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holdmytesseract · 1 year

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Eyes on You

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Request: "* hi babe, can I request:

daryl x female reader, where she is about eight months pregnant where they are both laying on their bed, she's already tired and with some contractions.. and daryl is the sweetest man and treats her like his queen? giving her all her cravings, kisses, hugs, caresses, absolutely everything! sorry for my bad English, i'm still learning 🙂🥺

thank u my love 💓" - Requested by a nonny! 😄

Summary: Daryl doesn't leave your side, when you feel not very well at eight months pregnant.

Warnings: fluff, pregnancy things

Set in the beginning of season 9!

Word Count: 1,5k

a/n: This request is sooo cute! 🥰 Thank you, nonny! 🧡

Tagging: @in-this-minute @thefemininemystiquee @hotgirlsshareaccounts @azanoni @lokisgoodgirl @goobysgoobers @fuseburner

MASTERLIST

"'M not goin' to help at the bridge today." Daryl stated, biting the inside of his lip. "Y/N ain't feelin' that good today. Gotta be there for 'er and don't wanna leave 'er alone. 'Specially not now." The archer's best friend nodded, occupied with saddling his horse. "'Course, Daryl. Make sure she's feelin' better." Rick said, then turned to face him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You can stay with her for as long as you need. We will manage without you. You've got way more important things goin' on here, than at the bridge." Daryl nodded. "Thanks, man." "No need to thank me. This is your wife - your family." Rick started, mounting his horse, "Now off with you." and gave the man a smile, before he gently nudged the horse's sides, riding down the street and towards the gates of Alexandria.

Daryl made his way quickly back towards his and your house, not wanting to leave you alone for long. Stepping through the main door, he immediately called out for you, while taking off his heavy boots. "Y/N?" He received no answer, so he made his way down the hallway and turned left, stepping quietly into the bedroom. When his gaze met your sleeping form, he started to smile softly. Right where I left 'er, Daryl thought. He tiptoed over to you and pulled the blanket back over your body, making sure it covered you entirely - not that you'd start to freeze. A wave of pure love and happiness rolled over him, when his hands brushed your clearly visible baby bump. Well, at eight months pregnant, there was nothing left to imagine. Daryl's smile even widened and he couldn't stop himself from resting a hand on top of your big bump. Feeling the life underneath his palm he and you created never failed to amaze him. Quite a few years ago, he had nothing but a broken home - and suddenly he had everything. All he ever needed. When he met you - right at the start of the world's downfall, it was like finding the missing puzzle piece. You made his life complete; were the most important person for him - and now you gifted him the most wonderful gift a life could offer. A child. Of course, was the man utterly anxious and nervous about this; not wanting to became a horrible father like his father was, but you reassured him; told him that he wasn't even able to become just like his old man. He was still nervous - but way less than at the beginning of your pregnancy. Although, his anxiety started to increase so slowly once again, due to the fact that you were not far away from giving birth. He would never not worry about you or about his kid.

Breathing out deeply, the archer leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead - not to wake you, before he left the bedroom again, letting you sleep. You definitely needed the rest. Especially today. You were tired, felt worn out and had immense back pain. This, combined with Braxton Hicks contractions was no fun at all.

Daryl went into the kitchen, deciding to make you something to eat. He knew that when you woke up again, you'd be hungry for sure. The archer maybe wasn't a starred chef, but he was definitely able to make you the meal you were craving the most since last month... Porridge - or well, a simple, fast and not super fancy version of it. You called it 'Daryl's version'; Daryl called it 'simple cooking'. Heating up milk with oats until the things were boiling wasn't exactly difficult. Bless Maggie for the cow she gifted Alexandria. After the deed was done, he put the porridge in a small bowl, ready for you to eat. Just when he was about to cut a few fresh strawberries - much needed vitamins - for you to eat alongside the porridge, he heard the familiar sound of the comfortable house slippers he got for you on a run, approaching the kitchen. "Daryl?" Your frame appeared in the doorway, still looking a bit sleepy. One hand of yours was resting underneath your protruding stomach; the other was steadying your lower back. The man quickly turned to face you, a smile on his face. "Hey, sunshine. Ya awake again already?" A yawn escaped your lips, as you nodded. "Uh.Huh." Daryl bridged the short distance between you and him; came to stand in front of you. "You should go, lay down again. Ain't good fer ya to run around. Ya know what Siddiq said." He said in a gentle, caring voice, placing both his palms on the sides of your belly and placed a lingering kiss on your forehead. You smiled tiredly at the affection your husband was showing. You loved those small gestures, touches and kisses. "I know, baby, and I promise you that I am going to rest again, but I smelt you cooking something my tummy would like to eat..." Daryl couldn't help himself but to snort out a laugh at your words. "'Course you'd notice me, cookin' porridge for ya." You just shrugged your shoulders, smiling. "Pregnancy seemed to heighten my sense of smell." "Seems so, yeah... Got a better scent than a dog by now, smellin' from miles away, when someone's cookin' porridge." "Hey!" You slapped his shoulder playfully, giggling. "Wha'? It's true, innit?" The man replied with a boyish smile. "Yes, it is." You said, sighing dramatically.

"C'mon, off back to bed with ya now." He nodded towards the door. You pouted. "But my porridge..." Daryl rolled his eyes, but smiled. "Ain't goin' to run away. Lemme throw a few strawberries on top of it and then I'm goin' to bring it to ya, yeah?" Your eyes lightened up. "Breakfast in bed?" "If ya want to call it that..." You smiled and wrapped your arms around his broad frame, before interlocking your lips with his for a sweet kiss. "You're the best."

After Daryl had finally made it to send you back into bed, he finished your porridge and carried it into the bedroom, for you to eat. "There ya go, sunshine." You digged immediately into your latest craving, munching on the milk-oats mix with delight. "Mmmh." You hummed, taking another spoonful. "Thanks, baby, you're the best. Nobody makes porridge as good as you do." Daryl scoffed, "Ain't that difficult to make porridge." but smiled softly; clearly flattered by your compliment. He watched you eat, made sure you ate enough. After all, you had to feed the baby as well...

When you were finished, Daryl cleaned up everything again for you. "Anythin' else my woman needs?" You shook your head, smiling and reaching out your arms. "Just you." "Ya sure?" "Mhm. C'mere. Lay with me, please." Who was he to deny his pregnant wife this request? Daryl stripped off his angel-winged vest and laid down beside you. You immediately snuggled close to him - as close as the baby allowed it, resting your head on his chest. Daryl slung his arm around you and placed his palm on your belly, gently caressing the clothed skin. He was the happiest man on this planet right now, having everything he never thought he would have right here in his arms. "You comfortable?" You nodded against his shoulder, "Perfect." already dozing off. Being pregnant clearly took its toll on you. After all, your body worked flat out. Especially now, mere weeks before the birth.

Just when you were about to enter the dreamland once again, a sharp pain sizzled through your lower abdomen, causing you to hiss. You grimaced, hands cupping the underside of your bump. Daryl noticed it instantly, of course. His body stiffened, as worry and fear took over his system. "Y/N, what's wrong?" He turned on his side to face you; frantic blue eyes met your Y/E/C ones. You breathed through the pain - just like Siddiq told you. "'S okay, baby. Just Braxton Hicks contractions, is all." "Ya sure? Do you want me to get Siddiq?" You nodded. "Yes and no. I'm okay. Please, don't worry. " The archer was still looking at you, now shaking his head. "Impossible. Ain't no way 'm not worried. I always am. 'Specially now, knowin' you're about to give birth in a few weeks..." A soft smile graced your lips at his sweet behaviour. He was so protective and caring - you absolutely loved him for that. You placed both your hands on his chest, rubbing your palms up and down in order to reassure him. "I know, but we're fine, I promise. Kiddo just wants to prepare me for their appearance." Daryl scoffed, but started to smile. "Our kid is scarin' the shit outta me with this. Gives me almost a heart attack every damn time, letting me think you're goin' into labor..." You giggled. "Gods, I love you so much, Daryl Dixon." Another scoff. "I love ya too, sunshine - and this lil' asskicker in there as well." Your heart almost bursted out of love at his words - and you couldn't help yourself from pulling your man again in a sweet, loving kiss. The first of countless more.

#daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixion imagine #daryl imagines #twd daryl #daryl x y/n #twd

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kiana-kaslana-423 · 7 months

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Hi! I've read a few of your fics and enjoyed it, you're writing style is nice!

If you're taking requests, then Mobius and Vill-V with a MANTIS reader that has a personality/mannerisms and looks that is a mixture between Binah from Library of Ruina and Ozen from Made in Abyss, maybe just toned down a little.

Gives everyone the worst possible vibes but enjoys tea with her significant other paired with long conversations that are insightful, though the usage of metaphors and similes makes getting straight answers a bit difficult to get for some, but also not afraid to give tough love to her lover when it is rightfully deserved.

(note: I am not too familiar with both series, but their appearance and vibes are up my alley)

Mobius, Vill v x Binah and Ruina! Reader

☆ Fem Reader that has the personality/mannerisms of

Binah and Ozen ☆

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽

I don't know if you wanted them separate or not so I'm just

going to make them separate!

and you guys love making me do research frfr but it's fun!

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽

!! Not comfy with men will block on interaction !!!

• I'm sorry to say this but Mobius hated you at first-

• She was first intrigued by your coldness, mysterious and dominant personality but when she tried to talk to you and get answers about who you are and what you do but she was only met with stupid verbose metaphors and similes, never did you once give her a straight answer to one of her questions! Even though she could be like you sometimes, she likes people to give straight up answers to her

• She was confused and a little bit frustrated to say the least so if you don't give her the answers she seeks, she's just going to watch you from afar and that's exactly what she did! She followed you for a couple of weeks and she noticed a couple of things about your personality and characteristics

• With new people that come into your domain that you work at, you normally call them 'your children' or something polite like that, you take on a more elder role within your workplace so that's why in her opinion you call those people 'your children', you tend to be more easy going with them and help them out a little bit when they are in trouble and whenever you see a child, you instantly become overprotective and you despise lying to them even if it means telling them brutal truths

• But with anybody else like your colleagues or strangers, a coldness dominates your personality and you can often be cruel and apathetic. You can switch your personality so fast that it gives her whiplash sometimes- Not like she would ever say it though.

• Mobius is confused with your personality, she doesn't understand you which makes her frustrated and is a little bit meaner to you because of it, she wants to solve you like a puzzle, a puzzle specifically made for her.

• But eventually those feelings passed and she got to know you more- it was kind of enemies to lover you could say? It's very confusing how you guys even got together but in the end you did!

• And it gave her big whiplash when you started to be nice to her and started to invite her to have tea with you whenever you can but the downfall is that you give her tough love when it's rightfully deserved, she just doesn't like when people tell her no or tell her off but she'll listen to you sometimes

• Vill v is definitely more than interested in you when she sees you! A hot women that's cold, mysterious and dominant?!?! You know she has to check it out! Not letting a chance like this pass up frfr—

• And When she talked to you and get to know you because Vill v who wouldn't want to get to know a hottie like you? But like always you only spoke with verbose metaphors and similes but surprisingly Vill v didn't get mad at first! She just pulled out a whole notebook and started to write down what you said and started to legit stand there and figure it out-

• if she can figure it out, great! If she can't, she's going to be pissed off for a couple of days, only focusing on this- She finds you so mysterious and she wants to figure out who you are and she will eventually figure it out, she's the Great Vill v!

• From then on Vill v would talk to you and understand the way you speak, she might even try to say some things back to you but it probably is going to be bad and confusing so- Probably from a little bit of time after that you guys would get together!

• She's not a big fan of tea but she likes Monster Energy! So she'll just have Monster Energy in her teacup instead and if she ever tries to make tea for you, it's boiled Gatorade-

• She likes when you're nice to her but cold to everyone else, it makes her feel special and better than everyone else but she is confused about why you are not cold to new people that enter your domain that you work at? You always call them 'your children' and are gentle with them, Vill v doesn't understand and when she tried to get an answer from you, she couldn't figure out the metaphors and similes you were using this time for some reason? She could tell that you purposely made it complicated- Ass hole!

• She doesn't really care about kids so she'll just let you do whatever you want

• Vill v also doesn't like when you stop with her doing stupid shit, she rather have you praise her instead of you telling her about how stupid that was and giving her tough love- she'll just mumble under her breath and tap her foot on the ground until you finish

#honkai impact 3rd x reader #honkai impact x reader #honkai x reader #honkai impact 3rd #honkai impact #honkai #mobius x reader #mobius #vill v x reader #vill v #vill-v #binah #ozen

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barnbridges · 8 months

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Random headcanons about chess because I'm a chess autist and refuse to believe Henry Winter could play well and I need to imagine them all playing, ok.

Richard read Nabokov once and thinks he understands the essence of the game and that he can solve anything if he tries hard enough (he doesn't know what a fork is). He thinks puzzles are as relevant as games (WRONG). His play experience is 0 and they all secretly hate the way he grabs the pieces, but are too busy being bemused by that he opens with bizarre theory to say it. Richard thinks it's socially acceptable that his favorite opening is the fucking Bird.

Henry, surprising to nobody, would be barely above a beginner's level. He would understand calculations and theory, but absolutely gets frustrated when the opponent deviates from theory or their usual playing style, and he cannot at all improvise or think on his feet. After studying *some* beginner level literature he'd give up because it truly isn't as romantic as it sounds. Has an abhorrent record with black, it's almost impossible for him to play anything but the most boring Queen's Gambit you've ever seen.

Bunny would probably be among the many kids who first has seen a chess board in 1972 when Bobby Fischer won the World Chess Championship and it became cute for the American middle class to engage with the sport. He'd honestly thrive in a chess classroom/club environment and be a comfortable club player. Wouldn't think of admitting to having been a chess child though, pretends its all-natural and common sense. He rants about "the Soviet Jews" too much to fool anyone that knows anything about chess-sport. His downfall is that he relies on both playing as black and inventing complications instead of a strategy, but it's not really obvious unless you look away for a while.

Camilla and Charles' grandaunts showed them like The Opera Game and they leafed through some library books, maybe took it a step farther and played with old people in the family on a whim to show what educated children they were. Both would get pretty competitive with Bunny about it, but ultimately it's in good fun (or as good as it can get). Charles is more impulsive and likely to explore complications and dabble in things for fun even if it loses him an advantage, Camilla rationalizes until her last resources, and then absolutely guts the opponent towards the endgame. They rarely play each other. They would hate modern games and the clocks. Charles would enjoy random chess as well, usually ends up playing it with Bunny since they have no memory of where the bishop goes and which one is the queen. Camilla can't do mental chess, but absolutely draw up boards and positions very romantically and has a paper set to explore variations.

Francis was tutored in "classical" theory and, begrudgingly, agrees with Bunny on that the Soviet style is absolutely abhorrent. Likes games to have a time format, enjoys using the clock as a tool against his opponent and seeing them lose control of a situation because of their poor time management. Absolutely psychologically torments his opponent by smoking in their face and pretending to be distracted. Is quite good, but also far from intuitive. Prefers to play black and enjoys Armageddon.

Judy and Richard have done coke off a chess table.

They all think correspondence chess is a sham, and would cringe if they knew what a chess computer is.

#antisemitism mention #tsh #the secret history #henry winter #francis abernathy #richard papen #camilla macaulay #bunny corcoran #charles macaulay #chess #this is very unhinged and yes a result of watching the chess world cup lmao

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swordsandarms · 8 months

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If it's oh so obvious dragons (weapon of endless fire that cost blood sacrifice) are/were Lightbringer hence Daenerys is Azor Ahai, and Bran is Brandon the Builder, then what is Jon???

Azor Ahai must have created/or bound dragons, because their derived weapons are all that works against the Others (we have yet to see dragon fire itself but MERE DERIVATES WORK), and yet he (and supposedly his brethren) left East where his legend actively actually lives. Brandon directed the building of the wall alone is solely credited with the end of the war in the West, where the First Men stayed. Something happened. Perhaps Brandon was Torrhen saying "peace you're not wholly enthusiastic about is better than people continuing to die in war". Perhaps Azor Ahai was Aegon saying "the woman I loved died for this and we're supposed to just make concessions and move on?" Perhaps it was the realism of leaving Others alive meaning one day they could break free again against the hurry to end a war.

Targaryens and Starks are alike yet opposites (dragon temper and wolf's blood and ambition and idealism), which usually means lasting cooperation but was at least once also a mutual downfall. The dragons came (back?) to Westeros. They stood by eachother for hundreds of years, until one day it all fell down over one thing, and the dragons fled East (again?).

Bran is THE Brandon. Daenerys is THE dragon. And Jon is the midway. The ointment. A contradiction in most ways and yet the perfect mix. He is a Wildling and a Night Watch man. A child of the most ancient and most powerful lineages and blood of the West, and a bastard at the outskirts of society. Ice and Fire. (He's a warg and will probably be a Dragonrider, too).

What if Romeo and Juliet left a living, breathing proof as an ongoing reminder and warning that the Capulets and Montagues were never meant to fight?

Thousands years later history doesn't remember why Brandon and Azor Ahai (would have had to, for the puzzle pieces to work) fight and part ways, only that one and the other once played their role in saving the world. Thousands of years from the ASOIAF current timeline history is unlikely to remember why Targaryens/dragons and Starks/First Men came to a downfall again. But legends about how they will without a doubt save the world again might remain.

#asoiaf #jon snow #daenerys targaryen #bran stark

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phocidine · 6 months

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Some meta talk comparing Dsmp and Qsmp below.

The Dsmp had a lot of behind the scenes issues that led to it’s eventual downfall, but two big ones were the difficulty to get involved in lore, and boredom on the server.

Lore is built on interactions with other streamers or pre-planned moments. But for there to be interaction, there needs to be people…actually playing on the server.

And if it’s been a year on a vanilla server and a majority of people are tired of building houses and gear and new silly religions and the reason the server is still going is for LORE, then streamers are going to start only logging on for lore. And if people aren’t logging on as frequently, then there’s even less motivation to log on.

And if pre-planned lore is mostly being done by small tight knit groups of people who have already done lore together, and even within those groups there’s a lack of communication, then pre-planned lore becomes rare and lore in general is unfairly hard for new members and members who couldn’t fit their character arcs easily into the bigger ones.

And this is (in part) how you end up with a lore server where nothing is happening.

I have no idea if Quackity or the Qsmp team had the Dsmp in mind while doing this, but I think it’s fascinating how the Qsmp fights against these two issues.

Dsmp obviously didn’t have the luxury of having a pre-set up storyline because the server wasn’t originally meant to be a roleplay server, but the fact that the Qsmp has a central antagonistic force controlled by a team of non-streamers (or streamers that don’t play on the server and don’t stream minecraft at least) helps SO MUCH.

The admins are constantly giving the server members shit to do. They get egg children they need to take care of, they get puzzles, they get random attacks by codes, they get weird missions from Cucurucho, they get Lucky Ducks, they get sent to prison, they get unhelpful AIs that will flirt with them instead of giving the inside info the everyone wants.

Like The Maze is it’s own kind of misery and maybe not the most entertaining thing the admins have cranked out, but I think we all would prefer hours of the maze to streamers getting bored and avoiding the server for months until the next event.

The eggs are evil genius for keeping players on the server, lmao. I remember during the last months of the Dsmp there was talk of potentially having required amount of time to be played on the server and everyone here on Dsmpblr was joking about how that would be enforced. The Qsmp straight up did the ultimatum of “Log on long enough to do these tasks by this deadline or either your character’s child will die, OR, one of your fellow server members will be forced to pick up the slack for you and you will be at risk of being called a Shitty Parent.”

Having a team of people control the lore makes it super accesible, too. If a streamer has a lore idea, they go to the admins for it and the admins put it into context of the setting and help them out with it. Pre-planned lore still happens between streamers, but this set up puts a lot less of a burden on new members, and makes things way easier for streamers who like doing solo lore.

It also gives opportunities for members who haven’t done lore together to suddenly be in Situations. Like the egg parenting, or Cellbit getting sent to watch Jaiden do her task, or Roier, Slime and Tubbo getting randomly(?) selected to do the fever dream maze run.

Again, it’s a little unfair to compare the Dsmp to the Qsmp because the two servers are from two different times and were created with very different plans in mind. And the Qsmp still has it’s own issues, it’s not perfect. But it’s still really interesting to see what works and what doesn’t.

#qsmp #dream smp #dsmp #long post

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comradekatara · 2 months

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it's funny that you just replied to me on my hlm ask because. i just want to see: how the gaang (and dangerous ladies) would react if they read hlm

OHHH gotcha. okay yeah that makes more sense

katara keeps being like “im SUCH a daiyu, don’t you think?” and aang is just like “um. you’re literally better than her.”

sokka’s really “garden of forking paths”-ing it. like he’s reading that shit as if he’s decoding a puzzle. pepe siliviaing.

toph sees too much of her own family in the jias and is praying on their downfall from the very beginning. she loves this book.

zuko is literally a redologist. you know he’s obsessed. and every time there’s a new [stage] adaptation he goes to see it and complains about how it butchered all the characters and themes and didn’t understand the brilliance of the original text. every time.

suki read the first three chapters and then got bored. too much exposition not enough cool action fight scenes.

azula read it as part of her education of course but didn’t experience any sort of feeling for it beyond remembering the necessary plot details to be able to bring up in conversation. the fact that zuzu cares about it so much must mean that it’s stupid anyway.

ty lee read the whole thing in two days as a child but then lies and says she’s never read it because people can get so weird about that book and she’s not about that.

it’s one of mai’s favorite books of all time, for many reasons, but also just because she loves describing people by assigning them their literary counterparts and this book is just the perfect vehicle for that. so ty lee makes an exception to her “no hlm talk” rule so that she can gossip with mai.

#10000dandelions #asks #synthesis #the gaang and #thank u for enabling me w these asks. btw

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heliads · 8 months

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everything is blue • conrisa space au • Chapter One: Some Run

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

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Connor Lassiter has only existed in these worlds for sixteen turns around his system’s sun, and yet his time is already over. It’s funny, really. If he was going to be taken apart, he was really hoping that he’d be able to make it to seventeen. It always seemed like a good year. Or maybe that’s just because seventeen is when you can start the training process to get your cosmic license, and although Connor never breathed a word of it to anyone, he’s always been angling to make it past the atmosphere, even just once.

Now, it looks like he’ll get his wish to leave his birth planet behind, but that’s the only good part about all of this. Connor will never be able to explore deep space, he’ll never chase down settlements on rogue moons, and he’ll never so much as see a binary sunrise, because Connor Lassiter is going to die, and worst of all, no one in this system or any other will fight it.

Even Connor can’t believe it’s really happening. Sure, he’s had this sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that his home has stopped being his for quite some time now, but he always assumed he could do something to pull himself out of it. Yeah, he mouthed off in class, and only ever turned up at home after curfew, long past when he was supposed to, but none of those are grounds for this, right? Right?

Not according to his parents, because they’re the ones who have gone and signed away his grounds license. Horrific. Connor found the proof of it by accident, aimlessly scrolling through his parents’ hololibrary in search of something interesting to read or watch. Instead of a new show, though, Connor had accidentally clicked on the tab for his parents’ private work files.

Connor usually never bothers checking that stuff– who cares about interplanetary taxes and star system loans, anyway– but just as he’d been about to go back to the entertainment folder, he’d spotted his name on a file that read: Destined for Distribution, and then he’d known.

There’s an old saying about how it takes a lunar colony to raise a child, but sometimes even the proverbial interstellar village isn’t enough. Sometimes you can’t force your offspring to be what you want. The governments of the worlds puzzled over such a dilemma for a long time– if you can’t shape the young generation, after all, you risk losing control of all of humanity forever– and after a series of Heartland Wars and internal disputes, they came up with a solution: distribution.

Space travel is a relatively new problem in the history of humanity, but they’ve already managed to mess it up. Those in charge at the start of it all wanted new flights, new discoveries, to take over every planet they saw regardless of who lived there and the downfalls of having to carry on a society in every direction.

After sinking their claws into every star system they could reach, the tension of frenetic interstellar improvement slackened, and what was left was a hastily constructed dystopia, prone to falling apart under the slightest of scuffles. We’re kind of a terrible species, humans, all things considered. We don’t wait until we’ve solved world peace before we take our problems to other planetary systems. Instead, we spread out our grievances until everyone in all the worlds has to suffer as much as we did.

The problem with fast-paced space exploration is that the early adventurers burned through resources just as quickly as they did back on planet Earth, which is now barely more than a clod of ash and dust. To make up for the demands without having to change their tactics, the centralized government sent out a mandate to all its territories: why not solve two problems in one? Get rid of the teenage crisis by using their resources in a better way. Distribute what the ferals would take up to those who could actually use it.

There’s no way the idea of distribution should have taken on as strongly as it did. Maybe it wasn’t as inhumane in the beginning as they did now, maybe it literally was just about giving away food and clothing and shelter. Now, though? Distribution doesn’t just represent physical objects. It means that the actual bits and pieces of you, the bloody matter and bleached bones that are currently in the body of a child marked for distribution, will be spun apart into individual fragments and given away.

There’s the idea that there’s only so much space left in space, so to speak, so if you’re no longer needed, your pieces will get distributed to those who need it more. That’s how our glorious society keeps growing, no longer out but in.

Every bit of you will be gone, destined for some better purpose. Some would say that’s poetic. Connor, who is slated to be killed in just this fashion, would call it gruesome. However, no one really cares about the thoughts of someone marked for distribution, and they’re certainly not going to start now. Hell, they haven’t been listening to him for years. Why change?

As Connor swiped through the distribution forms signed in triplicate according to some tradition from a long dead planet, he was chillingly reminded of how easy it was to get rid of him. Every person born on any planet within the Collective’s reach is given a grounds license when they draw their first breath. When it’s decided that they no longer deserve the air in their lungs, the Collective takes back the air and lungs both. Your grounds license is revoked, and from that moment forward, you cease to exist in any way that matters.

After that, you’re sent for distribution. By turning in the forms to confiscate your grounds license, your parents essentially send the Juvey-cops after you. Most kids don’t find out they’re going to get distributed until the Juveys show up at their house and take them away. They’ll have just enough time for a few cries of outrage before getting packaged into a shuttle and spirited to a nearby lunar colony so the doctors can cut you to ribbons. Delightful.

If, on the off chance, you actually do manage to find out that you’re going to get torn to pieces in the name of an equal and fair government, such as Connor, you have a chance to run. He’ll try, of course, but even as he makes his final preparations to kick-AWOL, some disheartening voice in the back of his head tells him that he probably isn’t going to make it very far. You can’t do anything without a grounds license. Not easily, of course. In all honesty, it’s probably just a matter of time until the Juvey-cops catch up to him.

Of course he’s going to run, though. Connor Lassiter is not the type to sit around and wait for his death to come to him. He’ll run until they strip away his very legs. Until then, he can grab a go bag, walk around his house one last time, and then leave in the dead of night before anyone thinks to catch him.

Connor hovers one last second over the threshold of his open door. After this, his fate is up in the air. He could get caught within moments, or he could somehow find a way to stick it out until his eighteenth birthday and survive to tell the tale. The only way he’ll know the answer to that story is if he leaves now.

Connor pushes the air from his lungs and goes. The door shuts quietly behind him, and Connor Lassiter officially disappears. From now on, it’s all up to him. His best plan is to head towards a nearby interstellar transport depot, hope he can find some absentminded pilot who won’t notice some kid sneaking into the back of his starlight frigate, and take him away from this planet. Once he’s offworld, he’ll be able to breathe a little easier. There’s no way they’ll be able to find one kid in a trillion if he finds a far enough system, right?

Until then, Connor will have to keep his head low. Juvey-cops aren’t the only thugs with guns who can cause him trouble. A crop of creeps called parts pirates have sprung up, and if it wasn’t terrible enough to have your limbs hacked off by trained professionals, imagine all that happening by the hands of black market dealers. At that point, Connor would rather just turn himself in, even though that’s a possibility more remote than anything. They say it’s within their rights to take the groundsless off the streets, so whatever the parts pirates do along the way is just another obstacle he’ll have to avoid.

As if he’s got a ton of great choices, though. Connor’s going to be unwound. That term’s been discouraged by the Collective ever since the idea of distribution picked up steam– it’s discourteous to the victims of distribution, apparently, and casts a pall on the whole process– but, like, they’re taking Connor’s organs, so he feels like he can call it whatever he wants. Fuck. He’s an Unwind. Why should they care what gory words he uses to describe it? They can dry their tears with his skin grafts.

Connor makes it to the transport depot by foot about an hour and a half later. Not a bad time, all things considered, but his veins are still thrumming with an unearthly need to get away by the time the rows of landing zones come into view. It takes some difficulty to hop the fence on the back end, but it’s old and no one really bothers checking here anyway. No one turns up to a depot like this unless you’re low on fuel or maglev boots before your next trip out of the star system.

Or, of course, unless you’re Connor Lassiter and you’re going to die. Connor hits the ground and nearly takes a spill before managing to right himself just in time. It would not do to break an ankle or something before he can even get onto a ship. Injuries would only slow him down, and the Juveys would have plenty of time to wait for his unwinding while the bone mended.

Connor slinks between rows of sleeping cruisers. He’ll have to pick his ticket to freedom carefully. A lot of the old interstellar war vets took to transportation jobs once they were out of the line of duty, apparently they like having a low-stress profession while still getting to see the stars, but they’ll aim at any unwanted visitors with the same reflexes as back in their soldier days.

No, Connor’s better off hitching a ride with a newbie or someone else who’s checked out enough to forget to do a once-over of their cargo bay. He finds the perfect place down a few rows– an old cargo boat, HBY-300s class. Old as anything, and, judging by the pervasive rust stains, not well looked after. Connor can’t see any lights on in the pilot’s seat, so he hurries up the landing ramp and immediately trips the security system.

He doesn’t even see it coming, which is not great for his chances, obviously. He should have assumed there would be something like this, but Connor has been jittery for days now, and at some point his guard, already low, just gave up on him. Lights flash on and the beeping voice of a security AI announces him as ConNor LasSiter, AWOL.

Too late, Connor spots the notice of registration fastened on the side of the ship, how it’s under the ownership of a former Juvey-cop. Probably one still missing the old glory days of hunting down kids who kicked-AWOL, judging by the overeager defense mechanisms. The guy spends his days ferrying shipments from one corner of the galaxy to another, and in his downtime, he picks up escaped Unwinds. How patriotic of him to fulfill such an important civic duty.

Connor swears under his breath, immediately turning tail and sprinting out of the ship. Lights start to click on across the depot’s hangar bay, and the telltale siren of things gone badly begins to echo across the empty space. Connor can hear the sounds of people starting to rush towards the ships, and he cuts an increasingly narrow diagonal across the shipyard, trying to stay out of the path of search beams.

After hauling ass back over the fence, which seems twice as difficult to climb now that he’s in danger, Connor hurtles across plain cement, aiming for the untamed forest across the road. It’s so wild in there that it would be impossible for low flying craft to find him which, judging by the increasing din of engines coming his way, is a necessity right now.

He didn’t think they’d be able to find him so fast, but maybe one of his parents stopped by his room already and figured out he was gone. They could have called the Juvey-cops and had them here by now, especially with Mr. Reliving the Glory Days of Police Work back there already getting a facial scan on him. Connor thought he had been smart by ditching any tech so they couldn’t track him, but he’s forgotten one crucial thing about the life of an AWOL: you don’t just have to be smart, you have to be lucky. Looks like Connor’s days of finding four leaf synth-clovers are behind him.

Out of the depot’s floodlights, the ground under Connor’s feet quickly transitions from concrete to grass. The sudden softness making him stumble. As Connor straightens back up, he has to fling an arm in front of his face to protect himself from a sudden, powerful wind coursing down around him. The grass, illuminated out of nowhere by twin blinding beams, is bent flat to the ground from the force of an engine. The engine of a small shuttle, as it turns out. A Juvey-cop’s shuttle, which has found him.

Connor can see the reflection of his eyes, wide as dinner plates, on the shiny surface of the shuttle. He looks terrified, and a bit insane, which all things considered isn’t the least realistic depiction of him. Connor’s brain is a mess. He thought he’d have a little more time until the law enforcement found him. Looks like his period of staying undercover has come and gone.

The shuttle jerks to a landing in front of him, and a man begins to come down the landing ramp, tranq gun in his hands. Connor freezes for a moment, then drags himself to attention as the man gets closer. Once he’s far enough down that Connor can read the name stitched into the pocket of his uniform– Officer J.T. Nelson– Connor gets himself together and runs, rolling under the nose of the craft to the small space underneath the belly of the ship. This clearly disorients the Juvey-cop, whose footsteps abruptly come to a halt on the metal walkway before continuing again, albeit this time slower.

“Come on out, kid,” the guy shouts, “There’s nowhere you can go.”

Connor’s not about to just turn himself in after everything, though, so he creeps further underneath the ship and around the back. The cop follows him, tucking the tranq gun into his belt so he can use his hands to help himself crouch under the lower parts of the ship in search of Connor.

“You can’t hide under here,” Officer Nelson calls, voice echoing off of the metal curves of the shuttle, “I’ll just crush you when I take off again.”

This is probably true but, as Nelson starts to stalk further around the perimeter of the shuttle, Connor gets an idea as to how he might be able to escape this little encounter. It’s a terrible idea, to be sure, and will probably get him killed if he does it wrong, but it’s not like he has any other options at the moment.

So, Connor stays deathly quiet, heart hammering in his chest as he stays pressed flat to the lower wing of the shuttle, and he waits for Nelson to walk closer. The officer indulges, drawing nearby, and Connor reaches out a trembling hand and pulls the tranq gun from the officer’s belt, just like that. Easy. The guy doesn’t even notice.

Connor eases himself out of his hiding place once Nelson has doubled back the other way, then sprints towards the landing ramp of the ship. He makes it halfway up before Nelson reacts to the sound of his heels thundering up the metal incline and bolts back towards the entrance of the shuttle.

“Get back here!” Nelson makes it to the base of the ramp just as Connor reaches the top.

As the Juvey-cop starts to race up the landing ramp, Connor looks around wildly. His eyes land on a button near the ramp entry and he slams his palm onto it. Thankfully, the button does what Connor had hoped for and the ramp begins to fold up towards the shuttle again, unfortunately with Nelson still scrambling for purchase on the surface. Connor can’t risk the guy getting close enough for Connor to shove him off, so he looks at the tranq gun in his hands and figures out the next best thing.

Nelson reaches the same conclusion as Connor at about the same time. “Don’t you dare, kid,” he begins to shout, but Connor’s finger is already on the trigger.

The Juvey-cop jerks back with the impact of the tranquilizing dart, and he has enough time to snarl out a swear before his limp body falls backwards off of the ramp and into the grassy dirt a few feet below. The landing ramp fastens to the wall of the shuttle with a dull click, and Connor rocks back onto his heels, unable to believe what he’s just done.

He can’t stay in here forever. At some point, that cop is going to wake up, probably with reinforcements, and they’ll smoke him out or something. Then again, as the background roar of the engine reminds Connor of its presence, he realizes that he might not have to leave after all. The Juvey-cop was stupid enough to leave his ship on when he left to pursue Connor, so maybe– maybe he could just stay here after all.

Stars, maybe he could go. Up to space. Juvey-cop shuttles were designed with both ground and space capabilities in mind. He might not be able to set record hyperspace flights in this thing, but he’ll at least be able to crawl to a neighboring planet and ditch the shuttle before hitching a ride on a cruiser like his original plan.

Connor shuffles towards the pilot’s seat in the cockpit and is greeted by the sight of dozens of glowing switches and buttons, all beeping and blinking up at him. He takes a seat, staring, and then tentatively pulls up on the yoke. The shuttle lunges forward and up a little bit, sending Connor sprawling to the side until he manages to fall into the pilot’s chair once more and strap himself in.

After managing to stabilize himself and the shuttle, Connor regards the instrument panel with renewed focus. He’s never been able to get his cosmic license, and that’s damn near out of the question now that he doesn’t even have a grounds license, but he’d had a friend of a friend once who’d known a thing or two about how to fly a spacecraft.

There was this older guy named Carson Shepherd who used to hang around the parking lot after school got out for the day. He’d sit and swap drinks with some of Connor’s friends. The guy had graduated a year or two ago, and it was anyone’s guess how he’d managed to make it to eighteen without getting his grounds license revoked. Carson had flung himself into the life of a military boeuf and wouldn’t let anyone forget it, either. He wouldn’t stop talking about how he was going to run air strafe runs on distant planets, which Connor only listened to because he’d occasionally talk about how to fly a ship.

Stuff like that was mainly brought up as a bragging point, of course, but Connor was starstruck-crazy for anything space related, so he’d tuned in as much as he could bear. Now, Connor wracks his mind for any tidbit of information Carson had given away. He needs to disengage the landing gear, he needs to get himself airborne before people start looking.

He flips a few switches and is rewarded with a grinding sound somewhere below him. A red light flickers off, and is replaced with a green one when Connor shifts the engine into a mode for takeoff. Pulling on the yoke again, this time slower, Connor is able to drag the shuttle up and up until the tops of the trees are waving below him.

He shouts once in triumph, then again, more loudly, when a readout on the dashboard offers to turn on automatic steering. Connor presses ‘accept’ as quickly as he can, then inputs a destination. Odds are, there’s a tracking beacon somewhere on this ship, so he can’t take it anywhere in the worlds, but if he swaps to another planet in the system, he can transfer to another ship that can take him far away from here.

The nav readout offers him a few choices within the same sector, OH-10, as Connor. He’s on Akron-C right now, home planet that will be home no longer, but Connor presses the button for the small moon just one orbit over, OH-10-XXIII. It’s a small lunar body, hardly anything there at all except for a State Home and some religious communities. No one would look for him there, and by the time they did, he’d be long gone.

Connor hovers by the pilot seat for a few moments longer, just in case something goes wrong, but when no warning lights flash and the air remains devoid of sirens, he accepts that he might actually have made a good decision and sinks back into his own skin, tension finally starting to melt away.

Connor watches the ship carry him up and away from the planet that had once been his own. He has no idea if he’ll ever return; if he’ll even want to, for that matter. Instead, he fixes his eyes on the ever broadening expanse of space, and lets the bright pinpricks of stars take over his mind.

Connor Lassiter is finally offworld.

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

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