#unwind fanfic

[luckytidbit]

Babs

Hehe

#unwind #unwind dystology #sequel fic #unwind fanfic #unwind series #art #character art #roland taggart #connor lassiter #cam comprix #hayden upchurch #the admiral #unwind oc #risa ward #lev tashi'ne #mason starkey #argent skinner #grace skinner #cyrus finch

[heliads]

Praying I’m not too late because of school!!

Anyways, post undivided/unbound, grace and argent reunion fic please? Like, after the events of Unbound, Grace and the rest of the main gang meetup again and they’re all hanging out on some unknown port. Meanwhile Argent’s there running errands for Divan. The two bump into each other and hurt/comfort reunion ensues!! Also I wanna see Argent grovel for Grace’s forgiveness hehehe (Also the Grace Redemption Arc continues wooo)

'one more game to play ' - grace skinner

masterlist

Grace Skinner is doing well, all things considered. She is not dead. No one wants her dead, either, except perhaps some of the adults down at the park, the ones who sit in front of their chess boards rain or shine in search of a good opponent. It’s not Grace’s fault if they fell for her strategical schemes. Perhaps they should practice more.

Aside from the chess players, though, Grace is fine. She’s doing well as a new entrepreneur of tissue synthesis technology. Her friends, for the most part, are still whole, although Connor Lassiter has a new crop of scars that he doesn’t seem all that keen to show off. They’re getting better, slowly, and everything is fine.

It’s like a game that Grace can play, and she’s excellent at games. Whenever she catches herself slipping, she thinks about good things, like the health of her friends and the success of her latest enterprise. She takes walks. She clears her head, and she doesn’t think about what she shouldn’t. There are topics that are off-limits. Grace knows the rules, and she follows them.

Right now, she’s on her way to meet up with some of her friends. They’ve arranged for everyone to gather at a nearby pier. Apparently, the sea air will do them some good. Plus, the fresh breeze tends to restore all of them to finer spirits. Farther away from the city, they won’t be exposed to things that bring back bad memories, like the precise scent of smoke that burns down an antiques shop, or the routine shuffle of police footsteps outside a hiding place.

No, no. Grace reroutes her thoughts again. She was close there, but she won’t lose the game. She’s been playing it steadily for a while now. They all have. They stick to their houses or go somewhere so far away that no one even knows who they are, but it’s just different versions of the same idea. Different rulebooks, maybe, or different players, but the same damn thing in the end.

At the crosswalk in front of her, two children carefully walk into the road, eyes wide to avoid any cars. There isn’t that much traffic this time of day, but the older one still takes the hand of the younger anyway, ushering them across with far more gravity than the situation perhaps requires. She sees their faces, a boy and a girl, maybe siblings. Grace can remember when she had a brother who would do the same thing for her, before–

Her breath catches in her throat, and Grace remembers.

She’s lost the game again.

Grace doesn’t realize she’s stopped walking until she starts attracting funny looks. Quickly, she starts moving again, picking up the pace. She doesn’t want to be late to the meetup. Tardiness will attract questions, like just what she was doing to cause her to be distracted. Grace is always precise, perfectly on time. She doesn’t usually make mistakes like this. She doesn’t usually lose the game when she’s so certain about winning.

She keeps walking, passing the two maybe-siblings and leaving them far behind. They don’t matter. They’re just kids. Grace is older than them by many years and many memories. She does not have to look at them and wish that she could have her brother back, even for the time it took to cross the street, even for one half-moment when she could just talk to him and say–

Something, maybe. Grace doesn’t even know. She doesn’t have to know. Grace doesn’t know where Argent Skinner is and she probably never will. Connor told her that her brother was alive, but even he didn’t know where Argie had ended up. Her brother is pretty good at keeping to himself, even if he’s better when he has someone to talk to. That person used to be Grace. She doesn’t know who’s taken her place, but she hopes they’re good enough.

Most of her friends have arrived by the time Grace shows up at the pier. She waves hello to the ones she knows best, and casts a hopefully warm glance towards the ones that are more like acquaintances. Connor gestures for her to join him and Risa in a lively debate; apparently, they encountered an open-ended riddle while traveling here, and wish to have her input. 

The discussion is broadened to the group at large, and in between trying to figure it out, people start talking about where they’ve been and what they’ve been up to since the last time they were all together. Hayden’s trying his hand at public speaking, although he says it feels different when many people are actually watching him instead of just listening along. Lev has been working with Miracolina on how to prepare past tithes for the future they never planned on reaching. And Grace, of course, has the organ printer. All good things.

Still, she can’t help her gaze from drifting listlessly from the many faces on the pier back towards the bustling business of the port. Grace likes spending time with her friends, really she does, but having this many people here gives her the expectation that she’s got to perform for them in some way, be a better version of herself without quite knowing how, and it tends to stress her out a little. Looking at the bricks of the low buildings, watching the cars driving back and forth across the roads, is a lot easier to focus on than the discordant harmonies of so many voices.

Grace can feel her pulse starting to come back down again, and then she sees a silhouette slipping out of an open door. Their back is to her, so she can’t make out their face, but the advantage of spending one’s entire life around one single person is that you tend to remember them, and Grace swears she knows this person perfectly. The swing of his arms as he walks, the absentminded tilt of his head. This– this is Argent. Impossibly, it’s Argent. Grace’s brother. The reason she has to keep distracting herself from the awful truth that the closest part of her family is gone.

Grace’s breath catches in her throat. Truth be told, she didn’t even know if Argent was alive. He certainly hadn’t reached out to her, but then again, he would have no way of doing so. Vividly, Grace’s mind flashes back to a terrible night in Ohio, when she had seen a man she had thought was Argent, only to see part of her brother’s face on a different guy’s body. What if this is the same thing all over again? What if he really was unwound, even despite being old enough to avoid the limit, and one recipient just happened to get all of her brother.

Grace should look away and spare herself another horrorshow. She can’t take another brother-based heartbreak, that would go beyond losing the game to losing herself. Still, the silhouette mocks her silently as it walks away. It looks an awful lot like Argent, doesn’t it?

She can’t take it anymore and murmurs an excuse to her friends before heading off back down the pier towards the town. The young man who could be Argent Skinner isn’t walking all that fast, ambling in the vague direction of his destination, wherever that may be. By contrast, Grace is setting new records for speed walking, fists pumping as she hurries towards her supposed brother.

Just before she reaches him, Grace hangs back a little, giving herself time to judge the situation. If she’s wrong, she’s wrong now, and she’ll know it. However, the more Grace looks, the more she’s certain that this is indeed Argent. She steadies herself slightly, curling her hands into tight fists, and says uncertainly, “Argie?”

The figure stands stock-still, all momentum blown out of him like a limp sail on dead seas. Slowly, he turns around. There’s a moment before he completely faces Grace, a moment in which time feels as if it takes twice as long to pass. The instant of hesitation lasts for infinities, and then the figure stands directly in front of her and she knows– she knows it’s her brother. Knows it like breathing, like plotting out the winning move in a chess match. This is Argent, and she is Grace, and they are back together again.

For a while, they don’t say anything at all, just taking in the sight of each other. At last, Grace understands just what was done to her brother– half of his face is still scarred, as it was when Connor Lassiter attacked him when escaping his capture, but half of it is even more so damaged, still vaguely pink and irritated from the lingering aftereffects of a biobandage.

“Your face,” Grace says uncertainly, then immediately wishes she hadn’t.

Argent’s hand rises up instinctively– not to the fresh scars, as Grace had assumed he would, but to the old ones, the wounds Connor had given him. It’s as if he’s afraid that the other side of his face, too, would be ripped away when he least expected it. Dear God. What have they done to him?

“Never trust a parts pirate,” Argent growls.

So that’s what had happened. It makes sense that the man with Argent’s face that Grace encountered before he burned down the antique store would be a parts pirate. It also makes sense that Argent had tried to trust one. Lonely, hopeless Argent, who kidnapped the Akron AWOL then lost it all because he just had to post a selfie of the two of them together, who had joined up with a disreputable parts pirate because he wanted some grand expedition of revenge. Faceless Argent, who bears a countenance of wounds marking both times he learned his lesson.

“I missed you,” Grace says unexpectedly. “You didn’t call.”

Argent squints at her. “How could I? You left home and so did I. ‘Sides, I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me, on account of you running off with Connor and me trying to hunt you two down.” Upon seeing Grace’s crestfallen face, he adds hastily, “That didn’t mean I didn’t want to, though. Christ, Gracie, you’re my sister. That might not mean a whole lot at times, but I’ve felt rough about it ever since. Seeing you is good, though.”

“Thanks,” Grace whispers. All of a sudden, she feels eleven again, never quite saying the right thing to her cooler brother, not enough to make her one of his friends but enough to be a sister, as always. Well, maybe that’s not the worst thing in the world. Being a sister. It means she would feel less alone than she had before.

“I owe you more than that,” Argent confesses. “I’ve treated you something awful, haven’t I? Enough to make you run off with Connor and not come back. I’ve overlooked you, Gracie. I’ve treated you badly. It just tore me up inside, thinking that maybe you’d get hurt because of stuff I did. Say you’ll forgive me, won’t you?”

Grace hesitates a bit, mulling his words over, then nods at last. “I do forgive you, Argie.”

Her brother’s face washes over in relief. “I’m mighty glad to hear that, I have to say.”

She chuckles. “I’m mighty glad to hear you apologize. Thought you never would.”

“So did I,” he admits.

They stand for a few moments in awkward silence, not sure what to do now that the obvious has been taken care of. Then, in a sudden flash of reality, Grace remembers the group still bunched out on the pier. “A couple of us are hanging out past the docks. Do you want to join us?”

There’s a careful light behind Argent’s weatherbeaten eyes. “Are you sure? I reckon they might not be the happiest to see me right now.”

“Don’t mind that,” Grace says with a wave of her hand. “You saved Connor when he was unwound, right? He told me about that.”

“The Akron AWOL is saying I saved his life?” Argent asks, unconsciously puffing out his chest a little.

“He is,” Grace confirms. “Come on, you can hear him say it for yourself.”

With that, she turns and starts walking back towards the pier. A few moments later, she hears Argent following her. He catches up when they’re about to cross the street, insisting on going a half step earlier so he can watch for cars. Grace instantly remembers the younger pair of siblings she’d seen just an hour or so earlier. She’s got her brother back, she realizes with piercing clarity. They’re together again, the two Skinners, watching out for each other once more.

And with that, Grace wins the game.

requested by @sirofreak, i hope you enjoy!

unwind tag list: @reinekes-fox, @locke-writes

all tags list: @wordsarelife

#grace skinner #grace skinner imagines #grace skinner oneshot #grace skinner fanfic #unwind #unwind imagines #unwind oneshot #unwind fanfic #unwind dystology #unwind dystology imagines #unwind dystology oneshot #unwind dystology fanfic #unwind grace #unwind grace imagines #unwind grace oneshot #unwind grace fanfic #argent skinner #argent skinner imagines #argent skinner oneshot #argent skinner fanfic

[korokeea]

small spoiler of a big piece I’m making

live laugh love octolings

#cutie patootie #risa ward #unwind #unwind dystology #unwind au #unwind fanfic #unwind fic

[mybrainisrottingat3am]

Unwind Au?

Should I start posting my Unwind AU on here?

Like, please, someone tell me before I do it

#unwind dystology #unwind #unwind fanfic #unwind oc #connor lassiter #risa ward #lev tashi'ne #hayden upchurch #argent skinner #grace skinner #mahpee kinkajou #una jacali #camus comprix

[sirofreak]

Serial Killer au art for the one and only @nealshustermanbrainrot !!

(dude pls keep writing i love this and ill keep making art for it i promise)

Close ups under the cut

#unwind dystology #connor lassiter #risa ward #hayden upchurch #jasper t nelson #unwind fanfic #been a while since i drew any of these guys #theyre fun to draw :D

[lazysailor]

How I feel while making oc and story ideas:

Currently have a story idea (or two) I'll focus on after I finish writing Uncover!

#unwind fanfic

[julysn]

scary? my god, you’re divine!

ship: connor lassiter x reader

includes: pre-unwholly post-unwind, friends to lovers, pov second person, it’s CORNY. it’s HORRENDOUS. but i’m starving. so here u go fuckers. not beta’d

song rec: diet mountain dew (demo) - lana del rey

wc: 1150

a/n: yeah he might be slightly ooc dunno who cares i felt motivated to write be proud 😔

a lil rushed bc all of my writing tends to be.. was listening to the dt mt dew demo and felt inspired so here we go

also its not mentioned but connor didnt date risa in my fic. because I SAID SO

It was a quiet yet peaceful evening in the deserts of Southwest Arizona, the blazing heat contrasting the softly-lit moon raised high in the glittery night sky.

Life had truly taken a wild turn for you—in just under a year, you were no longer under your parents’ watchful eyes, checking for deceit and harm, but you had landed up in an isolated airplane graveyard with a new life ahead of you (mainly because your parents wanted to toss you away once they had signed the unwind order).

Throughout your rough and stressful escape from the juvey-cops, you also had your best friend, Connor Lassiter.

From the moment you met, the connection between you both was like lightning. He became your closest friend; your partner in crime. He was one of the only people you felt like you could truly be yourself with, and your walls of facade would immediately crumble once he was around. 

As time passed, you witnessed Connor's transformation firsthand—his short temper and impulsiveness guided into rationality and intelligence. Though others saw him as merely the legend of the 'Akron AWOL,' you knew the true Connor. He wasn’t like the rumors, no, he was different. He was special.

Throughout the chaos and drama, you stood by his side, no matter what. He was your light in the darkness, the blossoming flower to your stem. You could never admit it to him, but your heart knew; he meant everything to you.

You were with him every second of the journey, no matter how tough and complicated it was. He meant the world to you, even if he was unaware of how you felt.

Completely lost in thought, you were sitting on the grass near the planes, stargazing and letting the peaceful silence fill your ears when a familiar pair of footsteps approached. You yawned and looked up, seeing Connor sit beside you and tilt his head upwards to look at the sky.

The both of you sat in peaceful silence, just watching the stars glimmer in the dark sky, until Connor spoke his thoughts. 

“Do I look scary?”

His question caught you completely off guard. Scary? Why would he ask that? You glanced over and scanned his appearance, and oh god.

Connor Lassiter was absolutely perfect.

His soft, caramel-tinted skin looked beautiful underneath the moonlight, and you saw freckles scattered across his bare arms and cheeks like the stars blanketing the night sky. He had deep, tired brown eyes that made him look as attractive as ever. His tousled and messy curls sat prettily on his head, the tangled and sleepy mess more adorable than you’d like to admit. You could see why all of the other ‘whollies’ (as Hayden would call them) would throw themselves at Connor’s feet, because you would too. You’d do anything for him.

And the best part? His ass was fat. Massive. Colossal. Astronomically huge. 

I’m gonna forget I even thought about that last part, you mused as you looked back up at the stars and let a soft sigh escape your lips, the warm breeze tickling your cheeks. “You look fine. Why?”

“I feel like people are scared of me.” Connor confided, leaning back on his hands as his eyes wandered across the clear night sky. “Not just because I'm the Akron AWOL, but.. I think it’s because I have all of these scars from the explosion.”

“You don’t look scary to me.” You shrugged, looking up at him and catching his gaze before the both of you looked away and back up to the star-filled canvas in front of you. You felt his hand come down to absentmindedly play with your hair, and your breath hitched. You weren’t.. falling in love, right?

Right?

“I mean, you’ve seen the way people look at me.” Connor sighed gently, his other hand coming up to ruffle his curls. As his fingers ran through his hair, you noticed the light scarring around his cheeks and temple, and it made him look more adorable.

He wasn’t frightening in your eyes, no, he looked divine. But he didn’t know that yet.

“From what I’ve seen, the kids here worship you.” You shrugged once again, yawning and stretching your arms out. The peaceful quiet of the night was almost eerie, and you shook away the thoughts of potentially getting caught. It wouldn’t happen. Not now, at least.

“I know, but some of them look at me like I’d shoot them with a tranq too.” Connor muttered, his other hand coming down to play with your hair too. He was no longer admiring the night sky or gazing at the glimmering stars, his attention was purely on you now. You felt your heart flutter as you felt those cold, calloused fingers stroke your hair with a gentleness you've never felt before.

“Seriously? You don’t look that scary.” You chuckled quietly, leaning your head into his hands as your eyes met his. You noticed a spark of something unfamiliar in his star-filled gaze, and you had to fight the urge to not pull him into a tight hug. There’s something special about him. You just didn’t know what.

“.. You know, I had a dream about you last night.” Connor blurted out absentmindedly, his rosy cheeks flaring up as his eyes darted away from you. You looked up at him in shock, eyes widening as your vision laid upon his features. His expression was no longer relaxed, it was more nervous and embarrassed. You had never seen him like this before, and it was quite endearing to see.

“Really?” You asked, your smile almost giddy as you slowly sat up from the grass, propping your hands behind you and leaning back slightly. You felt Connor’s smooth, cold hands continue to run through and play with your locs, and it was a comforting sensation. You were feeling head over heels, and there was a flame of hope burning within you that he would reciprocate. 

“No, I-” Connor stammered out, avoiding your eyes. “Alright, fine. I think I’ve fallen for you.”

The two of you sat in silence for a few moments, unaware of what to do or say. The situation was extremely delicate and fragile, and you were worried you’d ruin everything by letting your thoughts escape your lips.

So, instead, you gently raised a hand to cup his cheek, as his hand laid on the back of your neck, and you both leaned in to close the distance between your lips. The kiss was soft and gentle, nothing too passionate as having sex in an airplane in the middle of a southwestern Arizona desert didn’t sound too enticing. 

He pulled away first with a grin, his smile melting your heart as his hands gripped your shoulders gently. “Does that mean you love me back?”

“No.” You replied, although the bright smile and the pure happiness in your eyes said otherwise.

#julysn #julia’s fics .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ #i loev him #hes so silly #connor lassiter #connor lassiter x reader #unwind dystology #unwind #unwind fanfic #unwind fanfiction #fanfiction #x reader #friends to lovers

[robotstrategy]

Recalled • Part 5 • 38 - Lev

Previous • Series Masterlist • Part 5 Masterlist • Next

Lev sits out on the front porch, spreading his arms wide so that Lawu may crawl on them. By now, it seems like Connor has been radio silent for a year. There’s no secret internet stuff dumb enough for him to figure out, no letters from cousin Carl. At this point, Lev would have actually forgotten about Connor if Elina hadn’t been there to ask him if he’d heard anything. 

“Do you think he died?” Lev asks his Kinkajou, Lawu lays himself down, nestling into Lev’s arm.

“I don’t want to think about it either.” 

A gust of wind comes in, it smacks Lev’s earpiece against his cheek, and he winces a little before the pain disappears. Many of the qualities he had to learn on the Rez were humility, forgiveness, and patience. Yet it seems like his patience might be running out soon. Before, he would have stayed here peacefully, spending the rest of his days with Kele and the others. But after a while, it seemed like he would always end up in Connor's net somehow. So why not now? Why won’t something come along and face him back in Connor’s direction? Lev sets the sleeping Lawu back in his little house before heading back inside. Every once in a while Lev opens the door to Wil’s room, wondering if somehow his spirit is still in there. Lev thinks Wil would’ve had something to tell him, maybe even Una, but both of them are gone now. Lev always found it funny that Una went to Molokaï with Cam, he supposes it takes two non-clinical minds to help raise 50 Rewinds.

Lev sits down in his room, beading together an ornate necklace for Elina. Somedays Lev likes to think he was born a Tashi’ne, to imagine himself as a young boy running around the Rez. But that’s not how the story goes, unfortunately, Lev was raised for death and had to escape it. Many times he doesn’t think he did, but here he is, breathing, hearing, sitting, and beading together a necklace. After a while, Lev turns to his alarm clock and plays around with it until he finds the radio button. It always first tunes into Arápache’s own radio station before Lev can start upping or lowering the signal. Today Lev looks for a certain radio station, he starts cranking the knob on the back of the radio. It’s a flutter of static between the radio from the Arápache to the Hopi and any other tribe in the surrounding area. Advertisements about upcoming Powwows, they’re quite fun actually, seeing all the Chancefolk’s interesting regalia as they all dance competitively.

Lev knows he’ll get the right radio station, he’s done it before, Hayden’s radio show somehow can get to almost anyone in the world. Even in dictatorships, it will somehow sneak in.

After a while, he hits a radio station playing ‘I’ve Got You Under My Skin.’ By Frank Sinatra, a clear sign he’s tuned the radio correctly.

Lev puts the clock back down, continuing his beading, soon enough the music dies down into Hayden’s radio jingle.

“Good afternoon everyone, welcome back! And if you’re new here, Hi! I’m Hayden! Here we talk about information about unwinding around the world. Today we have big news! I’ve just gotten info that Mexico and Hawaii have vetoed the Unwind Bill, and South America is currently considering if they’ll vote back in the bill, I hope they don’t. Unfortunately, we’re still seeing a big influx of American parents travelling with juveniles to Canada. It seems like until we cut off that hydra head it’ll keep swallowing kids.”

Lev pauses what he’s doing for a moment, people are still travelling to Canada to get their children unwound. Lev wonders if even when Canada vetoes the bill will people even stop? Maybe they’ll just find another place to keep the process going. Seems like all that protesting, all that self-immolation, it does nothing. Even when unwinding is over, people will find ways to get it done. If parents aren’t the ones paying shady people, then there’ll be millions of folktales teaching not to go out at night or a part pirate might steal you away. 

Lev has been mostly drowning in his thoughts until something Hayden says piques his interest.

“So, there’s this kid Connor knew who now lives on a reservation, his name is Lev? I’ve met him once in the graveyard, he’s the clapper who didn’t clap, there you go! That’s a better idea of him! Anyway, if someone can get in contact with him, or if he’s listening right now, I’d like to talk to him. I’ve got good news.” You can hear a smile in Hayden’s voice as the jingle drowns it out back into music.

Is this it? Did somebody finally find Connor? Lev picks up his phone, careful not to put any typos into the search bar. He rapidly goes through Hayden’s website and dials up the phone number. There are a few empty rings before someone picks up.

“Hello, you’ve reached Hayden Upchurch, h-” “DO YOU KNOW WHERE CONNOR IS?”

There’s a giggle on the other end of the line. “You’re Lev aren’t you?”

Lev blushes out of embarrassment, “Yes, this is about Connor right?”

“Yup, tried to keep it vague enough. I’d hoped you’d be more interested in the news than the first person I told.”

“Who was that?”

“I don’t think you’d know him, but he knew Connor, maybe a little too much. They say to keep your friends close and your enemies closer!”

Lev cringes. “So do you know where Connor is or are you just going to do this?”

“Not the small talker? I get it. I’ve found Connor in Marseille, France, he goes by Robert Saltries now.”

“Have you been talking to him?”

“No, I’d get charged for that, and by the looks of it Robert is running an unwind safe house, I wouldn’t want to pull any attention towards him.”

“Right, it’s just, that I feel abandoned, like I’m his friend, and I wasn’t told anything about where he was going.”

“I feel that too, I’m as much of Robert’s friend as you are, and I was never told anything either.”

“You hacked into something to find him didn’t you?”

“A school’s system, it felt wrong, really wrong.”

“I guess he hid himself very well.”

“I guess he did.”

Lev pauses, “If anything ever comes up, you’ll tell me about it, won’t you?” 

“Of course!”

“Goodbye, Hayden.”

“Goodbye, Lev.”

And that’s it, that’s all, Lev is no closer to seeing Connor, but at least he knows he’s alive under a different name. Lev gets back to beading the necklace for Elina like nothing ever happened.

#unwind #unwind dystology #unwind fanfic #unwind series #sequel fic #hayden upchurch #lev tashi'ne #lev calder #lev garrity #connor lassiter

[star-dust777]

Account intro!!!

hi! I’m Aster(might switch up names a lot), and welcome to my blog<3 although I don’t post about it, i am in fact a punk

I don’t post regularly, but I’ll post about my life, interests, fandoms, etc. I might end up doing some writing/fics eventually, who knows tho

my pronouns are he/him

I’m a pansexual trans man

Autism, BPD

I am a major Starkey fan, please stop hating on him so hard(or at least stop mischaracterizing him, him being reckless and having a god complex(ish) doesn’t mean he’s somehow an Andrew Tate stan)

Main fandoms/interests:

Unwind Dystology

Astronomy

Minor fandoms/interests:

Everyman HYBRID, Marble Hornets, TribeTwelve

Hannibal

/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/

DNI:

-MAPs/pedos, zoophiles, bigots, etc.

-Right wing, centrist, or liberals(I love my leftists, and leftists are not liberals), TERFs, SWERFs, transmeds, etc.

-Proshippers/dead dove

/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/…/

Will update this as needed :3

#unwind #unwind dystology #astronomy #unwind fanart #unwind fanfic #account intro #transgender #queer

[moony2moon]

Unwound

A second part to an Unwind fanfic because I have nothing better to do with my time.

[Part one- Farrell]

Anne

Anne Beauregard has never been good at committing crimes. She's never been good at lying. She's never even been good at hiding mistakes. Her conscience always got in the way of that. But all that had to change when she decided to start sheltering AWOL Unwinds. It was as if it had disappeared whenever she'd tranq a juvie or save a kid.

She looked at the boy she just saved. He was looking around the room, probably wondering why the room looked so... not bad for a rundown shack.

On the outside, the shack looked like a moldy old tools shed, possibly termite infested. But inside, it had fresh drywall, hidden by the old wood outside, soft rugs, and a strong, almost suffocating sent of lavender. That's because Anne had gone a wee bit too ham spraying air freshener to mask the nauseating scent of mold.

Anne saw the tall juvie cop lying unconscious against the wall, tied and gagged by the kids living in the shack.

There are three AWOLs here that Anne rescued; Gian, an innocent 13-year-old tithe who is still trying to achieve his tithing and nearly compromised their location on multiple occasions. Miles, a creative 14-year-old who whittles for fun. He’s actually the one who put the drywall in the shack. And then there’s Melody, a 16-year-old soft-spoken girl who likes to make music. No one knows her real name because she refuses to share it.

As Anne is tying up and gagging the short Juvie, Farrell takes a few steps into the shack from his position at the doorway, leaving the door open as he just stands there in wide-eyed awe. Gian takes this opportunity to bolt, trying to run out the door. Miles quickly jumps into action and grabs him from behind, causing him to let out a squeak as he squirms to get out of his grasp.

Anne notices how Farrell stares at them in shock before slamming the door shut. He seems to have an endless stream of questions running through his head but is too shocked to say any of them out loud. So, for now, he just stares.

#unwind dystology #unwind #unwholly #unsouled #undivided #unbound #unwound #unwind fanfic #part 2

[luckytidbit]

Pro tip! Hide Lev behind your other characters so you don’t have to draw his complicated ass.

#unwind dystology #unwind #unwind fanfic #sequel fic #unwind series #art #character art #lev calder #lev garrity #lev tashi'ne #again Lev is a pain in the ass to draw

[heliads]

everything is blue • conrisa space au • Chapter Seventeen: Returning the Favor

Risa Ward escaped a shuttle destined for her certain, painful death. Connor Lassiter ran away from home before it was too late. Lev Calder was kidnapped. All of them were supposed to be dissected for parts, used to advance a declining galaxy, but as of right now, all of them are whole. Life will not stay the same way forever.

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Connor Lassiter stares at Death. Death stares back at Connor Lassiter.

Dorian Heartland is not an easy man to look at. Connor doesn’t like doing it, but taking his eyes off of this infernal creator for even one moment could offer Heartland a chance to take Connor’s pupils for his own, so he refuses to budge his gaze even one millimeter.

All this does, though, is to give Connor a good look at everything that makes Heartland so horrifically wrong. He can see in the stiffness of Risa’s posture, the flightiness of her breath, that she’s caught on to who this is too, although by this point that would almost be impossible to avoid. Dorian Heartland is like no other man Connor has ever met before, though that might be because Dorian Heartland is no longer made up of any of his original birth parts, nor the secondary parts that replaced him, nor the ones that swapped him out after that. Connor can’t even begin to fathom what iteration of lungs he must have inside someone else’s ribcage– is the fourth generation of blood pumping through his veins, perhaps? The fifth?

Connor wonders what parts Heartland will take from Connor as some sort of grisly hunting trophy. The eyes, maybe. Everyone likes the eyes. Snatching his heart would be a particularly satisfying touch, too. If Connor wasn’t so disgusted by the idea of harvesting someone else’s bits and pieces to keep himself intact, maybe he, too, could see the allure in holding Heartland’s brain in his head, clenching the pink matter between his knuckles and knowing that someone else’s entire life and soul was in his hands.

Well. His and Roland’s. Connor is no better than this grave robber. Even though the switching out of arms was unintentional, Connor still bears the limb and tattoo of another teenager. Does that make him any closer to Heartland? Will it spare him from Heartland’s punishment? No and no, but it does paint a rather more confusing portrait. It would be easier if Connor were totally blameless, of course, but no one in this galaxy ever is. The same chain that breaks our wrists will help us up one day, and then it will kill our best friend and worst enemy in turn. All Connor can do is hope to stay alive, but even now, that seems like one last possibility that’s slipped out of his reach.

Heartland smiles indulgently, taking in the startled looks on their faces. “Now, now. Don’t give yourselves an aneurysm trying to figure out how I tracked you down. I need all of your brain matter to be as functional as possible. You won’t believe the number of potential buyers who have been contacting me in the hopes of getting a piece from the two of you.”

 “I’m trying extra hard now,” Connor says dryly.

Heartland has the nerve to roll his eyes like a petulant teenager. Connor wonders if that motion is uniquely Dorian, or if it’s from an actual AWOL who’s still not past his rebellious teenager phase even if he’s landed in the body of someone like Heartland. Regardless, the sudden movement makes Heartland’s whole face bulge unevenly as different sections of skin resist tension with varying rates of success, old and young parts making themselves known. For a moment, Connor swears he can see every piece of Heartland for what it is, can map every seam and stitch, and then the man’s face returns to neutral again and the effect is undone.

“Don’t be sulky, Connor, it does you no good.” Heartland admonishes him.

Connor folds his arms across his chest. “Oh, so you’re going to lecture me before you rip off my limbs? How charitable of you.”

“I’m not ripping off your limbs, that would be my expert team of surgeons,” Heartland clarifies. “Besides, ripping is entirely too gory of a description. Distribution is a perfectly reasonable procedure. The galaxy has ensured that it’s completely scientific, with as little pain to the distributes as possible. You simply must get your mind out of the gutter. Speak elegantly or don’t speak at all, Connor. I don’t want that tongue to be corrupted more than necessary.”

Beside him, Risa narrows her eyes at the man. “Was that little flower bed over there produced in the name of elegant speech, or did you just want an excuse for other people to talk about unwinding without putting words in your mouth?”

She jerks her chin towards a display somewhere beyond them. Connor thinks he remembers her coming from that direction when she’d run over to tell him that they had been caught. He wishes fleetingly that he had been closer, that he’d never suggested splitting up at all, that they had just put themselves first like every other soul in the galaxy seems wont to do, but the dreams evaporate in time, leaving him only the stark reality of having been caught in the pointless effort of trying to save lives.

Heartland chuckles, evidently remembering what Risa’s talking about. “Oh yes, the flowers. The last band of upstarts had the same reaction. I love it when we’re all on one page.”

Connor frowns, wondering if some other group of runaway unwinds had made it here before them to be the ‘band of upstarts’ Heartland referred to. He hadn’t seen anyone in the airspace above them when he landed, and certainly Connor would have heard if someone sprung Heartland’s trap a few standard hours ago, but then it occurs to him that Heartland isn’t mentioning events earlier that day at all.

No, Heartland is recollecting the last group of kids who tried to act as heroes for the galaxy. Connor hasn’t heard of any in a while, but even without the Collective’s propensity for propaganda whitewashing everything into blank silence, the last batch of would-be saviors would have been around decades ago. Heartland could be referring to infinite rounds of kids who didn’t want to die, all stretching back for centuries.

How many unwinds have stood in this exact spot? How many generations of children have tried to kill off Heartland or his policies but failed? Connor and Risa are far from the first, nor, judging by the fact that they’ve already been caught, will they be the last. This cycle will go on forever, as surely as a thousand suns rise and set across the galaxy, as certainly as the never ending rotation of fresh organs from the body of a child into the frame of an adult. Teenagers will rise out of obscurity, challenge the notion that the young should die for the wastefulness of the old, and then they will be struck down all because one man has cheated them of their last resource:  time.

Of course Dorian Heartland wins every round. He has the luxury of knowing the full story every time. Heartland knows how the rebellions start, so he can crush them in their infancy. He knows how the last stragglers turn into martyrs, so he can lay expert traps and avoid their attempts to save their friends. Starkey’s little attack may have caught him off-guard, and Connor may have been able to run from him once, but now Heartland has had time to consider their strategies and plan accordingly. Dozens of Connors have tried to make a stand, and Heartland has killed them every time. What is Connor now but one more replacement? Heartland is swapping out another one of his parts:  the rebel, the fighter, the loose end in his plans. He’s done it before. He’ll do it again.

Connor feels his stomach roll, low and heavy. He wants to scream and scream until the sickness leaves his body and goes into Heartland, until Dorian Heartland of old-Earth and always having enough remembers what it’s like to crave survival more than anything else.

Instead, he rocks back and forth on his heels twice, trying to force himself to stay under control. He’s got to stall so he has time to plan. Connor can hear slight rustling on the paths surrounding them. The other park visitors are conspicuously not looking their way, leading him to believe that they’ve been planted here to alert Heartland to their eventual presence without tipping off Connor and Risa that anything was wrong. That means everyone here will try to stop them if they run, plus more soldiers are likely on the way. There’s a clear opening somewhere behind Heartland, a path out of the park and into the surrounding streets, but they’d have to get past Heartland first.

In order to give himself an opportunity to conjure up an escape plan, though, Connor needs what he has always lacked:  more time. He stares at Heartland, and asks, “How did you find us, then? Did you put a tracker in my blood while you had me in your hospital?”

Heartland scoffs. “And risk damaging the product like that? Certainly not. I will admit, you had me worried when you threw yourself from the window, but as it turns out, I didn’t have to worry. You wanted yourself intact as much as I did.”

Risa scowls protectively. “Don’t act as if you cared about his survival. You just want his pieces.”

Heartland turns to her with an affronted stare. Immediately, Connor wants to say something stupid so the man will focus on him instead. Nothing good comes of Heartland’s gaze, Connor can say that for certain.

“Oh, and you care so much more? Risa Megan Ward, abandoned to a State Home when you were a child. You value the Akron AWOL more than I do? Not just because his survival ensures that you’ll end up alive?”

Risa meets his gaze coolly. “You’re wrong,” she says simply. “I don’t have to prove a damn thing to you. Connor trusts me and I trust him.”

Her expression is completely certain, but Connor swears he still sees her relax microscopically when he adds on, “You can’t turn us against each other, Heartland. Save your tricks for someone who cares.”

Heartland just shrugs. “You’d be surprised how many battle-scarred partners in survival will abandon each other for the opportunity to live. It’s worked before.”

Not for us, Connor thinks decisively. Like every other AWOL before him, he believes at once that the two of them will be the first to actually make it work.

Dorian Heartland ignores this, unaware or perhaps simply not caring that yet another round of teenagers believes that they can save themselves. He’s seen it often enough that it probably doesn’t even register. “No, Connor, I couldn’t track you. I simply had to lay a trap. I was going to ransom your friends from the Graveyard so you’d come to me, but you beat me to it.”

Connor realizes he’s referring to the massacre at the harvest colony. “That wasn’t us,” he blurts out before registering belatedly that he probably shouldn’t give away more than Heartland expressly tells him.

Heartland, however, doesn’t seem surprised by this. “Oh, I know. My men arrived perhaps a few standard hours after you left. They checked the security holos and saw both the attack and your shocked reaction. I must admit, however, that I already guessed it wasn’t you. You two didn’t seem the type for tasteless bloodshed.”

“As opposed to the tasteful bloodshed of unwinding?” Connor fires back. He can see Risa eyeing the exits as well. She’s always been good at planning; so long as he keeps Heartland talking, he gives her more chances to save them. If there’s one thing Connor can do, though, it’s talk. This is fine. It has to be.

Heartland sighs. “You must let go of this unnatural fear of yours, Connor,” he chides. “You don’t run around screaming at cosmic pilots for transcending humanity by exposing people to the horrors of spaceflight, do you? Even though the risks from accidentally entering a wormhole or dying star are far more gruesome than a clinical distribution.”

Connor stares at him, bewildered. “Those aren’t even remotely the same thing. Get better metaphors.”

“If you insist,” Heartland remarks, looking vexingly unbothered by this, “I’ll tell my surgeons to have my next cranial implant come from a writer or a poet. Will that make you feel better?”

Connor wants to tell Heartland in no uncertain terms that something that would make him feel better would involve Connor’s fist going somewhere very nonclinical indeed, but Risa places a gentle hand on his arm, a quiet reminder to cool it, and he manages to swallow back the anger before it consumes him entirely.

“So,” Connor says, fighting the urge to scream, “The trap. It didn’t work.”

Heartland arches a brow dubiously. “Of course it did. You’re here.”

Connor shakes his head, exasperated yet again by the man’s wording. “No, no. The trap with the Graveyard kids. We’re going chronologically. It failed because everyone in the colony was taken.”

“Did it?” Heartland remarks. “Because I still have all of my distributes back with me.”

Too late, Connor realizes that he’s misread the situation again. “Starkey already came back here,” he whispers quietly. “You got them back.”

“Of course I did,” Heartland says mildly. “He fell for the same lie you did. Funny, no matter the technique– blood or bargaining– both of you dropped all of your good sense the moment you heard there were distributes about to die.”

Risa lets out a slow gasp. “You have everybody?”

Strangely enough, Heartland wavers slightly before he answers. “Yes.”

“No,” Connor guesses. “You don’t. Someone escaped. He’s got a big group, someone could have slipped through the cracks.”

At the bright flash of warning in Heartland’s eyes, Connor knows he’s struck it right. Risa grins. “Starkey got away didn’t he? Little starspawn always puts himself first.”

Heartland’s mood has gone sour, and when he starts to move forward, Connor knows that the time for monologuing is over. “It doesn’t matter. He can’t run far. I have you, I have his supporters. All of you will be in pieces by the end of the week. A few hours in between captures makes no difference to me.”

Connor grabs Risa’s hand, throwing himself forward towards the gap he’d seen earlier. Immediately, a few passersby try to block their passage, but they’re both running now, as fast as they can. Connor knocks into somebody as he hurtles back through the park, but he doesn’t check to see who it was. Anyone who isn’t Risa is an enemy now, and anyone in their path will be trampled on their way to freedom.

Something whistles over Connor’s shoulder and buries itself in a nearby synth-hedge. He recognizes the slim dart as he passes, calling out to Risa in between gasps for air, “They’re shooting tranqs at us! Be careful.”

“Always am,” Risa growls under her breath, pulling him around a tight corner. 

The tall gate marking the entrance of the park is within sight, and Connor puts on an extra burst of speed, willing them to get there. They can lose the guards in the streets if they have to, but right now, with everyone so close behind them, there’s no way they could last forever.

As he thinks this, Connor hears a tranq gun fire somewhere behind them, plus the whistle as the dart flies through the air. A quiet thunk sounds, and since Connor can’t feel any pain, he assumes it’s another miss, right up until the point when Risa stumbles and starts to fall.

Immediately, he starts to panic. Connor catches her before she hits the ground. As he helps her up, his hands brush the dart sticking out of her shoulder. “No,” he mutters urgently. Connor needs Risa to be able to run. It’ll be tricky to carry her unconscious body as he sprints through the city, trying to shake the Juvey-cops, but Connor has made the last year or so banking on similar impossibilities. For Risa, he might as well stop distribution altogether while he’s at it.

Clutching Risa to him, Connor stumbles through the gate. They’ll get out, they have to. Risa’s body slides from his arms the second before he’s past the twin iron bar doors, though. Already over the threshold, he spins around to retrieve her, but the doors of the gate slam shut in his face. Belatedly, he realizes that Risa is the one who pulled herself free, and it is Risa now who is locking the gate between the two of them, making sure that no one else can get out. More specifically, she is ensuring that Connor cannot get her back.

Connor tugs desperately at the metal bars of the gate, but they don’t budge. Risa has grabbed a synth-vine from the ground and is knotting it around the handles, taking extra precautions to avoid them opening.

“No!” He screams, voice raw. “Don’t you do this to me, Risa. Don’t you leave me. You promised.”

Connor feels like a child begging for something he can’t have. You promised. But they had promised, both of them, they’d sworn they’d either make it out of this alive or die together. Yet here Risa is now, locking herself and the Juveys on the other side of a wall from him.

Risa tries to answer, but already, her words are slurring, her movements impeded as the tranq works its way through her system. “You– you can’tttt– get both of us outt,” she tells him. “Save yoursellllfff, Connnnnnor. Like you did for meee.”

Connor yells that he won’t do it, he won’t, but the Juveys are upon her already, dragging Risa’s unconscious body back from the doors. It’s too late to save her, and as a gate farther down the length of the park opens up, spilling out cops onto the street about half a block from Connor, he knows that he can’t waste her sacrifice, either.

So, hating himself with every step he takes away from her, Connor turns and runs down the street, pushing himself faster and faster. Connor swears that half of his life has been running at this point. He wonders if he’ll ever stop. He wonders if he will ever forgive himself for not being the one to sacrifice himself for Risa again. He wants to tell her that he wasn’t worth this, not at the cost of her, but she can’t hear him anymore.

Connor skids down a series of alleyways. There are guards everywhere, it feels like, breathing down his back and drawing closer to him with every step he takes. Connor pulls himself up a rickety fire escape so he can use the roofline to skirt over a high gate. After that, it’s easier to drop into a new set of alleys, to cling to the shadows, to shove a hand over his mouth to muffle the wild gasps for breath as the cops go thundering past. Connor’s good at hiding, but hiding won’t save anyone but himself.

Connor sags back against the grimy wall of the back alley as reality comes crashing in again. Risa is gone. The Deadmen who managed to escape their harvest colony when Starkey saved them have been captured once again. Connor is well and truly on his own. What can one boy do to save all of his friends from dying?

Heartland would tell him nothing. Connor’s brain is telling him nothing too, but his heart whispers a different story. He can’t give up hope, not now. Hundreds of AWOLs are counting on him to break them out. Even if it kills him, Connor can at least try.

He pokes his head out of the shadow, risking a glance into the relatively dim light of the alleyway. He doesn’t hear anything, nor see any crowds of Juvey-cops waiting on him, so he creeps out a little farther, taking careful, treacherous steps down the alley and into the sun again.

Connor emerges onto a quiet scene. He can see streets unfurling somewhere in the distance. In between them, an abandoned court for some sports game that was too expensive to make it over to the OH-10 sector. Connor pads onto the smooth ground. He can’t tell what material it is, just firm enough to make him feel like the ground is solid beneath his feet, but giving just enough that he won’t risk injury.

Is this what it means to live at the heart of Centerworld? Forget the synth-gardens and false flowers; they can create entire worlds for themselves, custom-tailor planets and star systems to fit their plans. No wonder Heartland could get away with rewriting his physical body. There is no limit to innovation here, and no limit to how much they’ll strip away from the outer systems to make that happen.

Connor makes it halfway across the court before someone calls his name.

“Connor. Long time, no see.”

The words make the hairs on the back of Connor’s neck stand up. He hasn’t heard that voice in a while, but he’d recognize it anywhere. Even from somewhere behind him in the creeping metal tunnels of the Graveyard. Even glitchy and broken up from a security holo. Even now, on a planet that belongs to neither of them.

Starkey.

Connor turns around slowly, hands raising from his sides to be ready for whatever trouble is about to come his way. “What do you want?”

Starkey chuckles. His hair has gotten brighter since Connor saw him last; lighter, closer to gold than red, like a fire that’s heightened to an inferno. Connor certainly feels as if he’s a bit of pitch and charcoal, crumbling away to ash. How is it fair that Starkey had time to sit around and re-dye the locks while Connor was hurling from star system to star system in an effort to save the people he holds dear? It’s impossible. This confrontation was not supposed to happen yet. Connor needs to direct all of his focus towards saving Risa. There is no room in his plan for tangling with Starkey.

Starkey, like usual, does not seem like he cares much about what Connor wants. “That’s rude, you know. I thought you’d have kinder words for an old friend.”

“We’re not friends,” Connor spits. “Not since you had your little show on that harvest colony.”

Starkey’s grin broadens, clearly delighted. “You saw that? I was wondering if you would. Do you have any constructive criticism? I mean, you’re the king for taking down Juveys, you did do it first, but I think I did mine with a bit more flavor. You were never willing to commit. You can’t save the unwinds without willing to do whatever it takes.”

“And butchery is whatever it takes?” Connor asks dryly. “Funny, I thought that’s what we were trying to stop in the first place.”

Starkey’s incandescent smile flicks out in a second. Connor still feels like the manic grin was creepier than the dead stare, though. At least now, Connor knows what’s coming. They’re not friends and they never have been. The sooner Starkey put away the adoring fan image, the better.

“Don’t tell me you miss the doctors who would have unwound us,” he hisses. “They wanted us in pieces, Connor. They would have taken your organs in a heartbeat, and they sure as sunfire wouldn’t be crying for you like you are for them. Niceness won’t get you anywhere. They don’t have a moral compass, so why should I?”

“It’s not just the distributors you have to win over, it’s the entire galaxy.” Connor tells him. “Can’t you see that? No one will agree to stop distribution if they’re terrified of us. We have to convince people in every single star system that we deserve saving, but so long as you’re bombing out harvest colonies, that’s not going to happen. You have to play the long game.”

Starkey’s eyes flash, and Connor is briefly reminded of the flare of the exploding engines back on the Graveyard right before the whole place went nuclear. “No, Connor, you’re the one who doesn’t get it. They’ll only respond to shows of force. If we stay quiet, we’re easy to ignore. Look, right now I’ll give you the opportunity to take it back. This is your chance for redemption. You’ve been afraid of getting your hands dirty for too long. I’ve never been scared. There are no shades of gray, just black and white. You’re with them or you’re with me. Pick who you want to be, Connor, but either way, you’re not walking out of here as anything but one of my men.”

Connor’s breath feels harsh in his lungs, grating against his ribcage. He can’t join Starkey, he can’t, but what if this is the only way? “One of your men? I wasn’t aware you had an army.”

Starkey’s lip curls. “We’re better than that. They’d follow me everywhere. See, I watched you, Connor. I watched you for a year in the Graveyard. I saw what you did. Those kids loved you, even though you didn’t deserve it. I couldn’t wrap my head around why they’d willingly devote themselves to someone who clearly wasn’t willing to go all the way, but then it hit me. Everyone loves a hero. So I made myself one.”

The dots are connecting in Connor’s head, but the picture they reveal is far more terrible than he’d ever envisioned. “That’s why you sent that message through Hayden’s radio frequency, isn’t it? It wasn’t an accident, you wanted the Juvey-cops to find us. You wanted a showdown.”

“Of course I did,” Starkey sneers. “I’d been planning it for weeks. No accident there. The second the Juveys were sighted, I directed all of my closest followers plus a few extra kids towards one of the shuttles that was still docked in the Graveyard. We got out before shots were even fired. After that, it was easy to track down the harvest colony. Once I swooped in and saved the day, they loved me more than they’ll ever love you. Best decision I ever made.”

Connor wants to kill him. “Sentencing hundreds of kids to distribution, destroying the Graveyard, killing the Admiral– that was the best decision you ever made? People died in the riots. Dozens have already been unwound. All so you could get some hero worship.”

Starkey just shrugs. “Every battle has its casualties. We’re still alive, aren’t we? I knew you would pull through anyway. I hate to say it, but I was counting on it. I always use you to spring the trap. I slipped up this time, I tried to free the kids first, but next time I’ll let you challenge that weirdo before me so I can get it right.”

“What do you mean, next time?” Connor asks, voice tightening. “Just what are you planning?”

Starkey spreads his arms theatrically. “I’m ending it. No more distribution. It was one thing to take out a harvest colony, but with the amount of explosives I’ve got on my ship, I could take out this whole damn city.”

Connor tenses up. “You’re not just targeting the distributors. You want to kill the civilians, too.”

Starkey chuckles remorselessly. “Of course I do. You think I give a damn about Centerworld? Look around you, Connor. Look how much they have that we don’t. This is what they deserve. It’s what we deserve. We’re going to bomb them to pieces. Maybe then they’ll have a deeper appreciation for what it’s like to be unwound.”

“No,” Connor breaks out. “You can’t. He captured Risa. I have to get her back first.”

Starkey lifts a shoulder. “I don’t care, I’m not stopping for one girl. Now come on. You’re either with me,” he says slowly, drifting closer to Connor again, “or you’re against me. Make your choice.”

Connor shakes his head. “I’m not joining you, Starkey. If you’ve been watching me this long, you know there’s no way I’d do anything to risk Risa. You killed my friends. You’re no better than the rest of them.”

Starkey’s face shuts down. “Actually, I was about to say the same thing about you.”

Connor sees the flash of Starkey’s hand to his belt right before the first shot rings out. Connor only just manages to drop to the ground and catch himself in a tight roll to the side. He hears the bullet whistle over his head and realizes that Starkey isn’t bothering with tranqs. Only one of them will be leaving this place alive, and since Starkey is the one with the gun, it isn’t looking great for Connor.

Another shot goes in the ground just a few inches from Connor’s head. He springs to his feet, racing towards the nearest exit. Already, the sound of gunfire is attracting attention:  a few heads poke out of nearby windows, and Connor can see the distant silhouettes of passersby pointing out the two of them.

“Stop this,” Connor urges. “I’m not your enemy, you idiot. You’re going to get the Juveys on us again.”

“They’ll only find your body,” Starkey challenges, and fires again.

Swearing violently, Connor throws himself around a corner. The bullet hits the wall, sending forth a shower of sparks and loose debris.

“Come out, Connor, come out,” Starkey calls, his tone a mocking sing-song beat.

Obviously Connor is not about to do this, so he drifts further down the side of the wall. Starkey is just on the other side of him, about to fire again and end it for real, and then his eyes widen and his mouth goes slack with shock.

Too late, Connor peers past him and sees that Juvey-cops have broken into the scene. One is lowering a tranq gun. As Starkey slumps over, Connor can see the dart embedded in his back. Quickly, the cops rush over and restrain him, hauling the boy to his feet. Starkey tries to fight back, but the tranq is slowing him down and it’s easy for the Juvey-cops to get him under control.

Starkey locks eyes with Connor as they drag him away. All of a sudden, his jaw unhinges and he starts to scream at the top of his lungs, spittle flying from his mouth with the force of his yells. “Wait, stop! He’s the one you want, not me! Connor Lassiter is right in front of you. You can get the fucking Akron AWOL. Kill him! Kill Connor! He’s your enemy. He’s the one you want.”

Connor’s eyes widen, and he presses himself further into the shadows. Starkey redoubles his efforts to break free, writhing in the arms of the Juvey-cops even as they pull him farther from Connor. “Get Connor!” Starkey screams again. “You don’t even want me. I didn’t do anything to you. It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t my fault. Fuck the Juveys. Fuck Centerworld. I’m just a kid.”

Nausea threatens to black him out, and Connor has to press a hand against his mouth to bring himself under control. Starkey disappears down the street, but the rest of the Juveys don’t follow him out of the court. Instead, a few exchange glances, then start to head Connor’s way, evidently wanting to see what Starkey was talking about just in case.

Sunfire. Not what he wanted. Connor turns to run for what might be the hundredth time today, but he has no idea where to go. He’s out of the alleys now. All that’s left is the street lined with luxurious houses, and anyone watching from their gilded windows could tell the Juveys where Connor went. He starts moving anyway, a brisk walk turning into a jog, but there’s nowhere to hide out here.

So he thinks, at least, until a hand latches onto his and starts to drag him away. Connor’s first instinct is to fight, but then he realizes that this mysterious stranger is leading him farther from the cops, not towards them, and he slackens his grip. He doesn’t recognize the teenager, nor the one who joins them half a block down, nor the one at the door of a house who ushers them all through the door and into the relative safety of the building.

Connor does, however, recognize the blond tween who’s waiting for him inside. It’s been a long time since they crossed paths, but when Connor gapes at the boy in front of him, the name that rises to his lips is still the correct one:

“Lev?”

unwind tag list: @reinekes-fox, @sirofreak, @locke-writes

all tags list: @wordsarelife

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[korokeea]

what I have so far on the splatoon au

Connor will be one of the Agents (any previous agents in splatoon do not exist). I’ll have him be Agent 3–which u guessed it— means he’ll be an Inkling.

Risa will be a fellow Agent although she’ll be an Octoling raised in the Octo army and the schools of the Octolings underground who managed to escape and was found by the Admiral.

The Admiral will be the Captain Cuttlefish of the au and will obviously be an Inkling.

Lev I haven’t decided, I think I’ll either make him a sub species or an Inkling.

Roland will be a fellow Agent BUT I’ll make him a Sharkling (get it??? cuz of the tattoo???)

Roberta will be in charge of Kamabo Co and Cam will be one of the test subjects (thank u @luckytidbit).

SIDE CHARACTERS:

Hayden: Inkling | Argent: Inkling | Nelson: Inkling | Grace: Inkling | Trace: Inkling | Starkey: Octoling | Divan: Octoling or sub species | Una: Octoling or sub species | Sonia: Inkling. |*

*I cannot guarantee I’ll included some of these characters because of I’m not a professional writer and cannot remember to include the characters <3

#still working #rewrote this twice #unwind au #connor lassiter #risa ward #unwind fanfic #unwind dystology #unwind #unwind fic #au

[mybrainisrottingat3am]

Art block Lev HC

I drew these a church.

And sorry for misspellings

And my horrible hand writing

And my weird doodles

#unwind #unwind dystology #lev calder #lev garrity #lev tashi'ne #miracolina roselli #miracolina #unwind fanfic #unwind headcanons

[sirofreak]

I’m a writing a fanfic for the first time so here’s a snippet, would love to hear what y’all think so far!!

Spoilers for Unsouled, Undivided, and a bit of Unbound :P

1; A Radio Broadcast & A Friendship Bracelet

“Hi Hayden, I’m Lisa, big fan and it’s a super huge honor to be calling you!” The caller on the radio says.

Grace Skinner sits by the pool of her mansion fidgeting with an old handmade bracelet. She’s listening to the radio, but not a hundred percent playing attention to it. As always, she’s focused on a plethora of things at once: decorating her house, the puzzle she bought the other day, her friends, and a certain family member she hasn’t in a long while. That is until a certain name peaks and captures her interest completely.

“Anyways I think I might have an idea on where that Argent Skinner guy is,” the radio caller continues, and Grace goes stiff at mere mention of her now long lost brother.

Two years. It’s been two years since Grace has seen her brother Argent. Two years since that fate changing day when Argent locked Connor Lassiter in their old cellar back in Heartsdale, Kanas. And two years since she ran out that cellar behind Connor, leaving her younger brother to fend for himself.

#yup it’s grace and argent again #it’s always these two #critique appreciated!! #:D #unwind dystology #argent skinner #grace skinner #unwind fanfic #unwind spoilers #unsouled spoilers #undivided spoilers

[lazysailor]

39 Avery

Avery wandered down the streets of some town he ended up in. Lately he hasn't left Arkansas at all even though he's been trying hitchhiking around so he could have some more luck finding Kayden. But everyone he has traveled with has just stuck around Arkansas.

He comes across a small local coffee shop, he had some money on him that could probably afford a simple drink, plus he was a bit thirsty. He walked towards the coffee shop and opened the door. He was hit with the smell of coffee being made immediately and there were very few people in the cafe despite it being the middle of the day.

“Hi! How may I help you today sir?” The girl at the front counter asks him.

“Oh uh..I’ll just get a simple coffee.” Avery tells her.

“So what flavor and size?” She asks.

‘Great, I forgot the workers here always want you to be specific.’ He thought.

“Just give me whatever is your normal coffee.”

“Alright! I’ll let you know when it's ready!” The worker says to him.

“Alright, thank you.” He thanks her while giving her a smile.

Avery went towards the back of the coffee shop after he got his coffee. He has been feeling more tired lately, probably due to the lack of sleep he has been getting and the stress he has been feeling. He's been trying to find any clues on where Kayden could be, but he has had no luck finding anything.

“On this afternoon's news we'll cover the raids that have been happening at harvest camps across America.” A man's voice said in the distance.

Avery looked up and saw on one of the TV's in the coffee shop the news was on.

“Over the past couple months we have faced two raids that seem to be caused by a group of feral AWOLs.” 

“The latest raid that happened at Moon Crater harvest camp had numerous injurys and deaths like the one at Cold Springs.”

‘Cold Springs.? That's where I was.’ He thought.

The tv reporter's words started to become gibberish in his mind as he started to realize something.

‘I remember back at Cold Springs before I passed out there was a raid happening and that Kayden ran over to me.’

‘Wait, that would mean Kayden ended up in that AWOL group! I mean how else could she have found me?’

Avery grabbed his coffee and got out of his seat.

‘If I want to find any more clues about Kayden, then I need to learn more about that group.!’

..

Avery approached a local library he happened to pass by earlier, this was one of the only places he could think of that could help him learn more about the AWOL group.

He opened the door to the library and it was perfectly quiet, nobody really goes to librarys anymore so he would basically have the whole place to himself. He looked around to see if their were any kind of computer stations, it was uncommon to find them still but this town seemed to be on the more older side. Luck seemed to be on his side today after wandering around a bit he found an empty computer station.

He sat down on the hard cold chair as he booted up the computer, hoping to find more information around them.

It was around sunset now..He had zero luck finding any other information around the group called the Stork Brigade. All he got was the information he got from the news report back at the coffee shop and just how with each camp the brigade raided more people would join.

He put his head in his hands and looked down at the ground feeling defeated, he groaned in frustration.

‘The only luck I’ll ever have finding her is if I ever see a huge group of kids.’ He thought.

‘But that's almost impossible, I don't even know where the brigade is right now!’

Avery felt himself start to become further stressed than he already was.

‘I could call my dad and see if he can help me.’

‘But what if that group is able to track him down, I don't wanna put him at risk after I just met him.’

He got out of his seat and tried to take deep breaths to call himself down.

‘Maybe I just need a small break..Yeah that would be nice.’ 

..

Avery makes it back to the hotel room he had been squatting in for a bit unnoticed. He took his jacket and shoes off then walked towards the bathroom.

The shower water felt nice against his skin, it was a good way to get rid of his stress. Even with the scar and prosthetic arm, it still felt the same. It had been awhile since he took a nice shower, of course the harvest camp had you shower, but it didn't feel the same back then.

As he showered, he thought back to the past two years.

‘I remember meeting Kayden around November or so, then we went on the run for a while..’

‘..Then when she almost died from hypothermia we met Miles and stayed at him safe house for a bit, then I hung out with Ryder for a while.’

‘After that I saw Kayden again and we made it to the graveyard, that raid there happened but after that everything seemed normal even though we both were still considered AWOLS..’

‘..But what norm got ruined when that other raid happened and I had to go to Cold Springs..with Ryder.’

‘Ryder..’

‘If he was still here we probably could've been dating right now or plan on living together once he also turned seventeen..But that'll never happen since he rejected me..’

‘..Things will get better though eventually and me searching for Kayden will be worth it.’

‘I’ll live with my dad and if he's nice enough, he’ll probably allow Kayden to live with us too.’

Avery turned the shower off and got out of there while he wrapped a towel around his waist.

He went up to the bathroom mirror and wiped the fog covering the mirror, looking at himself. He felt the skin that covered the right side of his face, rough and dry, but maybe one day he could try to find a way to get his old skin and eye back, that isn't from an unwind. 

‘It would be nice if I got that side of my face back..’ he thought.

He looked down at his prosthetic arm, it was modern and sleek along with it being easy to use. He flexed his arm and moved his fingers some, he then put both of his arms side-by-side.

‘..I like my prosthetic and all, but I wouldn't mind if I got an actual arm like mine soon.’

He put his arms down and grabbed a nearby robe to cover himself in, he didn't want to walk around in a towel all night.

Avery turned off the bathroom light and walked out of the bathroom. He then laid down on the hotel bed, it was a bit stiff but it was still able to be comfy.

‘Tomorrow will be another chance for me to find Kayden, or at least learn where she could be.’

‘I just hope I find her soon..’

He closed his eyes and started drifting off into Dreamland, he didn't know how long it would take for him to find Kayden.

But he knew it would be worth it in the end..

#unwind fanfic #unwind #unwind dystology