#and there's just no way to reconcile those two things

[lead-to-light]

whisper, we all know your a good shot, but I have a real test for you.

Shoot an apple off of Surges head, William Tell style. without missing.

"And you're trusting me to do this?" Whisper asked, watching the tenrec toss the apple up and down.

"Well if you hit me, You have two options admit you hit me on purpose and deal with everyone being mad at you or admit that you're a crappy shot. The way I see it, I'm perfectly safe," Surge said with a toothy grin.

Whisper didn't have a counter for that. Truthfully, she still didn't know what to think when Surge approached her for what she calls a 'trust building exercise.' No doubt the woman had read about the classic trickshot in a book, Surge being turning into an avid reader was not on her bingo card, and wanted to try it out for shits and giggles.

Deciding to appreciate the roundabout olive branch, Whisper had Cyan enter the wispon and took aim, "Okay put the apple on your head."

Surge moved to place the but realized something, "Pfft wait hold on this'll only work if I let my quills down." Taking her hairband off, her long quills cascaded down, allowing her to place the apple on her head. "Now I'm ready," Surge said with a soft smile, secretly very excited.

Looking down the scope at the tenrec, Whisper took a moment to take Surge in and was having trouble reconciling this woman being the same angry destructive menace she first meet a few months ago. She looked so…..content right now. With her quills down and happy smile, Whisper was forced to admit something.

"I can kinda see what Lanolin sees in her now," Whisper said quietly to herself as she began pulling the trigger.

Not quietly enough apparently as Surge shouted, "LANOLIN SEES WHAT IN ME!?"

The shout startled Whisper, throwing off her aim at the worst possible moment.

BANG!

A split second sickening squelch sounded out as the shot took out Surge’s right eye.

Dropping the wispon, Whisper shouted in complete horror, "SURGE OH MY GOD I'M SO SORRY-"

Before she knew it Surge was upon her. But instead of a well justified beatdown, Surge had a completely different priority, "WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY ABOUT LANOLIN SEEING SOMETHING IN ME!?"

"SURGE YOUR EYE! WE NEED TO GET YOU TO THE INFIRMARY!" Whisper was not enjoying seeing the bloody cybernetic insides of her skull.

"I'LL WALK IT OFF! NOW TELL ME!"

Watching her face slowly knit itself back together surprisingly did little to calm Whisper down, "FOR GODS SAKE SURGE-"

"PLEASE WHISPER!"

It's those two words that got her to calm down and shift her gaze rightwards. Plain vulnerable desperation was clear as day in her intact eye. Taking a deep breath, Whisper got her thoughts in order, "Okay I'll tell you. But first you have to put me down."

Surge was leaning them both over so far they were perpendicular to the ground, Whisper impressively ignoring the blood dripping onto her face from Surge’s gaping head wound.

"Sure sure," Surge acquiesced, setting her down gently. A few seconds later both women were sitting on the ground facing each other. "So?" Surge asked softly.

"So when Tangle and I got wine drunk and hired the chaotix to investigate something about Lanolin, the thing we asked them to investigate was who she had a crush on. Vector and Espio purposefully spilled beans in front of the three of us and she confirmed it while she was yelling at us," Whisper explained.

I'm not gonna tell her it's full on love. I'm not taking that away from either of them.

A short life of made up of mostly agony trained her not to grab hope so zealously, "Really? You're not lying are you?" Surge said carefully.

Looking dead in the eye, Whisper said firmly, "Surge, listen to me. I know we do not have the best relationship but I would never NEVER do something as cruel as lie to you here. You are without a doubt the most important person in her life."

"She feels the same way about me the way I feel about her?" Surge said, somehow still able to blush despite the blood loss.

Oh

It was one thing to heavily suspect it but confirming it was another thing. How could two people so different love each other?

Well I suppose that's a silly question coming from me of all people.

"Positive," Whisper said, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. The tenrec stiffened and Whisper worried she had overstepped her bounds when Surge wrapped her in a hug and began sobbing into her shoulder.

"T-t-thank y-you," Surge stuttered out, staining her cloak with blood and tears

Once over her shock, Whisper hugged her back. Gently rubbing circles on her back and patting her shoulder. Letting her know she was safe to cry happy relieved tears as long as she wanted. It was during this that Whisper recalled something.

What was it that Claire said once? History doesn't repeat itself but it does rhyme

[lexicorp]

Transformers Earthspark: Another Place, Another Prison

Star does indeed get his meeting with Hashtag he scored with his deal with Megatron. Although, as most things, it doesn't exactly go favorably. The chaos energy shit and his damn 10k layered trauma ratatouille is not exactly making things easy for anyone. I REALLY want these two to reconcile at some point, yet alas, this is certainly not that chapter-

Also--Bee was absolutely about to be baited into fighting Star at the end before Tag interrupts lmao

Previous Chapter: Lingering Ghosts

First Chapter: A Need For Read

Next Chapter: A Broken Boogeyman

Chapter 5: Perception

Starscream had rounded the perimeter of the cell approximately 175 times now. It was a respectable number to end on, so he decided to take a seat against the wall. Megatron was certainly taking his time in fulfilling his side of their deal. Perhaps he had decided to simply forgo upholding his word. That would be disappointing. Although admittedly unsurprising.

His wings perked at the sound of pedsteps through the corridor, but drooped when he recognized that it was his audials playing tricks on him again. 

“Ey what’s the plan commander? I’m dyin’ in ‘ere!” Swindle complained, and the noise made Starscream’s optic twitch red.

“I’m working on it!” He growled. 

“Starscream: Moping.” Soundwave commented just so helpfully as the stoic mech also sat on his aft in the cell across from him.

“I am not!” Starscream’s vocalizer betrayed him with a high pitched squeal, and he cleared his throat. “I do not need to entertain any of you glitches. Just because my processor insists on projecting you, does not make you worthy of my attention. Leave me be and jet yourselves back into space why don’t you.” Starscream waved a servo as if he could send them away with the gesture. 

It only partially worked, as Soundwave’s form found it pertinent to displace itself to a less casual moment in time. When Mandroid had been given free reign to select any one of them as lab rodents to be experimented upon. The blue mech’s servos and peds were tightly bound to leave him splayed out upon the ground for scrambling little human pests to defile his circuits. They hadn’t even severed his sensors for the operation. They’d just popped open panels and prodded around like maggots deconstructing a living corpse. 

Starscream’s frame locked up as his spark felt constricted in his chassis. His vents had stopped. He knew it wasn’t real. Perhaps he shouldn’t have angered the illusion. Now he was stuck rewatching the disgusting scene as samples of the mech’s frame were being sawed off barbarically, the internal wiring being strewn about, and those cursed injections of more than questionable substances. The array of equipment echoed dreadfully in his audials.

Suddenly, the world spazzed again, and one of the G.H.O.S.T agents hovered sinisterly in front of his cell. Staring. Scrutinizing him with an air of hunger on its faceless mask. Like a predacon reveling in the power it held over its prey. Savoring not just its victory over its victims, but sadistically devouring the gruesome process itself. The creature simply found joy in their suffering, and lingered in a promise for what Starscream knew had happened next.

Then, there was Skullcruncher. Starscream heard the croctobot shift in the cell beside him, and his helm was inadvertently drawn to face it. The frame he saw wasn’t right. The lighting wasn’t right. It was dim and hazy, but he vaguely identified Skullcruncher as he shambled towards the barrier separating them. The sturdy beast was painfully caught between his bot and alt modes. Plating bent, warped, and twisted in ways it should not have been able to manage. His faceplate distorted with shadow and melting metal so that his optics and dentas stuck out in an unnerving, unnatural manner. 

The raspy voice box of the creature spoke to him. It sounded like too many different vocalizers at once for him to discern.

“You deserve what has come to you, Starscream. It’s your fault. You didn’t help us. You only helped yourself. How could you?”

Starscream yelped and scrambled back until he hit the opposing corner. His wings vibrated, crimson lightning flickering between them, and he barely registered them scraping against the wall. 

“You did this.” 

The words dug into his audials and he slapped his servos over his receptors like it could save him. “No no, shut up.” Starscream hissed as he glared at his knees, then his vocalizer cracked a chuckle. “You’re not real! It’s not real!” He sang manically. “You can’t trick me. No no no no…”

“You’ll never escape, Starscream. You have no allies that would bother to help you.”

“Hehe-” His vents were cycling far too quickly to aid his addled processor as he muttered, “I’m not listening to you. I don’t have to listen to you. Leave me alone.”

“...Who are you talking to?”

Starscream shrieked and flung his helm backwards in surprise at the suddenly crisp, external sound that questioned him. His optics shot in its direction to see exactly the Terran he so desperately wanted to see. He excitedly sprung to his peds and spread out his servos earnestly.

“HASHTAG!” Starscream greeted perhaps a bit too loudly, then swiftly stepped closer before finding a bit of hesitation and slowing his approach. “I-it’s so good to see you–heh- how-h-how have you been?? After… well, uh–”

“After you stole the Emberstone, nearly killed everyone I care about, and forced Terratronus to start destroying Witwicky?” She finished snarkily with crossed arms and an angry look on her faceplate. 

“Yes… that. But we can put that whole debacle behind us! We each got a couple good jabs at the other– what’s a few bouts of blaster fire between friends, right?” He waved his servos around animatedly and his vocalizer was a bit too high pitched for his liking, but that was a silly concern.

“You’re crazy.” Hashtag stated decidedly with far too much contempt, and continued with bitterness bleeding through her tone, “I can’t believe I ever believed in you! How could you do that!? I see now that you are just– worse than Megatron ever could have been.”

Starscream’s wings flicked stiffly behind him and his widened optics glitched between their red and blue as he took a step back. He was horrified. At what exactly, he couldn’t decide. She hated him– She didn’t understand– She was wrong. His wings shifted up and down erratically to relieve even a fraction of the pent up energy clawing at his spark. His servos shook and his optics darted across different points of his surroundings, occasionally landing on Hashtag before looking away again.

“I- You-!” Starscream had lifted a digit with the intent of confronting the Terran’s accusation, encouraged by that damned chaotic crimson corrupting his vision. But did he really have the right to berate her? A parasite nagged at his impulses that he should crush her voice box for her impertinence. He should tell her just how foolish of a proclamation she had made. Give her a verbal assault equal to the one he’d given Megatron. How dare she turn on him like this.

Yet with his sparing glances at her faceplate, even with the assured determination she held herself with, he saw glimpses of fear in her stance. This deepened the pit in his tank. Was he scaring her somehow? That wasn’t what he wanted. How could he have those thoughts?! Perhaps she did have a right to be angry with him after all…

Starscream in-vented, then tried his best to smile and smooth his vocalizer. “Come now, Hashtag, let’s not be brash.” He chuckled halfheartedly. “I’m sure you don’t mean that! Believe me, it was never my intention to damage you or your terran siblings. All you really had to do was step aside while I– what I mean to say is– i-it wasn’t about you, I just-” Oh that sounded bad didn’t it?

Hashtag scoffed, “Not about me? Woooow, thanks. That totally makes what you did alright. Except it doesn’t. You know, you’re lucky we’ve kept Spitfire and Aftermath from coming in here to give you a piece of their mind! What about what you did to them, huh!? I don’t care if it wasn’t about me, you still hurt and endangered so many people for some stupid power buff!”

Starscream stared at her blankly for some time as her words loaded in his processor. They’ve kept Sprite and A.M. from coming here… that means the sparklings were moving! Of course they saw it fit to come back online as soon as he was out of the picture. He knew it.

Starscream’s grin widened at the revelation, “I KNEW IT!” He said so suddenly that Hashtag flinched in surprise and looked at him with that same strange expression Megatron had worn, paired with a dash of confusion at his proclamation. He straightened himself to regain what composure he could before tilting a servo to enlighten her. “See, I knew those two never required those Embershards to function! I was right! They were just playing a petty, silly little game to get back at me when we were trapped up there in the Titan. Did they just need whatever fuel you Terrans need? Did you somehow collect a higher dose of the chaos energy that I could not? Or did they simply arise after I departed?” He tilted his hip snarkily and crossed his arms. “If that is the case I will have quite the word with Sprite about her rather rude, meager communications she chose to send me instead of contributing.”

Hashtag’s intake hung open stupidly before her faceplate scrunched in bafflement. “...What?”

Starscream thought he had explained himself quite well. He rolled his optics and impatiently urged her to answer his query, “At what point did they decide to come online?”

“Decide?? You killed them! We were only able to bring them back with a crazy idea to toss them into the chaos cloud junk with the spear! Of course anime has never done me wrong and it totally worked– but they weren’t deciding to be dead! What’s wrong with you!?” Hashtag was throwing her servos around in some ill placed frustration as she spouted nonsense.

“They weren’t dead, they were in stasis from their regretable damages.” Starscream tried to clarify. He wasn’t crazy. He knew exactly what was going on.

“Dude you can’t be this delusional. What weird space rock did you eat up there?”

“I’m not delusional.” Starscream snapped with a flash of red in his optics before he reeled himself in again. “If they were permanently offline, then there would have been no possible way Sprite could have pinged my communicator!”

Hashtag blinked and shook her helm as she partially recognized what he’d said. “Sprite…? You mean Spitfire??” She actually looked fondly amused before she forcefully refocused herself, “No– ugh, c’mon man! That makes absolutely no sense. Maybe she was like, haunting you, or something–that would definitely make for some good cinema– but I’m pretty darn sure they were dead-dead for a while there. They looked very dead to me.”

Starscream threw his servos in the air, “Well maybe she was a good actor all along! I’m not crazy!! And I am most definitely not hearing things!!” His wings shuttered as the chaos energy pulled at his circuits. “Believe what you want if you enjoy being wrong–” Lightning shot through his frame and he shook his helm in a hopeless effort to stave the crimson from his optics– “You…You’re just a confused sparkling that doesn’t understand the nuances of the situation– STOP FRAGGING LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT OR I SWEAR I’LL DESTROY THIS PATHETIC BARRIER!” 

That slagger Bumblebee ran up from his post at the sector’s entrance to plant himself between Starscream and Hashtag defensively. “HEY! Cool it Screamer! Don’t make me cut your playdate short!”

The corrupted power of the Emberstone erupted from Starscream’s frame, causing that wretched shaking and haze in his optics. “BUT OUT BUG! This doesn’t concern you!” He growled with a stance rearing for a fight.

“I think it does, actually. Especially with whatever this is.” The bumbling bot whirled a servo in Starscream’s general direction rudely. 

“Oh REALLY?” He laughed darkly, “You honestly think you are of any use here?! You could never hope to stand against me, scout. Now step aside. Or do you wish to come in here and prove what little prowess you might possess?”

The bug scoffed, “I’m not going to fight you right now Starscream.”

“Coward.”

Before Bumblebee could respond, Hashtag frantically yelled: “STOP!!” Once she’d gained their attention she in-vented sharply and placed a servo on the bug’s shoulder plating. “Just- c’mon Bee, this was stupid… let’s just go.”

“WHAT? You- you can’t just leave–” Starscream stressed angrily. How dare she try to walk away from their conversation!

“You can’t tell me what to do!” She snapped at him before stomping away down the corridor. The bug stared at Starscream a moment longer before hopping away to catch up with Hashtag. 

Blue battled for control of his optics and his vents quickened, then he scrambled as close as he could towards them with an extended servo. “WAIT! Wait– please– w-we can- we can still talk about this- I’m sorry I– I didn’t mean it! Please Hashtag, I’m sorry if I scared you, don’t–don’t leave!”

She only spared him one last glance as she tightly hugged her frame, her faceplate full of hurt that he’d foolishly caused. Then the door closed.

“NO! No…no-” Starscream’s servo slowly lowered partway before balling into a fist, “UGH WHY DID I DO THAT?!” He slammed it against the barrier before slumping down to his knees pathetically with a whine. Then voiced Hashtag’s question in a whisper, “What is wrong with me…?”

Nothing about that had gone as it should have. 

Starscream had wanted to have a casual, friendly conversation where they could possibly reconcile. Where maybe he could’ve gotten her to understand, and forgive him. Perhaps even get her to pass a good word to the Autobots! But then he had to go and open his big fat glossia, and say literally all the wrong things. 

When had it devolved so horribly?? He hadn’t thought it was going that bad! Sure, It had often periodically become more confrontational than he had hoped, but he should have been prepared for that. He should have rehearsed his approach better. Why hadn’t he prepared? He’d had the time, hadn’t he?

Yet all he’d managed to do was frag things up more than they already were. Now how was he going to get out of here?! Jump one of the glitches if they decide to bring him energon…? That had too many ways to go awry, but it might be his only chance.

Or… Perhaps, he could get this Primus damned power that infected him to actually be useful…

[buildbuymode]

procrastinating playing by retooling the goth manor for the seventieth time

[nozomijoestar]

Asuka is a tragic figure, a figure of mystery, a wild card, all because the only thing she wants in life is peace and quiet for herself and to feel in control- yet her secret heritage that may be hidden from her for her own protection and the reality that life is unpredictable and will go on with or without you keep ruining that delusion, that vision of how the world is meant to work to her, and she suffers regardless of what she wants, what she does, and how little she understands anything

She was born into a family preaching peace and balance and order while being a creature of violence, and puts a dozen mental locks and excuses over this truth to justify giving into her impulse for fighting by pretending she's justice when she does it

She keeps trying to build a place of safety but she's using sand and life is a wave that destroys, yet she stubbornly persists rather than give up, not drowned to the point of self centered suicidal loathing like Jin- there's contrast, where Jin is cloaked in death Asuka stubbornly clings to life and humanity as a normal person in a terrifying world

She's not a fucking narrative clone for Jun's own purpose, Asuka's purpose must be determined by Asuka herself

[justiceburst]

Moral Alignment Test

Goro is 18.3% good, tied between chaotic and lawful, making him true neutral.

[felassan]

Sylvia Feketekuty: "To celebrate DA day, I've made a bluesky account that I'll keep active for a few days to talk about my work on Inqusition or Veilguard! After a few days I'll lock the account, because I'm not a social media person. Happy to talk until then though. I want to say straight off: the reception to Emmrich, Manfred, the Mourn Watch, and the Grand Necropolis has been heartwarming for all of us who worked on those people and places. Thank you all very much!" [source, two]

Rest of post under cut due to length and spoilers. [Post Two, Post Three]

Sylvia Feketekuty: "In the meantime, I do want to talk about a couple of things I saw floating around regarding Emmrich: 1. Emmrich being 52 or 50. I think people got 50 from data mining a character file, but we can't do a ranges in those files. As in, I couldn't input 50-60, it had to be a whole number. I put down 50 as an early ballpark, then went more accurate in later audition scripts. 2. Fifty-two is a old number I threw into an early document before his art or character was totally final. (And which caused another developer a headache because they thought it was accurate, I never updated it. Sorry about that.) 3. "Wait, how old is Emmrich then?" Once I saw his final character art, I felt more mid to late 50s. MAYBE early 60s. But unless we specifically state a character's age in the game, it's all malleable. I honestly would just adjust it to your impressions unless stated otherwise. 4. I've also seen comments on how weird it is for Emmrich to act like there's an age-gap in the romance if your Rook is around his age. And you're right. 5. The reason is because Rook WAS younger when those scenes were written and worked on. I felt it'd be odd if I never addressed the May-December aspect, especially as it hooks into some of Emmrich's worries. 6. By the time that shifted, it was really too late to change without catastrophic repercussions to the excellent cinematics and music and other things that depend on line delivery and timing. 7. To be clear: you can feel how you want about the age gap coming up at all! But that's how the discrepancy came about. 8. "Is there a way to reconcile Emmrich acting like my Rook is way younger than him if they're not?" Great question! I have several suggestions: -Accept it's an error. (True, but unexciting) -Emmrich considers a gap of 3-5 years scandalous. (Funny, albeit a bit cartoonish.) -The Mourn Watch has perfected swapping out organs, and Emmrich is nervously hiding that he's way older than he looks out of vanity. (Untrue, but funny.)" [source thread]

User in reply to point 6. above: "I'm personally glad it was too late to change because their argument about it is genuinely my favorite scene in the entire game! 😭💕 It's such an important moment to me" / Sylvia: "Thanks! That one was one where I was all sweatily trying to balance things out, with tone, with pacing, etc. Really glad it came together for you. (Cine and the actors did heroic things there to get it feeling just so!)" [source]

More snippets:

Emmrich's favorite ice cream flavor? Rum raisin [source]

Lots of people on the dev team shared the vision of having a bunch of gothic weirdness in that pocket of Thedas [source] (Necropolis/Nevarra)

Sylvia "especially liked writing the Mourn Watch origin, it was fun to write a fellow nerd for Emmrich to chat with" [source]

Sylvia poured some personal worries and fears into writing Emmrich [source]

On Vorgoth and their nature: "I'm a little leery of saying anything, partly because I'm cowardly avoiding publicly defining anything more until/if I ever need to. And partly because I did want them to be a fresh unknown. Sorry!" [source] "I'm glad you like Vorgoth, but I'm afraid I don't have much for you that isn't in the game. I deliberately wrote them so as to leave room, if we ever revisited them, or for Vorgoth to remain mysterious, if we did not. I'm sorry if that's not a very satisfying answer!" [source] "I will say, it was fun to throw in a few lines about Vorgoth's art collection. Their passion for it is sincere and deep. (I wanted all the Watchers to have a little non-death related hobby or interest, because they can be so singularly focused.)" [source]

Dwarven Mourn Watcher is a rare origin combo for Rook so Sylvia wanted to call it out [source]

On the outcomes of Emmrich's quest: "I tried really hard to make the options equally viable, and more up to the player's interpretation or preferences of what it would mean for Emmrich in their view. It's been interesting seeing reactions to it, which hinge sometimes on various single lines pushing people one way or another!" [source]

"The Grand Necropolis is always eager and ready for a new member of the Mourn Watch to grace its ranks." [source]

User: "I loved Emmrich's view on death and what his personal quest ultimately went on to say about the nature of death itself, and how the beauty of mortality lies in its impermanence and unpredictability." / Sylvia: "I really wanted to dig into those themes, and everyone in cine and art and level design and editing and the whole team honed in exactly on the vibe. The floral stuff especially, I was so thrilled when I played through the Memorial Gardens' with the art and lighting in." [source]

User: "I experience thanatophobia and that first conversation w/ Emmrich was so affirming and helped me describe my own anxiety to others" / Sylvia: "Thanks, the thanatophobia was, as you may've guessed, a personal experience for me too. I'm glad it was something that helped a little." [source] "I suspect that phobia is way more common than people think, and part of the reason Emmrich talks about it was to express that sentiment out loud. I find it helps sometimes just to acknowledge it." [source]

What languages does Emmrich speak other than Trade? "I think he'd be familiar with Tevene, since there's surely many, many old texts about magic written in that language. Kind of like a doctor that knows latin through their work. I also named that MW alphabet "tomb-script", though I'm not sure if it has a spoken component or not since it never came up in-game. If it does, he'd be able to speak that for sure." [source, two]

User: "Playing as a Mourn Watch Rook has been an absolute delight!!!" / Sylvia: "Thank you so much, I really liked writing those branches of the dialogue. Since Emmrich's so focused on necromancy, it was fun having a Rook who could be both casual and knowledgeable about it." [source]

User: "In your opinion, what outcome do you prefer for a romanced Emmrich (lich/non lich)?" / Sylvia: "Interesting question! To be honest, I'm afraid to answer it properly in case anyone takes my answer to be a canonical one. I really wanted either path to feel equally interesting/correct for whatever you decide fits your Rook's relationship with Emmrich. (We're also in the strange waters of meta-reasoning. I GAVE Emmrich his fear of death-Sorry Emmrich!-which makes me feel a little culpable for that, even though he's entirely fictional. And that might prey on my mind when trying to decide. A very odd experience!)" [source, two]

What music genres would Emmrich be into? "Classical music is very much playing to type for Emmrich, but I feel it's also correct. He'd enjoy a nice concerto or an organ recital. Or, if he's feeling daring, a bold new Orlesian opera! But I don't think his tastes are too outré in that area. That said, I saw someone post something like "Leave Emmrich alone, let him attend the Depeche Mode concert" while listening to Depeche Mode's "Violator", for the first time, which made me laugh. (Great album. If he could get over the shock of synths, Emmrich might enjoy "Waiting for the Night".)" [source, two]

When writing Emmrich the devs wanted to try and hit the gothic romance vibe [source]

Does Emmrich mix his own fragrance/cologne? Does he ever vary it by the season? "I think Emmrich goes to some of the many perfumers that have set up shop in Nevarra City around the Necropolis, just because he trusts their judgement and expertise. I hadn't considered him varying it by season, but that's very fun! I certainly think he has more than one bottle of scent." [source]

User: "How does Lich Emmrich have sex?" / Sylvia: "I don't mind the question! But my answer's a bit boring: I generally stay at arm's length on the more explicit romance stuff, just because if it's not stated or shown in-game, I don't want to bring in a canonical answer that might affect what people imagined. My general preference for romantic scenes that get physical is to leave blank space somewhere, so players can imagine what happens next. It's not the ONLY way to do it, I think there's legitimate artistic reasons to go more explicit. But that's how I approached Emmrich (and before him Josephine.)" [source, two]

User: "The scene with the fade glow where he touches your hand haunts me in the best way" / Sylvia: "Aw thank you. Our animators and audio people made that scene way better than I could've hoped! They took such care with everything there. I want to say that little eye-peep from Rook was added in by one of them, which was the perfect touch." [source]

User on Emmrich: "i’m curious whether you think he’d prefer dogs or cats (or both, or neither)" / Sylvia: "I think he'd consider cats and dogs a little too noisy and messy for his tastes. Not like a nice, quiet plant or skeleton! (Weirdly, I actually had a scrap of banter going over this exact subject at one point. It got tightened down to the exchange with Harding about the pig he used to hug when he was a kid.)" [source, two]

Sylvia was trying to tease Nevarra with the Tevinter Nights story Down Among the Dead Men [source]. "It was really fun to tease the Necropolis, so to speak, in TN, and I'm grateful we got to actually let players through its gates at last." [source]

User: "if Rook chooses to save Manfred and keep Emmrich mortal, what would Emmrich wish to become of his body once he did pass on?" / Sylvia: "Good question. I think he'd want to remain active and useful in death. A guide for other Mourn Watchers, or posted as a mystic guide somewhere dangerous, or perhaps an oracle in the library." [source]

User: "when and how was it decided that Emmrich would be romanceable? I remember reading that he would not be a romance option." / Sylvia: "I'm not sure where that came from, because I pitched him and then shortly after that we decided the entire cast was romanceable. That was fairly early on in the development of Veilguard, as I recall it. (Could've been a crossed wire?)" [source]

Trick Weekes: "Sylvia wrote the fantastic Emmrich "the Vol-carnage" Volkarin and everything that happens in Nevarra while dealing with a lead writer whose attitudes about corpses and undead are... not dissimilar from Taash's." [source] / Sylvia: "I still remember when you gave the very accurate feedback "I think we need to give players whose Rooks aren't into corpses some roleplaying choices to express this" and I was all "Ohhh yeaaaaaah." (Thank u Trick, you were right)" [source] / Trick: "Specifically, being able to express this without locking themselves out of the content! (For non-Sylvia folks) Given my issues with corpses, Emmrich as a whole was SUPER Not For Me, so I gave one caveat and then said, "For the rest of my critique, I will be impersonating his target audience." [source]

Sylvia on the secret origins of Manfred: "After I pitched Emmrich, I started jotting down notes and thoughts on his plots, his quirks, all that kind of stuff. It was very early on Veilguard, anything was still possible. We were chatting in the writer's room about it one day, and I think we'd just seen some early concept art for Emmrich. And our lead writer Trick Weekes joked that Emmrich looked like a man who'd have a skeleton named Manfred. And I laughed and went "Yeah he does!" And then I thought about it. It's wild in retrospect, but that one comment spurred a train of thought that led to the core of Emmrich's arc. He may've ended up a very different character without it! tl;dr: I stole it from Trick." [source, two, three, four]

"I got to play with a pretty free palette when defining the way Emmrich and the necromancers view death and spirits. But I tried to keep it within the confines of existing lore. That's one reason why that scene where Emmrich talks about Manfred to Harding goes into "the eternal question" of whether a soul actually returns with the dead or not. Nevarra has distinct beliefs, but I thought it'd be interesting if its people argue over their interpretations of those beliefs." [source, two]

"the other writers also suggested a bit later on that the big choice dig more into Emmrich's philosophies. Initially, it was more personally focused on his fears, which made it 'relatable' but pettier. Without that correction, I think it would've been weaker, I totally needed the team push." [source]

"I have a few guides to graveyard symbology, and it's so packed with references and meaning." [source]

User: "Did any of your own fears & experiences, make it into the writing of Emmrich? If yes, is it information you’re comfortable sharing with us? If it’s too personal to give any details, that’s fine as well. Also, across the other games, who do you think Emmrich will get along with best?" / Sylvia: "some of his fears are absolutely personal. The reflexive-compulsive panic over death is something I'm very familiar with, and I wanted to explore that through him. Because I suspected it was not uncommon, and worth examining. The question of who he'd get along with from the other games is surprisingly tough! Because without asking the other writers about their characters, I wouldn't know for sure. So I can only really speak to Josephine with surety. That said: -I think Josephine would be polite, and grow to like him, but would never entirely be over the ostentatious necromancy. -I think Emmrich meeting Sera would be the funniest match." [source, two, three]

"Peter Cushing was also one of my go-tos as an example of what I wanted Emmrich to be." [source]

"(Huge shout out to all the animators and level designers making Manfred run, quite literally. Like 95% of his personality lives in his movement, I think they nailed it.)" [source]

On Emmrich: "I tried to put a lot of passion and sincerity in his love for the dead, and I admit the Necropolis was THE big place I wanted to see in Thedas myself ever since reading about it in a codex." [source]

User: "Thank you for letting him have that cemetery dream date!" / Sylvia: "Having the date in the cemetery was one of the first things I wanted when thinking about the romance." [source]

"Josephine was the first time I was entrusted with a new character and a new romance at once, and that'll always be special to me." [source]

User: "How much input did you have in Emmrich's appearance in the podcast?" / Sylvia: "In the podcast, none myself. I believe it was handled by a third party but reviewed by a few people at BW, I don't know too much past that. (We did provide a descriptor and character rules. Stuff like "Emmrich never swears" and "always says amongst" and broader, more thematically useful things.)" [source]

User on Emmrich: "Are you planning any other external-media stories for him?" / Sylvia: "Thanks very much, The Flame Eternal has a special place in my heart for being the first time Emmrich got to be center stage in a story. (And very flattering to hear about the cross stitch. That's so cool!) I can't speak to any external-media plans, I'm afraid. That's not an implied hint about anything existing or not, it's just literally outside what I'm allowed to chat about. It'd be fun to do something like that again though!" [source, two]

"I must give full credit to Nick Borraine, Emmrich's voice actor. He got the compassion and tenderness the character needed right away." [source]

"And glad him being closer to your age resonated, I really wanted someone older out on an adventure. No reason that has to stop at any age IMO." [source]

User: "do the mourn watcher/nevarra in general raise their pets after they die to keep them around? like a dog skeleton with a whisp in it?" / Sylvia: "To be honest I hadn't thought out this one, but it's a very good question. I'm not sure how common that would be, or even if it's permitted to have pets running around the family crypt. (I definitely thing people would WANT to do it.) You know, I think I'm going to have to leave this one in the vague quantum foam of the future. I think I'd want to not only double check existing lore, but answer that in-game (or in a book or etc.) if we ever need to. (Hope that's not too much of a cop out. Sometimes I like to leave questions I'm not sure about alone, because until it's in an official game or story, it doesn't quite count.)" [source, two, three]

User: "as someone who shares emmrich's anxiety about mortality, getting to spend time with him, and in the grand necropolis and with the mourn watch, was genuinely soothing" / Sylvia: "Thank you, I'm glad he was a comfort. It's a familiar fear for me too, and I'd hoped he would connect that way with people very much." [source]

On the giant ribcage 'ceiling' in the Necropolis: "sadly, even I don't know all the mysteries of the Necropolis. (Which is to say it's a very cool bit of art but has no stated origin yet. Could be a large dragon, a giant...or something weirder!)" [source]

On TN story Luck in the Gardens: "It was nice change up, writing in first person and with someone so rascally. I've got an enduring affection for the Lords after writing Hollix, the scamp." [source]

User: "I just love his genuine enthusiasm for everything he does. If the other party members had fan clubs Emmrich would be the president of each and I love that for him" / Sylvia: "Thank you! I really wanted him to embody a kind of expansiveness and generosity of spirit, to stand in contrast to the eeriness of his abilities." [source]

User: "What was your inspiration for Josie?" / Sylvia: "My girl! When I came on to Inquisition, there'd already been work done on setting up the spine of the main plot, and figuring out the overall cast. But one of the advisors was a little murkier. It just said "Diplomat" on the white board. We knew we wanted someone in that position, but not who. So in a game where you were out exploring, killing demons, etc., but also had a big organization to run? I immediately wanted to make a Diplomat firmly there for you. Somebody you could hand the keys to the entire Inquisition to while you were out, and know it'd be in good hands. I also thought it'd be fun to have someone from Antiva, since that area wasn't covered yet by anyone in the cast. And I needed her to be polished, smooth, but heartfelt, because of that aforementioned trust. And that was the core of Josephine! Her voice actor, Allegra, brought her to life with such lovely charm, and hearing those early sessions also helped me further hone her tone." [source, two, three, four]

"Our music supervisor Ron Dazo hit it out of the park with Emmrich's music IMO. And so glad you liked Hezenkoss! Just very fun to write as a character." [source]

User: "Did any specific watcher raise MW Rook?" / Sylvia: "Good question! I kind of left that one alone because I wasn't sure if I wanted to let Rook define that themselves, or leave it open, and also I'd have wanted a full conversation on it. In the end that was a little out of scope so I left it unsaid. Which is to say that it COULD be Vorgoth who helped raise your Rook. And that stands until/unless we give a definitive answer (or let you choose from a range of answers) one day." [source, two]

"It was such a pleasure for all of us to finally get to explore the Necropolis, I am very glad we got to throw open the gates." [source]

User: "I was wondering if there were any Mourn Watch details you wished you had more time to explore? I was so struck by some of the ethical implications in your stories" / Sylvia: "Geeze, now that's a question. I mention it with Emmrich, but there's some resentment over the power the Watchers hold as THE mortalitasi of the Grand Necropolis, between them and the other orders. There's something to that situation I liked. There's also questions of how they select people for the order. What their standards are, how closely they work with benign spirits. And how they cultivate those relationships. How deep does that go? I also mentioned in a codex "the lives and bodies of those who tamper with the undead of the Necropolis are forfeit unto the Mourn Watch." which is pretty chilling. What's that punishment like, exactly? And in general, writing about anything weird or unexplained in the Necropolis brought me much enjoyment, and it would be fun to dig around how the Mourn Watch deals with (or what they want out of) all these mysteries and entities." [source, two, three, four]

"Geeking out with Emmrich about spooky stuff was a delight to write." [source]

"I liked writing someone older this time, it was something different for me and rewarding in some unexpectedly different ways. (And thanks especially for the nice words on DAtDM - I was very excited to introduce people to the Mourn Watch there!)" [source]

"Ah, tomb-script. I named it but it was our concept artists who went developed it with the hexagon shape-language of the Mourn Watch, which I loved. Conceptually: I think it's used purely an occult or sacred language. Something for the graves, or books on magic, but not everyday things." [source]

"Some trans people kindly offered their help with some feedback on some of the romance lines and others, which absolutely made them much better." [source]

"Trick Weekes actually wrote a ton of the banter where Emmrich inquires into qunari artifacts and customs, and Taash talks about what it was like to grow up under a scholar. I really dig the dynamic they unearthed between the two there." [source]

[thebibliosphere]

I both believe "poor people deserve art" and "artists deserve food", but it's hard to reconcile those beliefs. I blame capitalism. And I suppose it mostly matters who you're stealing from?

I don't mean to question you at all, I'm against people pirating your stories. I guess I was just wondering if you had more thoughts regarding the reconciliation the two beliefs I quoted above.

I think the reconciliation is working toward a future where things are better, and authors and artists don't have to beg people not to steal from them because they think every author is Stephen King, who wouldn't notice if you stole the pennies found under his couch when in reality most of us are hunting for spare change down the back of the couch because we are earning below minimum wage.

We need people to embrace the idea that art belongs to the working class, both in terms of consumption but also creation.

If you don't support the working-class creators, you'll only end up with rich fucks with no scope of the world beyond their own narrow view of privilege.

Indie creators are actually working very hard to change the way the industry works, and the publishing industry is shitting itself over it. They don't like the success some of us are having. It's why they keep upping prices while slashing corners on their own production (while never affecting the man at the top) to try and stay competitive within the rat race they've created.

They're not interested in the proliferation of art. They're not interested in making sure their authors can afford to live. They don't want more diversity. They don't want inclusion. They want profit at whatever the cost.

And while indie creators very much need to get paid because we live in a capitalistic society and everything is burning down around us, and a carton of eggs now costs more than what I earn per hour, our creativity is directly at odds with the type of profiteering big publishers want.

The money should go to the writers. Not the CEOs. The money should go to the workers in the print houses. Not the CEOs. No one needs the kind of wealth these people have. It's obscene. We need direct action against these conglomerates. We need unionization. We need a means to fight back so that we can make art and make it accessible.

So, how do we do that? I don't know. I'm just a very tired, disabled creator doing my best to keep my head above water. But I think getting people to realize that art and books are worth saving up for would be a good start.

That putting money in the pockets of creators is just as important as your own enjoyment of their art. Because if there aren't any artists, you've got nothing.

Getting them involved with their local libraries would also be a great start. Educating them on how the industry works is part of that. The number of people telling me they had no idea libraries paid authors is staggering. And that's intentional. It's a by-product of right-wing propaganda to make you think libraries are worthless and just sap taxpayers' money.

They're not.

If they were, the fash wouldn't be trying so hard to take them away.

Basically, we need working-class solidarity and for certain people on the left to rid themselves of the idea that just because something isn't borne of manual labor, it doesn't have worth. We need the artists and the dreamers as much as we need to bricklayers and the craftsmen. Otherwise, what's the fucking point of it all?

[hug-your-face]

Insight today while washing the lettuce and thinking of my friend who doesn't want to vote.

They are an otherwise intelligent, responsible, generous person, who appears to be socially conscious. They have worked hard and long for their position in their profession. They express concern for the planet. They get twitchy if you use too many paper towels.

But they don’t want to vote for Biden for reasons, and quote "doesn't like the whole system where the parties take turns swinging things back and forth" unquote.

I have been dumbstruck at their attitude for about two months now. I've been thrashing back and forth trying to reconcile this person I love with their attitude:

If you care abt the planet enough to conserve paper towels, don’t you care enough to stop a Repub administration from raping the land?

If you don’t like how things can swing back and forth, don't you want an administration that's going to work to shore up, rather than dismantle, more lasting democratic systems of governance?

If you understand the value of the long game, why are you only satisfied with instant results from a single election rather than viewing that election as a single move in an ongoing process?

The insight came to me as I used an extra set of paper towels to dry my lettuce:

These people are not motivated by outcomes. They are motivated by how their choices make them FEEL.

Not how the outcomes of their choices will make them feel. But how the action associated with their choices makes them feel.

In terms of outcomes for the environment, saving paper towels doesn't do shit compared to pushing for restrictions on oil companies. But using half a paper towel is an instant dopamine hit: "Ahhh, I am caring for Mother Earth. I care. I am a good person. Ahh yes that's the stuff."

This model fits for voting too. We know that The Only Votes That Count Are Those Cast. We know that Dems Go Where The Votes Are Not Where The Votes Aren't. We know that voting in every election, every time, in numbers, is a very low-effort way to contribute to moving the Overton window farther left.

But in the moment, for people who are motivated by how their action associated with their choice makes them feel... the absolute best move for their dopamine supply is to abstain: "I am NOT supporting an old fart; I am NOT supporting genocide; I am Challenging The System; I am a good person. Ahh yes, that's the stuff."

At the time, when I challenged my friend on their position, they held up their hands and said "look, I'm not saying I have any answers, I'm just saying I don’t like how the system works."

They didn't like how participating in the system made them FEEL in the moment.

For those of us who think this is madness, hey, we aren't off the hook entirely. We are basing our choices and actions off of outcomes, true. But there's probably a feeling/dopamine component in there too. "I am holding my nose and voting Blue; I am doing my part to actually affect the future even if I hate some things abt my choice; I am a good person. Ahh yes, that's the stuff."

So maybe the difference isn't in the motivation (my feelings and self-image) but in what motivates us (my action vs the outcome of my action).

I don't have an answer to the question at this time and this post is already long enough. But I'll think on it. And I invite you to do so as well:

For these people (who seem to be a sizable part of the population), how to outweigh the choice where their action preserves their self-image, doesn't cost them dopamine for having to take a "bad" action, and maybe even gives them a happy boost for "not being part of a flawed system?"

For these people, how to help them connect more to the outcome?

Off the cuff, I can't think of any means other than cognitive-behavioral therapy. :/

EDIT: Apparently there's a term for this and it's called Emotivism -- ethics isn't abt effects but abt feelings.

[fernsnouveau]

Tags by @erisluna35 :

#yeah the ship cracked not cause we dont believe in teen love #but because s5 messed up their dynamic #this whole thing messed up adriens arc not because of adrienette #but because he kept getting locked out of his own narrative #which is not satisfying regardless of adrienette #reducing all these complaints to just the salters belittling teen love #the sugar side really dont get it

Tags by @generalluxun :

#as a writer I feel this #writing the LS is hard now I need to ensure there is a clear break from canon to even contemplate it #why did they turn it so toxic?

“You don’t ship the love square because you’re an adult who doesn’t believe teenage love is legitimate”

I’m going to stop you there. Yes, I am an adult person who is aware teenage romance doesn’t have a great track record of being lasting in real life. But Miraculous Ladybug: Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir is FICTIONAL.

If the writers decide on a convincing arc for Maribug and Adricat being “made for each other”, then yes, I will ship them. I considered them an OTP for years, actually.

UNFORTUNATELY there was a multi-season storyline of Ladybug keeping important secrets from Chat Noir that was not fully addressed and pushed aside.

UNFORTUNATELY as of the season 5 finale, we have Maribug lying to Adricat about his very existence as a son of Monarque and his status of being a Sentimonster.

So no. I don’t ship it anymore. And I’m actually kind of bummed this fictional relationship I invested in for years is dead to me.

[tritoch]

I wish people were willing to have a slightly broader or more expansive understanding of FFXIV's women because I think there's so much there in terms of easily-unearthed subtext that no one really thinks about! And I don't mean this in a "people need to re-evaluate their response to the women of Stormblood" way (though I do think that's largely true), I mean I think fandom's understanding even of the women it mostly likes is pretty weak. And you can say that's because the women are underwritten, and I won't argue that they couldn't use more attention from the writing, but that doesn't prevent you from analyzing them the way you can any character in fiction.

Like everyone's always like, oh, Y'shtola and Krile are like your snarky wine aunts, haha. But...Sharlayan is a pretty ossified and patriarchal society from what we see of it in Endwalker and places like the AST quests. Can we open ourselves to the possibility that it means something that almost every young Sharlayan woman we meet, almost all young women in academia, tends to be a little sharp and quick on the retort? The arch and snarky ways in which those two carry themselves reflect in some sense the facts that Krile is almost literally a nepo baby woman in STEM who is barely older than her students, while Y'shtola learned her behaviors from her much older female mentor, a woman who hated Sharlayan academic culture so much she literally abandoned it to go live in a cave.

Or like, Alisaie! Fan jokes and meta frequently buy into her tendency to characterize the dynamic between her and Alphinaud as a jock/nerd, street savvy extrovert vs book smart introvert thing. Except, tragically, Alphinaud's highest stat is 100% Charisma and he absolutely pulled in his student days. All his greatest achievements are diplomatic, and he very easily develops strong friendships with people in every culture you learn about. Alisaie is the determined, sensitive genius who revolutionizes Eorzea by proving the tempered can be healed. She's just permanently carrying a chip on her shoulder that while she and her brother are remembered as the youngest students in Studium history, actually he got in six months before her, a fact pretty much no one else ever brings up once. She's constantly fuming over the fact that he was marginally better than her in certain specific ways in high school, and looking to differentiate them in ways that actually fail to credit her own obvious strengths and accomplishments. I think that's so fun! It's so juicy, and it's equally good for comedy or serious character studies.

Venat is a genuinely benevolent hero who has no compunction sacrificing lives for the greater good. Minfilia is kind and compassionate and clearly on some level actually buys into the narrative of her own unique moral authority. Ysayle is a revolutionary firebrand with almost no concern for the common man, whose death reflects her Javert-like inability to reconcile her own romantic belief in justice with the tragic ways her blinkered worldview (born largely of trauma) let her be easily co-opted by a violent system. But even people who like these characters rarely move past surface-level reads (people who think Venat is just an all-loving mommy figure make me want to fucking die). The fandom is allergic to drawing connections the game doesn't draw, and fails to recognize that FFXIV is a game where characters voice understandings of themselves and others that are wrong about as often as they're right.

You can already see the ways that women like Wuk Lamat and Cahciua and Sphene are getting flattened or losing their shading in fan reception and it's boring. Like I'm not even saying this because you should take female characters more seriously or something (though you should), I'm literally just bored to tears sometimes and if you guys turn Wuk Lamat into another Hot Dumb Jock Lady, I will combust.

[rothpie]

❝FIDELITY❞ |part11

MASTERLIST -`✮´- Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader x JJ Maybank

Summary: Kook!Reader’s world is upended by betrayal, and her only way forward might lie with the most unlikely person—JJ Maybank. But as they build a new life together, old flames and past mistakes refuse to stay buried.

Warnings: time jumps, slut shaming(kind of?), daddy issues, pregnancy and everything about that, breakdown.

previous - next

5 Months and 1 Week Pregnant

It was one of those rare times when everything felt like it was going well. There was no need to lie; you were happier than usual. In the past, you’d wake up late and force yourself to cook, but now, it was like you had an internal alarm clock. You were up on time every day, and you even found some joy in cooking.

You preferred waking up to some noise in the house rather than silence. Having someone else there, hearing the sounds of cooking—it felt like loneliness had disappeared completely. And even though you knew it wouldn’t last forever, you were starting to get used to it. Instead of dreading the day it would end, you chose to focus on the moment.

Living with JJ wasn’t hard. If anything, it made life easier.

You hadn’t thought of him as so helpful before. The way he’d try to do anything you asked, the way he made you laugh effortlessly—it all deepened your bond with him.

He never asked for anything in return. Not a single thing. Yet, he was always there for you, without expecting a thing. That made you feel awful. You wanted to do something for him, to not leave his kindness unanswered. But deep down, you knew JJ didn’t expect anything from you; he’d help you regardless.

Despite growing up with a lousy father in terrible circumstances, JJ had developed a sense of compassion that made you question so much about yourself.

Not just yourself but the world around you. It was absurd how people raised in luxury and privilege often saw helping others as a sign of weakness.

If someone lacked the capacity for kindness, what kind of success could they truly achieve in life?

To you, the answer was nothing. They could own yachts, mansions, and cars—but without a pure and kind heart, what was the point?

These thoughts stayed with you, especially during Sarah and John B’s wedding.

It wasn’t anything overly extravagant, not that you expected it to be. Just a few close friends were there, and most of the faces were familiar. Seeing Cleo and Kiara as Sarah’s bridesmaids in their blue dresses was adorable. On John B’s side, JJ and Pope stood as groomsmen, both in suits with matching blue ties.

You never thought you’d see JJ in a suit in your lifetime. It just—wasn’t his style, and imagining it had always seemed impossible.

You followed every update on Instagram, curious. Everything looked sweet, perfect even. But what really surprised you was seeing the entire Cameron family at the wedding—even Rafe.

You had no idea they’d reconciled. You couldn’t have known; you hadn’t been close to Rafe for months. Still, you always had a sense that he regretted the distance he’d put between himself and his sisters when he was younger.

Even so, you never thought Sarah would be brave enough to reach out. Especially when you saw him sitting almost front and center.

But—it wasn’t your problem. You were glad they’d worked things out, and that was it. You didn’t want Rafe occupying even a corner of your mind, despite the fact that you carried a piece of him inside you.

The two days without JJ felt long. You couldn’t believe how quickly you’d gotten used to his presence, but apparently, you had. When he returned, you couldn’t help but feel relieved. You’d gained a housemate—it was just how things had turned out. The guest room you’d prepared for visitors had become JJ’s room.

When you saw him standing there with a suitcase in hand, you realized this was really happening—he’d moved in.

As the days passed, you got even more used to each other. It was...endearing. Until the day you woke up to the smell of something burnt.

You had no idea what was going on downstairs, but the house reeked. When you went to the kitchen, you found JJ trying to make breakfast.

He must’ve heard your footsteps because he turned to you with a half-smile, looking unsure of himself. Holding out a plate of slightly burnt pancakes with an open hand, he grinned proudly. “Ta-da!”

Your eyes darted to the table, where fresh orange juice and a few other things were set out, but you quickly looked back at JJ. “Don’t get the wrong idea—it’s not for you. It’s for the baby.” He set down the spatula and gestured to your belly before turning back to the stove.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips. Walking over to check the pancakes, you saw they were, in fact, burnt. “You know… I have a master’s degree in culinary arts. My specialty is actually being a chef, but... if you want to keep going, I’d never say no. My pancakes are perfect, of course, so you won’t top them, but—”

Your eyes fell on the charred pancakes again. You grabbed the spatula from his hand. “Step aside.”

He smiled as he moved without protest, leaning against the table to watch. There was no way you were letting either of you eat those burnt pancakes. Still, it was a sweet gesture. He didn’t have to do anything at all.

“By the way.” You glanced over from the stove to see him holding out a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. Smiling, you took it. “Since you hate tea now, I thought maybe you’d like some orange juice. I squeezed it myself.”

You turned down the heat on the stove and smiled as you took the glass from him. “Thank you. That’s so thoughtful.”

JJ shrugged, his eyes wandering around the kitchen as you took a sip. You loved oranges—honestly, you couldn’t imagine life without fruit.

“Of course.” He leaned against the counter, watching as you flipped the pancakes.

“You seem a little off.” You glanced at him. He wasn’t his usual energetic self. It felt like something was weighing on him.

“I talked to John B.” His eyes were still fixed on the pancakes. You always forgot how good he was at hiding his emotions—except now. He looked too upset to mask it. “He kept saying he hadn’t seen me on the island. So, I told him I’d moved here.”

You waited, hoping for some kind of positive reaction, but his face gave away nothing. He didn’t look at you; his eyes stayed fixed on the frying pan. You couldn’t help but wonder what was going through his head, what kind of conversation he had just had. 

And more than that, this was the first you were hearing about it. You’d been with JJ for days now, yet not once had John B—or any of his other friends—called him, as far as you knew. Or maybe they had, and you just hadn’t noticed. “What did he say?”

You set the perfectly cooked pancake on top of JJ’s charred pile, then turned to face him. One hand ran through his hair, ruffling it in that way he always did when he was feeling off. “He wasn’t exactly thrilled.”

When his gaze finally lifted to meet yours, you felt like you could finally read the expression on his face. He looked hurt—genuinely hurt. You wished you could read his mind; it would make things so much easier.

“Did you tell him why you’re here?” you asked, your voice softened intentionally. You didn’t want to sound harsh, not even by accident. JJ straightened up quickly, shaking his head with conviction.

“This is about you. I’d never do that.” His eyes stayed locked on yours, like he was silently making a vow.

The last thing you wanted was for JJ to deal with this because of you. When you’d asked him to stay, you hadn’t thought too far ahead, hadn’t considered what it might mean. But you didn’t want things to turn out like this. These were people JJ trusted, and you trusted JJ. You didn’t want them to fight because of you.

Eventually, everyone was going to know. One way or another, the truth would come out. There was no reason to keep it a secret, not at least for JJ’s sake. And honestly, seeing how upset he looked put a dull ache in your chest.

“You can tell them,” you said softly. “If you trust them, then I trust them too.”

JJ’s eyebrows shot up, his surprise plain as day. He clearly hadn’t expected you to say that. But if they could be understanding, and if it would help JJ feel better, then it was worth it. After all, this wasn’t the end of the world. It was just five more people knowing.

6 Months Pregnant

Everything had escalated so quickly. Even you hadn’t seen it coming. The day you told JJ that he could share it with his friends, he refused. But, of course, you pressed him until he gave in. 

He couldn’t hold out and ended up telling them. No one could deny the initial shock; it was written all over their faces. Still, you were relieved when you noticed how it seemed to smooth things over between JJ and his friends afterward. 

“You got her pregnant?!” John B’s voice boomed through JJ’s phone, loud enough to reach you in the kitchen where you were washing dishes. 

“Have you never heard of a condom in your life?!” Pope chimed in, equally loud. You couldn’t help but overhear their chaotic exchange. JJ was trying to explain himself, but each time he opened his mouth, someone else interrupted. You pressed your lips tightly together, suppressing a laugh as you loaded the dishwasher. 

“Can you guys just stop for a second? Of course not! She’s just a friend—I’m helping her out!” JJ finally managed to get a word in, and the corners of your lips twitched into a smile. Peeking through the window, you saw him sprawled on the porch sofa, legs stretched out, his backward cap completing the look of pure exasperation. 

“Helping her out as the baby daddy?!” Cleo shouted in disbelief. 

“Oh my God, Cleo! I literally just said no!” 

From that day on, JJ’s interactions with his friends seemed to pick up again. Sometimes, yours did too. JJ often FaceTimed Sarah and John B, and while Sarah’s cheerful greetings to you felt a bit awkward, you appreciated the effort. After all, she was technically your daughter’s aunt. 

The real awkwardness came when JJ mentioned his friends wanted to visit—now that they knew he wasn’t on the island anymore and wouldn’t be for a while. At the house. 

When JJ first brought it up, you hesitated—not because you didn’t want them over, but because they’d see you. Pregnant. And at six months along, there was no hiding it. 

But saying no wasn’t really an option, especially since you’d been the one to suggest JJ stay with you in the first place. You were living together now. How could you tell him his friends couldn’t come to see him? 

Neither of you was particularly skilled in the kitchen, so you settled on ordering pizza and turning it into a casual pizza night. Simple, easy, and quick cleanup. 

“Hey there!” JJ greeted them at the door while you hung back a little, watching the scene unfold with a soft smile. John B pulled JJ into a bear hug, followed quickly by Pope, who practically launched himself at him. It was sweet. 

After everyone had taken their turns hugging JJ, they turned toward you. Cleo was the first to approach, arms wide open like she’d known you forever. 

“Oh my God, hi! You look amazing!” she gushed, pulling you into a warm embrace. 

When she stepped back, you couldn’t help but beam. Compliments like that hit differently when you were pregnant—and when you secretly felt the same way about yourself. 

“So do you! I hope the drive wasn’t too hard to find us,” you replied. Cleo nodded with a grin, stepping aside as Kiara came into view. She wasn’t as exuberant as Cleo, but you didn’t hold it against her. 

“Hi,” Kiara greeted you, offering a brief but friendly hug. 

“Hey,” you responded with a small smile, chuckling as Pope called out from behind, “Now this is what I call a house…” 

As Kiara moved aside, Sarah came up, her bright smile almost startling you. The tension you’d been holding onto crept back in. Of course, there wasn’t a person here who didn’t know who the father of your baby was. After all, after years of dating, there was no way it wasn’t Rafe. And you were certain Sarah knew that too. 

“That pregnancy glow thing? It’s really working for you!” Sarah said with enthusiasm, extending the greeting dramatically before pulling you into an unexpected hug. “Look at you! Hi!” 

You hadn’t expected it to go this smoothly, let alone for everyone to be this sweet. It was either because they genuinely were nice or… JJ. Just like you were being nice to them because of JJ. 

Fair enough. 

If you were still living on the island and weren’t pregnant, this would’ve been a completely different vibe. But here you all were, playing nice for someone else’s sake. And honestly? You didn’t hate it. 

In fact, you kind of loved it. 

The house filled with laughter as everyone settled around the table. You watched them reconnect over slices of pizza, their camaraderie so genuine it almost warmed your heart. 

You loved how their laughter filled the space, how JJ kept drawing you into conversations even when you felt like a bit of an outsider. 

You’d always hated curious stares, but their looks didn’t feel like that. They felt like they were listening—like they actually cared about what you had to say. It did wonders for your confidence. 

“I’ll clear the pizza boxes; you guys can move to the couch if you want,” you offered with a smile, gripping the edge of the table for support as you got up. 

“No way!” Cleo was already on her feet, grabbing the box in front of her. Kiara and the others followed suit, practically springing into action. 

“You’re pregnant! No way we’re letting you do anything,” Kiara added firmly, cutting off your protest before it could start. 

A warm hand rested on your back, and you turned to see JJ smiling down at you. 

“I’ve got it,” he said. 

For a moment, you considered pushing back but gave in with a small nod. Something about the way he looked at you made it impossible to argue. Reassuring. 

As they cleaned up, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt. You were the host, and having guests do the work felt… wrong. 

The feeling lingered even as you made your way to the bathroom. Pregnancy had turned every trip to pee into a race against time, and you’d grown to hate how often you felt like you might not make it. 

After finishing up, you washed your hands and glanced in the mirror, checking your makeup. When you opened the door, you nearly bumped into Sarah, standing just a little down the hall. 

“Sarah…” you said, eyebrows lifting in surprise. She smiled nervously, brushing her blonde hair back with one hand while the other fiddled with her nose. 

“Hey,” she started hesitantly, eyes flickering between you and the floor. “I just wanted to check… Are you okay?” 

Her concern was sweet, and you shrugged lightly, feeling oddly touched. “I’m fine.” 

“Not like that. I mean… after everything. JJ didn’t give us much detail—neither did Rafe. So,” she looked a bit uneasy. You could tell the concern in her voice was genuine. She wasn’t trying to pry or make you feel bad. 

“I still don’t trust Rafe, and I don’t know what went down between you two, but I was worried about you. And after finding out about you and the baby, I swear I didn’t tell him a thing.” She placed her hand on Sarah’s arm in reassurance, and the tension in Sarah’s face softened.

For reasons you couldn’t fully grasp, Sarah looked panicked. It was like… she was acting as if Rafe didn’t know. Because she didn’t know he knew. Maybe she thought she’d kept this from him, even ran away from him.

“He knows, Sarah.” Her brows relaxed, but the shock on her face was undeniable. Her lips parted as though to speak, but no sound came for a moment. 

Sarah was grappling with how Rafe could know and still let you leave. Everyone knew you two were in love—so much so it was nauseating at times. You’d been the girl who stuck around the longest in his life, especially on the island. So how did he let it go? How did he accept it? She couldn’t wrap her head around it. 

She couldn’t hide the growing frustration toward her brother. It was almost incomprehensible.

“But—” Her lips moved again, but nothing came out. She was lost for words, ready to storm back to the island and give Rafe a piece of her mind—or more than that. She could practically picture herself shouting at him.

How could he leave a pregnant woman—especially the mother of his child—on her own? And not just anyone. It was you. Not just the mother of his baby, but the girl he claimed to love.

“He found out right after I did. He… didn’t want to do this together. We agreed to separate—kind of. I thought moving to the mainland was the best thing to do.” Sarah pushed the loose strands of hair from her face. She looked genuinely upset, enough to make you want to comfort her. But it was in the past, and there was no use in dwelling on it. You were looking ahead now, and you were happy with that.

“How? That bastard—ugh, I hate him.” Her words were filled with anger, and you couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped your lips. Seeing you smile seemed to brighten her mood too. She felt better knowing you weren’t as upset about it anymore.

Still, Sarah felt an odd shame, almost like she was the one who’d wronged you. The fact that it was Rafe, her own blood, who had left you to fend for yourself—and with a baby—made her cringe.

“Please don’t.” You looked at her, your voice soft but firm. There was no need for her to hate him, especially now that you’d begun mending bridges. “He wasn’t ready, and I was. That’s all there is to it.” 

Her brows shot up in disbelief. You couldn’t believe how quickly her emotions shifted—she looked ready to murder Rafe on the spot.

She was furious, even livid. She couldn’t fathom how he could shirk such a responsibility. She’d be angry with anyone who did that, but knowing it was her brother made her blood boil. “So, let me get this straight—he was ready enough to finish inside you but not to deal with the consequences? Is that it?”

You didn’t reply. There was no point. These were the thoughts you’d worked so hard to bury. Of course, you’d had them too, but if you were going to move forward, you couldn’t dwell on them.

Holding onto the past wouldn’t let you live your future. What was done was done. There was no undoing it.

Sarah noticed your change in mood and quickly reached out, placing a hand on your arm. She looked worried, as though she’d said the wrong thing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, don’t apologize. You’re right. But I just want to move on—I don’t want to waste any more time feeling sad about it.” You gave her a small smile, trying to reassure her. No matter what, you were determined to hold onto your happiness. You wouldn’t let any fight or rejection overshadow the joy waiting for you.

“Of course. Whatever you do, I’ve got your back. You know you can always call me. I mean, I’m going to be an aunt, after all.” Sarah’s giggle was contagious, and you found yourself laughing along with her. It was comforting, even grounding, to know she was there for you.

“Of course you are. Just… can we keep this from your family for now?” You still couldn’t help yourself—you were protecting him. If Ward found out, he’d strip Rafe of everything, and even knowing that, you were shielding him. Stupid.

“If it were up to me, I’d tell my dad just to watch him beat Rafe into the ground—but I won’t. For you and the baby.” Sarah wrapped her arm around your waist, and you slung yours over her shoulder. As you both walked toward the living room, a quiet “thank you” escaped your lips.

“There you are!” A voice rang out as you entered the room. Your eyes followed it to see JJ standing up from the couch and walking toward you. “We were starting to worry.”

You watched as Sarah slipped away and joined John B. A moment later, you turned back to find JJ standing close, his hand resting on your waist as he leaned in. His presence was a little unnerving, though this wasn’t unusual for him. This was just how things had always been.

“You’re okay, right?” His voice was quieter now, meant for you alone. His eyes searched yours as if he were ready to whisk you off to the hospital at the slightest sign of trouble.

Your hand found its way to his arm, squeezing gently as if to reassure him. When you nodded, your other hand instinctively rested on your belly. “I’m fine.”

JJ smiled, glancing over at the others. His hand lingered at your waist. “So, who’s up for a game?”

7 Months and 1 Week Pregnant

Sleeping had become a challenge. You missed the quality rest you used to get, the kind that actually left you feeling refreshed. You longed for the days when you could sleep on your stomach, or even just roll over in bed without feeling like a beached whale. 

Now, falling asleep required effort—serious effort, like you were training for some sleep Olympics. 

Waking up drenched in sweat had become your new least favorite thing. The nights felt as hot as mid-summer, and every single one included at least one trip to the bathroom or the kitchen for water. 

Even getting out of bed was an ordeal, just as tough as getting back in. Your back was always aching, and it felt like life itself had become one giant workout session. Exhausting in every possible way. 

It was one of those nights again. You woke up, groaning internally at how much you hated this pattern. You wanted nothing more than a good night’s sleep, but of course, that was out of the question. Everything felt like it was conspiring against you. 

Pushing your hair out of your face, you sat up, gasping for breath like you’d just finished running a marathon. The sheer size of your belly still caught you off guard sometimes. 

When you noticed your bedside glass of water was empty, you groaned. Of course. The universe wasn’t cutting you any slack. With a resigned sigh, you got up and shuffled toward the door, making your way downstairs. 

In the kitchen, as you poured yourself a glass of water, a faint buzzing sound caught your attention. You paused, straining to listen. Was the TV still on? You had gone to bed early, and now you were wondering if JJ had forgotten to turn it off. 

With the glass in hand, you wandered into the living room. The only light came from the flickering TV screen. The scene before you wasn’t one you expected: JJ was sitting on the couch, his elbows on his knees, his hands cradling his head. 

Your eyes flicked to the clock on the wall—3 a.m. 

As you walked closer, it seemed like he either hadn’t heard you or was pretending not to. He stayed frozen in place. “JJ?” you called softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

He looked up, finally noticing you, and turned his body to face you fully. For a moment, your eyes locked. Normally, JJ was impossible to read. He was a master at keeping his emotions hidden. But now? His face betrayed a heaviness that made your chest tighten. 

“Hey,” he said softly, straightening up. His eyes dropped to your belly, and he rested a hand on it gently. You perched on the edge of the couch, facing him. “Are you okay?” 

His voice was low, almost hollow. Concerned, you ran a hand through his messy hair, and his eyes fluttered shut at the touch. He leaned back slightly, allowing you to continue. 

“We’re fine. Are you okay?” 

He didn’t respond immediately. He stayed still, eyes closed, seemingly trying to ground himself. You wanted to beg him to tell you what was wrong, the tension gnawed at you. 

When he didn’t answer, you leaned forward awkwardly to set your glass on the coffee table. Noticing your struggle, JJ opened his eyes and silently took the glass from you, placing it down himself. 

You settled beside him, watching as he intertwined his fingers and stared at his hands. “What’s going on?” you pressed gently. 

JJ hesitated, his mouth opening and closing like he was testing words that didn’t feel right. His hands fidgeted, a clear sign of his unease. 

Just as you were about to ask again, he finally spoke. “They called me from police station.” 

Your eyes widened, alarm flashing through you. Why? What could he have possibly done? He’d been staying with you for the past two months, barely leaving your side. If someone had falsely accused him of something, you’d have your family’s lawyers on it in seconds. 

“They arrested my dad,” he said, his voice flat. “And he decided to call me.” 

A humorless chuckle escaped his lips, and it made your heart ache for him. He looked awful—his eyes red and tired, his hair a mess, and his clothes disheveled. This wasn’t JJ, not the one who always found a way to laugh, even in the worst situations. 

“Now he remembers I exist,” he muttered, the laugh leaving his voice entirely. It was eerie, almost unsettling. Anger and hurt swirled in his expression, clear as day. 

You opened your mouth to speak, but his hand shot up. He dragged it through his hair harshly, and you grabbed his wrist to stop him. “Hey, JJ—don’t.” 

He stilled, letting his hand fall into yours. You could feel him trying to steady his breathing, his shoulders rising and falling deeply. 

“It’s been almost four months. Four whole months, and he didn’t notice I was gone. And now he calls? I don’t even care about him anymore, I swear. He hasn’t mattered to me for years. But if I hadn’t seen my kid in months? I’d feel like I was dead inside.” His voice cracked, and you squeezed his hand tighter. “I’d cross an ocean to find them.” 

When he looked at you, his eyes were bloodshot, the veins painfully visible. “JJ…” you whispered, his name barely audible. He dropped his gaze back to his lap. 

“I hate that I still care. I hate that he’s the only family I have,” he admitted, shaking his head as he closed his eyes again. 

Unable to stop yourself, you wrapped your arms around his neck. He didn’t hesitate to pull you close, clinging to you like a lifeline. 

Right now, JJ didn’t need words. He just needed you—your comfort, your warmth. 

You felt his body tense in your embrace, so you ran a soothing hand up and down his back. “Do you want me to get him out?” you whispered softly. 

Even though you despised the man for how much he’d hurt JJ, you’d do it if it meant bringing him a fraction of peace. 

“No,” JJ’s voice was firm. He shook his head sharply and buried his face in the crook of your neck. 

“What do you want me to do? Just say the word, and I’ll do it.” In that moment, it felt like every wall between you had crumbled. There was no pretense, no filters—just raw, unguarded honesty. 

“Just stay like this,” he murmured against your neck. 

So you did. You leaned back into the couch, holding him close, your hands rubbing slow circles on his back. The faint hum of the TV filled the silence as the two of you stayed there, tangled together in the stillness of the night. 

8 Months Pregnant

"JJ, put it down." You tried to sound firm, but your voice cracked slightly. JJ looked at you, confused, holding the offending object in his hand. You couldn’t bear to look at it for more than a second without feeling nauseous. Standing there in the middle of the grocery store, you were dangerously close to losing your lunch.

"What? This?" He held up the banana, inspecting it like it might hold the secrets of the universe. You quickly averted your eyes. Once upon a time, you had been all about bananas—team banana all the way. Now? Now they made you gag. The smell, the texture, even the thought of eating one was enough to make your stomach churn.

Pregnancy had turned your entire palate upside down. Foods you used to love? Hard no. Foods you couldn’t stand? Suddenly your favorites. It was fascinating in a completely horrifying way. You hadn’t even known this was a thing until it started happening to you.

"Okay, okay, relax." JJ put the banana back like it was a ticking time bomb and stepped closer to you. You deliberately avoided looking in its direction, shifting your focus to the other aisles as you tried to erase its image from your mind.

"Please don’t puke here," JJ teased, his tone light and playful. You shot him a glare, but it only seemed to amuse him further. His lips twitched, and before you could come up with a witty retort, he turned away, a muffled laugh escaping him.

You knew he was trying not to laugh outright, but you decided to let it go. He’d been in this mood all day—overly playful, overly JJ.

Your face scrunched up as a sharp movement in your belly caught your attention. Your baby was unusually active today. A small groan escaped your lips as you felt another jab, and almost immediately, JJ’s hand found its way to your back.

"What’s going on? Is it happening? Are you giving birth?" His voice was so over-the-top, you couldn’t even muster the energy to respond. You turned to him instead, searching his face to see if he was actually serious.

It was one of those days. Your baby girl was unusually hyper, and JJ seemed determined to match her energy with his relentless joking. 

"No," you finally managed. "We still have a month to go. You know that."

JJ smirked, clearly unfazed. "You’re super tense today," he remarked.

"It’s just... she’s moving so much." You rubbed your belly in small circles, hoping it would calm her down. She felt like she was trying to punch her way out. JJ’s joking demeanor melted as concern crossed his face.

"Should we go home?" he asked, his voice softer now.

You shook your head. "No, it’s fine. She’s settling down." And thankfully, she was. The movements were starting to ease.

Convincing JJ that you were fine was always a bit of an uphill battle. When it came to you and the baby, he was constantly on high alert, acting like every little thing could be the moment. But your doctor had reassured you just last week—your due date was still a month away.

March 29th.

That was the big day, circled in bright red on your calendar. Time had been speeding by for the past eight months, but now that you were in the final stretch, the days felt like years. Every tick of the clock seemed slower than the last.

You’d started counting down the days since your doctor gave you the date. It didn’t help that waiting made you restless. The anticipation was almost unbearable.

Shopping trips with JJ had evolved too. It wasn’t just groceries anymore. You were now stocking up on diapers, baby wipes, and tiny clothes that made your heart melt. It felt early, but preparing in advance made you feel calmer—and, if you were honest, even more excited.

You were counting down to the moment she’d finally arrive. Your little girl. A happiness unlike anything you’d ever known was just around the corner. You could feel it. 

"An important question: Which one do we pick?" JJ held up a tangerine in one hand and an orange in the other, his face comically serious. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“Both,” you replied, shaking your head. A victorious grin spread across JJ’s face as he nodded like he’d just solved the world's most difficult puzzle. 

“Team Vitamin C,” he announced proudly, tossing both bags into the cart. 

You were about to respond when a familiar face caught your eye. Instinctively, you turned your back and stepped closer to JJ, hoping to blend into his shadow. But your hopes were dashed as soon as you heard your name, loud and cheerful, coming from behind. 

“Sweetheart! What a surprise! Look at you—you’ve grown so much! You’re glowing!” 

Viola. 

She practically bounced over, her smile so wide it could’ve been painted on. Behind her, a shopping cart waited, along with the little girl you’d seen with her at the park a few months ago. The child was quietly playing with a toy, blissfully unaware of the impending awkwardness. 

“Hi, Viola,” you greeted her, your voice betraying none of your inner cringe. You could feel JJ’s presence close behind you, his chest lightly pressed against your back. Oh, he was doing this on purpose. 

Viola’s gaze flickered briefly to JJ, but her focus quickly returned to you. “How are you, darling? I haven’t seen you at the park lately.” 

It was almost funny how sweet she sounded, especially considering how your last interaction had gone. The thought of voluntarily seeking her out again had never even crossed your mind, especially knowing she was always there with her daughter. 

“Haven’t been going out much,” you lied effortlessly, giving her a polite smile. Viola’s grin widened, but it was so fake you almost felt secondhand embarrassment. 

The silence that followed was unbearably awkward. Viola’s eyes kept darting back to JJ, sizing him up like he was some new exhibit at the zoo. You couldn’t quite place the urge to drag him away, but it was growing stronger by the second. 

Viola, who looked like she was pushing forty, seemed to be giving your “friend” the once-over, and it made your skin crawl. “I thought you said the baby’s father didn’t want to be involved? Did I remember that wrong?” 

You briefly considered staying silent in the hopes that she’d get bored and leave, but her expectant gaze made it clear she wasn’t going anywhere. 

“He’s a friend, helping me out,” you finally said, glancing over your shoulder at JJ. His expression was unreadable, but the slight furrow of his brow hinted at annoyance. 

Viola’s smirk widened, and she nodded like she was completely on your side. “Of course. You’re only twenty, after all. It makes sense you’d need support. Though, I’ll admit, you’d feel much more secure with a ring on your finger and the father around, don’t you think?” 

Her tone was all sugar, but her eyes darted back and forth between you and JJ, waiting for a reaction. 

“If she wants a ring, she’ll have one. If she doesn’t, she won’t,” JJ cut in, his tone calm but firm. “And honestly, it’s better for a child to grow up with one stable parent than two miserable ones.” 

You nearly bit your lip trying to hide your grin as JJ stepped closer. His hand brushed your arm, a subtle yet protective gesture. 

Viola’s smile faltered as she took in his words. Her face twisted briefly in irritation before she smoothed it over with forced politeness. Giving you both one last look, she muttered something under her breath and turned to leave, her daughter trailing obediently behind. 

“Who is that woman?” JJ asked, his tone dripping with disdain as he stared after her. 

“Don’t ask,” you muttered, rolling your eyes.

8 Months and 4 Week Pregnant

The thoughts wouldn’t leave your mind. You had assumed you’d feel calmer as your due date approached, but instead, all you felt was a growing knot of anxiety. 

You wanted to be a mom more than anything. You couldn’t wait to hold your daughter in your arms, to breathe in her scent, to feel the weight of her tiny body against you. But as much as you wanted it, you couldn’t shake the nagging doubt: Would I be a good mom?

When you confided in your own mother, she’d assured you that this was part of being a mom. She’d said that motherhood was about being consumed with worry while loving them with everything you have. It was about constantly questioning if you were doing things right. 

And that was exactly what you were doing. 

On top of that, your mind couldn’t stop racing about the future. JJ was going to leave. You knew it. Whether he’d head back to the island or stay nearby, you weren’t sure, but the five months you’d spent living together were almost over. 

“What’s got you all worked up?” JJ asked as he joined you on the porch, draping a blanket over your shoulders. His usual energy was intact, his carefree vibe so familiar it made your chest ache. 

You didn’t know how you were going to say goodbye. For months now, he’d been there, in your space, filling the silence. You could barely remember what it was like to live in this house alone. It felt like he’d always been there, like he’d been a part of your life since the beginning. 

“What’s going to happen after the baby’s born?” 

You were tired of tiptoeing around the subject. No more guessing games or dancing around what you really wanted to say. You weren’t going to hide behind vague questions anymore. This was normal. It was okay to ask.

You needed to know—not just for yourself, but for your daughter’s future. 

When JJ gave you a soft smile, your eyebrows shot up. He sipped his coffee, his gaze wandering off to the backyard like he was gathering his thoughts. 

“I was actually going to talk to you about that,” he said, sitting up a little straighter. 

You took a deep breath, bracing yourself for the inevitable conversation about him leaving. 

“I’ve put in a few job applications,” he continued. “I’ll stay here as long as you need me, but after that, I think it’d be better if I found my own place nearby. You know, give you your space.” 

His voice was serious—no teasing, no jokes. 

When his eyes met yours, you knew he wasn’t kidding. It was written all over his face: he meant every word. 

You stared at him, stunned. Was this the same JJ you’d met months ago? The wild, reckless boy who didn’t seem to take anything seriously? 

Back then, you didn’t even need to know him well to guess the kind of guy he was: someone who loved parties, getting drunk, maybe even picking a fight or two. After all, his reputation had preceded him. But since he’d come into your life, he hadn’t been drunk, he hadn’t fought anyone. It was like someone had waved a magic wand and transformed him. 

“Really?” you asked, still skeptical. 

JJ grinned, his signature playful smirk lighting up his face. “Really,” he said, nodding. 

You couldn’t believe it. Without thinking, you pushed off the blanket and made a clumsy attempt to get up, forgetting about the massive baby bump that had been your constant companion for months. 

As you threw your arms around him, you heard him laugh softly. “Whoa, easy there,” he said, but he hugged you back tightly. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. And you meant it. More than he could ever know. 

April 3rd 

“JJ!” His name escaped your lips as you stared at the floor. Finally—it was happening. You couldn’t believe it. It was a bit past the due date, but it didn’t matter. The day you had been counting down to, with so much anticipation, was here. 

“What? What’s going on?” JJ’s voice echoed through the house, and within seconds, the rapid thuds of his footsteps on the stairs filled the air. 

This was it. The moment had finally arrived. 

“My water just broke.” 

When you looked up at JJ standing frozen in the doorway, a huge smile spread across your face. His eyes darted from the floor to you, growing comically wide as the realization hit him. 

“Fuck.”

[chilschuck]

Can i request for chilchuck react to reader who like to daydream and after he tell the reader he is married, the reader keep spacing out more often out of sadness and they also try to avoid interacting with him much so she can move on. But laios and the other think it's normal since she always avoid interacting with people ( the reader interact with chilchuck more after falling in love with him )

Do you think he will notice? (ಥ﹏ಥ) (ಡ‸ಡ)

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ WAHHHH ANON this is such a good concept and made my heart hurt…… i ended up adding some comfort to it because if you’re like me, you need it after reading angst!! :”)))

— OF COURSE: chilchuck x gn!reader.

꒰ warnings: ꒱ sfw + hurt/comfort! might be a lil ooc, lol.

꒰ wc: ꒱ 941

✦ i hope this turned out okay!! i made it shorter than my other drabbles by accident but it felt good to end it where it did. i kind of changed the prompt a lil but only because i wanted to give you guys some love from chil still. (;;;w;;;) i’m honestly worried this turned out bad…. hhhhh. i’m so sorry if it’s not what you wanted. ;;; i still hope you enjoy!!! <333

He knew something was wrong.

It wasn’t difficult to see that you had started avoiding him. Even your gaze refused to meet his own for longer than it had to. Your constant spacing out and stares at the floor said all he needed to hear: you were upset.

It only seemed to get worse when you overheard his talk about reconciling with his wife, any hope you had shattering into a thousand pieces in front of you. From then on, you didn’t smile unless you felt you had to. The thick silence you left in your wake was suffocating, and Chilchuck wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

The other members in the party took it as if you were being your usual spacey self, and didn’t draw any attention to the issue. This only made Chilchuck feel worse; he definitely noticed the change.

You used to hang back with Chilchuck and talk with him constantly, sharing little tidbits about yourselves or chatting mindlessly. Things seemed to come easily when it came to you... Too bad he only realized this now.

The smiles you gave him, the eyes full of affection, the lingering touches… It stung that they were no longer a part of his everyday life. Instead, the sadness that ate at you only bled through to your face, into your actions, and into your silence. It was unfamiliar and unbearable at the same time… Especially with the way you’d closed up further.

Chilchuck wasn’t stupid; he knew you harbored some sort of feelings for him. He wasn’t sure if that made this hurt more than it would otherwise. You were obviously distancing yourself from him, further proving his point that inner party relationships were trouble. Yet, there wasn’t any anger or resentment in his chest towards you. If anything, this was a misunderstanding between the two of you.

Calling your name, he approached you almost apprehensively. The recoil you gave made that familiar sharp pain in his chest reappear. Blurting out an excuse, you made your presence scarce. And just like that, you left him alone again.

Of course he noticed. If anything, he hoped that it was all some sort of miscommunication. Sure, he wanted to reconnect with his estranged wife, but… That’s what they were: estranged childhood sweethearts that grew apart. Along with their love, their relationship changed. Things weren’t something he could fix, and his old flame knew that too. But he hoped more than anything they could sort through their differences and still be at least friends.

Of course you didn’t know. There was no way for you to know, or have known his true intentions. Like everything else he tried to bury deep down, you were fading from his life. Chilchuck couldn’t seem to let this one go, to let you go.

So he chased after you. For once in his life, he decided to not swallow these feelings down. He knew there was only so much he could bury, only so much he’d want to bury. You didn’t deserve that, and he needed you to give him those smiles again. To give him those gazes full of adoration and those tender but fleeting touches…

You didn’t pull your hand out of his immediately. Instead, when he called your name again this time, you turned. Chilchuck swallowed.

“Why are you avoiding me?”

Surely there was a better thing to ask at this moment, but your lip quivered nonetheless. A deep sigh leaving you, your gaze met with the floor again.

“…So it’d stop hurting.” Was all you replied, the weight of those words knocking the air out of him. He opened his mouth to speak, but you raised a hand to silence him.

“This is for the best... I hope you understand.” Your voice used to never sound so broken. It was soft in a way that he’d never heard before. You had truly given up on this, and he can’t say he blames you. He’d have given up on himself, too.

But he can’t let himself fall into that same cycle of self-pity. Not again, he assured himself, reaching up to grab a fist full of your top and pulling you down to meet his eyes. “Let me explain this to you. Please. I… I’m not going back to her because of the reason you think.” Chilchuck hadn’t heard himself this pleading in so long. He felt pitiful, and he suddenly remembered why he doesn’t like being vulnerable.

You couldn’t stop your head from nodding a yes to his request, that spark of hope trying to ignite once again in your chest. Trying to snuff it out, you waited patiently for him to continue.

And so he did. Baring it all to you, he decided this would be another step towards being more open with himself. Maybe you’d see him as pathetic for this, but he tried to piece the words together as congruent as possible. The feelings he had for her distinguished with the years spent apart and even some of the time spent together. This whole time he’s been sure that he just wanted to right the wrongs he did, and move on. Hopefully with you, when all this was over.

Of course you said yes. You listened, and with every word that left him, the flame within you rekindled. You weren’t sure what to say for a moment, besides giving a light laugh in relief. Even Chilchuck exhaled a brisk chuckle, scratching the back of his head in nervous habit. He’s not sure he could ever get used to this whole “telling your true feelings” thing.

But for you, he’d try.

— dividers by @/cafekitsune!! <333

[aventurineswife]

Aventurine wife but Sunday pfp smh

Lol but I have 101 pulls saved so far for Sunday so in celebration I would like to request Sunday with reader who gets him a gift to welcome him to the express. I'd probably do something hand made cause I think those kinds of presents are meaningful.

Welcome to the family, Sunday!

Summary: you create a handmade bracelet as a meaningful gift to welcome Sunday aboard the Astral Express. The bracelet, crafted with celestial beads and lavender thread, symbolizes connection and kindness. Though Sunday harbors a twisted belief in the Sweetdream Paradise, the gift resonates with him, leading to a quiet, shared moment of understanding between you two.

Tags: AE!Sunday x Reader, Handmade Gift, Emotional Connection, Gentle Romance.

A/N: SHHH!! 🫣 I'LL CHANGE IT SOON!! Take this in the meantime 🤲

The Astral Express hummed with the soft glow of stars as it sliced through the cosmos, an endless journey across the universe. You stood at the side of the locomotive, your hands fidgeting nervously. Today was important. Today, you would welcome Sunday—one of the most revered members of the Oak Family—aboard the train.

Though you knew Sunday as a man of great dignity and wisdom, you also knew there was more to him than the poised leader he projected to the world. His belief in the Sweetdream Paradise was something you couldn’t quite reconcile with, but you respected his view—no matter how different it was from your own. After all, there was a certain kind of pain in seeing the world with so much uncertainty.

But this gift… you hoped it would speak to him in a way that words never could.

You'd spent weeks working on it, carefully handcrafting each detail with a kind of tenderness that only you could understand. It wasn’t much—just a small, intricately woven bracelet—but it was imbued with something personal, something that could perhaps touch the hearts of those who wore it. The bracelet was made from pale silver thread, woven together with strands of glowing celestial beads, each one meant to symbolize a star that would never fall from the sky. You had used thread dyed a soft blue, the color of skies, which seemed fitting, considering Sunday's ethereal nature.

You glanced at the door to the cabin, waiting for his arrival.

When it finally slid open, there stood Sunday in his usual immaculate attire, the long tailcoat flowing elegantly behind him. His eyes flickered over the room, his expression a mix of curiosity and recognition as they landed on you.

"I see you’ve been waiting." he said softly, his voice carrying a certain calm authority, yet with an underlying gentleness.

You felt a flutter of warmth at the sight of him. You’d only spoken in passing since he had boarded the Astral Express, but today, there was something different in the air. Something intimate.

You cleared your throat, stepping forward slowly. "Yes, I have. I, uh, wanted to give you something… a small gift," you said, holding out the bracelet, the delicate glow of the celestial beads catching the light.

Sunday raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "A gift?" he mused, taking the bracelet gently in his hands. His gaze softened as he examined it closely, the soft blue strands catching his attention.

"You don't have to accept it," you said quickly, a little embarrassed. "I just thought it might be meaningful—since, well, you're new here and all."

His fingers brushed over the beads as he looked up, and for a moment, his eyes met yours, piercing yet somehow gentle. "You believe in meaning behind these things," he said, almost to himself. His voice was softer now, as if he was considering something deeper.

"Yes, I do," you replied, your heart racing a little under the weight of his gaze. "Sometimes, a gift doesn’t have to be grand to carry meaning. I thought this might remind you that even in the vastness of the universe, you’re not alone. You don’t have to carry everything by yourself."

A faint smile played at the corners of Sunday’s lips, but it was not the usual serene, distant expression he wore. It was something softer, warmer. "You would choose such a gift for me," he said, his tone shifting slightly. "A reminder that, even in a world built on ideals of survival, there is kindness."

He turned the bracelet over in his fingers, lost in thought for a moment. "I suppose... I can accept this," he said, his voice gentle yet resolute. "Not as a symbol of weakness, but as a testament to the strength of connection."

You felt a rush of relief, even as your chest tightened at his words. He didn’t see it as an escape or an illusion—he understood it, in his own way. This gift, this simple gesture, was something that transcended the dream of a perfect world.

You smiled softly, watching as Sunday carefully slipped the bracelet onto his wrist, the delicate strands of blue and celestial beads now draping across his skin.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice softer than you'd ever heard it. "For the kindness you’ve shown me. Perhaps... there is meaning beyond what I’ve dreamed."

You nodded, heart swelling with a quiet happiness. "No matter how far the stars may stretch, we’re all connected, Sunday. Even in the Sweetdream Paradise, you're not alone."

A flicker of something warm passed through his eyes, the glimmer of gold and navy that always seemed to hold a thousand unspoken truths. "No," he agreed, his voice carrying the weight of the cosmos. "Perhaps... we’re not."

As the Astral Express continued its journey through the vast, starlit expanse, you both stood together—silent, yet connected by a bond that neither the dream of paradise nor the harshness of reality could sever.

[tizeline]

1-I've fallen in love with your Tiz Sep AU, especially how you made Mikey the problem child with the hardest redemption arc out of the 4, because normally it's not Mikey who gets that role (Cause he'll always be a sweet kid no matter what dimension or universe or faction he's in<3), so I'm really interested to see how Sep Mikey and Sep Donnie finally reconcile and become closer<3<3<3<3

I'm glad you're enjoying the AU :D! And I'm still trying to figure out how the events of the movie is gonna go down in the AU, but so far this is what I've come up with (though keep in mind this is subject to change)

So it's during season 2 that all that drama between Mikey and... basically everyone else in his family gets really intense, but he does end up mostly reconciling with Leo, Raph and Draxum during the season 2 finale (don't know the details yet, just that it's gonna happen). With that character development, Mikey also grows more accepting towards humans, he still doesn't like them but he's also not trying to destroy them all so that's something!

But Mikey and Donnie just can't seem to get along, in the time leading up to the invasion they're just stuck in this constant state of animosity. Raph and Leo certainly try to mediate, but it's almost like Mikey and Donnie don't want to get along. It's kinda one of those situations where it doesn't really matter why two people started fighting, cuz now they're been fighting for so long and about so many things that it feels impossible to even try to make peace.

So then The Foot get the Key, which in the AU happens because Donnie and Mikey can't stop fighting for two fricking seconds and they screw up the mission. And then each of them blame the other for the mission going wrong, which just gets worse when Casey Jr shows up and warns them about the Krang and goddam these two are being annoying. STILL! Despite their less than ideal relationship, they have started genuinely care about each other, and they both feel guilty about losing the Key, so when Mikey sees an opportunity of getting the Key back he goes for it (like canon!Leo did). And when Donnie sees that Mikey is about to get fucking skewered by the Krang, he jumps in front of his little brother and shield him with his own body (like canon!Raph did).

The story from here on out is not as thought out, but needless to say Donnie gets captured and "krangified". I'm kinda thinking that instead of the Krang just making him a soldier like Raph was, they instead hook Donnie up to the Technodrome or something? And after being freed from the Krang's control, maybe Donnie can still take control of the Technodrome himself to pilot it back through the portal. Cuz ya know, they still need a way to send it back into the prison dimension and the other turtles can't connect to the TD because of their hard shells. I did have an idea of potentially making April pilot the thing lmao, but I also have a headcanon that the only reason Donnie could pilot the TD at all was because he has some Krang DNA in him (empyrean), which April obviously doesn't. So Donnie will still probably be the one to send the TD back into the prison dimension.

In the AU, I imagine that Leo and Raph are still kinda dealing with the whole leadership-issue throughout the invasion haha. It's not nearly as dramatic and hostile this time around, don't worry! But I love the idea of Leo and Raph becoming co-leaders, only problem is that they're still trying to figure out what exactly that looks like for them. It not a huge issue when they're doing small-scale missions, but with how intense and stressful the invasion is, they're kinda struggling figuring out how exactly their dynamic should look like.

But back to Mikey, he obviously feels guilty as fuck over Donnie sacrificing himself for him and he's not handling very well. Mikey having lost access to his mystic powers is also really getting to him considering how heavily he relies on them. Leo's drama with Casey Jr in the movie is in the AU replaced with Mikey's drama with Casey Jr. Mikey is initially pretty cold towards CJ just because he's human, when Donnie gets taken Mikey decides to direct his hurt and anger at CJ because... well... he's human! And he didn't properly warn them about the Krang! So obviously it's somehow his fault that Donnie got taken! Somehow! It's very weird for CJ to interact with pre-character-development-Mikey acting like a petty brat about the whole situation, he's hurt by it but also quickly just grows very annoyed at Mikey's hostility towards him. And then we get That One Scene where CJ yells at Leo to get his shit together, except of course this time it's him yelling at Mikey haha.

Anyway, then Mikey DOES get his shit together, and he manages to help Donnie break free of the Krang's control by giving this big heartfelt speech about how he's sorry about how he has been acting and he wants to befriend Donnie and become real brother, you get it. But Mikey still feels guilty about everything that has happened, and to add on to that he still kinda has main character syndrome lol. Point is when Raph, Leo and Donnie all get knocked out of the fight and it's only Mikey against Krang One, he pretty quickly decides to sacrifice himself if it means defeating the Krang. It goes down pretty similarly to how Leo did it in canon, Mikey can fly so he lures Krang One into the prison dimension and is able to restrain him there long enough with his chains to convince CJ to close the portal.

So then the question is - how the HELL does he get out of there??? Mikey opened up the portal in canon, which is gonna be hard for him to do in the AU if he's being beaten within an inch of his life by Krang One haha. But I do think I've figured it out, so Leo and Raph at this point in the story have unlocked their Hamato Ninpo but Mikey hasn't, because their Ninpo is fueled by like... the connection to their family, and Mikey doesn't feel very connected to his Hamato ancestry before this obviously. But what if this is the moment where he doesn finally unlock his Ninpo! After both Donnie and Mikey proved their dedication to each other through their sacrifices, Mikey finally feels connected to the Hamato family. The way I imagine this scene is that it's not just Mikey creating the portal, his brothers are reaching out to him with their Ninpo and Mikey is able to reach back, even while in different dimensions. They're able to establish a familiar connection and because of that a litteral connection is formed through the portal, and Mikey is brought home.

Lastly I wanna talk about Donnie, specifically the uh. Injury he gets from the Krang when he shields Mikey. I actually drew this really quick sketch of that moment a while back but I never posted it here so I might as well do it now! It's not super gory or anything, but Donnie's shoulder got a little but fucking impaled and also there's blood so I'm putting it underneath the read more thing

Haha remember when I said this this AU was gonna stay mostly silly goofy? Teehee!

Anyway, I can't really decide if I wanna make Donnie just lose his enitre arm after this because lol. Lmao. But the reason Donnie doesn't like die from blood loss right after this moment is because the Krang goop is sealing up the injury, both when he first gets captured and interrogated, as well as during the time when he's under Krang control. After he's freed, he's mostly only able to help in the fight by piloting the Technodrome up partway through the portal, maybe he's able to like act as support in the fight against Krang One by using his Ninpo? But yeah no he basically gets benched as soon as his brothers get him back because he's still quite injured.

But look on the bright side, Mikey and Donnie both being on bedrest after the invasion gives them PLENTY of time to bond! :D Like sure, they showed how far they're both willing to go for each other during the invasion, but they've still got a lot of bad blood to sort out afterwards and them both being stuck in medbay kinda forces them to deal with their problems haha. So yeah, while the invasion is the catalyst for them making peace, it's mostly during their recovery that they properly bond with each other. (Prepare for B-Team cuddles, it WILL happen!)

And you asked about specifially when Donnie loses his immunity towards Mikey's puppy dog eyes, and I'd imagine it's during their recovery. Not only because they're growing closer, but also because his baby brother is INJURED and SUFFERING and to Donnie's horror he quickly realizes that he is unable to say no to Mikey now haha XD

HOOBOY that's basically everything, I still have to figure out a lot of the details, but writing this all down made me realize that I've figured out way more of the plot than I initially thought, so that's nice!

[deadboyween]

DEADBOYWEEN PROMPTS!!

Text-version Prompt List and inspiration below the cut!

Oct 21st: Day 1 - Colours

We made sure to include a few vaguer prompts for a wider range of creative ideas!! Colours could really be anything: Niko while she's possessed by the sprites, a different character having a run-in with a similarly colourful creature, or even something that just uses colour connotations or symbolism!! Get creative!

Oct 22nd: Day 2 - Comfort

One of the non-spooky prompts for day 2. It could be the boys comforting each other after a particularly difficult case, or a character study about something they find comfort in, or even just characters having a well-deserved day off from the Horrors

Oct 23rd: Day 3 - Disguise

The obvious one here would be Charles and Edwin's human disguises, but there's so much to play with. Works could perhaps feature the group going undercover on a case, or maybe the Cat King causing mischief again with his shapeshifting

Oct 24th: Day 4 - Orbs

Okay, you just know we had to put this one in there, everyone needs more Orbwin and Chorb content in their life right? What are our favourite glowing balls of light up to now? Why are they orb-ed? Is it a willing transformation or a result of exhaustion?

Oct 25th: Day 5 - Family

Family can mean a lot of things. Blood family? Could be an introspection into Charles's family back when he was alive, or Crystal trying to reconcile with her parents, Niko's grief, Monty's relationship with Esther... Or could be found family: the group choosing one another over everyone else, forming their own bonds more important than blood. Works can encompass many different character dynamics so go crazy!

Oct 26th: Day 6 - Casefic

The group are on a case!! Works could be a retelling of one of the show cases, or maybe one from the comics, or an entirely original one. It could be a simple run-of the-mill haunting or perhaps one that runs deeper, one that affects one or more members of the agency in some way

Oct 27th: Day 7 - The Endless

In the show we meet Death and Despair, but this prompt could feature one of the Dead Boy Detectives characters meeting one or more of the Siblings. Maybe they visit the Dreaming, or have a run in with Desire

Oct 28th: Day 8 - Free Day

No prompt for this day!! Works can be anything you like, unconnected to any of the suggested themes!!

Oct 29th: Day 9 - Myths / Legends

Charles referenced Orpheus and Eurydice in episode 7 but there's so much to work with with mythology from all over the world. These works could be a retelling of a story from an ancient mythology, or imagining the characters meeting a creature from a legend

Oct 30th: Day 10 - Hell

Really getting into the Horrors of the event now. Hell is such an important part of the series, especially for Edwin. These works must simply incorporate Hell in some way. Perhaps it's set during Edwin's 73 years in Hell, or maybe another character has an experience in the place, or with one of its many creatures. Really looking forward to seeing the potential body horror with this one

Oct 31st: Day 11 - Halloween

Day 11 is the main event. For such a spooky show, there's got to be a lot of Halloween inspiration. What do ghosts even do on Halloween? Do they dress up? Party? Haunt the living? It's entirely up to you!

Nov 1st: Day 12 - Psychic

These works must involve something psychic. Whether it be Crystal and her powers, another person with similar abilities, or any other creature that really gets in the head of the characters

Nov 2nd: Day 13 - Pre-Canon

There's so much to work with before the 2023 setting of the show. Over 30 years of the Dead Boy Detective Agency, the ghosts' lives, Edwin's Hell. Even for other characters: what happened during the Cat King's first two lives? What has Esther been up to for the last several hundred years? What's the Night Nurse's job like when she hasn't got two tricky ghost detectives to deal with?

Nov 3rd: Day 14 - AU

The only rule is: put those characters somewhere else. It could be a different time period, or characters could be different in some way. What if the Alive Girls were the Dead Girls? Or Charles and Edwin were Charlie and Edith? So excited to see everyone's ideas for every prompt, but especially this one, this fandom is so creative when it comes to AUs!!

Happy creating!!

[hadescavedish]

Some snippet of Jon Steinberg interview from Fathoms Deep on Silver's background (probably someone showed before but I hadn't seen one):

Steinberg: No, I spend a lot of time thinking about it. I think– I don't think it's that he doesn't have one [backstory]. Everyone has one, and I think, when I watch it, the clear implication is that his is awful. Which if– I think, if this story is going out of its way to suggest it's unspeakable, considering the things we have spoken about, I, as an audience, I think, am willing to take its word for it, I guess, is I guess a way of putting it, that if you are invested in that character and you understand where all of the norms are set for the show, for someone to say “I can't say it out loud” suggests that it really is awful. And we played with versions of what it could be. In the moment you name it, it just becomes less scary.

And it weirdly becomes– there is some instinct to explain it, to rationalize it, to suggest it's his fault, to suggest it’s someone else's fault, to suggest it could never happen to me. I think it's the “it could never happen to me”, maybe, that's the most destructive to the story we were trying to tell, that it had to feel like he was everyone and that requires him to kind of be no one at the same time, which sounds like bullshit, but I don't think it is, I think– the less specificity he has, yeah, the more you can see in him what you need to, and so– and it also felt right.

This is one of those moments that I think it depends on how you turn it, it will look different, is that it is clear, I think, from the first frame of season four that there is a point at which these two guys aren't connected. It takes a little while for that to get said in text but it's clearly Flint's concern, and I think on some level Silver's aware of it, and it was it felt both meta and interesting to me that the point at which they were not connected is how they feel about story and how they feel about their obligations to it, their place in it, the burden of it. They just don't agree that there is some need to create stories to explain things, and that that ultimately is the death of that relationship, that they– because they have that discontinuity between them, they– that is the thing from which everything else unravels, it's the thread of the sweater. So, you know, that felt right, too, that we were able to kind of strangely name something you didn't think you were looking for a name for, which is the space between them and not, you know, specifically who did what to Silver when he was a kid. [...]

I think it suggests the horror from another direction, that whatever happened was so terrible that it broke his ability to exist within a story. There is something that is therapeutic about existing within a story and something that I think is normal and also a part of the human condition, to find a place in a story in which you feel like you make sense, and I think whatever it was that happened to him that made him incapable of reconciling that, that is his trauma, you know? His backstory was that he was removed from his own story.

[x]