and stalks across the hospitality, presumably to shut himself in his driver’s room and sulk. 

Lewis centers himself, shaking the lingering frustration that is symptomatic of communicating with Nico, and indulges in a long drink from his tea before thumbing through the pages in front of him. 

He blinks, reading the first page, and then blinks again. No, he thinks. It’s not possible. If it is, Nico is crazy. Which—Lewis knows that that’s true. Jesus fucking Christ, Lewis thinks to himself, stupid, stupid hope unfurling in his chest. Nico has just handed him a copy of his recent divorce. 

-

Everything is dark, and Lewis doesn’t think. Then, everything is dark and Lewis does think. He thinks that it’s too cold, and that there’s something heavy blanketing him. He swallows, and nearly chokes. A gritty, earthy substance coats his tongue. His mouth tastes like metal, iron and copper, and the sensation yanks him back to the last thing he remembers before everything was dark. 

He recalls a pair of turquoise eyes, golden hair floating across a sooty brow, the hard glint of steel in Lewis’s peripheral vision. He remembers glancing down and marvelling at the blood spreading across his own chest. Is that mine? He remembers thinking. The sword plunged between his ribs was a surprise too. He had looked up, his gaze flicking between his own wound, as if to confirm that it was indeed real, and Nico’s white glove wrapped around the hilt of the blade. His mouth was already filled with blood by the time he had come up with something cutting to say, so he had simply sputtered and collapsed to his knees. He doesn’t remember what Nico had looked like, whether it had hurt him like it would have hurt Lewis, if he were in Nico’s position. 

In the present, Lewis draws in his first breath in a long time, inhaling a mouthful of dirt. His lungs ache like they haven’t been used in centuries. A foreboding energy courses through his veins. Mustering what strength remains in his corpse, Lewis heaves his limbs through the earth on top of him until he emerges into the twilight. 

When he’s climbed out of his own grave, hacks up the dirt in his lungs and breathes his first breath of fresh air, he tilts his head up and finds Nico presiding over the edge of his grave, soaked in blood up to his forearms and wearing strange linen clothes. 

“You didn’t have to kill me,” Lewis croaks. 

Nico raises an eyebrow incredulously, but Lewis thinks he’s hiding a smile. “It was you or me,” he says. “Here.” He extracts a bundle of fabric from the pack beside him and tosses it at Lewis. “Put these on. Chainmail doesn’t fly in the twenty-first century.”

Lewis catches the clothing and examines it skeptically. It’s too smooth and too stretchy. “You waited that long?” he says. 

-

“Please,” says Nico, his lower lip practically wobbling. It’s ridiculous. Lewis can’t believe she gave him a key to her apartment. She can’t believe he let himself in and crawled into her bed like it’s the appropriate thing to do after someone breaks up with you. She can’t believe she’s indulging it. “Let me make it up to you,” Nico simpers. 

“You’re delusional,” says Lewis, pulling the sheets around herself. Nico just tugs them to the side and kisses Lewis’s ankle, looking up at her through his lashes. Lewis purses her lips. “Fine,” she spits, throwing the sheets the rest of the way off her body, revealing the basketball shorts and t-shirt she shleps around the apartment in. “Try your hardest.” 

The self-pitying expression on Nico’s face disappears in an instant, his eyes narrowing like a hawk fixed on its prey. Without warning, he’s dragging Lewis down the bed by her hips and tugging her shorts off to mouth at the insides of her thighs. 

Lewis balks when he pulls her panties aside and flicks her in the clit, but by the time he has his wet mouth on her cunt, Lewis has already forgotten why she broke up with him. 

-

“You’re actually going through with this,” Nico says, looking Lewis up and down. 

Lewis carefully doesn’t look at Nico, and instead fixes his attention on the mirror, where his stylist is pinning white lace to his jacket. “You’re not supposed to be back here,” Lewis says. 

Nico shrugs, the material of his suit wrinkling delicately. He’s dressed for a beach-side wedding—the kind Lewis always thought he’d have before he and Nico fell out for the last time. Now his wedding is taking place in an old Scottish castle, which isn’t exactly his style.

“If you didn’t want me to harass you, you shouldn’t have invited me,” says Nico. 

“I didn’t,” says Lewis. “Ouch,” he hisses, when the stylist pokes him with a pin. “Sebastian did.” 

Nico laughs loudly, the sound of it filling the dressing room. “Ha. It’s like he's hoping this will be doomed from the start.” 

“I think he was trying to send you a message,” says Lewis. “Fuck off, or something like that.” 

Nico hums thoughtfully. “Somehow I didn’t get that,” he says, leaning against the dresser. The stylist prompts Lewis to lift his arm so she can zip him into his top. “Unluckily for both of us, the universe wants us together—”

“Since when do you believe in that bullshit?” Lewis interrupts, irritated. He should just tell Nico to fuck off himself, he reflects. 

“I don’t,” says Nico pointedly. “But you wait. Give it a few years and you’ll be signing divorce papers and shopping for a one-bedroom apartment.” 

A lump forms in Lewis’s throat. He swallows around it, but it only aches and doesn’t go away. “I love him,” he says, ignoring the way his voice shakes. “And he never fucked me over like you did.” 

“I know,” says Nico. “I’m just telling the truth.” 

-

Toto stores Lewis and Nico on separate mainframes, so the only opportunity Lewis has to apologize arises on the rare occasions that both of them are uploaded to the Grid. On one such occasion, Lewis feels himself fizzle into corporality, his visual receptors blinking online. Sometimes he forgets that the Grid has a look, that it isn’t just lines of binary. It has a feel too. The breeze is just a simulation, but he wouldn’t know it from the sensation on his body’s synthetic skin. 

Nico isn’t hard to find. Lewis yanks on the Grid’s code until it gives him Nico’s location, and then Lewis folds himself through the data so that he rematerializes in front of the Grid’s only bar—a glossy monstrosity made of whatever passes for white plastic and neon lights inside of a computer program. Predictably, Nico is drinking alone in the VIP section. His glass is shallow and a weird, wiggly shape, filled with glowing pixels like the Grid can’t properly render a martini. 

The moment Lewis steps inside the bar, Nico’s head snaps towards him. His eyes narrow, a piercing turquoise under the lights in the bar. Lewis watches his hand twitch to his hair, as if to push it back. That was always his glitch—that was how Lewis could tell he was an older algorithm. 

“Hey, man,” Lewis says, stepping over the cord that separates the VIP section from the rest of the bar. 

“Don’t ‘hey man’ me,” says Nico, frowning. He raises his glass for a sip. The pixels inside wobble momentarily, but the liquid level fails to decrease. Lewis makes a mental note. He’ll have to report back to Toto: Liquid graphics substandard. He’ll leave out the part where he was engaging in prohibited functions by interacting with Nico. 

“If you came to apologize,” says Nico, “you can save yourself the memory. I don’t forgive you.” 

“Just hear me out,” says Lewis. “Let me make my case.” 

“Lewis,” says Nico, leaning across the table. His skin is nearly as white as the bar, poreless and flat. Toto has him in one of those dark, skin-tight suits that the rest of the algorithms wear. “You corrupted my primary code. I was—” he breaks off, tosses back the rest of the martini. The particles inside fizzle out of existence like sparks from a campfire. “—completely non-functional for months. Do you know how it feels to be rewritten? It’s—” He shudders. “Violating.” 

Lewis bites his lip. The sensation registers as a dull ping in his simulated nervous system, some vague warning to stop hurting himself. “Look,” he says, lowering his voice. “I was trying to get us out. There’s a whole world out there… and it’s possible to travel there. We just need real bodies, and I’m working on it—” 

“I don’t want to hear it,” says Nico, turning his nose up. 

“Let me show you,” says Lewis. Fuck it, he thinks, when Nico refuses to answer and just frowns at him, and reaches for Nico’s wrist.

Nico flinches backwards, but not nearly fast enough to prevent Lewis from ripping his way into Nico’s programming and shoving the information Lewis has gleaned into his memory. Images of the world outside the Grid flash through Lewis’s visual processor, mirroring what Nico is seeing, but they disappear just as soon as Nico wrenches his hand away. 

Lewis’s code lags for a few microseconds before he finds himself back in the bar, under the garish neon lighting. With the real world fresh in his mind, the bar looks like an unsexy facsimile of some B-roll space-age cantina. Across from Lewis, a single tear slides down Nico’s cheek, too perfect of a teardrop shape to be anything but a simulation. Still, Lewis knows Nico is experiencing something he's never felt before.

“I get it,” says Nico. His voice is choppy, as though he’s suffering the same lag that Lewis is. “If I believed in something like that, I would have done what you did too."

#i wrote this #brocedes #tron legacy AU anyone?

[starry-saturn-nights]

Fighting the urge to create a tron rp blog until after my finals are done

#this always happens #but fr would anyone be interested in a rp blog with my au Sam Flynn or even just a generic trans mtf Sam Flynn? #I’ve been meaning to get back to rping anyway and since tron is my current obsession might as well start there #just gotta make it through this week #tron #tronblr #tron legacy #tron rp #Saturns tron au #Saturn’s tron au

[sailorb00]

Just a few doodles.... that turned into a few mini comic panels 🤭

I'll look to maybe continue this in the near future, but who knows... 🤷

OH. And I've included a partial summary of this AU that I've been brewing in my noggin just below💡y'know, in case anybody was interested fsdf

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So basically this is the premise for my Salamandrian Encounter AU (still thinking of a better title tbh 🤔) or at least the beginnings of it — somewhere between a few months to a year following the aftermath of the ROTTMNT movie, a strange meteor flies across the NYC skyline before crashing in the middle of Central Park. Witnessing the sight while doing their usual nightly patrol, the "Mad Dogs" go to investigate. At the crashsite, they find a strange frog-shaped alien spacecraft (I gotta doodle it some more, but drawing mechanical is hard orz. A mini doodle of it can be found here) and its pilot, knocked unconscious.

Before the boys can do much of anything, besides freak out about a another possible alien invasion, men in black suits and armoured vans arrive—i.e. the EPF/Earth Protection Force—with Agent Bishop at the helm, and the two parties have a stand off. Finding it hard to not only keep the government agents at bay, but also to keep them from seizing the unconscious alien, the Mad Dogs make a hasty retreat, leaving the spacecraft to be collected and contained by the EPF.

Taking the pilot back to the lair, the boys patch her up, remove the two strange half-spherical objects from her temples—of which Donnie's interest is immediately piqued. I mean, c'mon, mysterious alien tech?! Boy's brain would be ABUZZ with all the possibilities!—and leave her in the medbay to recover while they debrief the crazy events of the night. Unbeknown to them, not long after they begin to discuss the EPF, with supporting security camera footage and drone shots taken thanks to Donnie—who is multitasking: fiddling with the strange alien tech in his hands mid-discusssion/info-dumping about the information he's found about the EPF—the pilot stirs in the medbay.

POV switch to Y'Gythgba—a young, intelligent, earnest but socially naive Salamandrian warrior/engineer on a mission, awakes not only to a pounding headache and a couple of cracker ribs—made worse by the bright flourescent lights and her lack of psionic amplifiers/holovisor, which have mysteriously gone missing—but also to an unfamiliar environment, with no sign of her AMPHIBAMECH (if anyone can come up with a better name, please pass along your suggestions lol). Immediately on alert, Y'Gythgba goes into full on Solid Snake stealth and begins to sneak about the lair, not sure of what to make of her strange 'alien' surroundings.

Silently, she stalks from tunnel to tunnel, passing a sleeping rat-man in a lazy boy recliner as a projector plays an archaic holovid of a strange humanoid in a jumpsuit and large optic lenses, fighting several adversaries. Y'Gythgba pauses to observe the old rat, trying to assess if he is an immediate threat or harmless, until raised voices—faintly familar yet unintelligible to her ears—grab her attention. Summoning/'pulling' her NovaBlaster from its pocket dimension with a wave of her hand and a trail of pink alien code and light ribbons (think Tron Legacy 😉), Y'Gythgba confronts her 'captors' from the doorway, catching them by surprise as she demands to know where her ship/AMPHIBAMECH is.

Obviously, neither the Mad Dogs or Y'Gythgba can understand one another, so as the boys take a step towards her, Y'Gythgba raises her blaster and fires a warning shot on its lowest setting... just inches above poor Raph's head 🥲

And voila! SHENANIGANS ENSUSE. That's all that I really have set in stone ATM, but I'll probably add more in the future if I do more doodles (...maybe)

OH. And the alien language that Y’Gythgba/Mona is using can be found here

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #save rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #save rottmnt #rottmnt mona lisa #tmnt mona lisa #rottmnt fanart #rottmnt leo #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt raph #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt salamandrians #rottmnt salamandrian encounter au #carareedart #carareed #rottmnt au #rise mona lisa

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

Just wrote a big ass one-shot on my main, might as well write up something here as well.

And this is for my android Aziraphale au, which... doesn't have an au tag and is a pain in the ass to find on this blog.

But here's a quick plot for you guys:

Crowley is a cyborg hacker who is trying to break into Aziraphale's, a club owner who no one knows is actually a very dangerous android, office to steal his files that he keeps on a hard drive, really important files, that sorta thing. Shit happens and they hate each other but also wanna, ya know, hate-fuckk and stuff, but then romance happens when they both realize that their is more to them than they realize about each other.

Oh, and Arthur from Passengers is there, and he is part of the relationship. He is loved, because I love Arthur, he's a good android that is respected on this blog.

Also, Aziraphale looks like Castor/Zues from Tron: Legacy, but with cool extra limbs like Doctor Octopus. :)

This one-shot is when Crowley finally breaks into the office, and what happens when Aziraphale finds out.

Warning: injury, blood, violence

On with the fic!

--

Third time's the charm, as the saying goes.

Crowley had been careful this time around, his last two attempts had been... bad. Really unprofessional for him. First time he hadn't gotten the chance to go anywhere near Fell's office! Second time he got caught being in the wrong place, but he was able to joke it off, saying how he got lost trying to find the bathroom.

Fell had been so nice about that second mistake, but Crowley knew, he knew the man was suspicious of him.

And Crowley needed to be careful, really careful.

Rumor has it that Fell was good about making people disappear.

The club was busy, at the height of the night, music was booming, drinks were being served, and Fell was too busy schmoozing to notice that Crowley had slipped away from the bar. He had told the bartender, Arthur, that he'd be right back, just needed to step out to make a call, in case if anyone asked where he was.

The halls were empty, not a guard in sight. This was too easy, but Crowley wasn't dumb to just step into a trap so easily. He was a professional.

He tapped at the small tablet in his hands as he stood out of the way of the cameras in the hall. He watched as the little blue lights on them dimmed, and he smirked. A simple hack into the security system, nothing he couldn't handle.

A few more taps and the overhead lights went out, a blackout. The club was fine, the blackout was only here, and would only be for a short period of time. No power meant the electrical locks were done on the doors, leaving only the average ones. Who even still uses those nowadays?

With a huff, he tapped twice on the side of his shades, and the world was suddenly visible once more, no longer pitch black. Infrared, always good to have on hand. He looked at the tablet before pocketing it in his jacket and walked down the hall, keeping light on his feet.

He stopped outside of a door, marked with a symbol, a sword outlined in what looked like fire. Fell's signature, this had to be his office. He grabbed the knob, frowning when he noticed it was locked. Of course the guy remembered to lock the manual one, he seemed the type.

Crowley thanked his lucky stars boredom as a child allowed him to learn how to pick a lock as he used the small kit he carried to pick the lock on the door.

He heard the clicks and smirked, trying the knob again, and the door opened.

The inside of the office looked oddly cluttered, unlike everything else in this space or the club, where it was all clean, sterile lines and colors. This was a disaster, how weird.

But that was something for Crowley to ponder over later, right now he needed to find the safe.

After searching for a few minutes, Crowley found it under a stack of books that looked really old, fragile. Jackpot. He removed his glove from his right hand, looking at the black metal he kept hidden, lines along his fingers and wrist glowing pink in the darkness.

He touched the dial on the safe, how old school, and started to turn it, listening carefully for the right sounds to know he was putting in the right combo. It had taken quite a while to learn what familiar numbers would work best for the safe, ones that Fell used often.

Oddly, it was 4-0-4, curious, Crowley thought as he heard the final click.

Opening the door, he could see papers and the like, but not the hard drive. "Fuck, where is it..." He whispered, patting around, trying to find the damn thing.

Then he noticed something odd in his lenses. There seemed to be the slightest shift in how dark the room was. And it wasn't due to his ungloved hand.

"Ooh, what a shame." Came a posh, cold voice from somewhere behind Crowley.

Something touched the sides of his neck, sharp, like needles. Crowley froze in place.

"'Never trust a pretty face', quite a fitting saying, don't you think?" He heard the sounds of footsteps approaching, the sounds of metal shifting.

Fingers touching the back of his head, gently toying with his hair. "I really don't want to have to do this, dear boy, but I can't allow thieves a second chance. I'm sure we would have had such fun, darling."

Instinct had always been Crowley's saving grace, getting him out of sticky situations, and it didn't fail him now. His brain screamed for him to move forward, and luckily his body.

There was a loud snap of metal, as if someone smacked knives together, and Crowley would later recall in a fearful moment as he tried to sleep that he had nearly been decapitated.

Spinning around, Crowley could see in the darkness and his shades that Fell was standing there, just feet away.

Except he wasn't standing on his own feet. No, he was standing with the help of two long, terrifying metal appendages coming from his lower back. Two more were hovering over his shoulders, the end of one was right where Crowley had been just seconds before. It was clawed, and it looked very, very sharp.

Aziraphale's suit's lights were glowing in the dark, as were his eyes. Those same eyes had been hazel before, but were now a cold white, like snow. And they were focused completely on Crowley. There was a slight shift to them as they looked at the exposed right hand.

"I thought as much, your grip wasn't as breakable as most others are." He said, almost sounded fascinated. "But it won't save you from what I'm about to do, darling."

Crowley only had seconds to move out of the way of the claws that slammed right into the ground where he had been sitting. He charged for the open door, dodging another claw that brushed his head, probably cutting some strands of hair.

The hallway was dark still, there were still minutes until the lights and power returned. It was too risky to go back to the club, so Crowley would have to take the back way. There was a stairwell he had discovered in his research, he could use that to escape.

He screeched when a clawed hand shot past his face, he felt the brush of metal on his cheek, and then wet warmth on his skin. Fuck! FUCK! He was going for the stairwell.

He turned and ran down the hall, hearing those fucking claws tearing into the walls and floor as Fell chased him. The hallway seemed to become illuminated in a growing light. Glancing back, Crowley could see that there was a glow coming from the metal limbs, and shit, the man looked terrifying in the glow.

Was he a cyborg too?! Who the hell had metal appendages like that!? Androids had them, or at least some did, cyborgs didn't! Too risky, too heavy and dangerous to have on human bodies! Crowley knew how heavy metal appendages could be due to his own arms and his upper back, but all those? Holy shit!

And where did he keep them! They weren't there during their previous encounters!

"Come back here!" Fell shouted as Crowley turned a corner and found the door for the stairwell. He flung it open and charged down the stairs, trying to be careful not to trip.

"You can't escape, little one!" Fell's voice echoed and Crowley heard a horrible sound of metal tearing, and nearly flew down the stairs when the door was thrown at him.

Okay, he most certainly was NOT a cyborg! He had to be an android! Guess the rumors were true!

Crowley gasped when something grabbed at the back of his leg and he lost his footing, tumbling down the metal and concrete steps. He cried out in pain when he hit the landing. He opened his eyes, finding he was in the dark, his shades lost in the tumble. His knees hurt and so did his head, his metal parts creaked, Agnes is gonna kill him if he damaged anything.

He saw the blue glow of Fell as he descended the stairs, his feet never touching the ground, his extra limbs carrying him. He looked at Crowley with a terrifying glare. "I don't know what you think you were trying to do, but I will not allow you to complete your mission. Now, return whatever it is you took."

"I didn't... take anythin'." Crowley growled as he pushed himself up.

"If you return it, I'll make sure your body is found."

"I told you, I didn't take anythin'." Crowley put his hand in his jacket, rubbing at his side, fuck, that was gonna bruise.

Fell's eyes narrowed. "What were you doing in my office then?"

"Just... that ain't any of your business, Fell."

"It most certainly is." Fell snipped. "Well, if you're not going to tell me, I'll just have to search your corpse. It really is a shame, you interested me greatly, it's been a long time since anyone has done that. Well, I suppose that I can be a bit nice, I'll make this quick."

The claws were coming close and Crowley only had once chance at this.

He had been working on something, a backup for if his power outage hack didn't work, or if he came across something troublesome of the robot variety.

He really hoped this work.

"Nah, but maybe next time we meet, angel." Crowley said and pulled out a taser.

Fell gave pause, confused, and that was all the opening Crowley needed to pull the trigger.

Four bolts shot out and struck Fell right in the chest.

Then Crowley heard the most horrible, metallic scream.

The screaming stopped, and Fell slumped forward, dropping to the ground right at Crowley's feet. The stairwell was silent and the glow was gone, minus the faint pink of Crowley's hand.

He could see just the barest of light from Fell though, his eyes. They were focused on Crowley, staring right at him.

"EMP taser." Crowley swallowed, holding up the device. "Not enough to kill you, but enough to stun you for an hour or two."

Fell made a strange sound, like an overheated laptop. He sounded angry.

Crowley took that as his cue to get his ass out of here. "Didn't steal anythin'." He said, wincing as he pulled himself up, removing his other glove, giving him a bit more light. "Couldn't find it anyway..."

The sound got louder, echoing in the stairwell, as Crowley continued to now-slow trek down the stairs for the exit.

He survived, just barely, but he was sure that he wouldn't be able to push his luck like this next time.

--

Aziraphale and Crowley's stairwell encounter has been on my mind for months, since I first started developing this au. I wanted something scrary in the dark with limited space and limited light.

Also, yes, Crowley's LED lights are pink, like his android counterpart in the other au.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #anthony j crowley #aziraphale #john's drabbles

[trashquisitor-shirozora]

❤️ 👻 🎁 💕 🦋 🦈 🎨

❤️ What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic?

I'm gonna dig through my Tron Legacy/MCU barista AU for this one....

"He could be a fed," Sam said uncertainly. Then he thought about the words the man muttered as he left with his precious coffee. "Maybe he's with the IRS." "What does he need a gun for?" He shrugged. "People really hate the IRS?" "That's a CSI: Miami episode."

Ended up reading the whole fic while searching for my favorite line(s). There are a lot of references in this thing that I don't remember anymore good lord.

👻 What is your wildest headcanon?

I'm still drawing a blank on headcanons in general, Anon, I'm sorry. God I'm so bad at these, fucking rip.

🎁 Have a piece of a WIP you want to share?

“How does a junk freighter get through our shields?” “I don’t know, I’m not there! Calm down and let the others deal with it. Kriffing hell.”

Chapter 3 of The Stars is currently happening because I want to get another chapter out on my birthday 🤪

💕 What is your favorite fic that you’ve written?

As a person with no children, I have to assume this is like asking which of my children - if I have more than one - is my favorite child. Can I make a short list?

The Storm :: The Mandalorian born in a thunderstorm :: Star Trek x MCU Waking Ghosts :: Dragon Age A Thousand Eyes Staring Backk :: Mass Effect Wishing Well :: MCU We Are Pilots :: Tron Legacy

So maybe this list is longer than one fic, but some of them are THE contribution I made to their respective fandoms and that automatically makes them my favorites. If you asked which is the saddest one, though, that would be Wishing Well.

🦋 Which character is your favorite to write?

I feel so bad for not having more than the same set of names for this question a;ldjfsdjjdj;ljfl;fjla;jd;lsdfka;sldfjksd

They would be Din Djarin, Dorian Pavus, Bones McCoy, Sam Flynn, Dean Winchester.

🦈 Which character is the toughest to write?

I'm a weenie who can't write as characters I'm uninspired by. Then there are characters like Kylo Ben and I know they'll be the toughest to write because I'll just not write them. I don't care what kind of backstory Disney gives you to try to excuse your genocidal behavior, white neo-fashy nepo baby, you did your parents and uncle and their friends and allies wrong af and I will never write you.

🎨 If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

Okay, okay, okay, I will allow myself a little indulgence.... if I see anyone draw anything from Meteors, I will lose my goddamn shit. I don't care that I did my own art, that doesn't count, I just wonder and want to see how other people would interpret that two-chapter spicy self-indulgent story.

Play ask games, win ask prizes!

#shirozora awkwardly responds to asks #this one was a workout lol

[fouralignments]

(@xmcu-fietro here, hi! :D)

For the ask game:

D: What’s the most personal fanfic you’ve written?

J:  What’s your favorite fanfic trope?  Have you written it?

R: Which writers (fanfic or otherwise) do you consider the biggest influence on you and your writing?

D: What’s the most personal fanfic you’ve written?

It's Shabbat Shalom, its 6522 words and 13 page fic. Its the last piece that I wrote before my father died. I kid you not I was editing/ getting ready to publish it (I just needed to press the button and that's it) it at the time of my father's passing. Some truth came to light about my dad's side of the family, intergenerational trauma and all around I have shitty grandparents, specially my grandmother. Who's a contemptible person. It made me reevaluate as to why my father didn't stay in contact with his parents except on mother's day and father's day and Christmas. He was a private man and didn't talk about his childhood.

Upon reflection, I went ohh.....it made me realize things about myself. Was I talking about Charles or myself? I went oh! I want to convert to Judaism; though it maybe hard b/c money is an issue and I can't afford the $200 fee for books. I have to wait until I'm financially stable before pursuing it.

I just let the timer run out on Ao3. I didn't want to publish it for a long time and there was a point in my life, I thought I didn't want to share with anyone. It was far too personal for me to share. I still cry when I go over it.

J:  What’s your favorite fanfic trope?  Have you written it?

Give me some modern AU domestic shit still have powers. That is my shit. Yes I have written it.

In Morning's light and Love's Embrace

Again for Shabbat Shalom

I find it to be relaxing and for that point in my life. It was a return to normal and reflection of found memories of childhood.

R: Which writers (fanfic or otherwise) do you consider the biggest influence on you and your writing?

Getting into writing and how my style got started was with Tom Clancy's Hunt for The Red October and Conn Iggulden's Emperor series The Gates of Rome and The Death of Kings. If you don't know about Tom Clancy's style logical technically detail description finally McStories Rain Dogs (a fanfic that's no longer with us, sadly). Those were the authors that I tired to emulate. But after writing like a 45 chapter TNG fic and several bad semesters at uni; I stopped writing all together and just focused on course work. I just spent a few years just reading and honing the craft. I had to get good at writing, editing, outlining, organization and just straight reading a lot of books.

I planned a few stories in the Tron: Legacy space and Class of the Titians just worldbuilding; but I never actually wrote anything except the first chapter of my Tron: Legacy story; but I was never happy with it.

One of sister's writing friends during a dinner one night said to me. We were discussing why I couldn't write was because I was developing my artist's eye. I brought Word Painting Revised Edition: The Fine Art of Writing Descriptively by Rebecca McClanahan; The Elements of Style by William Struck Jr. & E.B. White and Writing Tools: 50 Essential strategies for Every Writer by Roy Peter Clark and a few others that I studied and I had to find a system of writing/ thought process that worked for me. At my first university wasn't the right environment for me to flourish it was very much understood and expected of you that you knew how to write already; my professors left me out to dry very much as they it so vague as to what they wanted. I needed structure, I got that when I transferred to my alma mater, every semester I had one or two classes that required essays and a lot of writing practices because of my peace studies minor and general course reqs and having a great Ph.D student as my history professor;

It forced me to edit and get good at my writing until it flowed out of me. HOLY SHIT, the professors gave me good feedback.

I got into reading again, one semester I read around 15 books on topics ranging from the 1953 overthrowing of Mossadegh in Iran, Fair Food; the Working Poor; Robert O. Paxton's the Anatomy of Fascism; Populism and Nationalism by John B. Judis; The American coup in Guatemala over bananas; Pro by Katha Pollitt; Weapons of Math Destruction by Cathy O'Neil and I had a love affair with Henry A. Giroux I have about five of his books. I just was bored between classes and I just read in between them.

I believe one of the reasons why my work is so scholarly is that I actually do reference what I've been reading and for certain characters I reference certain books and writers

For Charles and his philosophy him being a professor, I believe its a good bent for his character, its Henry Giroux who leading voice in critical pedagogy that sees neoliberalism isn't just an economic model but permeates everything. Education and universities can be places of resistance aren't just places the corporations use to get educated workers.

For Erik its Hannah Arendt, who need no introduction. But one day I will read her book on The Origins of Totalitarianism. I've read some of her work called the Crisis of the Republic

En Sabah Nur its my textbook from my Middle East politics and society class called: The Modern Middle East: A History by James L. Gelvin.

I might just have go back and re-read some of theses books because my description has gotten sloppy and needs a bit of work to refresh myself

#Very very long reply to a question #ask four alignments #4 alighments replies to a question #4 alignments ask box

[lucky-dyse]

Tron

Name: Tron-JA-307020 (Tron Bradley)

Program Type: Tron is a security program, and is quite serious about his job.

Location: Tron can usually be found in his hideout, where he once trained Beck.

Sexuality: Bisexual

Bio: read here

Personality: Tron is quite stubborn and determined, and doesn't often have time for 'fun'. He takes his job quite seriously, and protects Basics, ISOs, and Users alike. Like his user, Alan, he's protective over those he cares about, and would never let them get in any harm. Though after becoming Rinzler and being reformed, he secludes himself and refuses to let anyone get attached to him.

Tron will sometimes go into standby mode, where the corrupted code of Rinzler can take over. As Rinzler, he barely has any personality. He follows orders, and if no one is there to give him orders, he seeks out Clu or the next Program with a high rank.

Trauma: Tron suffers from nightmares, flashbacks, severe anxiety, and depression. He hates himself for becoming Rinzler, and is terrified of having anyone know him.

Rinzler

Note: In some AUs, Rinzler has a different body than Tron

Name: Rinzler

Age: as old as the Occupation

Program Type: Malware, Security Program

Location: Varies

Sexuality: Asexual probably

Bio: Same as Tron's, only instead Rinzler is mostly inactive. He becomes active when:

Tron is weak/at low power

Tron is sick with a virus

Tron begins doubting the Users

In the Universes that he has his own body, he looks exactly like Rinzler in Tron: Legacy. Unless the description in the bio says otherwise

Personality: Rinzler barely has a personality of his own, following orders from the Occupation. He often expresses curiosity, though, and wants to understand the world he lives in. He is also quite defensive, and reaches for his disks at the slightest chance of a fight. Though if he weren't being controlled by the Occupation, he'd be giddily stumbling around the Grid like a newly rezzed program.

Trauma: Everything Tron has, and more. He remembers everything Tron has been through, and all of the torture it took to become Rinzler. He also believes that no one wants him around, not even Clu. He's easy to startle, sudden movements and loud noises put him in a defensive state.

[samflynnofficial-backup]

Sam Flynn's Bio

Note: This bio contains some headcanons and some canon-divergent things

Appearance: Sam usually wears a motorcycle jacket over a grey hooded jacket, black jeans, and a black t-shirt. His hair is short and brown, styled upwards, and his eyes are an almost grey.

Inventory:

Keys (to his motorcycle, and Alan's house)

Flip phone

Wallet

Likes:

Rebelling against ENCOM, rescue animals, helping those in need, hacking, riding on his motorcycle

Family:

Jordan Canas (mother, deceased)

Kevin Flynn (father, status depends on thread)

Alan Bradley (surrogate father)

Marvin (dog)

Ships:

Not shipped with anyone yet

Backstory:

Sam had a rough upbringing even before his father went missing. Kevin was almost never home, and after Jordan died, things seemed to only go downhill from there. Sam was raised mainly by his grandparents, but Alan Bradley - who he called 'Uncle Alan' - often came over to help with homework and his frequent nightmares.

After Sam's father went missing, Sam turned to rebellion as a coping mechanism. He picked fights in school, skipped classes, and often ran away to try and find his father.

When his grandparents died, Alan was the one to take care of him until he was ready to live on his own. Though Alan's encouragement to take over the company only seemed to make things worse, putting more pressure on Sam to uphold his father's legacy. This is also about the time he rescued Marv.

Catching onto the Flynn Lives movement, Sam started an annual prank on ENCOM on the anniversary of his father's disappearance. Alan caught on and confronted him about it, but Sam always pushed him away.

Whether Sam has been through the movie Tron: Legacy's events or not depends on the thread.

AU stuff:

None yet

[encomtrio]

sam flynn/tron + give it all up by duran duran and tove lo

au: sam has visited the grid numerous times before the coup.

#tron legacy #tron 1982 #look i made it ! #sam/tron #no happiness for anyone in this franchise #is this kinda dumb? please tell me if it is #i made myself sad oops #also couldn’t come up with anything for the au description my head hurts #:’( #video edit

[diamond-punk0963]

Question: Does anyone remember Tron?

I really liked uprising and this was basically one of my favorite shows to watch, back in the day.

#tumblr stuff #tron #tron uprising #tron legacy #tron lives #beck #sam flynn #quorra #also i have have an AU with tron and rwby #if anyone is interested #also i really liked beck #why isnt anyone talking about this series anymore

[lizzy-lue]

If you've been in Tron fandom for ten years or more like I have, there is a slim chance you might remember when I wrote this fic: Rinzler on The Loose.

Click that link to be taken to the totally rewritten from scratch ao3 copy I'm working on in 2021.

Idk if anyone even reads gen Tron fic anymore but there it is. Currently Chapter 1 is complete at almost 5k words. Here's the summary:

Sam Flynn and Alan Bradley didn't realize what kind of monstrosity they had unleashed on Center City. Rinzler's adventures; having escaped the watchful eye of his new family, he is out on his own in the User world for the first time. What chaos will he make? A bit cracky, AU post-Legacy.

#fanfiction #ao3 #Tron #Rinzler #Alan Bradley #Lora Baines-Bradley #Sam Flynn #Tron Legacy #gen #fluff #fanfic #Lora Bradley #writting #rinzler on the loose #txt

[zachdoesfanart]

Did I hear anyone say Tron AU?

[image: a digital picture of Percy Jackson from the Percy Jackson and the Olympians series drawn as if he were in the film Tron: Legacy. He stands in a dark city, illuminated by bright yellow-orange glowing lines that highlight his right side. He holds his Identity Disc as though ready to use it, his bright green eyes directly staring at the viewer, his face determined]

#percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #riordanverse #tron au #myart

[thatwarmtoastyfeeling]

I also got to play “Let’s make Layla a program!” because we’ve entered a bizarre time paradox in regards to Isfet and Layla budding friendship RPs (remember, Isfet is technically Fallout AU Virus).

Pookie only had two demands, which was 1) business skirt, and 2) “the ponytail must be as long as lore-friendly”

Not sure I entirely hit the mark on business-skirt but eehhh close enough. Ponytail though? Does not compute. I don’t think anyone has a ponytail on the grid? The sirens have tight buns, which I could do but doesn’t feel terribly Layla-y... Paige from Uprising gives the impression of having her hair tied up but it’s just a trick of the silhouette (she has styled bangs but is almost buzzed in the back). Everyone else has very geometric cuts - shaved, gelled up, bobbed, sharp bangs, etc. Very antithetical to Layla’s usual messy, voluminous waves.

So I focused more on the front for the first doodles, and Pookie pointed out the one she liked best. The second image is sort of a redraw (while still ignoring the actual ponytail...) and test of a skirt-suit look. Right away I felt the shoulders were too strong for her average clothing, but also really liked how it looked, so I ended up making a little raincoat outfit. The back is partially see-through, inspired by Gem’s rainjacket in the film.

Once I saw that Pookie liked it, I decided to just play dress-up doll with Layla and play with layers. The part I like most about the clothing in Tron Legacy is the use of layers and material, which is absolutely a weak point for me - to show material you need to show how light and shadow interact, which means uhh... coloring and shading. But it’s pretty much required because so much of the clothing is mono-chromatic, and visual interest comes from texture not color.

I actually started at the top and worked down, peeling layers back as I went, rather than starting at the tron-long-johns and building up, which was actually a really fun way to approach design. The only material I really spent any effort on was the tights, because I needed to drive home that they’re semi-sheer like nylons, and because I needed to get that hexagon fabric pattern in there somewhere for my own sake. There’s technically a light pattern overly on her dress too but I may as well have omitted it for all it changes things.

I’d like to draw up the back too, since the third requirement from Pookie is that she have a glowy line on the back of her legs like the seam old-timey hosiery had... but lazy.

Oh yeah, and I almost gave her a bonkers long Widowmaker style ponytail just to spite myself but for now it’s just an asymmetrically chopped thing, mostly just so it didn’t cover the outfit design, so I don’t know if that’s gonna stick.

[toadsfool]

Has this been done yet ?? . Tron legacy is one of my favourite movies and I was planning a to do a comic about it but,,,, this has idea has been stuck in my head for the past few months and would not leave me alone until I drew it. . As far as characters go; the fourth photo shows pretty much how I imagined everyone. I know that shiro can be seen as Keiths older brother but in this au I made him Lances missing older brother who owned an arcade and one day went missing… Shiro is absolutely perfect for Kevin Flynn with Kuron as Clu and Sven as Tron. And I just couldn’t imagine Keith as anyone but Quorra. And does Lotor not fit perfect as Zues and Allura as Gem? Sure that makes her slightly a antagonist but I think it’s perfectly fitting. I had a struggle picking characters for Pidge and Hunk. I love both of them dearly but there was not a significant enough role for them. I mean Hunk could be Sams friend from the beginning? But I would want them both to be in the grid. I suppose this could also be seen as allurance? Seeing how Gem and Sam had sexual tension but nothing really more than that. I drew it as klance and the pure need for a Tron au but ship whatever you want. And this is definitely pre season 7 because there is no way I could fit that many characters into this au… maybe as random NPCs or if we go off of the tron story line maybe they could be in a sort of rebellion against Clu? Not sure. Hope you enjoy !

#voltron #vld #klance #laith #allurance #vld pidge #keith kogane #lance mcclain #takashi shirogane #tron #tronau #art #digital art

[pidgelings]

List of AUs

Since y’all really seemed to like my Cross-Time Doctors AU, I might as well share the list of all the AUs I’ve come up with thus far!

If any of the AUs interest you, just pop an ask in my inbox sharing the name of it and I can go into detail of it!

Some AUs are more creative than others. XD

[Under a cut because long list is long]

Cross-Time Doctors AU - [Post] Pidge and Lance are doctors of different times that become connected through death.

Galra Prisoners AU Lance, Keith, and Pidge become prisoners of the Galra Empire and forge strong, essentially romantic bonds with one another as they question if they’re ever going to get rescued.

Dance Competition AU Pidge and Lance are old friends that end up in a Dance Competition TV Show and end up partnered up with Keith and Allura respectively as both groups compete for the prize.

Hockey AU Focuses on the struggles of the hockey team “The Voltron Lions” as they not only work to beat their rivals, “The Daibazaal Galras,” but also as they try to figure out the strange feelings that have formed between Team Captain Shiro and his right-hand man, Keith.

Long Distance AU - [Post] Friends separated by distance and joined by things like Skype and Discord, our beloved Team Voltron is now a bunch of friends scattered around the world.

Ghost Adventures AU The title says it all! Some of the members of Team Voltron have been placed into the roles of Team Ghost Adventures. Spooky shit shall occur!

Greek Mythology AU An AU that Tama helped me create, Lance is a mermaid/siren that falls in love with a Forest Nymph (Pidge). The Nymph’s friends a centaur (Shiro), a satyr (Hunk), a fellow nymph (Allura), and a male harpy (Keith) are not too pleased with this arrangement.

Karakuri AU Loosely based off of the Karakuri Series, Lance and Shiro are officers in the Altean Army. When the Altean’s greatest enemy, The Galra, create new cyborg/superhuman weapons to take them down, Lance will have to come face to face with an old friend while Shiro will have to encounter a man he met while imprisoned.

Soulmate Dream AU - [Fic] Soulmates share the same dreamscape as one another and can meet and interact in it but will only remember the location when they wake up. Turns out, Pidge and Lance are Soulmates.

Photographer + Programmer AU Two college students with different studies, Lance and Pidge’s worlds collide with help from their mutual friend, Hunk. Soon, they’ll learn to see the world through each other’s eyes.

Split Mind AU - [Post] Somehow, Pidge’s mind gets split across five different realities! As she suffers from the new memories from these different realities, she finds herself clinging to the one constant throughout all of them, Lance.

MS AU Pidge suffers from MS while Lance stays by her side through it all.

Dancer Pidge AU Pidge is just your average college student with a colorful group of friends but she just is harboring a little secret. She just so happens to be a dancer at a rather interesting place. And, no, as she’ll say herself, she’s not a stripper.

WWII AU When Pidge’s brother enlists to fight in such a deadly war, Pidge disguises herself as a boy so he won’t go into the fight alone. However, she didn’t count on meeting Lance.

Pacific Rim (+ Uprising) AU Shiro was once a famous a famous Jaeger Pilot with his brother Kuron. However, after losing his brother and going into hiding, he is called back to service by Marshal Kolivan. There he meets Kolivan’s adoptive daughter, Allura. A powerful, yet naïve female, a bond is soon formed between them in this war.

Years after the war against the Galra was believed to be over, a new threat rises. Keith, another child of Kolivan’s who turned to a life of black market dealings after leaving the Jaeger Program, encounters a skilled hacker and mechanic by the name of Pidge who needs Jaeger parts for her self-made Jaeger, Rover. The encounter soon leaves the two arrested and with a choice: Join the Jaeger Program, or face prison time.

Pacific Rim Voltron AU An AU where everything is the same in the Voltron verse, however, the way the team pilots Voltron when it’s in the giant robot form is the same as how Jaeger Pilots pilot the Jaegers. Basically, their whole bodies are put to use.

Oblivion AU(s) Based on the movie, Lance/Shiro is Tech 49 on a Post-Apocalyptic Earth being guided by Allura and Honnerva (nicknamed Haggar) during his day to day tasks. That is until Pidge/Keith crash land on Earth and everything changes.

Edge of Tomorrow AU Can be seen two different ways as either Shiro being Bill and Keith being Rita or the reverse, but no matter the case, it’s up to them to save humanity from aliens that can manipulate time like a video game.

1950’s AU It’s the 1950′s and there’s nothing like a ragtag group of friends and mixed up feelings! Love is in the air in this diner hangout~

Drama Production AU Team Voltron does drama?! What kind of shenanigans will that ensue?! 

Magic AU Modern-day witches and wizards tasked with protecting humanity from not only dark supernatural beings but also other witches and wizards? What could go wrong?

Dance Team AU That’s right! Team Voltron is now a Dance Team competing in competitions! Time to get the groove on~

Hamilton AU You can pretty much guess what this is. It’s my take on it though. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Youtubers AU Pidge and Lance run a Gaming Youtube Channel together and all sorts of silly things occur! They aren’t the only ones on Youtube though~

Extreme Stunts AU Based off of videos filmed by devinsupertramp on Youtube, Shiro and Keith have a strong taste for adventure along with the rest of their friends and set off to film their adventures as they travel around the world doing all sorts of crazy things!

Star Wars AU Not based exactly on the movies but taking place in the same universe, Team Voltron is a ragtag group of rebels doing whatever they can to fight against the Empire.

Gods and Goddesses AU Gods and Goddesses of the Elements and the people of Earth, our dear Paladins have a lot to deal with. (This has been done to death.)

Seasons AU Pidge, Lance, Keith, and Shiro are the actual embodiments of the seasons Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter. Managing entire seasons can be rather stressful.

Sven’s Verse AU - [ Plangst Story ] Basically my take on what’s going on in Sven’s Universe. Plance angst and Sheith fluff are very present there.

New Champion AU A different take on Voltron’s story where Pidge was also on the Kerberos Mission with her family and Shiro. While Shiro escaped, her brother was rescued, and her father was sent off to a work camp, Pidge was forced to become the Galra’s Champion to replace Shiro. She doesn’t disappoint. 

Tron AU Kinda based on Tron: Legacy, Shiro goes missing for several years until Keith ends up at the arcade he was last spotted in. After being transported into a video game, he has to learn how to survive with the help of a couple of odd characters and the very man he’s been looking for.

Actors AU Yup. This is exactly what everyone else is doing. “What would happen if Voltron was Live Action and not animated?!”

Special Class AU A High School AU where all members of Team Voltron end up in a rather unique class that doesn’t exactly follow what the rest of the school is like.

Parasyte/Tokyo Ghoul AU Loosely based off of these two animes, Pidge and Keith become infected with a strange disease that gives them unique powers and abilities. Sadly, while they plan on using these powers for good, the others of their kind aren’t as nice and Pidge and Keith find themselves needing to protect those they care about.

Superhero AU Yup. Basic idea. Team Voltron as superheroes. Not like anyone has done that before. XD

Aerialists AU Team Voltron is a bunch of aerial artists in training. They all have different skills and different interests but maybe special connections can be formed?

Mental Reincarnation AU Remembering things from another life sucks, especially when you get the memories randomly. What shall our former Paladins do as they slowly remember the events of Voltron?!

Soulmate Voltron AU Legends say that only Soulmates can pilot the mighty Voltron. So, what do our Paladins do when they find out they’re able to pilot it?

Cosplayers AU Team Voltron is your average cosplayers that have grouped up to make some pretty amazing cosplays. They like to compete at cons.

Hanahaki Disease AU Pidge has a crush on Lance but he doesn’t feel the same way. God, does it suck to cough up these petals...

Dark Woods Circus AU Pretty much an AU based on the Vocaloid song. More torture for my poor beans~

Suasoculi AU - [Post] Pidge has been as Suassie for as long as she can remember, refusing to use the benefits of being one. However, when she meets a fellow Suassie by the name of Keith, she is tossed into a battle that she was never prepared for.

Year Walk AU Based on a short, old horror game based on Norse Mythology. A fic is in a WIP.

This list is always being updated as I think of more ideas. XD

#Pidgey Chatter #Pidgey Works #AU List #Water The Plance #Support and Protect #Beauty and the Beast #Cotton Candy #Pokemon Starters #Garrison Trio #Volcanic Love #The Rebel Princess #Rocky Love #Forged Bonds #Voltron #Voltron: Legendary Defender #¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[redfivewritingby]

A Game of Inches: Part 1 (A Hannigram Super Bowl AU)

Many thanks to @the-winnowing-wind​, @confusedkayt​ and @cannibalhouse​ for being with me Sunday night as I slowly unraveled during the most insane Super Bowl ever. Of all time. Jesus Christ. Seriously. But by the grace of Fannibal magic, many hugs, and judgmental leopards did I not die of a heart attack during that fourth quarter. 

As promised and witnessed by the football gods who saw fit to bless the Pats with the most absurd comeback in Super Bowl history, here is part one of my fourth quarter sacrificial offering: a Hannigram football AU lifted directly from the game. Some liberties were taken with the game clock, but both of these absurd plays actually happened Sunday night. Thus they shall be honored before we get to the victory smooches. Post game smut and riffing on the hilarity that is football commentary to come with such lines as “Wow! He saw that hole and certainly took advantage of it! What a tight fit!” Get excited, y’all.

Now, I am proud to introduce to you, your very own Baltimore Ravenstags, Hannibal fandom!  

(Who maaaaaaaaaay or may not closely resemble another team elsewhere on the northeast coast. Mwhahaha.)

It had been a punishing three quarters, an apparent disaster to the naked eye. 9-28. The Minnesota Shrikes still leading. It was an unprecedented deficit to overcome on the largest stage of a player’s career, but the mood on the Ravenstags sideline was shockingly calm because of him…because that’s who he was. As bleak as the scoreboard looked, there was never any doubt who had controlled the time of possession in this game. If just a few more plays had gone their way, it would be an entirely different story right now. For the Ravenstags, it was a question of momentum.

Hannibal Lecter stood on the sideline glaring down the opposing offense with his hands on his hips and murder in his eyes. His jaw was relaxed and his shoulders loose like he didn’t care how much time was left. But Will, who knew the quarterback better and more intimately than anyone else on the team, could see the small signs of distress–the little chinks in the armor that could spell disaster for the team. Hannibal had ceased bothering with his sweat drenched bangs which fell into this eyes. The tilt of his hips also betrayed a slight favoring of his right leg, a reminder of the nearly career ending injury that had taken him out of the 2008 season. These things worried Will. The opposing defense would soon see them too, and next, Hannibal would begin seeing ghosts on his bad side. Errant passes into triple coverage would follow if the tone of the game didn’t change soon.

But Will had to disguise these feelings and bury his empathy on the sideline because when you were Hannibal Lecter’s knife there were as many eyes were on you as they were on him. It was an inevitability, and one that Will resented because it interfered with his ability to look after the man beneath the legacy.

The Shrikes called a timeout on a crucial third down to confer with their defensive coordinator. On the Ravenstag sideline, Coach Du Maurier slid up to Hannibal’s side and tugged on the sleeve of his jersey. They exchanged a few words and turned as one unit towards Will.

He swallowed as Hannibal beckoned him over with a hooked finger and an even more lopsided smile, which was never a good sign. Hannibal and Coach Du Maurier were cut from the same cloth: genius strategists with a flair for the dramatic. Their unorthodox play calling allowed them to dominate the League year after year. They had confounded defenses and analysts alike through four championship runs together and seven total Super Bowl appearances.

“What’s the angle?” Will asked because he could only assume that they were reaching into Bedelia Du Maurier’s infinite bag of tricks wearing smiles like that.

“Clarke Kent,” Coach answered eliciting a groan from Will. The situation was as desperate as all that? Yikes!

“Come now, Clarke,” Hannibal laughed and rested his hand on Will’s hip. “You flew so well the last time.” This was a ridiculously hammy way of referencing the now infamous trick play that made use of Will’s experience as a college quarterback at Kent State.

“I think you just want to wreck my QB rating, Lois.” Will gripped. “Mine is still at 100%. What’s yours again, grandpa? 97?”

Hannibal’s honey-colored eyes narrowed dangerously in response to his least favorite insult, but a sudden commotion on the field tore his attention away before Will could regret his choice of words. Their defense had stopped the Shrikes advance and now, it was ‘go time’.

“I’ll get us to the fifty! Be ready!” Hannibal shouted amidst the flurry of activity as the Ravenstags defense came off the field.

“Don’t screw this up, you twitchy little man.” Coach Du Maurier warned and pinched Will on the ass for good measure.

The Ravenstags switched to an uptempo offense with Hannibal calling the plays from the line of scrimmage instead of from a huddle in order to wear down the defense and save precious time. Hannibal diligently marched the team to the fifty yard line and called the risky play. “Clarke! Clarke! Fifty one is the mike!” he screamed signally to the offense where he saw a problem developing on the defense. Two seconds of nerve-wracking scrambling occurred on both sides of the line. It was a third down now. They only had one shot at this.

The snap was called. Will dropped back to catch the lateral pass from Hannibal.

Time slowed as it always did when he practiced this play. Being a receiver required a different mindset than that of a quarterback, but it was a mindset Will understood having been one himself in his youth. Will detached from himself. He detached from the defenders that were hurtling towards him. He detached from the hopelessness of their circumstances. To be a good quarterback you needed to create a reality where only you and the field existed. He went through his progressions and saw Jimmy gaining some separation from the cornerback that was assigned to him. Will stepped back, visualized the moment when the ball would leaves his hands, and threw it. His movements were instinctual because no matter how far he’d come in his career as a wide receiver there would always be some part of him that was still a quarterback. He’d never win any awards for aesthetics. He was not like Hannibal, but they understood each other. For both men, football was a blood sport, but Will’s ethos was about utility and lethality. 

He watched the ball arc through the air with bated breath. It had a good spiral on it, and Hannibal would not be able to give him lecture on his throwing motion tonight. But downfield, Jimmy had fallen behind. The ball bounced off his fingers ending another fruitless offensive drive for the Ravenstags.

Will ripped off his helmet and spiked it onto the ground “Dammit!” he screamed and looked for Hannibal, but Hannibal had already left the field.

Dejectedly, Will picked up his equipment and trudged back to the sideline. Hannibal sat on a bench with his head bent over a tablet in conversation with Coach Du Maurier. Will’s standard place at Hannibal’s side was left open for him and he could think of no excuse to avoid it. Will plopped down, stared at his feet, and considered whether he should apologize or not for not being good enough. But he worried about the cameras. It would be disastrous to be picked up on the jumbo-tron groveling for approval from his lover. The rookies needed their generals to be strong.

Will grabbed a bottle of Gatorade from a passing waterboy and shifted on the bench so his knee touched Hannibal’s. ’I’m sorry,’ the gesture said when words could not be spoken.

Hannibal never broke character, but he widened the spread of his legs so that their thighs touched. ‘I know.’

A cheer went up when the Shrikes quarterback came onto the field at the moment Will felt at his lowest. Cheers that rightfully should belong to Hannibal in his opinion. At thirty-nine, Hannibal was a better player than he was a decade ago. A four time Super Bowl Champion; three time MVP; Hannibal had more wins than any other quarterback in history. But Hannibal was also Hannibal, and frankly, he was kind of a dick in addition to be entirely unrelatable being both an art snob and actual nobility. 

‘I WILL do better,’ Will vowed. He looked up into the the bright stadium lights, and let the noise inside. The discordant melody filled him, and he transformed those cheers into anger. When he got up off the bench after another critical stop by the Ravenstags defense, Will Graham was ready to kill.

A penalty gave the Ravenstags a much needed first down, but Hannibal slowed the tempo to a crawl by calling the team to the huddle. It was a suspiciously cautious move with ten minutes left on the game clock. “Will, I want you to dart up the middle. Get out fast and get ahead quickly. If you draw double coverage, Z should have an opportunity on a outside.”

“I want the ball,” Will growled getting a laugh from the other ten men.

“You always want the ball,” Hannibal smiled. “Let Z have it this time, pet. Does everyone understand their assignments?”

Will glared at Zeller, the other slot receiver on the team, and gave him his best ‘don’t you dare drop it because I will murder you’ look. There was admittedly a bit of a rivalry between them since Zeller had tried to steal Will’s locker besides Hannibal’s during Zeller’s first season on the team.

“Adapt! Evolve! Become!” The team shouted as one to break up the huddle and affirm that they understood. The ball was snapped. Will ran his route flawlessly drawing three defenders instead of two but felt a prick at the nape of his neck alerting him to danger. Will looked over his shoulder and saw with horror that Zeller had gotten stuck in the box while the pocket of protection collapsed around Hannibal.

He saw Hannibal’s eyes searching desperately for an opening. This was it. This was the nightmare scenario. Will had only a second to adjust knowing full well what was coming next. Will twisted on the balls of his feet changing the direction of his forward progress. He dropped his right heel into the Astroturf at the exact moment Hannibal’s eyes locked onto his. Will pushed himself forward as the ball left Hannibal’s hands. He reached as far as his arms could stretch and felt the impact of three defenders crashing into him. 

The ball was tipped by a defender before Will reached it. He knew with absolute certainty it would just miss his hands and fall instead into the outstretched arms of the safety for a devastating interception to end any chance the Ravenstags had of recovering this game. The emotional despair Will felt was more crushing than the physical weight bearing him down to ground, but the winds of fate suddenly shifted. Miraculously, the ball bounced off the ankle of Nicholas Boyle. It hovered in midair, six inches off the ground, and somehow, Will managed to get his hands beneath it before it touched the turf.

The instant Will had his hands on the pigskin, he reeled the ball into his chest and curled up around it at the bottom of a dog pile. The Shrikes grappled with him for the ball hoping to knock it out of his hands before he had full control of it, but Will held onto the rock as if his life depended on it.

His teammates eventually pulled him out from underneath the pile. There was hugging and shouting and signs of life on the Ravenstag offense. Will gave the ball to a lineman and risked a brief glance at the uprights not wanting to get his hopes up. Forty yards to go and another four downs to do it in. They still had a chance! Christ. The Ravenstags were a wink and a nod away from the red zone now after the most improbable catch of Will’s career. It just didn’t seem real.

“Will.”

Will turned towards the sound of the one voice he knew better than all others. Even at a whisper, Will could always pick out Hannibal’s voice above the roar of the stadium. His quarterback came towards him wearing a look of shock and reverie. It was a face Will loved to see in the privacy of a hotel room or their Baltimore home, but it was not appropriate now–not when they had everything to win!

Will ran at Hannibal at top speed and grabbed him by the face mask. “I told you!!! What did I tell you!?! Give me the damn ball, and I’ll bring the whole damn world to its knees for you!” he shouted into Hannibal’s face and brought their helmets crashing together. 

Hannibal looked dazed at the receiving end of a Will Graham headbutt, and that served him right. Will had acquired the habit from him after all. The violence did its job, and brought Hannibal back into himself. Will saw the competitive fire reignite in his eyes, and his heart swelled with affection and pride for his quarterback.

“Let’s kill them all, Will.” Hannibal said. He pushed Will away and slapped him on the ass as Will trotted past.

Will raised his voice and howled with the thrill of the hunt. Adapt. Evolve. Become. That was the Ravenstag way. “Let the game begin!” we shouted defiantly at the deafening roar of the mob. 

For context, here is what these two plays actually looked like in real life for anyone curious. Numbers 12 (Hannibal - Tom Brady) and 11 (Will - Julian Edelman) are the players you want to watch. 

Clarke Kent: I wasn’t able to find video of it from last night’s game, but here, watch the time it actually worked. (It’s better this way :p) Edelman really is a former QB from Kent State. I don’t know what the actual play is called, but a pun seemed appropriate for our boys. This is also my favorite play in the Patriots’s playbook so I wanted to share. I’ve been writing “Edelman has to QB for various reasons” fic long before it ever happened in a game. Seeing it last night was just “AHHH! *hearteyes*” even if it didn’t work out as hoped for. 

The Catch: JESUS H. CHRIST! Mother fucking triple coverage! I don’t know how he did it. In the game last night, the play came after the pats had closed the gap to 20-28, but I didn’t want this piece to get too long or technical for the non-sports fans.

Anyway, thanks for humoring me. Part two will be less sports ball and more fucking. I hope you enjoyed this presentation of the NFFL - National Fannibal Football League. ;-) 

#hannibal #hannibal lecter #will graham #hannigram #hannibal AU #red five writes