#conrisa

[bopeisdope]

I posted an Unwind AU fic! It's from a Ghost!Roland au I made up. Read on Ao3 here

Connor wakes up in a haze, unsure of where he is. His whole body has a dull ache and there is pressure over his right eye. A bandage. The smell of bleach penetrates his nose. A soft and constant beep comes from his left.

He peels his left eye open to reveal a hospital room. His right shoulder aches as he moves his hand over the bed. The sheets are soft and feel as cottony as his brain does at the moment. Blinking the cobwebs from his mind he recalls what he can remember last.

The chop shop. The doors closing on him for what felt like the last time. An explosion. A revolt. And Lev, standing over him. That's all he can remember.

A nurse walks in carrying a chart, "So you're finally awake! How are you feeling?"

"Good," he croaks, then tries again. "How long?"

She glances down, "You've been in a medically induced coma for a little over two weeks."

Two weeks? The way his life has been going over the past year, where everyday feels like an uphill battle, two weeks seems like an eternity.

His mind is slowly catching up to him.

Risa... what about Risa?

He's too tired to mask his desperation. "There was a girl," he says, "She was on the roof of the Chop- the harvest clinic. Does anyone know what happened to her?

"That can all be sorted out later," the nurse dotes.

"But-"

"No buts. Right now you need time to heal-and I have to say, you're doing better than anyone expected, Mr. Mullard."

Connor's brain stutters, he must've misheard. "Excuse me?"

The nurse shuffles things around, "Just relax now, Mr. Mullard. Let us handle everything."

His first thought is that he's actually been unwound. He was unwound and his brain was put in another body. But realistically he knows that's not right. The voice he hears is his. He can feel his teeth as he moves his tongue across his gums. He can feel his unkempt hair on his head.

"My name is Connor," he tells her. "Connor Lassiter."

The nurse gives him a mysterious look. One filled with kindness and a deep sense of knowing. It's calculating- disturbingly so. "Well," she says, "as it so happens, an ID with the picture charred off was found in the wreckage. It belonged to a nineteen-year-old guard by the name of Elvis Robert Mullard. With all the confusion after the blast there really was no telling who was who, and many of us agreed that it would be a shame to let that ID go to waste, don't you agree?" She changes the angle of Connor's bed until he's in a more comfortable sitting position and looks into his eye. "Now tell me," she asks carefully, "What was your name again?"

Connor gets it. He closes his eye, takes a deep breath, and opens it again.

"My name is E. Robert Mullard."

The nurse smiles widely and reaches out her hand to shake his. "A pleasure to meet you, Robert."

Instinctively Connor reaches his right hand to reciprocate and gets that same ache in his shoulder.

"Sorry," she says quickly. "My fault." She shakes his left hand instead. "Your shoulder will feel a bit sore until the graft is completely healed."

"What did you just say?"

The nurse looks like she's been caught saying something she shouldn't. "Well, the bad news is that we weren't able to save your arm, or your right eye. The good news is that, as E. Robert Mullard, you qualified for emergency transplants."

Connor rotates this in his mind, letting it sink in. Eye. Arm. Emergency transplants.

She sighs, "I know it's a lot to get used to. I'll let you be alone while I get your lunch." She heads for the door.

"Yeah," Connor replies absently, having focused all of his attention to the arm. "Lunch. That's good."

The arm has a slightly darker complexion than his skin tone and the nails need to be trimmed. It is more muscular than his left; he recalls reading about physical therapy for this type of thing. He touches all of the fingers to his thumb. His sense of feeling is the same. He flexes the fingers. They flex. He twists his wrist. It twists. When he rotates it a bit farther he sees something that makes him stop. His stomach plummets and he feels a surging wave of panic. He doesn't want to believe it. Connor refuses to even acknowledge it. On his arm is the unmistakable tattoo of a tiger shark.

Still reeling from shock, Connor hears a voice he thought he would never hear again. A voice that, given the arm surgically grafted onto Connor, couldn’t possibly be here at all.

"So," the figure sneers, "the Akron AWOL goes into the Chop Shop and lives to tell the tale.”

Roland is leaning against the wall, looking hatefully down on Connor. But once what used to be a whole boy is now a nightmarish apparition covered in stitches. He could almost be real if it weren’t for the gaping hole where his arm used to be. While there is no blood, the wound seems to emit an inky blackness that Connor cannot tear his eye away from.

“H-how…”

“You did this to me, Connor.” Roland’s glare shoots daggers as he moves closer. Suddenly, Connor is acutely aware of his vulnerability, his logical mind is telling him this ghost can’t hurt him, but his heart doesn’t get the message. The monitor to his left starts screaming.

His mouth opens and closes like a fish, “No! You- you should be dead!”

Roland stops at the side of his bed, remaining hand toying with the cord of Connor’s IV. “Don’t you remember Connor?” A malicious grin spreads across his face, “Unwinding isn’t death.”

Paralyzed Connor watches as Roland silently reaches for his arm. “Weren’t you ever taught to share?”

A nurse rushes into Connor’s room, finally coming to investigate the shrill noise coming from the machine beside him. “Your heart rate is through the roof! Are you all right Mr. Mullard?”

Connor turns to where Roland had been mere seconds ago to find him gone. What just happened? Was that… real?

“Oh, I see you took your IV out! You really have to be more careful next time.” His heart rate slows but his mind fires at full speed. When did he take his IV out?

The nurse pats his hand satisfied that he’s all fixed again and goes to leave. “Wait,” he has to make sure he’s not going crazy, “has anyone been in my room since you left?”

Her smile never falters, “No, hun, just me. If you want to see any of your friends you’ll have to wait till after lunch.”

“What drugs did they give me? Would any, um, cause hallucinations?” Her picture-perfect smile wavers, probably rethinking her decision to save some kid who turned out to be a nutcase. “It could be a side-effect from your coma. The brain often tries to fill in gaps or create its own explanations when recovering from a trauma like this. It should wear off after a good sleep.”

Connor is doubtful more sleep could do him any good. He just slept for two weeks straight after all, but he doesn’t want to be here any longer than he needs to be by convincing people he’s insane. He returns a smile to the nurse, “You’re right Doc, thank you.”

—--------

After a hearty lunch of jello and chicken soup, Connor is finally allowed to leave his room to see Risa.

The nurse leads him to her room, most likely glad to be rid of him for a few minutes, and he lingers in the doorway. Risa is in a bed that reminds him more of a dentist’s chair. There are pins and rods supporting her up that Connor recognizes as signs of paralysis, something he’s only read about in textbooks heralding unwinding as the solution to all of your problems. His gut swirls with guilt. Risa didn’t accept unwind parts and she’s much worse off than what he would have been if he hadn’t either. How will he face her like this?

“You have a visitor.” The nurse steps aside and he can see Risa’s face. Her eyes fill with tears and she holds back a sob. “I knew they were lying,” she says. “They said you died in the explosion–that you were trapped in the building–but I saw you outside, I knew they were lying.”

“I probably would have died,” Connor says, “but Lev stopped the bleeding. He saved me.”

They talk of the victory at Happy Jack and the losses taken to get there. He tells her of his coma and new identity. In his happiness of seeing Risa he almost forgets his arm and the demon that came with it until he spots Risa looking at it. He flinches and the bandage shifts, revealing the tattoo. Her breath catches in her throat and Connor turns his head. She’s going to hate me. I mean, how could she not? This arm will always carry him with it.

“Connor…?”

“I promise,” he breathes, “I promise I will never touch you with this hand.”

Risa looks at Connor and he looks back, a broken soul. Connor takes her in, for this might be the last time she will ever want to see him.

“Let me see it,” she says, giving nothing away.

He hesitates, so Risa gently takes it from the sling. “Does it hurt?”

“A little.”

She brushes her fingers across the knuckles of that hand, and her voice is quiet, “Can you feel that?”

He nods. He watches her lift the hand to her face, the palm against her cheek, and she holds it there. When she lets go he decides. He decides what this hand will do. He decides its pressure, its direction, and its intent. And he tells himself he always will have that choice, not his parents, not Proactive Citizenry, and certainly not Roland. His hand brushes a tear from her face, moving down her cheek, across her lips. He takes his hand away and Risa opens her eyes and tightly clasps the hand in hers. “I know this is your hand now.” When she speaks, there is not a single thread of doubt, “Roland would never have touched me like that.”

She pulls him into a hug and he closes his eyes, sinking into her embrace. This moment is for them, after two eternal weeks of not knowing, after surviving the Chop Shop, after escaping the PC’s grasp, they can finally be teens again. There is still much more to do, but at least they will have each other to rely on.

However, a twitch in his arm shatters the peace, and he opens his eyes. Roland peers back at him from the doorway, watching them silently.Doctors and nurses shuffle about, unconcerned about the boy standing in the doorway, for this is not their fight. Connor realizes he’s the only one who can see him, because whether he likes it or not, they are now connected. He suddenly remembers what Roland said before he disappeared as he feels another uninvited twitch in his arm—Weren’t you ever taught to share?

A/n: I hope you guys enjoyed it! Feedback is always appreciated. Also I have a LOT of thoughts about this AU so let me know if you want me to spill lol

[lei-lei-artz]

STAR LIGHT- Unwind Animation/PV

[leafydinosaur]

"i love you, risa," he says. "every last part of me."

-connor, undivided.

[heliads]

Can I request an unwind fic where Connor is the one who gets taken from the Graveyard by Roberta (for propaganda reasons not because Cam likes him) and Rise goes and saves him? I feel like we need more powerful Risa fics! She is badass!

'made it back to you' - connor lassiter x risa ward

masterlist

They had thought it would be smart to take Connor.

That’s what he’s been able to gather, at least. The Proactive Citizenry was willing to incur the risk of abducting one (1) unwind for Propaganda Purposes, and they figured they might as well shoot for the moon and chose Connor Lassiter, Akron AWOL, resident voicebox of a surprisingly large percentage of the unwind community. On paper, it was a brilliant idea.

Connor, however, is not quite the boy people think he is. He doesn’t really like cooperating, especially not with people who’ve kidnapped him from the only home that was willing to accept him as an enemy of the unwinding state. Really, the PC should have figured that out from day one.

Instead, they’re continually learning that lesson with each hour that passes. They gave him a nice room with lovely locked doors and impeccably sealed windows. He’s kept in relative comfort, albeit far beyond the reach of anyone and everyone who could possibly help him. And, to make matters worse, they’re insisting that Connor will film propaganda videos insisting that unwinding is done for the right reasons.

Bullshit. Obviously, he’s not going to do this. The first time Roberta Griswold appeared in Connor’s lux jail cell and asked him to recite a few lines for media purposes, he laughed in her face and told her there wasn’t a chance in hell that he’d actually do it. Roberta had the nerve to act surprised, like she genuinely couldn’t fathom why Connor wouldn’t be in favor of stripping teenagers for parts.

She’d tried to reason with him a little, but sorry, no amount of carefully prepared logical fallacies will make up for the fact that unwinding is a terrible thing to do. Connor’s not falling for it. He’s already had plenty of time to debate everything under the sun about unwinding with Hayden and Lev at various times in his life, so Connor is actually quite well prepared for Roberta’s line of reasoning. Who knew that kidnapping a tithe would come in handy?

Roberta was persistent, though. Day after day, she kept coming in, waving that stupid little form he’s supposed to sign to agree to the PC’s demands. Connor had tried to be civil, knowing that any slip up would of course be televised to show how crazy and violent unwinds can be, but after a week he got sick of it and launched a pillow at her head.

He’d been on lockdown after that. No visits, not even doctors, not even Roberta. Clearly, they’re trying to shame him for the loss of control, but honestly, it had felt really good to watch the mass of fabric and feathers collide dully with Roberta’s bleached-blonde skull. When Connor dreams of paradise, it involves soft projectiles thrown at hard-headed sadists.

Connor hadn’t anticipated the Punishment, though. He’d expected consequences ranging anywhere from nameless threats to medieval-type shit like iron maidens (not the band) or thumb screws. Connor doesn’t even know what the hell a thumb screw is. It sounds painful, though, and involves body parts, so honestly it seems pretty well up the Proactive Citizenry’s alley.

Instead of getting beaten around, however, they did him one worse:  they sent in the freak. Camus Comprix. Christ. Connor’s seen the guy around, he lurks in hallways like he’s not ever sure of where to go or what to go. His posture vaguely reminds Connor of kids getting their portraits taken during school picture days. Like Cam has been forced into a starched-stiff shirt and told to straighten up a little, put his shoulders back– no, a little more, a little more, now tilt your head to the side slightly– and he’s spending all of his waking hours waiting around for the camera to click. 

It’s weird as hell, is what it is, and now Connor has to deal with it. Honestly, he’s not sure if Cam’s sudden presence in Connor’s quarters is meant to be difficult for Connor or Cam, or maybe both. Killing two birds in one stone, you get to shame both your lab-grown boy and the unpleasant one you kidnapped in one go. If Connor ever gets out of here and takes up a position with the FBI, he’d suggest this as a certified interrogation method. Simply take your uncooperative prisoner and lock them in a room with a rewind who thinks he’s witty. You’ll have your answers in no time.

They both hate each other’s guts, that much is certain. Apparently, Cam had been angling to get Risa in here instead, suggesting that she’d be far easier to work with than Connor. He’s got to assume that the PC is wishing they’d followed Cam’s guidance instead. As it turns out, Connor also wants Risa. That’s one thing they’ve got in common, at least.

It’ll be the only thing. Cam visits Connor in scheduled one-hour visits, such as right now. The lock on Connor’s door clicks open, revealing the sullen myriad of expressions on Camus Comprix’s many segments of face.

“Why, Cam,” Connor says flatly. “It’s such an honor to be in your presence. I didn’t expect the pleasure of your company today.”

Cam fixes him with a stormy glare. “Ridiculous. Hogwash. Balderdash.”

Connor can’t help a pleased smirk. “What, you don’t think that your company is a pleasure? You should really work on positive self talk, Comprix. Surely one of the voices in your head has an ego.”

Cam looks like he wants to spit on Connor’s shoes. “I am the only one in my head, and I think that you’re insufferable. Also, that you knew I was coming. I arrive here every day. It’s a routine. Typical. Humdrum.”

“Sarcasm, my friend,” Connor smiles. “They can’t plug that into you in a lab, I guess.”

Cam’s face sours even more than usual. “You can try to convince yourself that you’re nothing like me, but it won’t work. We are the same.”

Connor should know better, but he falls for the taunt anyway. “We’re nothing alike. You’re a lab rat, I’m a real boy.”

Cam arches a brow. “Completely? I can't help but notice that one of your arms doesn’t match the other.”

Instinctively, Connor thrusts his right arm behind his back and out of view. He doesn’t have to look to remember the shark tattoo swimming ominously across the forearm that doesn’t belong to him. Connor didn’t ask for an unwind’s arm after his own was lost in the explosion of the Happy Jack Chop Shop, and he especially didn’t ask for the replacement to come from Roland, one of his all-time rivals. However, he fears that Cam might have plenty of good responses to Connor declaring that he didn’t ask for unwind parts.

Instead, he just glares at the rewind. “That’s only one part of me that I hate. You’re full of pieces that aren’t yours.”

Cam just shrugs, taking a seat on one of Connor’s chairs. Connor feels as if the tide of the argument has switched over from Connor’s side to Cam’s, but he doesn’t know how to get it back. “Say what you want to make yourself feel better,” Cam tells him, “We all know the truth. Who knows, maybe the doctors put a bit more realism in me than you.”

“Shut up,” Connor hisses. “Or I’ll hit you like I did Roberta.”

Cam perks up even despite the threat. “You hit Roberta?”

“With a pillow,” Connor amends. “Maybe I’ll hit you with a brick.”

So much for fighting the ‘violent AWOL’ accusations. Connor’s already reverting back to old-school threats and intimidation tactics. However, seeing as he’s essentially a prisoner, even in a far nicer cell than a juvenile detention facility, Connor feels that it’s his hard-earned right to mouth off a little.

Cam just rolls his eyes. “Then they might actually kill you off. Goodness knows they want to.”

Connor grins, proud of himself. “Excellent to know that I haven’t lost my natural sense of charm yet. It’s not a hostage situation unless my captors get sick of me within a few weeks.”

Cam frowns. “I’m not sure that’s something you should enjoy.”

“And what,” Connor drawls, “This is? Collaborating with the enemy? No thanks.”

Cam looks as if he’d quite like to debate the intricacies of just what ‘the enemy’ could be, but they’re interrupted by the door of Connor’s cell being flung open. In walks Roberta, looking slightly more frazzled than Connor is used to seeing her. Strands of her blonde hair are starting to escape from their usual tight knot, and she’s not even bothering to hide her derisive stare with a pleasant grin, which indicates to Connor that he’s probably outstayed his welcome. Not, of course, that he was ever really welcome at all, but this isn’t a good sign.

Connor refuses to handle this appropriately, opting instead to goad Roberta even further. “But, Doc, I’m supposed to have at least half an hour more with my best buddy over here. You can’t split us up, I can hardly bear the separation.”

This earns him matching glares from both Cam and Roberta. Connor can’t help but wonder if the doctors in charge of rewinding programmed that particular expression into Cam, too, having so much experience receiving it from Roberta.

“Enough,” Roberta says, her voice clipped. “This is a waste. We had hoped you would cooperate on your own, but if you won’t, we’ll turn to other measures. Just remember that we didn’t want to do this. You forced our hand.”

Connor leans back a little. “Wait, what are you talking about?” Maybe he wasn’t wrong to include medieval torture among the housewarming gifts offered up by the PC.

Roberta says nothing, just steps away from the door. Three guards come in, all in military fatigues, and drag Connor to his feet. He’s forced out of the room and down the surrounding corridors. Just before he clears the threshold of his room, he can hear Cam’s voice raised slightly, asking Roberta what’s going on. Roberta, in turn, seems much kinder when speaking to Cam, her voice lilting and gentle like she’s lecturing a pet rabbit or dog. Must be nice to be someone’s pet project. The forced responsibility of someone having to take care of you is more than Connor’s had in a while.

Connor is rudely accompanied to a room down a few halls. He recognizes this place, more so the dozen or so cameras and lights that have been set up facing a chair in the center of the room. Connor is shoved down into this seat, with one guard on each side and behind him, keeping him in place.

Roberta shows up moments later, closing the door with an audible shove. “No more games,” she says directly. “We know where the Graveyard is. We have planes with advanced military capabilities. We will bomb that place to a ruin unless you film the interviews we want.”

Connor rears back. “What the hell?”

Roberta, seemingly anticipating this response, holds up a laptop screen in front of him. On it, Connor watches, horrified, as surveillance footage plays of the Graveyard. It’s shot from a shaky, hazy camera, maybe a drone or something. Connor’s first, desperate hope is that it’s old footage, or staged, but then he sees Risa’s wheelchair roll underneath the shade of a parked plane to talk to someone. Hayden, maybe. Or any number of their friends. Her hair is slightly longer than the last time he’s seen her. Yes, this is recent. Recent enough for this threat to have value.

“You can’t do this,” Connor says stupidly. Of course she can. They’re the fucking PC, and they can do anything from tearing teenagers to ribbons to bombing supposedly abandoned airplane hangars. This is all within her control.

“We didn’t want to,” Roberta says snippily. “It will be a waste of resources and a PR nightmare. However, we need your testimony more. Cooperate and they live. It’s as simple as that.”

This, of course, is a lie. Nothing about this is simple. If Connor does what she asks, he’ll be selling out all his friends. They have no idea that they’re being watched, nor that their lives are on the line. All they’ll know is that the supposedly great Akron AWOL turned them all in for a good night’s sleep and some new clothes. They’ll hate him forever, and they’ll never know that he was just doing it to save them.

“You’ll bomb them anyway, no matter what I do,” Connor forces out. “Even if I film the videos. You’d never let a loose end like that sit. They’ll die anyway, and so will I.”

“They won’t,” Roberta pledges. “We’re the sane ones, Connor. We keep our word. If you sign the contract, we won’t touch them. You can even go back to the Graveyard if you want, although I have a feeling that you won’t get as warm a welcome as you might like. All you have to do is talk.”

“I’ll be lying. Everyone will know it.” Connor says. It’s the last defense he has. All of his arguments are slipping away in the face of this vast and indescribable horror. They’d probably show him the bombing, too, make him watch live as all of his friends are consumed by the explosions. Risa. He’d watch Risa die. Connor hates himself more than anything for even thinking about agreeing to do this, but losing everyone just like that would cut a deeper wound than he’s ever experienced.

Roberta just smiles, kind and sincere. This is probably the look she gives Cam when he argues with her about having to spend time with Connor. “No, they won’t. You’ll make sure they believe it.”

Wordlessly, she offers Connor a pen and the contract. The guards let go of Connor’s arms. They don’t even have to be in the room anymore. Nothing matters, because Connor can’t do a single damn thing so long as they’ve got the Graveyard. Hell, they don’t even have to lock the doors. Connor will jail himself until the day he dies, just to keep them alive.

He signs. Roberta smiles. “See, that wasn’t too tricky, was it? All you have to do is find a way to see eye to eye.”

He meets her gaze hatefully. Connor had thought that he couldn’t hate anyone more than Roland, more than the Juvey-cops who tried to bring him in, but this raw madness in the back of his throat is far, far worse. He wants to rip her to pieces. He wants to– he wants to unwind her.

Connor appears on the news that night. He is smiling and dressed in a new suit. It fits him perfectly. The news reporter asks him about being the Akron AWOL, and if he has any advice for teenagers grappling with the possibility of being unwound. Connor looks directly into the camera and tells these unknown kids to just go along with it. Everything happens for a reason, he says. Unwinding is better than you think. I wish I could be unwound right now.

Only the last part is true.

Roberta chides him about that afterwards. No need to go overboard, she says. Still, she’s pleased, and why shouldn’t she be? The nation’s hottest topic, the most dangerous unwind, is in her pocket. At last, she’s found the way to pull Connor’s strings to perfection. As it turns out, the only thing she had to do was threaten to bomb a couple hundred children. Easy for someone without a heart.

Connor makes more videos. He despises himself more thoroughly than he ever has before. He wonders if Risa is out there somewhere, watching them all, wondering what became of him. He wonders if she hates him too now, if every single kid sees his broadcasts and curses his name. Connor understands at last why the PC wanted him. If you lose faith in your hero, you lose faith in the cause. Connor is nobody’s hero, not anymore. He is a traitor and a coward, and worst of all, he still thinks that the Graveyard will be bombed when the PC tires of him and puts him to rest.

The agony builds in his stomach as the weeks go by. Roberta has been briefing him ceaselessly in preparation for an upcoming news report. It’s quite likely the biggest deal of all of the videos so far, on one of the most popular news sources. It will be live, so Connor cannot afford a single slipup. She’s already reminded him several times of the consequences should Connor disobey. He knows.

He knows.

Connor arrives at the news show headquarters an hour in advance. He shakes the hands of several important journalists and celebrities, and they all nod their heads and say wow, he’s so well behaved for someone who once was a criminal. Connor wants to ask what his crime was, other than living, but Roberta is staring daggers into his back so Connor knows not to screw up before his big performance. He’s pretty used to ignoring hateful glares by now, anyway. Now that Connor’s the new big thing, Cam has somewhat faded out of the limelight. They still see each other, but the mandatory visits aren’t really enforced anymore. Instead, Connor gets to sit with his thoughts, which is both better and far, far worse.

The interview begins. When Connor walks onto the stage, he gets a round of applause that lasts two full minutes. He wants to scream at the audience to shut up– nothing he’s doing here is worth that sort of appreciation. News flash:  selling your soul isn’t supposed to be a good thing.

He doesn’t say this. He follows the script. The interview takes twenty minutes, and at the end, the host flashes him a smile of perfectly straight, white teeth and asks if he’s got anything else to add. Connor stares at the jaws, wonders if they belonged to someone else first, and says, “Yes, I do.”

Connor looks directly at the camera. “When I first found out I was going to be unwound, I was terrified. I thought it was the end for me. I even ran away.”

He pauses a bit, to let the audience react appropriately. Ripples of shaking heads and disappointed glance rock through the crowds. Once they settle down, Connor continues. “I met up with bigger crowds of AWOLs who all thought the same thing. We were trying to escape our natural fates, and if I could say one thing to them right now, I would tell them–”

His voice cuts off. Connor feels like he’s choking up, only no tears are coming out. Instead, he feels more composed than he has in months. “I would tell them that they were right,” he declares. “They were right to want to live. We’re just kids, and we don’t deserve to die because our parents don’t like us. All unwinds deserve to live. I hope they keep running and they never get caught, even if I was.”

Roberta is standing up, marching towards him through the shocked and upset crowd. Her eyes spell danger, but Connor keeps on going recklessly. “They’re going to bomb the Graveyard, Risa. They’re going to kill you all. You have to get everyone to safety. I’ve been trying to buy you time, but it’s no use. They know where you are. Get everyone out. Fight unwinding until you die. All of us are free.”

Hands clamp down on Connor’s shoulders. He fights his way out of the grip at once, but more guards are appearing from the wings, muscling him away. Still, Connor shouts at the camera, telling everyone he can to run and never look back. It takes several minutes to get him away, and he hopes to everything holy that it was enough time to evacuate the Graveyard.

He’s locked into a dressing room backstage. Roberta bursts in moments later. She looks completely furious. “You stupid boy. You stupid, stupid boy. Do you know what you’ve done?”

“Exactly what I wanted to,” Connor grins. “I took a stand.”

“No, you’ve killed your friends,” Roberta hisses. She whips out her phone and calls somebody, looking Connor directly in the eyes while she tells them to carry out the strike.

Roberta hangs up victoriously, but Connor refuses to be cowed. “I hope you’re happy,” Roberta tells him. “They’re all dead because of you.”

“It’s not just about the Graveyard,” he says. “That’s been under threat for years. We were always going to die. But unwinds across the country will know that they still have hope, and that’s worth it to me. Try explaining that to your investors.”

Roberta’s face turns a mottled purple. “Clearly, we have no more use for you. You may not be able to be unwound, but that doesn’t mean you get to leave. I’ll have you in a cell until you rot.”

Connor’s past the point of caring about himself, though. “I’ll look forward to getting a break from your sermons, then.”

She might kill him here and now, honestly. It takes all of Roberta’s self-control to direct the guards to take Connor away and back to the PC facility. He’s shoved into his room, the door locked behind him. This might be the end of it for him, but Connor’s conscience feels lighter than it has in a very long time. If he dies here, at least it’ll be knowing that his friends believe in him again. Hopefully.

It occurs to Connor, a few hours into his new exile in the old room, that maybe he hadn’t given Risa and the others enough to get clear of the Graveyard after all. He’d known that he would have to tell them eventually, and a broadcast as popular as this was his best shot, but the Graveyard is big and unwinds are obstinate. Maybe there were still some kids inside when the bombing was ordered. Maybe he hadn’t done enough. Maybe Risa had died anyway.

The thought tears up Connor. He feels as if he’s swallowed acid or something, like his organs are physically ripping to pieces underneath his skin, worn away like time and rain against the Grand Canyon. Connor is a thousand empty hollows, and they can only be filled by the simple knowledge that the people he cares about are okay.

Time passes. It could be hours or days, Connor can’t really tell. The grief and guilt takes him out of reality. Connor swears he can hear sounds down the hall, but it could be anything from an overly loud air conditioning unit to the guards getting bored of only watching plain walls. Connor hasn’t really tried to escape. There’s nowhere for him to go.

Outside, the sounds get louder. Connor frowns, pushing himself up to stand. It almost sounds like people are arguing, plus a few distant thuds. Okay, not the AC. Maybe Roberta’s throwing a fit and finally started tossing around a few punches? Not likely, but what else could it be?

Connor slowly walks over to the door, pressing his ear against the smooth wood. It really does sound like the noises are getting closer, almost right outside– He backs up immediately, practically tripping over himself in an effort to get away. It’s good timing on his end too, because he’s hardly cleared the area before his door caves in. Connor chokes on the dust and smoke from the outside hall. Raising an arm to shield his eyes from the debris, he glances through the hole in what had once been his secure door and sees–

Risa.

Connor feels his breath catch in his chest, and not just because of the chaos with the door. “Risa?” He asks slowly.

She smiles at him. “Surprise.”

Connor takes a few tremulous steps forward, his shoes crunching on splinters of wood beneath him. She’s still in her wheelchair, but holding a large gun that she must have used to knock down the door. “Don’t point that thing at me,” he jokes, but his voice goes weak with relief and he doesn’t sound half as cool as he means to.

He’ll have to save the coolness factor for Risa. Further down the hall, Connor catches glimpses of other unwinds chasing off the guards. “You broke me out?” He asks, unable to believe his eyes.

“Of course we did,” Risa says. “What, did you think we’d just leave you there after you went to all that trouble to warn us about the attack? Not a chance.”

The attack. The sheer shock of seeing Risa had thrown that from his mind, but the memories came back full force. He reaches out desperately to take her free hand, begging her to understand him. “Risa. I didn’t want to say all those things, but they made me. Told me they’d blow you all to pieces if I didn’t support unwinding. I didn’t want to, not at all, but they said they’d kill you. You have to know that it wasn’t my choice.”

Risa just smiles. “I know, Connor. You looked so uncomfortable during all the broadcasts that we suspected something was up. Plus, the last one made it pretty clear that you didn’t believe all that bullshit.”

At last, Connor feels capable of cracking a smile. “Bullshit, huh? And here I thought I was doing a great acting job.”

Risa snorts. “Well, there might not be any Oscars in your future, but that doesn’t mean you’ll live out the rest of your days with only the PC as your company. What do you say we get out of here?”

“I’d like that a lot,” Connor says, voice thick with relief. Then, glancing at Risa– “Do you want me to take the gun? To make it easier to travel?”

Risa gives him a disbelieving glance. “Don’t be ridiculous. The gun stays with me.”

Connor raises his hands in mock surrender. “That is absolutely fine by me.”

“Good,” Risa grins, and they head back out of the twisting corridors. The other unwinds fall in line as they go, hurrying out of the complex.

As they escape out into the bright sunshine, Connor has to ask, “How did you know where to get me? And which room was mine?”

“Funny story,” Risa remarks offhandedly, “As we were breaking in, we met some strange guy named Camus Comprix. He told us where to go.”

“Cam helped you?” Connor asks, flabbergasted.

“Well, he had to be encouraged through threats of violence,” Risa admits, “but honestly, I think he was glad to be rid of you. That’s what he told me, at least. Also, he wanted to keep his kneecaps.”

Connor laughs. “Both of those are great reasons.”

There’s a helicopter waiting for them; Risa and Connor get inside, plus the unwinds who’d come with them. Connor vaguely recognizes the pilot from the Graveyard.

“So,” Connor asks, still unsettled by the realization that he might finally be free, “Where are we going, if not the Graveyard?”

“We’ve got a new place in order,” Risa says. “Don’t worry.”

An unwind by Connor’s shoulder breaks out into barking laughter. “Yeah, she’s whipped us all into shape. Got us out of the Graveyard before the place went nuclear, plus set up the new location. Most organized person I’ve ever met in my entire life.”

“That sounds about right,” Connor says, letting out a low whistle. Risa smiles at him when he says it, and Connor can’t help but smile back. He’s out of the clutches of the Proactive Citizenry. His friends are alright. Most importantly, he’s back with Risa. For the first time in a while, it occurs to Connor that he might be on the up and up again. He likes the feeling.

requested by @bopeisdope, i hope you enjoy!!

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

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[irl]

out of context memes from my past

[canonically47]

also i HATE when fandoms make up ships just for the sake of making them up. the biggest example i know is reed900, those guys never interacted and barely had ten minutes of screentime combined (and that's being generous), why do we have one fan-created full-length movie and multiple fanmade spin-offs based on them?

or in the TADC fandom, everyone immediately started saying "pomni and ragatha are in love" or "jax and gangle/jax and zooble enemies to lovers" or "caine x kinger >>>" or literally ANY PAIRING YOU CAN THINK OF. just for the sake of shipping. (for the record, i ship royalteeth; these are just examples)

now, am i saying i am against shipping culture altogether? absolutely not. i love shipping my silly fictional couples, often they are a source of comfort for me. but you cannot deny that some ships are made just for the sake of having characters in relationships - as if they wouldn't be good or even better off without one! who the hell came up with pomni x jax? they don't even have chemistry, are you just shipping them because main girl + main boy = love? is that really a good base for your ship?

this may just be because the concept of romance is beyond me as an aromantic person, but i swear, i am so tired of some of these ships. i do love a good crackship (lord knows what i've done with yansim, you would call me a hypocrite if you saw my fics) and main boy x main girl can always be done correctly (mostly if it's canon though, and not just for the sake of having the two main people in a straight ship) - conrisa (connor x risa from the unwind dystology) for example is an amazing protag x protag ship, but where conrisa excels, miracolev (miracolina x lev from the same books) falls flat for me;

but sometimes i do feel like shipping is done just for the sake of having a character in a romantic relationship, and not because the ship makes sense, has chemistry or interest in one another - just because romance is the way to go, i guess. another example is hank x connor from D:BH, my god, where the fuck did that one come from? it ruins the aspect of both characters as their stories have nothing to do with romance and they even have a father-son-like relationship! jeez people

and especially in media like TADC or hitman, which do not focus on romance at all but on existential crisises (TADC) and murder and moral questions (hitman), we do not need all the pomni x jax, gangle x jax, diana x 47, diana x lucas etc. nonsense. just enjoy the thing. just enjoy the individual character.

if this comes off wrong, i'm sorry - i have a lot of thoughts about this, and i cannot word it better <//3 i don't mean disrespect as, as i've said, i love a good crackship or just ship in general... it's just... why do we always have to ship everything and everyone?

[julysn]

my random unwind headcanons

a/n: HI THIS IS SUCH A MESS LMFAOO

everything i say here is FACT. truth. it’s canon guys trust!!

— hayden and connor 100% wore baggy clothes. i refuse to believe any americans in the future would wear skinny jeans

— brooklyn had a secret crush on risa when they were at the state home but she didn’t want to admit it…..,..

— lev wore skinny jeans in his childhood

— starkey tate defender. he got into chess bc of him

— nelson ABSOLUTELY stinks. like no shower no deodorant no toothbrush. PURE STINK. and he has horrible breath too.

— i like to think risa likes lana del rey and newjeans

— hayden absolutely loves wham. his fav 80s musician would be george michael and he listens to careless whisper thinking about connor and how he’s w risa and not him WHO SAID THAT WJATTT

— lev made those cringy (no offense i swear) christian youtube shorts where he was like “press like if you believe in jesus 🙏” and the background was him playing roblox

— i refuse to believe connor wasn’t a chick magnet. he HAD to have been pulling hoes left and right.

— man bun roland 😣

— emo lev

— BASKETBALL PLAYER CONNOR guys wjatttt are we hearing me out. maybe he began playing to have an excuse to get away from home..;… omg him in a jersey i’m CREAMING someone draw him in a jersey and I WILL LOVE U FOREVER

— bam listens to ayesha erotica..,,

— i really really love the idea of curlyhead hayden and connor. like they have curly hair FIGHT ME! (don’t. my knees hurt)

— lev unironically listened to big nik in the first book bc he thought he was being trendy

— risa has little freckles on her cheeks this will not be debated

— starkey tries to be wattpad sexy mafia boss jungkook core but FAILS

— miracolina had a gacha phase and would watch boys vs girls singing battles religiously

— now. now what if i said. WASIAN HAYDEN

— ADDING ONE AFTER POSTING but.. conrisa/haycon/hayconrisa in matching hello kitty pajama pants. can we see the vision ARTISTS I NEED U

i’d add more but like. my head EMPTY

[bonggatorade]

I already have some conrisa fanart, they live in my head rent free.

[korokeea]

Do you have any more ideas? :3

nope! 😝

but in all seriousness no and I’ve been too scared to write actual fics. I’ve written some privately (including conrisa ones) but I haven’t been sure if I should post them? Especially since I’m still learning ao3 😭

I just like making silly ideas and having other people take them rather than me actually writing it myself.

[unwind-trash]

My signed copy of Unwind! <3

I’m going to paint the cover of this copy. I have a few ideas, such as an anatomically correct heart, a portrait of Connor, Risa and Lev, a divided silhouette, or maybe some sort of symbol from the book? If y’all have any ideas for cover designs I’d love to hear them!

[nick-thecreator]

Quick Conrisa thing (Sorry in advance)

Do y'all think that Risa would outgrow Connor? Like with highschool lovers, they don't last long much, + Risa and Connor have split in personal ways (not intentionally of course). All I'm trying to say is when they fully grow up, I don't think Risa would like Connor as much as she did before (in a romantic sense). She'd probably be into guys with maturity and brains yet can have their mind at one thing at a time too *cough* like how I imagine adult Roland *COUGH*

[lei-lei-artz]

I’m cooking rn! 🔥🔥

[akronawols]

Connor: Guess you could say I've... fallen for you.

Risa: You literally just rolled down an entire flight of stairs, how are you even alive,

[heliads]

everything is blue • conrisa space au masterlist

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.

the series is complete!

series spotify playlist

Chapter One: Some Run

Chapter Two: Some Flee

Chapter Three: Some Are Taken Away

Chapter Four: Friends in Dangerous Places

Chapter Five: A Treacherous Road to Safety

Chapter Six: First Day of Many

Chapter Seven: Which is Worse, Death or Distribution?

Chapter Eight: Time Must Pass

Chapter Nine: Stay Whole

Chapter Ten: Still Here

Chapter Eleven: I Still Miss You Most of All

Chapter Twelve: It's You Again

Chapter Thirteen: And Suddenly I Was a Lilac Sky

Chapter Fourteen: Dancing in the Moonlight

Chapter Fifteen: This Is Your Legacy

Chapter Sixteen: Heavy is the Head

Chapter Seventeen: Returning the Favor

Chapter Eighteen: So Die the Kids Worth Saving

Chapter Nineteen: Call Up the Cavalry

Chapter Twenty: The Final Call

[incorrectunwind]

Risa: My partner must be top of the line, organized, graceful-

Connor: Hi, I’m Con- [trips over air, falls on their face, spills water all over Lev, potted plant falls, spills dirt all over Hayden’s head]

Risa:

Risa: I want that one.

[unwindquotes]

“They’re unwinders, Connor. They’ll always be unwinders.”

“They were parents first.”

Risa finally backs down, accepting it with mournful resignation. Funny, but Connor wasn’t even sure he’d go until Risa challenged him. Now he’s committed.

Risa stands up and suddenly the gulf between them feels immense. “When your parents turn you in to the Juvenile Authority—and they will—I will not shed a single tear for you, Connor Lassiter.”

But that’s a lie, because her tears have already started.

- Neal Shusterman, Undivided