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mellowwhumps · 3 months ago

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Whumperless Whump Event Day “everything else”: Domestic hurt/comfort || Accidentally poisoned || ALT PROMPT: Panic Attack || Temporary Amnesia || Fully unconscious

OCs: Cicadas (all) - 3.9K words

masterlist (for them only)

@whumperless-whump-event

——

After an admittedly extended trip, they were more than happy to return to the dull scenery of their ship rather than the vibrancy of the outside. Finishing their commission meant that they should be getting their worth as long as they submitted their evidence, which they most definitely had acquired.

Right now, their goods were scattered in Lotti’s bag, the contents of the two glass jars clinking within, repetitive noise barely mentioned amidst all the conversations going on.

“Home, sweet home! Or as I read in a book, all aboard!” Kyrai exclaimed, more than rushing up the ramp. A little more hyper than usual, Lotti assessed, but normal in the current situation.

“Kai, this is neither a house nor a train.”

“You’re no fun. I saved you for the umpteenth time and this is how you repay me, Itaph?”

“First of all, you did not. Secondly, yes, actually.” Itaph smiled, as though waiting for something to happen. Of course it would.

Scenario starts: Kyrai gets a little annoyed, the conversation continues until shutdown time and the bi-weekly game night is utterly obliterated for the week. Still a joyous activity, though. Easy enough to assess.

Why wasn’t it, though? Lotti could barely come to any comprehensible conclusion about anything, at that very moment. It was as though their strength was being sapped out of them, which was…odd. She had just replenished her energy reserves a few days ago, which meant she wouldn’t need to do so again for at least half a month more.

No warnings were showing on visuals. Nothing was wrong. Resume normal operations.

Lotti hurried to the ship’s control room, placing a hand on the touchpad. It should have been manually done, but that was the advantage of having her around, she supposed. She could see where every bit of current was linked to, and hence could divert and control it through her own system, or sap it completely out. The ship took flight with little problem apart from the heated commotion in the main quarters, because god forbid the crew ever sit down without issue.

She triggered the notification for them to unbuckle their seatbelts after assessing the safety of doing so. The scenery in front of her was barely a blur, but they should be in decent range out of the planet. It was fine.

The blare of some siren sounded in their head, piercing yet silent. She took a moment to glance around for the source of the noise. Just that small movement seemed to make the ship spin loops around her. Not a moment later, her visuals fully shut down, the world seeming almost darker than the endless space outside.

Blinded, but she was the pilot. She couldn’t…She had to…she had to…

———

The ship lurched forward, throwing everyone askew. Zyx got up with a groan, rubbing her head as she fervently voiced some choice words. Hitting the wall was never a good start to any trip.

Sighing, she stumbled her way to her feet, taking a quick survey of everyone. Nobody appeared to be harmed too badly, so no matter. It’s a short ways to the cabin room, barely five steps away from her current location. The place wasn’t that big.

“Idiot’i, what in universes are you doing, drive the damn ship properly!” The door was slammed open with little care. The person in front of her barely moved in response. As a matter of fact, she wasn’t sure the controls were being used.

Autopilot indicator. Not on.

“Um. Lotti?” She stepped closer, pressing a series of keys to toggle that option just in case before checking in. Upon nearing, it was clear the other was responding, though so softly that she had to strain her ears to hear.

“—Can’t.” Her voice was strangely robotic, despite it being decently human-sounding for the short period she’d known the other for.

“Can’t what? Drive the ship? Did you forget or something, at least remember a few buttons, come on. And look at me, I’m talking to you.” Zyx grasped the other by the sides of her face, promptly flinching away with a hitched gasp.

She could have cooked a proper meal there with how hot it was, so painfully scorching she only caught a glimpse of Lotti’s single, jet-black eye before her face was obscured by shadow once again. There was no light entering it at all, nothing to indicate functionality.

Zyx slammed her hand onto the intercom button. “Telios! All of you, pilot’s down. I repeat, pilot’s down!” She shouted, perhaps a little louder than needed. For emphasis.

Almost immediately, the others rushed into the room, finally followed by Telios lugging the toolbox with them, panting as they stopped to catch their breath.

“What's going on?” Aelya asked first.

“Dunno. Critical malfunction or something. Don't touch her, by the way, she's burning up.” Zyx moved away from the chair, leaning against the wall in a pose that could hopefully convey nonchalance.

Itaph joined her by the side. From her angle, she could see his hands were balled into fists behind his back. Well. She knew what that feeling of uselessness was like as well, she supposed.

“Iot’i, can you blink for me?” Telios softly instructed, squatting to get a better viewpoint as they put on gloves.

A second passed, then two. “UNABLE TO COMPUTE,” the voice coming from Lotti's body said, inhumanly uncanny. If the question itself was odd enough, then the answer was worse. Blinking was a simple thing to do, right? At least for her.

Oh. She saw the problem now.

Telios was speaking to themself, hands still lingering near Lotti's body but not quite getting close, the toolbox staying shut. Eventually, they put their hands down. “Iot'i, override code 29362, protocol E-two-five AUTO toggle off. I’m really sorry for this, but I’d, um, I’d like to—”

Lotti crashed to the floor and interrupted that thought process, a failed attempt to get out of the chair. Even so, she moved quickly, getting to a sitting position and shifting back. She unsheathed the gun by her side holster, pointing it forward with no clear target apart from the general direction of Telios, who froze in place.

Lotti was strong. She shouldn’t have to fight blind, fight unfairly. It was quite the sorry sight to her, a person who would have done the same.

“Who are you?” Lotti demanded, “I’ll shoot if you don’t answer.”

The room went quiet. Threats were very real, coming from her. Kyrai treaded on those glass shards, answering in turn.

“Kyrai’is. That’s Telios you’re pointing your gun to, so you should put that away…ah, stay calm, please…” The gun shifted to point at them, its edge glinting.

Pause.

The shot fired. It just barely missed, grazing Kyrai’s clothes as it put a dent in the metal wall behind them. First step of asking someone to calm down was never to ask them directly to do so. She learnt that the hard way.

“I don’t know you. I repeat, who are you.” Though Lotti’s hands weren’t shaking, it was obvious that holding the gun up took a lot of effort. Too much. The scent of something burning wafted through the room, not helping the situation in the slightest. Zyx hoped it wouldn’t get worse.

No use in hoping. She had to do something.

“You don’t remember, right?” She inquired, prompting no answer. “I tried to hit someone you know and you tackled me in our first meeting. In this place, I train with you on every alternate day. Name’s Oryizyx, or Zyx for short. I promise everything that happens next is to help you. You know that when I swear on something, I follow it, and if you can’t recall, now I’m telling ya.”

A wavering of the gun, though now pointing at her. “I…you’re familiar. I recall that happening. I…What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I function properly, I can’t function properly.”

It was terrifying, to know her life was in the hands of someone who could barely aim. It was worse to give anyone the shame of knowing they tried. She didn’t know Lotti’s past, not in the slightest, but she could at least spare her the regret of the present.

“We don’t know what’s wrong, but right now my friend here is going to help. They’ve helped you before, I think. What I do know is that you’re in safe hands. I promise I’ll keep watch, if that isn’t enough. Nobody’s going to try anything funny.”

In that moment, she wasn’t scared. Maybe the other could hear it, maybe some other force of nature showed mercy on both of them.

“…Alright.” And then, even more hesitantly as she lowered her gun, “I trust you.”

Job done. But that was merely the simplest part.

Telios whispered a few things into her ear, instructions she could barely process amidst all the foreign terminology. She tried her best to relay it through voice, the typical way of using excessive gestures to get her point across rendered useless.

“…So. In short, just shut your systems fully down, my friend not-so forcefully drains your energy out, gives you some more, and you wake up fine and dandy. Got it?”

Guilt was a terrible emotion, something utterly weak and unbefitting of a being like her. She had recollections of that feeling, even past those blurry memories that made up her childhood.

Right now, it was churning in her being like waves within a stormy sea. There was no guarantee it would end up successful, the weeks of fixing any damaged wires and finding another energy source for Lotti to siphon from, the weeks that would later make hollow gaps in her database.

It quite reminded her of her old ship being sent for upgrading every once in a while, leaving her vulnerable. Later on, it left Aelya susceptible as well, which was another thing altogether. But that was over long ago.

“Okay…okay.” Lotti relaxed, the gun clattering to the floor in front of her.

Then, she was gone.

———

Aelyeau was awoken by the shuffling of bed sheets beside him. On any typical day, he’d have been a decently heavier sleeper, but not that day. Not for the past week, honestly; the culmination of a whole list of occurrences.

They asked him to keep watch and he still managed to fail at that. Wonderful.

Better him than anyone else, at least. A certain two people would have fainted on the spot, exaggeration warranted. The amount of times they’d tried to barge into the room was getting unreasonable.

“Mor-night, Lotti! How’re you feeling?” Aelya asked, hoping his smile didn’t come out as too wide.

“Systems operational, energy at full capacity. Though, I don’t find myself trusting that now. Mm. I take it that Telios was able to…”

“Wouldn’t be here if they weren’t. The workshop was locked up for ages.”

“How long was this ‘ages’?”

“Approximately two weeks, give or take a few days. I can fill you in—” The door promptly opened. “Never mind. Later.”

The rest of the crew poured into the room, some looking considerably more worn than others. In particular, Kyrai may as well have been dragging the resident mechanic, the way they could barely stand. Lotti stared at him in question.

“You forgot to check on them. You know they don’t sleep with work undone.”

Itaph interrupted. “In all fairness. They started it.”

“I can stay in stasis. The well-being of living things should be prioritised.”

Aelyeau opened his mouth to object, then decisively closed it. Once again, nobody was saying the things that mattered. If he continued it, he was only perpetuating the cycle.

“They were worried about you, Lotti,” he stated, “and Telios wouldn’t tell us anything. Maybe with the victim of your secrets in the room with us, you’d care to explain? I know you could—”

A sharp inhale. “—I’m sorry for using your override code! I shouldn’t be aware of it, I-I just needed you alert because the AUTO system actually doesn’t help at all and you—”

“Slow down. You don’t need to explain that breach, you’re forgiven. My privacy is a topic for another time. Do you understand what happened to me?”

“Um.” Clearly not expecting that, it would seem. Once upon a time, he would have acted the same.

Telios continued, “A part of your energy reserves was incompatible with your processors, for some reason, so your systems tried to reject it but couldn’t. Which is…odd? You’re meant to accept most types of these things. Which means you got this source from the Outer Sector, which also means it wasn’t something you should have acquired, which…erm, begs the question?”

Aelyeau had the sinking feeling he knew what happened. But, like any rational approach to an inquiry, Lotti saw nothing wrong and spoke.

“Spare batteries from Oryizyx’s ship.”

Behind the wall, footsteps echoed away. Aelyeau could barely turn the corner of the corridor before gasping for breath, the door to the small training room slamming shut, the lock clicking.

———

It wasn’t hard to see the signs, every single day. Oryizyx was never that angry, never to him. So frustrated. If Aelyeau told her he was the one who caused the demise of her most precious belonging, would she have been enraged at him as well?

The place he knew she’d spent all those years in. Alone. The only thing she had, apart from some semblance of past memories.

The alternative to him not owning up was this. An inability to take the wheel, forcing herself to only ever resort to violence as an option. And now, when she had to do so, she could only stay uncomfortably quiet. It was either fury or fear. Certainly not this third thing, so foreign to everyone.

Even Kyrai was at a loss, the navigator unable to cooperate with her for directions, only giving the bare minimum. Aelyeau could almost hear the kettle whistling, the lid clattering, froth moments from reaching the top. He’d spent enough time with Itaph, after all.

Because they were stranded here. Because he stranded her here.

The workshop wasn’t actually locked, but he remembered. He might always remember it. Walking into the room to ask for a small, admittedly unneeded favor; seeing his friend sprawled on the work desk, chest open, a mishmash of wires and exterior connections tangled up. Unmoving, unseeing. Helpless. Almost as if frozen in time.

He could see why Kyrai never entered, prefering to pace about the common room. It made him want to leave too, the request in his head immediately forgotten.

He was already standing up and taking a step forward before Telios grabbed the hem of his shirt. One gentle tug before promptly letting go, their arms falling by their side, their shoulders tense.

Gently, he sat down beside her, scooting a bit to get closer and leaning his head on their shoulder. No sound but circuitry humming, the outside quiet even with the door ajar.

He remembers stopping by the galley and finding Itaph, cooking alone as always. Having awoken early that day, he thought they might need some company. They didn’t ask about it, surprisingly, focusing on stirring whatever it was they were making: yet another form of silence. Itaph told him, then.

When Telios talked about the things they liked, they would be a completely different person altogether. Something cheerful, innocent, confident. There was something bittersweet in his voice, something that told him there was more to it. Aelyeau wasn’t the type to pry further.

Where was that person now, when there was nobody else to speak to? They were both truths. They were both Telios. The sight beside him, he realised, was the effect of perhaps, everything, or nothing at all.

This was all it took for them to cry.

He thought about Zyx again, after that.

———

He was banging on the door, his arms hurting, his lungs barely taking in enough air. At some point, his legs had given out, his body now half-leaning against the metal frame.

“Come out, Oryi. Please. Don’t stay in there. You didn’t…it wasn’t…” The hitting of something was his only reply. Every once in a while, there was a muffled noise, before it was back to striking.

Two weeks. Two weeks of bottling all of this up. He couldn’t choose whether he prefered this or noiselessness, but both were equally bad. He just wanted to help.

Someone was approaching, the clang of metal on metal easy enough to recognize. Lotti stopped beside him, squatting to survey the keyhole.

“Hello. I do not know what mistake I made. I’d like to fix it. The others were unable to convince me to stay in the room.”

Sigh.

“It’s locked—” A click resounded, a strange metal object in the other’s hand. Whatever it was, it worked, the door swinging open with ease. Like a deer caught in headlights, Zyx’s expression was frenzied, a million emotions flashing by at once.

She was teetering, swaying from side to side, visibly indecisive as to whether to fight or flight. Her entire face was red, sweat trickling down her skin, blood on the knuckles of her hands and smeared on her cheeks. No words were said. Zyx tilted a bit more to the left, imbalanced, one foot leaving the ground as she finally toppled over.

She never hit the ground.

Lotti was there in a second, slowly settling her down on the floor. “Belated apologies for not catching you in time when we first met. You’re hurt.” Gasping for air she could barely take in, Zyx trembled.

“Breathe,” Aelyeau tried, regaining the strength to move to where she was after closing the door behind him. His words fell on deaf ears. What was wrong? This wasn’t just about the battery, he could tell.

It was awfully quiet.

In space, all their problems were theirs and theirs only. Nobody was going to hear them outside this small place they adapted for themselves.

She wasn’t breathing, because she didn’t think she could. Zyx had forgotten how to be alive, the months that followed beyond her small little corner of her own lonely universe, the two weeks that dwindled away in not-stasis.

“Hey,” Aelyeau started once again. “We don’t care what you do. You don’t have to hold back. Scream if you want.”

So, she does.

It started small. A noise escaped her, a small, stuttered, breathless exclamation. Testing the waters. Lotti let her punch wildly, beating fists on her frame. Too light to have ever done anything of harm; too heavy to not be meaningful. A crescendo, a wave parted in two at its climax as she shouted herself hoarse.

It was a loud thing, a broken thing, tapering into disjointedly incomprehensible sentences from some bygone language and then words that simply couldn’t come out anymore, voice worn ragged. She could breathe now, after exhausting herself. Tension couldn’t coexist with that.

Zyx pulled her legs inwards, curling up. Clutching at Lotti’s clothes like touch wasn’t enough, grip leaving creases on her cloak. There was no comfort to cold metal, but yet, and yet, Lotti was the closest thing to her, tugging her into her lap.

It was an easy thing to do, simply being there, and he realised: he must have been that anchor. He still was. Eyes still searching for escape, they landed on him and locked in place, together with the rest of her body. Trying to match his breathing.

In, out.

———

“I heard you drove the ship,” Lotti mused, tilting her head. The others had gone to get some much needed sleep, it would seem, or possibly another sleep-deprived task. Preferably the former.

Zyx had separated herself from her after calming down, the three of them sitting in a small little circle, Aelyeau barely paying attention to the conversation as he took out a roll of bandages from its package. He should have gone back to his room, but she understood when this kind of thing was needed.

“You told me you wouldn’t go anywhere near the wheel.” Lotti hoped her voice was enough to convey what she wanted. At her words, the other averted her gaze, a slightly sad smile failing to be hidden.

“Eh. It’s fine, I guess,” she said, shrugging.

“Kyrai’is told me you did a good job at it, for your first time on this kind of ship. Itaph’ri also conveyed to me the chemical makeup of your ship’s battery. They are good adaptations. I will ensure I don’t make the same mistake again. And Telios installed a temperature sensor for me.”

“Good? You joking? I nearly killed you with my stupid project.” A gust of wind swept through the room, brought on by a flap of her wings.

“My calculations conclude that it increases the efficiency of energy supply by 230%. You’re a ‘natural’, if my wordbank is not failing me.”

Aelyeau scoffed, pulling the gauze over Zyx’s hand as she took a sharp inhale, hands still raw. “That’s an understatement. Oryi’s great. You should’ve seen our ship.” A half-hearted shove with her other hand. Lotti could see him biting the inside of his cheek. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. This one’s pretty alright too, isn’t it? Even if the autopilot and navigation systems are pretty…sucky. It’s…very spacious.”

“You want to talk about boosters and stuff, don’t you.” Now, she was glaring daggers at him. “Called it. Ship nerd.”

“The ships at PAGE would be of your interest, I should expect.”

Not the ones she’d ever been in, but she had the pleasure of testing one, once. There were so many controls and linkages it managed to make even her a little overwhelmed. The Cicada wasn’t too advanced; she found herself thankful at times.

“Mhm.”

“Never seen the interior of one…wait, who said that?”

Lotti gestured to the doorway where the three other members of the crew stood, Kyrai waving at them too enthusiastically to have ever been asleep. Telios’s face was half buried in their blanket, fluorescent lights indubitably bothersome as they squinted blearily and tried not to trip on the loose folds. The outside of the training room was dark, the lights powered off without any other occupants requiring them.

Itaph ambled in first, squatting down to inspect the bandaged hand, Zyx tugging her arm away from the offending person.

“You tied it too tightly. And you didn’t wash it first.” Blunt as always.

“Oh, enlighten me, almighty one, I am but a lowly peasant,” Aelyeau replied, doing as best of a bow as he could while sitting.

“So I shall.”

Zyx groaned. “I am not the patient here, go away.”

“Lotti’s fine. Your point? Want to overheat like her?” Back and forth, back and forth.

Scene one. The minor wrestling match goes on for a while before Zyx gives in, reluctantly letting Itaph inspect her fully and help. Telios checks up on her one final time while describing the different types of ship-related features and the sheer marvel that battery was, the other listening on. When Lotti finishes compiling one final report internally to prove functionality, Telios has long since been sound asleep.

Scene two. Aelyeau yawns, resting his head on the palm of his hand, and proceeds to shift himself so the singular blanket covers him, sound asleep. Zyx goes next, of course, attempting and failing to blink away fatigue. Tomorrow, the blanket would be on her instead.

Scene three. Following suit is Itaph, the cold of the floor more comfortable to him than not. Then, satisfied, Kyrai slumps against the other bodies, relaxing.

Scene four. All is quiet. All is well.

[End log entry, fade to black.]

——

scuffed a/n + analysis (please tell me this works)

#listen. i’m not going to finish all the prompts so might as well delude myself into thinking i did LMAO #not a completionist i fear and this is a late entry anyway #woah. the culmination of 1 month of writing and improvement #they’re so DUMBBBBBB #last scene is just self indulgent it’s barely prompt related…I HAD TO #dubiously good intro fic no 3 #whump #whumpblr #whumperless whump event #writing #team whump #is this considered team whump? who knows let’s find out #mellowwhumps #ocs #whump writing #seth i am so sorry for pinging you three consecutive times

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sesamestreep · 2 years ago

Note

Nick/Jess, 15!

15. i’ll save you a seat (from this prompt list)

IT’S MILLER’S TIME

The bestselling author of the hit YA series ‘The Pepperwood Chronicles’ opens up about seeing his work adapted for television, his new novel, and becoming a father.

LOS ANGELES - The lunchtime crowd at Gogo’s Tacos in Silver Lake is more plentiful and aggressive than the colleague who recommended the spot for my interview with Nick Miller led me to believe it would be on a weekday, which means I spend the twenty minutes between when I show up (ten minutes early) and when he arrives (ten minutes late and convincingly apologetic about it) fighting off other patrons who are convinced I’m lying about expecting someone and want to steal his seat. His appearance in the busy restaurant is welcome for more reasons than one.

We’re here to discuss the new Netflix adaptation of his bestselling book series, The Pepperwood Chronicles, into a television series. The first season, which drops this Friday on the streaming platform, takes on the Herculean task of adapting the first book in the series (clocking in at 628 pages) into just eight episodes of television. It’s a highly anticipated project for the army of Pepperheads out there, who want to see if Sebastian Stan truly has what it takes to embody the titular grizzled New Orleans detective from Miller’s beloved novels, but it’s not the only project that’s been occupying Miller’s time lately. He’s also got his debut novel for the adult market, the stylishly-titled HoBo, which draws heavily on his childhood in Chicago, coming out in November. But the project he’s most anxious to brag about is one he had—by his own admission—very little to do with, aside from the original idea. The lion’s share of the credit belongs to his wife.

“This is Reggie,” he says, stretching his phone across the table proudly, swiping through dozens of photos of a pleasantly chunky infant in a Chicago Bears onesie. “Oh, and that’s Mario,” he says, when we get to a photo of a dog sniffing the same baby, asleep in a car seat and wearing a hooded jacket with bear ears.

“I know he looks like a funky little alien right now, but my wife says that most babies get really cute around the six month mark,” Miller says, after suddenly remembering that he has tacos he could be eating. He takes an enormous bite of one before making a face. “God, don’t print that. My son is already adorable. I love him.”

We debate whether or not I can actually print that comment (guess who won) for a few minutes before Miller finally allows us to move on. I ask, given his penchant for drawing details from his own life to use in his novels, if this recent development for him means we can expect the next Pepperwood installment to find Julius Pepperwood and his leading lady, Jessica Knight, contemplating parenthood.

“I don’t know about that,” Miller says, with his mouth full. “It’s not that one-to-one for me. Yes, Pepperwood is based on me in some ways, but in many other ways he isn’t, you know? Same goes for Jessica Knight. She’s based on my wife, definitely, but I’ve never felt constricted by that. I’ve always felt like the characters follow their own path, though they take inspiration from my real life.”

In this answer, Miller has given me both an articulate response and neatly sidestepped giving any confirmation of further Pepperwood installments, which forces me to ask the question directly. His face goes blank for a moment afterwards, and he spends a while chewing before he attempts to answer.

“I’m not saying no,” he finally replies, wiping his hands on a napkin, while looking thoughtfully into the distance. “But I’m also not saying yes. There have been people—and my wife tells me not to read the reviews or the comments, but sometimes, you know, shit happens and you see some stuff—there’s people who think Pepperwood is too happy now. They liked him when he was tortured. Now, he’s got the love of his life by his side, he solved his brother’s murder, he made peace with his father. It’s like, where’s the tension anymore? But at the same time, I don’t want to make him miserable again just to sell more books.”

Miller talks about Pepperwood (and Knight and all of his characters) like they’re real people, a fact he shrugs off when I point it out.

“Of course,” he says. “Of course they’re real to me. It’s important to remember that they’ve been with the readers for six books now, but they’ve been with me for longer than that. And they don’t leave me alone when the book is done, either, like they do for my readers.”

They don’t seem to leave his readers alone after the last page, actually, if the healthy fandom producing fanart and fanfiction online are any indication. Miller, of course, has thoughts.

“I’m pleased about it,” he says, with his usual Chicago-born nonchalance. “It’s always made me happy that my work resonates with people, especially young people. I didn’t see that coming, in the beginning. It wasn’t supposed to be a YA series.”

The origins of The Pepperwood Chronicles are the publishing world’s version of a Cinderella story. Miller initially published the first book in the series himself at the encouragement of his friends, hawking the hand bound (!) copies at local bookstores with the encouragement of his then-girlfriend, as well as his future wife (“Two different women,” he clarifies. “It’s a long story.”) The hefty novel all about the seedy underbelly of New Orleans very quickly found a devoted fan base amongst a surprising audience: teenage girls. Where other authors might have bristled, Miller instead took his unexpected champions in stride.

“Like, there was definitely some initial shock to get over,” he explains. “If I’d known I was writing to teenagers specifically, I would have cut, well, a few things from that manuscript.” He’s referring delicately to some pretty explicit sex scenes and graphic violence, which definitely get toned down in later installments of the series. Confronted with this, Miller shrugs and says only, “That’s show biz!”

Speaking of show biz, how does he feel about the Netflix adaptation of his work?

“It was really interesting,” he offers, thoughtfully. “I’m grateful they didn’t ask me to write it, because it turns out I’m a terrible screenwriter.” Before I can ask him to elaborate on that, he continues, “But the team really did check in with me a lot and they made sure the tone felt right, and the changes they had to make worked with my understanding of the world and the characters. I felt like they really respected Pepperwood, which obviously means a lot to me.”

Miller is being generous, of course, considering he and his wife are both executive producers on the series. When I mention this, however, he waves it off. “They still could have told me to fuck off with my opinions,” he says.

As for working with his wife in that capacity, he’s more than happy to sing her praises. “She’s great. Aside from myself, she’s the person I trust most to get Pepperwood, you know? Like my editors and my agent and everybody, they’re amazing, but if I’m really stuck, Jess is the one I can turn to and be like ‘does this work? Or does it suck?’ And she’ll tell me. She’s always been that person for me. She’s the first person I shared the first draft of the first book with, so her input is invaluable. Or is it valuable?”

“They mean the same thing,” I tell him.

“That’s stupid,” he replies. “I mean, I’m not calling you stupid. The English language is stupid sometimes. My wife’s input is very important to me, is what I’m saying. Her instincts are spot on.”

And they should be, after all. When she’s not producing the Pepperwood TV series with her husband, Jessica Day (yes, you’re reading that right. Miller’s wife and the inspiration for his character Jessica Knight is named Jessica Day. Check the dedication on the first Pepperwood novel if you don’t believe me) works for Scholastic, as a part of their team that handles community outreach to K-12 schools across the country. (Miller’s publishing deal is with an imprint of Simon & Schuster, in case anyone is worried about favoritism.) Before that, she worked briefly in the nonprofit industry and as a middle school teacher and later vice principal.

“She understands the demographic perfectly,” Miller summarizes, fifteen minutes into an endearing monologue about how great his wife is. “I think the writers for the TV show liked having her around even more than having me. She really knows her stuff.”

When I follow up a few days later with Ms. Day for comment, her husband’s remarks amuse but don’t surprise her. “He’s always giving me too much credit,” she says, humbly.

Does it weird her out at all, to have so many people so intensely invested in the fictionalized version of her love life?

“It’s funny. I know the names are really similar and obviously Nick borrows things here and there from our real life,” she says, “but I really don’t feel like Jessica Knight is me. So I don’t take it personally at all.”

This isn’t the first time this attitude has come up in interviews. Last year, when casting was announced for the Netflix series, Day made headlines for defending the production’s decision to cast British actress Gugu Mbatha-Raw as Jessica Knight after many fans claimed she didn’t match Knight’s description in the books.

“Gugu’s a very talented actress. I’ve seen her screen tests and she will blow you away when you see the show, I promise!” Day took to Twitter to say at the time.

“She capture [sic] JK’s energy perfectly,” she added in a further tweet. “Please welcome her to the Pepperwood family as we have!”

Now, Day is less diplomatic in her response. “It was a small portion of fans who were upset,” she says, “but they were the loudest contingency. It was very upsetting, and honestly tacky. So what if she doesn’t look like me? The character isn’t me, first of all. And the books are set in New Orleans, for God’s sake! It would be stupid if the entire main cast was white people.”

When I accuse her of saying the quiet part loud, as the kids say, Day seems nonplussed. “It’s those new mom hormones, I guess,” she replies, as a baby cries in the background of the phone call as if on cue. “I just don’t give a fu…dge.”

Miller, during our interview, feels similarly. “The team went with the best people for the parts, and we made it clear, my wife and I, that they absolutely weren’t trying to cast our doppelgängers. That wasn’t the point. Honestly, it would have freaked me out if they had.”

So he doesn’t think he and Stan look alike?

“No, not at all,” he says, automatically. “Do you?”

“He kind of seems like a more Hollywood version of you, yeah.”

Miller takes a long time thinking this over. “That’s…huh…”

In order to distract him from the existential spiral I’ve inadvertently led him down, I switch us over to the topic of his new book, HoBo. It’s made several lists of most anticipated books for this fall (including this publication’s) but there was a while there where Miller feared the manuscript would never see the light of day.

“The publisher thought it was too dark for the teen market,” he says, without any of the smarmy pride one would expect from the average male author accused of being ‘too dark’ by The Man. “I had no idea! I thought Pepperwood was too dark for teens and they loved it! So, there was a bit there when I was like, ‘okay, so this is the end, I guess.’”

Miller isn’t being melodramatic either. There was a moment, according to him and confirmed by his editor, Merle Streep, where they considered parting ways. Luckily, they came to an understanding once the dust settled and Miller pitched the novel, then titled “Chicago Hobo”, for the adult market. The source of this brilliant solution? You guessed it: Jessica Day.

“My wife’s a genius,” Miller states. “It was so simple and yet none of us could see it. Of course they should market the book to adults, if they thought it was too gritty for teens. Obviously.”

Day, however, downplays her contribution. “The issue with the manuscript came to a head on our wedding day, if you can believe it. On our honeymoon, it was all Nick could talk about. He was worried he’d never publish another book again. I suggested he send the manuscript around to other publishers to see if there was interest, but pitch it as, you know, a book for grownups. I thought it would make him feel better. I had no idea that the minute he did that, his original publisher would come back to him with a deal.”

But that’s exactly what they did. He’s also on the hook for three more books after that, though he’s cagey with details about if those will be HoBo sequels, further Pepperwood adventures, or something else entirely.

“We’re in a really pivotal moment,” Miller says, looking a little bit sweaty as he admits it. “We’ll see how Pepperwood does as a TV show, we’ll see how people feel about HoBo when it comes out.” He pauses to laugh. “We’ll see if being a father completely fries my brain and I never write another coherent sentence ever again.”

Early reviews and chatter are saying that the new novel is every bit as cinematic as The Pepperwood Chronicles, which suggests a screen adaptation is more a matter of “when” than “if.” It is, by Miller’s own admission, even more autobiographical than Pepperwood (the preteen narrator is Travis Tiller, called “Trick” by his friends, so do with that what you will). It’s based, in many ways, on his childhood in Chicago, but it’s also equal parts dystopian speculative fiction and superhero origin story, with a heavy pour of magical realism to wash it down. The cinematic universe practically writes itself.

“We just don’t know,” Miller replies vaguely. No matter what I do, I can’t get him to speculate on bringing this book to the small or big screen. “I don’t want to jinx anything,” he adds, frantically, after many such questions.

Fine. But, as pure speculation, what actor does he think, potentially, has what it takes to bring the eponymous hobo to life on screen?

“Rock Hudson,” he says, after much bullying.

When I inform him that Rock Hudson is dead and has been for more than 30 years, Miller looks crestfallen. What about preteen Trick Tiller, then? Is there anyone Miller would entrust to play his younger self?

“Cate Blanchett,” he replies.

When I point out that she’s both older than him and a different gender, he frowns. “She played Bob Dylan, though,” he counters, confused. I concede that he’s got me there.

We return to the much safer topic of conversation that is the current adaptation of one of his novels. What’s he most looking forward to now that the show is finally premiering?

“Getting to go on a date with my wife,” he says, sincerely, with the dead-eyed stare of a sleep-deprived new parent. “Seriously. We’re getting a sitter to watch the baby, we’re bringing a few of our close friends, who are all getting sitters for their babies. It’s going to be really fun. It’s going to be a classic mess around.”

A what?

“Don’t worry about it,” Miller says.

Is there anyone whose opinion he’s particularly anxious about, when it comes to the TV show? Or even his new novel?

“I’m always worried about what the fans think. I want the Pepperwood fans to like the show. I want them to like the new book, even though it’s not about Pepperwood, you know?”

Does he think there will be crossover?

“Absolutely I do, yes,” he says, emphatically. “The kids who read Pepperwood when it first came out—this is terrifying to say, but—they’re grown up now. They’re in college or they’re young professionals. HoBo is written for their age group now. It will be marketed to them.”

It’s kind of like they’ve grown up with him.

“Don’t say that,” Miller replies, putting his head in his hands dramatically. “I’m gonna have a panic attack. Having an actual biological child is scary enough.”

Speaking of scary, to distract him from another existential crisis, I ask if he’s been starstruck at any part of the process of turning his beloved novels into a TV show, and his answer is surprising to say the least.

“I mean, I was a little bit starstruck meeting Alfred Molina the first time. He was already in costume as Schmith, too, which was an extra level of weird,” he says, referring to the iconic love-to-hate-him villain of the first Pepperwood book and a supporting player in many of the series’s other installments. Still, Miller eventually got used to the idea of Doc Ock himself being in the show.

“Oh, I know my big starstruck moment,” he adds. “When Taylor Swift tweeted about the trailer. That was like…Woah! Is this really happening?”

That’s right. When the show’s first trailer debuted in March, the Grammy-winning singer took to Twitter to express her excitement.

“I can’t believe how good this looks,” she tweeted with the emoji of the cat making the Home Alone face. “Is it September yet?!?”

Can we take his excitement over this interaction the confirmation we’ve all been waiting for that Nick Miller is a Swiftie?

“I don’t know what that is, but I like her. She’s really talented. When my wife’s upset, she likes to listen to Taylor Swift and cry while she drinks pink wine,” he says, before taking a troubled pause. “Maybe I shouldn’t have told you that.”

Day laughs when I tell her this anecdote during our phone call and gives me the go-ahead to print it. “It’s true,” she says. “Who cares?”

So, if they had to pick a Swift song to represent Julius Pepperwood and Jessica Knight’s relationship, what would it be?

Miller’s answer is simple: “You should ask my wife.”

Day’s response, on the other hand, is more complex. “I think it evolves over time, you know, from book to book. Probably in the early books, before they get together for real, it’s ‘Out of the Woods’ or ‘Wildest Dreams.’ Maybe even ‘White Horse,’ if you want to go back into her catalog.”

What about for her and Miller?

“That’s easy,” Day says, and the smile is obvious in her voice. “I’ve always thought of ‘Mine’ as our song of hers.”

This conversation mostly just confirms Miller’s assertion that his wife knows his characters just as well as he does. It also begs the important question of whether he’ll use this big moment in his career as leverage to arrange a meeting between Swift and his wife.

“I don’t know,” he says, honestly. “Maybe? I should ask Jess. She might kill me if I pulled that on her with no warning.”

As our meal and interview come to an end, I can’t help asking Miller a question that has been on my mind the whole time: with all this talk of how great and inspiring his wife is, and how integral to his creative process she’s become, does he happen to identify as a Wife Guy?

“I don’t know what that is either. You keep saying these things—I’ve never heard of them before,” he admits. “But I like the sound of it. So, yeah. I guess so. Unless it’s a bad thing. In which case, no. Was that—did I answer your question?”

In this case, just like so many of Nick Miller’s characters before us, we might have to make peace with an ambiguous ending.

•

The Pepperwood Chronicles premieres exclusively on Netflix this Friday.

#forgive any stupid mistakes it should go without saying that I’m not an actual journalist #also I genuinely don’t even know what year to pretend this is set in…who knows tbh??#I have a lot of feelings about the Pepperwood chronicles it turns out phew #new girl #nick miller #jessica day #nick x jess #god this was so fun to write #taylor swift song prompts #firstelevens #homelywenchsociety #<just my writing tag don’t worry about it #IDK IT IS WHAT IT IS!!#there’s so many Easter eggs in this….a whole basket’s worth #barely relates to the prompt I tried

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