#hayden upchurch fanfic

[heliads]

don't ask too many questions - hayconroland

Hayden wants Connor. Connor clearly doesn't want Hayden, but he does want Hayden to stop hanging around Roland. Or maybe he just doesn't want them to be together when he's not there.

masterlist

Hayden Upchurch is seventeen years old and sick of himself when he realizes he’s in love with his best friend. The one who’s dating his other best friend, that is. The one who would never, ever, fall for someone like Hayden. 

He’s had a problem with daydreaming, always has. Feels like the worst part of his heritage– two actor parents, of course he’d come up with a fantasy, everyone around him with a part to play to secure his happy ending. Hayden wants to believe that the world revolves around him and so he does. Even when his parents split. Even when they give him up to be dismembered. Even when he comes in contact with the one boy who finally might put him first, and then doesn’t.

But then again, who hasn’t wanted to be in love with Connor Lassiter? Hayden hasn’t met a single soul in the Graveyard who hasn’t contemplated it at some point. Sure, some make a point of pretending they’d never go there, but they would. They all would. Even Hayden. That’s kind of why this aches so bad. Connor has his pick of anyone in the world, even if he hasn’t put that together yet. He could have anyone, and he doesn’t want Hayden.

The worst part is, Hayden’s pretty sure he could have made it happen were it not for the fact that the good story has already started to play out. Connor chose Risa. Of course he would. It’s a match made in heaven, if there’s any bit of heaven reserved for the bits-and-pieces Unwinds even a mother couldn’t love. Pretty people fall in love with pretty people. Risa’s smart and Connor’s brave. Hayden knew it was over for him the second they showed up together, and with a baby no less. God, it’s like they’re already jumpstarting their iconic unwind celebrity family.

It makes him want to gag, and he probably would, if it weren’t for the fact that he feels more like sobbing instead. Technically, Connor and Risa haven’t announced anything, or done anything for that matter, but they don’t have to. Hayden’s seen enough lovesick glances to know a crush when it’s right in front of his face.

It was one thing when he could hide from the truth of it, tucked away in the darkness of the antique store basement. In the shadows, Hayden could convince himself of anything, even that the Akron Awol might find him hot. And– it’s stupid, right? Hayden knows he’s hot. The PR agent his parents hired for him since the age of five has made sure of that. Yet all it takes is one (honestly, average) teenage outlaw and Hayden’s wondering if his hair has somehow lost its luster or if his eyes are starting to bleach out their blue. Maybe his jokes are falling flat. Maybe he was never funny in the first place. Maybe that’s why Connor wouldn’t look at him unless his feet were on fire or something.

Trapped in the Graveyard, there’s no hiding from the truth. Stuck labeling boxes and unpacking crates, Hayden has the perfect view as Connor and Risa make more excuses to find each other. He’s organizing canned food now, slamming each box down with unnecessary force so he doesn’t punch somebody instead. He has the perfect view through the bars of the storage caddy as Connor benefits from another excuse to visit the medical wing.

Connor has just emerged from the med bay, grinning ear to ear. He shakes his head foolishly as he heads back into the sunlight, as if unable to believe himself. Hayden can’t believe it, either. He certainly can’t believe that he’s still letting himself feel so terrible over the proud smirk on Connor’s face, the pride that certainly means he’s not holding himself back the way Hayden is.

He can’t do this anymore. Slumped against a wall of crates, Hayden’s eye catches a flicker of pink amongst the scores of labels. It’s a heart, part of a logo of some company. Filled with a sudden, irrational burst of anger, he lunges forward and tears the heart away, piece by piece, until blood wells up underneath the edges of his fingertips. He sucks on his index finger to take the sharp prick of pain away, cursing both the can and himself. He could go to medical to get it cleaned up, of course, but then he’d have to see Risa, and that’s out of the question.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

A sudden voice nearly makes Hayden jump out of his skin. He bangs his head against one of the shelves, and straightens up, swearing, to get a good look at whoever’s just surprised him. Oddly enough, it’s Roland. He doesn’t usually bother Hayden, opting instead to save himself the nuisance of Hayden’s endless barbs and digs at his expense, but apparently Hayden’s done something today to warrant the visit. Lovely.

“Jesus,” Hayden mutters under his breath, rubbing the sore spot on his head, “Where’d you come from? Don’t tell me you’ve taken to spawning out of the shadows now.”

Roland just chuckles, face completely deadpan. “I’ll consider it. Why do you look like you just got hit by a bus? I want to know who beat me to it.”

Hayden rolls his eyes. He barely has the strength to deal with his own thoughts. Roland is so far from what Hayden can deal with, it’s not even funny. “Can you just– just fuck off, will you? Go bother one of the little kids and leave me alone.”

He tries to storm off, but there isn’t much room tucked in amongst the crates, so Hayden is only able to stomp a few feet away and stand with his back to Roland, glowering at the jars of green olives in front of him. He can just make out Roland’s reflection behind him in the watery sheen of the glass, the confused furrow of his brow.

“What’s gotten into you?” Roland asks, genuinely curious.

Hayden doesn’t even bother to answer. He reaches out, uselessly straightening the rows of olives in the hopes that Roland will get bored and leave him alone. Strangely enough, Roland doesn’t, and walks closer to Hayden until they’re shoulder to shoulder again.

“Seriously,” Roland says. “I’ve never known anything that could make you shut up. I’m kind of jealous.”

Against his will, Hayden’s gaze betrays him and flits through the gaps in the crates to where Connor still idles near the medical bay. Roland turns his head to follow Hayden’s line of breath and he sucks in a breath as he puts the pieces together far too quickly.

“Oh,” Roland says, voice strangely deep. “Oh, shit.”

Hayden feels as if all the blood in his body has suddenly rushed to his feet. His face must be like bone, stripped of any sign of light. “You shut the fuck up,” he says unsteadily, “You shut the fuck up, I swear to God, I’ll kill you, I swear it. I’ll fucking kill you. I’ll hit you so bad you won’t even walk. Don’t you say a damn thing.”

They both know it’s bullshit, Roland could kick Hayden’s ass in a second. This close, practically breathing down each other’s throats, Hayden can sense all that muscle, vibrating with nerves. Everything in Roland is electric, ready to pounce, but instead, he says raggedly, “I can help with that.”

Hayden blinks in surprise. “You want to help me kill you?”

Roland shakes his head disgustedly. “No, dumbass. I can help you with Connor.”

Hayden just stares. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

Something like a muscle twitch pulls the corner of Roland’s lips up into a half-smirk. “I like getting under his skin. Maybe under his shirt, at least.”

A flash of white-hot courses through Hayden in an instant. He waits for Roland to start laughing, or start swinging, to tell him that he’d been joking, or messing with him, or something, anything, for this situation to make sense. Instead, Roland leans a little closer, expectant, and Hayden realizes that he’s not joking around at all.

“Alright,” Hayden says at last. “What did you have in mind?”

Roland’s teeth bare in a full grin. “I was hoping you’d ask. See, I’ve noticed something about our mutual friend. Connor doesn’t do very well with jealousy.”

Hayden laughs derisively before he can stop himself. “Problem with that one, Roland. Connor isn’t jealous of either of us.”

Roland doesn’t look remotely fazed by this. “Want to bet?”

They both turn as one again to look over at Connor. Stupid, reckless Connor, who’s straightened up to look back at them, who may be seeing two silhouettes behind the storage crates where there should just be one. Connor doesn’t look quite so carefree anymore. In fact, although it may be reaching, Hayden would go so far as to say that he looks quite worried indeed.

Hayden lets out a low whistle. “You actually might be right about that one.”

Roland scoffs. “I’m usually right. You just don’t pay attention.”

Hayden fights the urge to roll his eyes again and only mostly succeeds. “How’d you know?”

Roland initiates an elaborate shrug. “I know what to do when a boy doesn’t give me what I want.”

He’s really close right now, Hayden realizes. He’s not sure when Roland got that close, but Hayden can either stay here or back up, and this closed in surrender doesn’t really seem like an option, so he stays. Roland’s breath is hot on his mouth. They’re still so damn close. This might be what heatstroke feels like. Insanity may set in soon, if it hasn’t already.

“Alright,” Hayden stumbles. “Let’s make him jealous, then.”

Roland’s grin really is sharklike, Hayden decides, but he can’t tell if he’s the prey or Connor. Maybe both. “Great choice.”

Before Hayden can do or say something stupid, Connor appears around the stack of crates, peering at both of them dubiously. “What are you two doing?”

Roland reacts immediately, like he was waiting for it. Probably salivating over their moment of discovery, too, like a dog with the premise of a bone. “Talking, Connor. You’re familiar with it?”

He claps his hand down on Hayden’s shoulder, and Hayden does his best not to startle. He feels like he’s hyper aware of everything going on with his bicep, down to the slightest shuffle of Roland’s fingers against the fabric of Hayden’s shirt, or the heaviness of Roland’s breathing despite doing his best to pretend as if nothing were the matter.

Connor seems to notice it too. His eyes are glued to Roland’s hand on Hayden, and it seems to take him considerable effort to swallow harshly and say, “That true, Hayden?”

Hayden can practically feel Roland’s gaze boring down on him, demanding that he play along. Well, Hayden’s perfectly fine with playing along. It’s supposed to be in his genes, isn’t it? “All good, Connor. Just fucking around on duty. You going to report us to the Admiral?”

He manages to force a chuckle as he says it, and Roland nods along, clearly pleased. Connor swallows again. “Just– get back to work, will you?”

“So bossy, isn’t he?” Roland muses, and it seems like an inside joke between him and Hayden. Hayden laughs because he can, because he should. Connor looks like he’s stopped being able to understand the language they’re speaking.

Roland lets the moment sit a second longer, then tears his hand from Hayden at last and sweeps away, purposely bumping into Connor as he goes. Both Hayden and Connor watch him disappear. Connor turns back to Hayden once Roland is out of view, and says hoarsely, “What was that?”

Hayden can’t answer.

Everything feels different, and does for hours after. Days, even. At meals, Roland appears to drag Hayden away by the arm, and they eat alone together, tucked in a corner of the room where no one else can reach them. They’re always touching, somehow– a shin against a shin, a hand on an arm, fingers grasping the back of Hayden’s neck like the scruff of a dog. He’s going to explode with the force of something great and terrible, but Connor first, because Connor has to see all this happen and not feel it, too, not like Hayden. Hayden gets to feel it all, because Roland asked him, not Connor. It feels fucking fantastic.

It all comes to a head about a week later. Connor’s been strumming with the rage of not being the first choice for several days now. Hayden wants to tell him that he’s being really selfish– how long had Hayden put up with the same thing, anyway, several weeks? Months? Longer than this, at least. Hayden could take it if their situations were reversed. Probably.

Connor’s been trying to talk to Hayden all day, but Hayden keeps dodging him, claiming to be busy or something. At last, when night falls, Connor tracks him down and Hayden runs out of excuses.

“It’s dark,” he tries to claim, Connor’s hand thick and strong on the sleeve of his jacket, “People are trying to sleep, Connor. We can’t disturb them.”

“Fine,” Connor says icily, and all but drags him to one of the grounded planes. 

Roland meets them halfway there. Maybe the scent of Hayden’s fear carries across the whole damn Graveyard. Sure feels that way, at least. He says not a word but walks with them, opens the door of the plane. Locks it behind them.

Then they’re all standing in a rough circle, Connor’s hand still stuck on Hayden’s jacket sleeve. “I want to know what this is about,” he says roughly. “And don’t try to bullshit me. You’re doing something.”

Roland folds his arms across his chest, all casual. “We’re doing something, alright.”

Connor almost growls with irritation. “You’re trying to bother me. I get it, I’ve been snapping at everybody. Fine. It’s dangerous out there, I wanted to keep us safe. Sue me, but talk to me, instead of doing this.”

Roland grins. Sharklike again. Like he doesn’t know how to smile any other way. “What are we doing, Connor? You tell us.”

“Us,” Connor seethes. “There’s never been an us. This is what I’m talking about. You keep playing up this– this thing between the two of you. You’re trying to get to me, I don’t know why, but I’m sick of it. Can’t you be normal for once in your lives?”

Hayden can sense the power thrumming through the room, turning the air thick and hot with imbalance, but for once, it’s not on Connor’s side. It feels good to be the one in charge, he has to say. Hayden doesn’t usually like it, but he does now.

“Why would us talking bother you, Connor?” He says, relaxed as anything. “I don’t see what could possibly be the problem. We’re just talking.”

Connor rounds on him. “You’re not just talking, though. I know you aren’t. Maybe you’re trying to get me out or something. I don’t know what you’re doing.”

Roland stalks closer. “It bothers you, doesn’t it? Not knowing what we’re up to.”

“That’s what I just said,” Connor spits out, but he doesn’t sound as self-righteous as he did before. In fact, his voice wobbles slightly on the last syllable, just like it had when he’d caught them the first time.

“I don’t know why it would bother you,” Hayden says matter-of-factly. “To be honest, if you’ve got anything wrong with it, I think you should prove it. Otherwise, I mean, how would we know what you want?”

It’s a good move, Hayden’s proud of it. Even Roland’s grinning, the two of them in on another joke. Connor chafes against that exclusion like a dog at a bit, foaming at the mouth at the thought of them having anything without him.

“What I want,” Connor says slowly, voice thick with it, “is for you two to stop fucking around like this. Stop looking at me like I’m the odd one out. You two hate each other, anyway.”

Roland stalks closer. The way he’s eying Connor is downright predatory. “I think I’m confused. Do you want us to stop, or do you want to be a part of it?”

“I don’t even know what it is,” Connor tries to say, but his voice drops away into nothingness the closer Roland gets to him. Hayden can understand the feeling. He still feels like the floor of the plane isn’t all too steady anymore.

“I think you do,” Roland says. He looms over them both now, less in stature and more in spirit. The span of him could last forever. Enough for Connor and Hayden to share, and a little left over too.

Hayden’s jacket is on the floor, and he only knows it happens at all because of the quick flash of Connor’s hands ripping it off of him in the corner of Hayden’s vision. Roland doesn’t even react to the motion. He just keeps staring at the two of them, grinning, waiting. Then he moves, is on them in an instant, and there’s nothing any of them could have done after that.

Hayden honestly doesn’t know if Connor was there to stop them or join. In the end, it doesn’t matter. Hayden knows how that would-be intervention ended, and it didn’t really seem like Connor was that keen on any of them stopping, for that matter.

He has no idea what’s going to happen after this. Roland’s plan really only went so far as getting Connor to snap, no continuity for the fallout. For once, though, Hayden doesn’t think he needs a plan for how to act, what to do. Maybe he can just make it up as he goes along. Roland and Connor would be down, and nothing else really matters. Everything is business as usual and he feels good. Really good, actually, and if Hayden’s voice is oddly hoarse the next morning, most people have the good sense not to ask why.

Most people, that is. Risa sidles up to Hayden later that day. He’s pretending to organize some cans of food, although he starts pretending extra hard when he notices the suspicious look on her face. 

“The windows on one of the planes were quite fogged up this morning,” Risa remarks. 

“Planes do that sometimes,” Hayden replies calmly. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”

Risa casts him a sidelong glance, but when Hayden refuses to extrapolate on that absolute failure of a sentence, she sighs so deeply he’s pretty sure the Admiral could hear it from his office. She looks like she’s going to call him out on this obvious bit of bullshit, but then she spots something across the tarmac and straightens up a little. 

“Never mind,” she says, “I think I’ve answered my own question.”

Risa starts to walk away, then pauses as if she’s just thought of something important and turns back to him. “Don’t do anything stupid, Hayden. Or anything else stupid.”

With those inspiring words of wisdom, Risa heads back the way she’d come. Hayden frowns, confused, then tries to figure out what she’d been looking at to change her mind so quickly. 

It doesn’t take long to figure it out. Shaded by the metal underbelly of one of the Graveyard’s many planes, two figures stand close together, their shoulders brushing as they whisper. Roland and Connor. Two people who supposedly hate each other, who did hate each other or were at least good at pretending until last night. Now, instead of trying to kill each other, they’re muttering back and forth, all the while both eyeing Hayden with identical, bloodthirsty grins. Like they knew exactly what prey they wanted. Like they already knew it was twitching under their claws. 

Oh, Hayden is so fucked. But hasn’t that always been true?

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

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[luckytidbit]

Babs

Hehe

[robotstrategy]

Rediscover • Part 1 • 2 - Roland and Nero

Previous • Series Masterlist • Part 1 Masterlist • Next Roland has an airplane blanket wrapped around him as the plane takes off, getting on the plane was so easy, yet so hard for him at the same time. Of course, because of the piloting license, he was deeply trusted by security, and this made him feel like a fraud. These people would’ve once torn him to shreds, now they’re just giving him friendly reminders that his mask should stay on at all times once he crosses the border.

Roland goes to itch the bridge of his nose before his finger is stopped by the shield of plastic covering his face. He sighs, lifting the bottom of the mask with one hand to awkwardly squish a finger in up to his nose to itch it. 

“Tired?” Nero asks him. She looks all ready for the summer, pink, floral, ruffled crop top and all.

He shakes his head. “No, I just hate travelling already.”

Nero quietly laughs, she nudges him. “At least you’re not already being profiled. When I was in charge of air delivery I was feared and respected with this mask on. Now, everyone who looks at me thinks they’re my next victim.” It had surprised both of them that Nero wasn’t profiled for Mason’s face but rather the symbol on her mask, even if she was labelled hostile by proxy. 

“At least you’re not being baby-talked and coddled.” 

“I’d rather have that than whatever I’m getting now.”

Roland turns away from her, looking towards the window. He watches the clouds go by as they keep moving forward, even though he’s older and understands what clouds are made of, they never stop looking so fluffy to him. He imagines they would be great for laying on when his back aches, and they’d probably be just as comfortable as Hayden’s bed sheets. 

Hayden, it had been a week since he’d been at his apartment. He told himself that he’d leave Hayden’s side before the guy had the chance to wake up, but as Roland started stirring around 4 all he wanted to do was to lay back down in Hayden’s arms. So he did, and in the morning he woke up to Hayden having placed an arm around him while the other one scrolled his phone. Roland moved towards his face, their eyes locked and so did their lips. After a moment he pulled away from him, Hayden looked star-struck, he set down his phone and pulled Roland onto him. He hung his arms around Roland's neck as he turned the kiss into something more. After a moment of passion, Roland breaks away from him, panting. “I guess the second time's the charm.” He laughed. His forehead was still planted against Hayden’s, but he could feel him frown. 

“I don’t want to forget about the party, Hayden.” He could feel himself being gently pushed off of him. 

“Hayden?” He calls out as Hayden rises from the bed. “Do you want breakfast?” He asks flatly as puts a housecoat around himself. 

“Hayden?” He calls out again.

“It’s a yes or no question, Roland.” There’s a sense of sadness in his voice. 

Roland gives up trying to get an answer from him. “Yes Hayden, I’d like breakfast.” He sighs.

It felt like he could still feel Hayden’s lips against his, for how roughly they were pressed against each other it felt like a flame went out when he was let go. 

Humour is something Nero can do, it’s something that makes everything seem okay, people are made happy and she can go on with her life knowing that others think she’s full of joy. But she’s not. Nero has been doing nothing but brooding behind a happy exterior. She has felt empty ever since Sam left to visit Molokai. The emptiness is like the one she once felt during the beginning of her rewinding, the one that she constantly filled with something new. She had forgotten how painful and irritating it felt.

It will be hard to fill that void on this trip if it can even be filled at all. Roland’s company doesn’t seem to be doing anything for her, and it’ll be almost impossible to have friendly conversations with others when the word ‘HOSTILE’ is projected on her face.

At least there’s Bambi, Bambi seems to listen to her problems as long as she listens to hers. The only problem is that she hasn’t told Bambi about her face yet, and she feels she’s gone too far in their relationship to tell her now. It would be like betraying her, so no matter what, she swears she’ll never meet Bambi in person. Even if she's the closest thing to her child’s father.

Nero huffs, folding her arms after placing earplugs in to drown out the sound of a crying baby. She looks to the man beside her on the outer row, who has been doing nothing but nervously humming for thirty minutes, these earplugs might be good for drowning him out too. 

The absence of sound unnerves her; there's the sound of a boy panicking in her head while two older voices calm the boy. He seems to be freaking out, telling them he can’t hear. Nero takes out one of the earplugs, waves it in her view and puts it back into her ear, hoping she got the message across to the boy who screams in her head. 

Nero sighs and lays her head against the back of the chair, slowly dozing off. Dreams are weird for Nero. They always play out like little kids role-playing and then getting mad that the other kid isn’t playing the way they want to. Her dreams go one way, and then someone in her head disagrees with it and somehow tunes it the way they want it to go. If she doesn’t have completely mundane dreams all night they’re usually feverish nightmares. 

She wakes up bleary-eyed as Roland continuously taps her on the shoulder. 

“Guh, it’s time to get off now isn’t it?” She asks, rubbing her eyes.

Roland nods, he passes her down the gym bag she brought on the flight. Once Roland gets his things both of them get off the plane and into the airport, where they’re set to get on a bus that will take them all the way to a camp in Muskoka.

[mybrainisrottingat3am]

Unwind Au?

Should I start posting my Unwind AU on here?

Like, please, someone tell me before I do it

[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

[the-thunderhead]

Leadership

Hayden ponders the concept of a leader.

Hayden wasn't a leader.

Oh god was he not. He could manage in a small group, but he had no enjoyment for  it. Those weeks he had run the graveyard had been proof to him.

He doesn't like to think back to those times. But he was still somewhat proud of himself for managing to calm nearly 400 angry AWOLS and keep them alive enough for Connor to step in.

Being a messenger certainly helped too. Hayden was never a runner but people liked and trusted him. Which was good. They shouldn't trust Hayden though. A snake is never something you should turn your back on.

Well a snake might not be the most accurate description.

Hayden was manipulative. He was honest with himself about that. But he was manipulative in the way a hostage negotiator was. Rather than the terrorist holding hostages. Same tactics, different motives.

Managing to redirect a bunch of hormonal teenager's anger into something that wouldn't destroy the graveyard was perhaps his finest con yet. It was harder to do, since he was in charge everyone kept their scrutiny on him. But he did manage to cool the flames a good amount.

He managed the minutiae well enough but where he really shined was talking the others down. Controlling the conversation through jabs and snipes. It was almost drunkening to be able to cool a crowd through a few well placed words.

Which is why Hayden isn't a leader. He's too manipulative. Caring more about control of a crowd then anything long term. He knew that. He recognized that that was a really bad trait for any good leader to have.

Humorously , when in captivity of the Stork Brigade, Hayden noticed the same tendencies in Starkey. Which he found amusing to no end.

What was also amusing was Starkey not even realizing how similar they were. He saw Hayden as a braggadocious idiot. Which was his mistake. And then he gave Hayden control of the food. Like an idiot.

Starkey must know how useful food is for morale. For trust. Give someone control of your food and they have control over everyone there. He was in charge of the food for the graveyard after all. Maybe Starkey just didn't think Hayden could pull off the same trick.

He was an idiot that way.

Connor was a pretty good leader. But his earnestness and pervasive teenage angst left him easy to move around. Hayden knew that. He had moved Connor around a lot. Mostly out of the way of incoming trouble.

Connor…

Hayden never asked Connor about the shark on his arm. But when he saw it, He knew immediately.

Hayden never will say to anyone that he liked Roland. If he knew what he almost did to Risa, then he would definitely never say it.

But he didn't know.

And deep down, he liked the guy. A lot of people liked him. He was a natural born leader, even with the insane amount of testosterone induced fury and angst. And Hayden respected that.

And when Connor had come back, his not acquaintance but not quite friend- he had went in for a hug.

And saw the shark.

Blood had drained from his face, and he had stepped back.

He wasn't a leader. He saw what happened to leaders.

Leaders were blown up. Leaders were unwound. Leaders were permanently disabled. Leaders were captured. Leaders were unwound.

So Hayden, who had too much self preservation to save his life, had backed away.

A year later. He had made a similar decision. 

To be selfish. To be self preserving. 

And now. As Hayden travels the country, Radio Free Hayden airing from various unwilling radio stations, he thinks for a few seconds.

He is not a leader.

He is content however to push the right people in the right direction.

[bopeisdope]

I'm going on a road trip this weekend so that means I can write during the ride there! Please drop some unwind dystology fic ideas, I'd love to hear them... and maybe write them ;)

[amazingmsme]

hey bestie!!! got some things for ya

🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

📚 Would you ever want to turn writing into a career?

💞 Who's your comfort character?

🏆 What's your most popular fic?

🙋‍♀️ Do any irl people know you write fanfic?

i hope you have an amazing rest of your day!!!!

-@the-new-ginger-switch

Thanks for sending these!

🛒 This one’s kinda hard lol. Gonna state the obvious that most of my fics are tickle fics, so obviously there’s a lot of cute, funny scenes with these kinds of shenanigans. When it comes to the witcher, I really like nonhuman Jaskier finding himself after the mountain scene. I like to think I can also be serious & existential, incorporating themes of self doubt, insecurities, & tackling heavier topics like trauma or death. I also think I do a good job of writing romantic, borderline lovesick fics. I haven’t written something along the more serious route for this blog in a good bit, I might finally post some chapters of a few fics I’ve been hoarding lol

📚 Babe that’s literally what I’m doing😂 But seriously tho, I’m planning on being a screenwriter & director, & I also want to write a book or too sometime on the future

💞 I have too many to count lol. My main man is Tony Stark, he was the first one I really latched onto. Hayden Upchurch from Unwind is my little scrungly from my teen years & I have a special place for him in my heart. My more recent comfort characters are Dale Cooper from Twin Peaks, Caleb Widowgast, Fjord Stone, Klaus Hargreeves, Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson. I have quite the collection

🏆 I had to half assed dig through my blog to find the answer lol. The winner seems to be Dandelions Don’t Die with 362 notes! Swatting More Than Flies has 252 notes, but if we count the attention my fics get on wattpad as well, then Not Touching might be my most popular, & it already has 205 notes here in tumblr. But yeah, people really seem to like that one

🙋‍♀️ Yeah some family & a few friends of mine know I write fics. Thank the dickens they don’t actually read it!

This was so much fun! Please send more, I love doing these kinds of things!

[heliads]

ad break

Hayden Upchurch passes time. He sends out his radio transmissions, he waits to hear back from someone, anyone, like Connor Lassiter.

masterlist

@schroedingers-kater i always keep my promises! this is v short and basically nothing but i wanted a first try. unwind fandom please speak to me

It’s dark out, but Hayden can’t see it. Not really. He’s been hidden away from the sun, torn away from civilization by the Stork Brigade and forced to live out his days here, cold and shifty and in the dark. It beats being dead or unwound, sure, but there’s not much else to it.

As if he’ll give the rusting place any other sort of compliment. If he’s not talking back to Starkey or trying unsuccessfully to win over some of the other kids he remembers from the Graveyard, he’s back here, prepping another episode of his little talk show, wondering how many Unwinds are actually listening.

It’s a hopeless life, kind of sort of terrible but kind of sort of better than dying, but it’s not like Hayden has any great alternatives. He’s lingered over the door, told himself he’ll go and make it on his own, that his conscience can finally be clean or at least cleaner than it is, but he never takes that final step.

Hayden stays in the storks’ hideaway, and despite all his best bluster, he does not leave it. That’s survival for you, he supposes; even when you hate something, you stick with it so long as it keeps you alive. You don’t bite the hand that feeds you, even when it belongs to some shadowy organization that won’t tell anyone who it is, not even Starkey. Hayden doesn’t like that degree of mystery, but he doesn’t like a lot here, and yet he stays.

It’s more comfortable than the Graveyard, at least. Maybe he’s losing his mind between Starkey’s dictatorship and the uncanny feeling that something out there much bigger and much more sinister than any Stork Club bully is pulling their strings, but it beats roasting alive in a broken down jet. 

Hayden wonders if he’ll ever forgive himself for choosing to send his friends from the ComBom to harvest camps instead of dying back there in the overheated metal shell of their favorite grounded plane. There is quite a lot for him to forget, although he can patch over any cracks with some bad jokes and sarcastic one-liners.

The Graveyard was– a lot, really. Good and bad and ugly. It kept him from the parts pirates and the Juvey-cops. It trapped him in one spot and gave him the foolish hope that he could, at any point in his life, stop running. It provided him with good friends to lose to Chop Shop knives.

Still, he misses it whenever he closes his eyes. And, if he’s feeling particularly truthful, he misses Connor more than anything. Connor wouldn’t have put up with Starkey’s sadistic, aggressive nonsense. He would have shut the whole thing down before anyone got hurt, before doctors ended up strung from the ceiling at harvest camps.

If Connor was here, Hayden wouldn’t feel as alone. He doesn’t like it. Gives him the shivers. Hayden can push away everyone in sight, can laugh and scream over his own bitter, jaded jokes, but it’s not enough. Every comedian’s better when they have an audience, and Connor listened. Even liked him better than the rest. You feel something like that and argue that you wouldn’t miss it when it’s gone.

Connor isn’t here, though, because Connor’s clever, more clever than Hayden, and he found out a way to save himself without getting stuck under the bloody thumb of Mason Michael Starkey. Hayden has no idea where he is at the moment, but, swiveling back and forth in his chair before the computer no one should let him near, he simultaneously hopes it’s close enough to touch and far, far away. Far enough away that he won’t get stuck in Starkey’s grasp. Near enough to save Hayden before he has to do something troublesome like save himself.

Hayden nudges the computer, blinking in the sudden blue glow of the screen. He navigates to the recording app, clears his throat, and presses play.

“This is Radio Free Hayden,” he begins, “and any Whollies, if you’re out there, I hope you’re listening hard.”

unwind tag list: empty for now, message me to be added!

[heliads]

whole

Nights pass in the Graveyard. Some are more interesting than others.

a/n my unhinged haycon agenda never ends

masterlist

Connor only ever comes for Hayden after dark.

That makes the whole affair seem far more treacherous and explicit than it truly is. In reality, Hayden stays too late in the ComBom trying to find some sign that other AWOLs are out there still alive long enough to run, then Jeevan or someone else will send Connor out to track him down and make him rest.

Connor’s job, then, is only to appear out of the murky darkness of the Graveyard, to stand in the frame of the door and tell Hayden to go to sleep. That’s all it should take, really. Connor doesn’t leave, though. Not when he should.

Instead, on nights like tonight, Connor shows up and closes the door behind him. It never shuts all the way– Connor likes to leave it open just a crack, enough that the ghostly sound of Risa’s piano can make its way inside and turn their rattling communications jet into a music box.

On nights like tonight, Hayden pushes his chair away from the computer with a flourish, and Connor sits on the desk next to him, stretching out on any available surface that isn’t covered in papers or pens. Connor will arch a brow, and ask, late night again? so Hayden can roll his eyes and spit out some bravado about how radio heroes never give up the fight, you know. 

Only then, once they’ve both said the established opening lines, can they ever speak to each other like they please. It’s a strange routine, and even though it happens every night, it never fails to disrupt whatever tentative peace Hayden had managed to channel for the evening. Every time Hayden is alone in that small metal room with only Connor and the uneven glow of the fluorescent lighting to keep him company, he can take nothing for granted. Least of all his own irrational heart.

Connor swings his legs back and forth off of the desk. “Listen to anything interesting today?”

Hayden shrugs as casually as he can. “Nothing major. Tons of important people all clamoring for my capture, of course. I’m extremely popular with the parts pirates and unwind camps since I’m such a top tier rebel, you know. I’m basically a hot commodity.”

“I know,” Connor says, laughing once then falling silent. “I know.”

Connor’s eyes are wide and dark in the half-lit shell of the ComBom. Hayden can still hear Risa’s quiet chords echoing across the Graveyard. It makes him insane, a little bit. He wants to shout to anyone who can hear, Unwinds and Juvey-cops, everyone in the world– who cares about the rumors, whatever stories they’ve cooked up about the Akron AWOL and Risa Ward? Hayden’s got Connor right here, and he’s never letting him go. Connor would never let him go.

He turns abruptly to Connor, grasped in the throes of some sort of wild excitement he can barely name, much less explain. “What parts of me would you take if I was divided? My parents preferred to split me in half rather than let either of them have custody. If I was stuck between you and someone else, what pieces of me would you want?”

Connor’s eyes flicker shut briefly with horror. “That’s sick, Hayden. I’m not answering that.”

Hayden reaches across the gulf between them to swat Connor on the shoulder. He’s charged with this strange energy, practically euphoric. “You have to. What parts would you want?”

He moves to strike Connor again, but Connor reacts quickly this time, seizing Hayden’s hand before he can make any more contact. He doesn’t drop it, though, and keeps the fingers firmly interlocked with his own. 

“I’d want your eyes,” he says at last. “They’re nice. Also, I know too many parts pirates who take the eyes as trophies. I don’t want to stare down some creep and see you looking back at me out of the face of a monster. If I have your eyes, though, I want your brain, so I know it’s really you who’s looking. And if I have your brain, I need your heart, so you know it’s me. Out of respect to your dedication to your braces, I’d take your teeth. Although I would make sure they took them out before the— before they divided you. No one deserves to die with metal in their mouth.”

Connor takes a wild, desperate breath. The air is charged now, like whatever freak energy was inhabiting Hayden has moved on to engulf Connor as well. They’re both practically vibrating with the need to continue, the urge to keep going until all words are both said and then heard. 

“I need your hands too,” Connor continues, squeezing Hayden’s fingers between his, “for radio stuff, you know. Arms for strength. Your lungs and voice box so the transmissions can continue like normal. Then I would ask for legs, and ribs, and hair, and anything else I could get my hands on. I wouldn’t let anything go. Whoever I’m splitting you with can die over it, I don’t care.”

One more deep lungful of air. Connor’s grasp on Hayden’s hand is almost painful, but it’s a good kind of pain, reminding him that he’s still here, that this is real. 

“I wouldn’t leave a single piece behind. Not if it was you. I want you, Hayden, and I want you whole.”

Hayden almost chokes on it. “You can’t promise that,” he whispers.

“I can,” Connor asserts, “I can and I will.” He leans back, proud and absolutely sure of himself. “Who would stop me?”

That, of anything, slows the tumultuous rhythm between Hayden’s ribs. There are a lot of things that could stop them. A raid of the Graveyard. Scores of Juvey-cops. The simple truth that neither of them were meant to live long enough to see their twenties. The night is not a good time for confessions, even if they were made with good intentions. When you open up your heart to sweet words, the deadly thoughts can get in as well.

But for now, Hayden is a boy who loves a boy, he is a boy who is loved by a boy like Connor, and he is never, ever going to change that. They’ll get up in the morning and forget about tonight, or maybe they’ll both keep the words they’ve said on loop in their heads just like Hayden always does, but either way, Hayden feels complete. For someone who��s destined to be unwound, that’s pretty much paradise.

unwind tag list: @schroedingers-kater, @locke-writes

[luckytidbit]

Here’s the artwork for the last chapter!!!

[robotstrategy]

Recalled • 57 - Quinceañera

Previous • Series Masterlist

Aight fair warning there might be some bad Spanish in here. (Cause I do not speak that language.)

Roland looks outside the front windows of the hall as he adjusts his shirt collar. He stands there like he’s waiting for someone, yet no one was told to come this early. He looks over to Sam, who stares at all the periwinkle-themed decorations. 

“You’re not back there with Nero?” He asks him. 

Sam shakes his head, he looks a little sad. “Nero hasn’t said it, but I think she just wants me to leave her alone.” 

“I see.” 

Roland takes another slow lap around the hall admiring all the decorations. The ombre draped curtains, the flowers, and the beautiful crown moulding on the hall’s walls. He walks into the back room, where his mother, his abuela and Nero are busy getting Lilian ready. Roland looks at his father who stands off to the side. “You’re not helping them?”

His father laughs. “They keep yelling at me whenever I try.” 

“Well, you don’t have the feminine touch we women have,” Nero responds.

“Sí, me gusta ella.” His abuela says it’s funny, she perfectly understands English but she can’t speak a lick of it.

Nero looks bewildered. “What did she say?” She asks Mr. Delgado. 

“She said she likes you chica.”

“Oh,” Nero reddened with shyness. 

Nero pins back Lilian’s hair with a bejewelled clip, she makes sure that the bottoms of her ears aren’t covered leaving room for the earrings her grandmother places in them. 

Nero turns to face Lilian. “So, any boyfriends?”

Lilian shakes her head solemnly. “All the boys that like me are weird, and all the boys I like think I look weird.”

“Hmmph, assholes.”

“But I do look weird.”

“Honey nooo…” Nero gets Cindy and Florencia to back away for a moment, she turns Lilian’s chair to one of the mirrors. “Look how pretty you are, you’ve got pretty blue eyes, beautiful long dark brown hair, and when you put on that gorgeous dress you’ll be the prettiest girl here.”

“But my eye, everyone will be talking about that.”

“Psssh, not with Sam and I here, what do you think they’ll be talking about, the Quinceañera’s lazy eye or the two Rewinds with Mason Starkey’s face?”

“I knew that face looked familiar!” Danilo interjected half-hazardly. 

“But-,” Lilian continued.

“Hey! If someone mocks your appearance I’ll spill punch on them or something, you're very beautiful, and I need you to see that.”

Lilian nods, and the girls get back to getting her ready. Once done, her mother helps her slip on her dress, and her abuela puts on her gloves and the rest of her jewelry.

“Oh, la dieciochoañera es una princesa tan hermosa!” Her abuela tells her.

“Can the princess give us a spin?” Nero asks Lilian.

Lilian twirls a few times, stopping once she gets dizzy, which is only two to three twirls. The girls cheer her on and Lilian seems to get really happy.

Half an hour later all the guests have arrived, Roland peeks out from the entrance curtains to see if he can spot Hayden. He sees him talking to a befuddled guy with a ponytail and tattoos covering his entire body, weird, who invited that guy?

His mother comes up to him and Roland opens the curtain for her, she heads down to the middle of the hall, getting everyone’s attention. 

“Hello everyone, please sit down, we'll be starting in one minute,” She turns around, walking back into the curtains as everyone gets seated. “How’s the speech going Lilian?”

Roland turns around to see Lilian speed-reading a piece of paper. “Good.” She says nervously, she lowers the paper from her view, frantically looking around for a table to put it on. 

Roland goes towards her. “Do you want me to hold on to it?”

“Why?”

He shrugs. “Could be good in case you forget a part.”

“And look like an idiot?”

“I’m not saying that,” He gestures at the page. “Hand it over, we don't have much time.” Lilian gives him the page and he neatly folds it and slides it into his coat pocket.

Their mother and father slip out of the curtains making it to the middle of the room. Lilian’s Quinceañera isn’t religious, so there won’t be any padrinos, which means her small Quinceañera court is next to go on, which consists of Roland, one of Lilian’s classmates, their abuela, and their tía. If Roland remembers correctly her name is Alejandra. “See you in like ten seconds.” He tells Lilian as he walks out. 

As Roland gets to the middle of the floor he sees Nero open the curtains wide for Lilian, the room is suddenly filled with murmurs of “Oh, she’s so beautiful.” and “Oh que linda.” Lilian turns her head down hiding a big smile as she walks towards the middle. Last to come out is her Chamberlain, it’s another guy from her class who is wheelchair-bound, Nero follows behind him, making sure he’s able to keep a steady pace as he rolls. Once he’s in the middle Nero hides herself in the court. 

The guests are instructed to stand up as Lilian is handed a microphone to begin her toast. 

“Hi everyone, thank you for coming,” She starts. “I’m really glad you all came, and I hope you enjoy this party. I never would’ve expected this to happen, and…” Roland starts to notice Lilian is hyperventilating, she starts to go into a cold sweat. “I hate this.” she spits out. Roland and their father rush to her side, Roland takes the microphone from Lilian and hands it to their father, he in turn exchanges it for his pocket-handkerchief. Roland blots away at Lilian’s sweat and tears. “What’s wrong?” He asks her.

“I forgot my lines.”

Roland pulls the paper out of his pocket and hands it to her. “I guess we were better safe than sorry.” 

“And I sound like a mouse.”

“Yeah, a pretty one.”

Lilian laughs. “I hate you.”

Lilian unfolds the paper as Roland hands her back the microphone. “Pretend you're just talking to me okay.” Lilian nods as she clears her throat. “I never would’ve expected this to happen, and I’m very thankful to my family for putting this together. This year I really wanted a dress for my birthday, and I guess I got the dress and a whole lot more. I’m also really happy that this year I was able to meet my real father. He’s really nice and ten times better than the father I had for most of my life. I know I’ve still got so much more to live, but I’m at least grateful that my eighteenth birthday is a happy one.” She nods to Roland, indicating her toast is over.

Roland hands over the microphone to his abuela and tía Alejandra. 

“Hola a todos, muchas gracias por venir.” His abuela starts.

“Hello everyone, thank you so much for coming.” His tía echoes in English.

“Estoy muy feliz de que todos hayan venido a la Quinceañera de mi nieta.”

“I am so happy you all came to my granddaughter’s Quinceañera.”

“Cuando era pequeña, las quinceañeras todavía se estaban integrando en la cultura española, así que fue realmente una sorpresa cuando tuve la oportunidad de tener una.”

“When I was little, Quinceañeras were still being integrated into Spaniard culture, so it was really a surprise when I got to have one myself.”

“Cuando mi hija tuvo su Quinceañera, me aseguré de que fuera la mejor fiesta de su vida, eso es exactamente lo que quería regalarle a mi nieta también.”

“When my daughter had her Quinceañera, I made sure it was the best party of her life, that’s exactly what I wanted to give my granddaughter as well.”

“Y continuaré asegurándome de que todas mis nietas tengan excelentes Quinceañeras.”

“And I will continue to make sure all my granddaughters have excellent Quinceañeras.”

“Ahora vamos a cenar.”

“Now, let’s have dinner.”

Lilian’s family is served first before the DJ calls out certain tables to head up to the buffet. While Roland is eating his abuela starts talking to him. “Rolando, ¿por qué no vinieron tus abuelos con nosotros?”

“Hmm, grandparents? No, my grandmother isn’t here, we made sure not to invite her.”

“Ah, pero ellos,” His abuela points over to Otto and Martha.

Roland shakes his head, laughing. “No, no, those are our neighbours, I do wish they were our grandparents though, they’re far nicer people.”

Roland excuses himself from the table to alleviate himself, once he gets out of the bathroom he sees the guy covered in tattoos leaning against the wall. Roland goes over to him. “Who are you?” He asks. 

“Hayden’s plus one,” Lev answers. “I’m surprised you don’t recognize me, almost…” Lev suddenly has a moment of realization. “Oh, you were unwound the entire time, sorry.” 

“It’s fine.”

Lev holds out his hand. “I’m Lev Tashi’ne, the clapper who didn’t clap.”

Roland nods his head absentmindedly.

“You still don’t know me.”

Roland shakes his head, affirming Lev’s suspicions. 

“I’m glad actually, unlike Hayden I don’t like being seen as a micro-celebrity,” He pauses. “Sorry for being here, Hayden had me thinking this was Connor-related, and now I’m here at some girl’s birthday party.”

“No, you’re not a burden,” Roland reassures him. “And, at least Hayden isn’t so alienated now.”

“Hah, guess he and I have that in common, we don’t know anyone here,” Lev’s face straightened. “Though I think I remember you from the graveyard.”

“You remember Roland, not me, I’m Modified.”

Lev nods. “When I went to Cleaver to become a clapper I had asked about Roland, he said Roland wasn’t the right material to be a clapper.”

Roland blinks. “Of course, I’m not a coward.”

Lev gives him a disgusted look. “A coward?! Roland clapping is self-immolation!”

Self-immolation, Roland had heard those words before. He believes it was his English professor, who was also the psychology professor who had brought it up whilst they were reading a book. He had described it as a form of protest or an act of martyrdom, because someone was literally lighting themselves on fire it was considered one of the most extreme methods of protest.

“Well, firstly self-immolation is setting yourself on fire, not blowing up. Pretty sure people who commit self-immolation also believe the world will get its shit together because of their protests. Clappers hate the world, they want it destroyed, no ifs, ands, or buts.”

Lev tries to say something, but he stops himself because Roland is right.

“Hey, be mad at me all you want, but you’ll have to get in line behind Connor and Risa.”

After supper Lilian’s father slips her from flats into heels, he makes sure she’s stable before guiding her onto the dance floor for a father-and-daughter dance. “Are you nervous?” He asks her.

“A little.”

“Well, don’t be, I’m right here.”

Danilo and Lilian dance alone on the dancefloor, Roland watches as their father asks Lilian a question, she accepts it, and their father lifts her up into the air he spins her around before setting her back down. The crowd cheers and they soon join them on the dance floor, Roland goes to sit in the corner not really wanting to dance until he has to. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Nero walking up to Hayden, who looks horrified at the sight of her. The way Nero had half her hair dyed red and permed in curls made everyone instantly recognize whose face she had.

“Sorry, he came back from the dead.” She starts.

“I’m more scared that he came back as a sexy woman.”

“Ay, woah, cool it! I’m not into men.”

“I’m not into you either, I’m just stating the facts.” 

“Hmm, thanks, but I didn’t come for flattery, I came to give you closure.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you, listen, the way you look at me tells me a lot, you’ve been hurt by Mason. I just want you to know that you can rest easy. All I have is his skin, everything else is probably buried deeper than the respected dead. He’s gone, and he’s never coming back.”

Hayden nods. “That’s very nice of you to say, but I don’t think I should be the one hearing it.”

Nero furrows her brow as Hayden grabs a napkin from a nearby table and writes down a phone number and a name, he hands her the napkin. “That’s who needs closure, she’s busy dealing with the aftermath of Starkey’s harem.”

Nero goes wide-eyed. “He had a harem?”

Hayden nods. “Thankfully only one of three girls he had sex with actually produced a kid, and then she died in childbirth.”

Nero winces, “Yikes.”

“Yeah, Bam didn’t trust those two other girls with the baby, so she left them and took the baby with her.”

“What a noble woman.”

“Yeah, one of the only nice storks in Stork Brigade.”

Hayden leaves Nero alone with the number of a stork girl named Bambi. 

Lilian didn’t have a surprise dance after the waltz, but then that meant that after the waltz Roland and members of the court would have to invite someone onto the dancefloor. As the waltz ends and before Roland can even get up Hayden comes rushing over to him.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

“I want to dance with you,” Hayden confesses.

“You, you want to be chosen by a court member?”

“Well, not just any court member.” He mumbles.

Roland gets up, “Alright, come dance with me.” Roland grabs his arm and leads him to the dance floor. They’re mostly covered on all sides by people, making the moment feel more intimate than it already is.

Hayden looks into Roland’s eyes. “Your eyes look like watercolours.”

“Huh?”   

“Like the way the pigments are injected, I’ve never seen anything like it. When did you get them done?”

Roland is taken aback. “Hayden, they’ve been like this since before I was unwound.”

“Oh,” Hayden looks down, becoming a little sheepish. “I guess I never noticed.”

Hayden eventually looks back up into Roland’s eyes, and Roland becomes redder with every moment.

“Are you blushing?” Hayden asks him.

“Yes Captain Obvious, because someone is staring right into my soul.”

Hayden laughs. “Y’know someone from the graveyard once told me that, to have a soul, you had to be loved.”

“Oh, I’m feeling very loved right now,” Roland says sarcastically.

“Well prepare to be loved even more, ‘cause little ole me fucked over your ex’s chance of getting a good job!”

Roland’s entire world stops, and he backs away from Hayden. “You did what?”

Hayden panics. “I was going through public records and I found that a guy around your age named Trevor had to replace his testes. Research got the best of me and I found he went to your school and that multiple agencies were ready to pick him up. I just had to do something about it.”

“Hayden…”

Hayden pulls Roland's hands towards him. “This isn’t just about you! It’s about all the other people he could hurt in the future. You’d want people safe from him wouldn’t you?”

Roland nods, still letting Hayden hold onto his hands.

Hayden holds his hands close to his chest. “Listen, I feel bad that you invited me all the way out here and I didn’t bring anything. So umm, there’s kind of a ticket to a party I haven’t cashed out yet and… I’d be okay if you were my plus one.”

Roland smiles. “Are you asking me out on a date Mr. Upchurch?”

Hayden flushes red. “N-no what makes you say that? Do you want to go out on a date with me?” 

Roland laughs. “You know what? Maybe I would,” He brings his hands back into Hayden’s vision. “I asked because you’re also still holding my hands and being awkward.”

Hayden tries to pull away, but Roland tightens his grip around his hands whilst giggling.

Hayden bashfully tucks his chin into his neck, looking down like an embarrassed toddler. “You’ve got very pretty eyes, Roland.” He mumbles.

Roland hums, “I know, I’ve been told.”

An hour before the end of the ceremony Lilian cuts the cake with her group, and then they are left to join back in on the ceremony as her mother, abuela and tía set the cake down at each table. Roland goes over to Nero as she eats her slice. He supposes the entire party he wasn’t paying any attention to what she was wearing because it’s truly a shock when he looks at her. She wears a long shimmering light coral dress, the side of it has a slit so far up you can see where Roland’s old leg and the BioBuilder torso meet, there’s also plenty of inner boob. 

“Can you not stare at me like that?” She asks shyly. 

“Sorry,” He averts his gaze. “It’s a very pretty dress.” 

“I know, I’ve been ogled many times.” 

Roland sits down with her. 

“When does this party end?” She asks.

“Well, Lilian just cut the cake, so around another hour.” 

“Hmmph!” 

“You haven’t even said a word to Sam tonight, have you?” 

Nero sniffs. “Talking to him will just make me cry, I don’t want your sister or anyone to see me cry.” 

Roland nods. “I hear you went back to school again, why?”

Nero sighs. “I went to the flight academy to escape war, but it just brought me right back to it. So I’m taking courses in business so I can help Sam or something.” 

“That’s nice of you.”

“Yeah, yeah shut up.”

The party is close to ending as Lilian has her last dances, one with her father, one with her mother, and one with someone special in her life. Roland wonders who that will be, but it doesn’t take long for him to find out. As Lilian ends her dance with her mother she looks around for someone. 

“Roland?” She calls out.

Roland looks up and raises his hand. “I’m over here!” He shouts, he gets out of the seat next to Nero and runs over to her. 

“You wanted to dance with me?” He asks. 

Lilian nods, as they hold each other and sway Roland realizes something. 

“You’re crying.” Lilian notices. 

“It’s just, you’re all grown up now.” He sniffs.

“You sound like a dad.” 

“I did parent you, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but I’m not that old yet, it’s still the beginning of my life.” 

“Yeah, it is.” 

[luckytidbit]

It’s an absolute colour fest in here.

[luckytidbit]

The last chapter is going great you guys.

[mybrainisrottingat3am]

UnChained plot

Unwinding was made illegal about 5 months ago, as a result families that tithe are going to Canada to tithe their children. The U.S Government passed a law to make the tithing of tithes legal again.

This both angered the people and made the people happy. Tithes who were finally able to live a life were being round up, may it be by safe houses, parts pirates, your local tithing camp, or The Fellowship.

The Fellowship is a movement made by 2 siblings, Andrew Cooks and Hope Cooks. Both tithes of their family, they kicked AWOL at their harvest camp and gathered the tithes there to escape. Andrew, named as "Reverend," has been mostly stationary in the movement. His other branches of power do the dirty work.

Kayden J. Calder

Carson ComPrix

Hope Cooks

Kayden, the youngest of the 4 at 15, has the most power in the central area of the United States. He has all the Christian tithes in his area.

Carson, the oldest at 19, has the lower portions of the U.S he has parts of Mexico and Hawaii as well. He trains most of the rejected Rewinds and Tithes.

Hope, being 16, she has most of southern Canada with her brother. She has mostly Catholic Tithes.

[luckytidbit]

Recently finished all my plot notes for Recalled, so here’s some out of context, randomized notes for you viewing pleasures.

these two already have chapters on them, so I’m separating this photo.