#futzing around with some scripts | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

daveinediting · 1 year ago

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Last week I revisited the raw footage of a show we produced a long time ago. It's our first episode of Adventures with Purpose, the one about Egypt.

At the time, we'd been using a lot of classical music from music libraries. This series, though, no matter what genre of music it lent itself to wouldn't be able to paint with such broad strokes like that. The script pivoted too much within sequences so the music would have to be highly crafted.

Okay two things:

The first is that whether library or original, the music we used never pivoted because the narration for a particular place never pivoted. We would have music for a church. Music for boat ride. Music for a particular kind of museum.

The new series wasn't as wedded to places as it was ideas. And the script for a particular location might juggle two or three of these, each with its own vibe.

The second thing's that during the previous summer I was introduced to music loops by teenagers at camp (believe it or not). Loops are individual phrases of music from any and every instrument (or sound effect) that, when you Tetris them just so, create pieces of music.

With those two ideas swimming in my head around the same time, I decided I wanted to have a go at creating a soundtrack for an hour-long travel documentary. Having read the script for the first episode, Egypt, it seemed to me that, more than anything and quite legitimately, I could lean into sound design with loops and create an atmosphere rather than a melodic sound. After all, when you're exploring pyramids and tombs and temples and speaking a lot about death and the afterlife as conceived by ancient Egyptians, crafting a mysterious, ethereal, sometimes creepy design for the sound holds a lot of appeal. I even recorded myself slowly whispering various Egyptian names and playing them backwards with a lot of reverb. In the show, you get a sense of words being spoken... but no idea at all what those words are.

I loved it.

And I loved the way that worked through the entire show.

So then last week I revisited the raw footage of that show to fashion some clips for Instagram. Again: pyramids and tombs and temples and speaking a lot about death and the afterlife as conceived by ancient Egyptians.

For a minute I thought about underscoring it with something orchestral, cinematic. But pyramids and tombs and temples and speaking a lot about death and the afterlife as conceived by ancient Egyptians. You know?

It just begs for mysterious, ethereal, sometimes creepy, and words you can barely sense but can't understand.

Unfortunately, of all the music I composed back then, I don't have any of that music. I don't know why. Where it should be on my drives... it's just not there. So over the last week I crafted some new pieces from scratch.

I can only imagine how much fun I must've had the first time with the amount of work that had to be done. My process starts with a bit of trial and error, listening to likely sounds from particular loop libraries I bought for the occasion and still possess. Once I settle on one or two as the basis for the sound design, then I have a pretty good sense of what I need to add. Of course I don't know exactly what to add and how to add it... which is where the fun comes in. It's trying a bit of this color here, that color there. More reverb. Less reverb. Removing some earlier elements. Futzing with volumes. Getting the timing of everything just so. Dialing in delay if I want it. Running a sound backwards.

It's a lot of fun to play with. To imagine as the sound of exploring tombs in the Valley of the Kings. To imagine what would make it creepier here. Mysterious there. Ethereal as we move on to the afterlife? And then, once imagining it, making it happen and listening all over again later because I picked at this, tweaked and tweaked, over the course of a few days until it was all just so.

And those backward whispering voices? I don't have the exact ones anymore but I do have some from another show. And I'm using them backwards. Know what I mean? It largely doesn't make a difference what the words really are. Also, if I really wanted to, I could record new sound with my Zoom Q2n... but what I've got absolutely does the trick.

So long as no one, you know, plays it back in reverse. 🤔

#egyptians #egypt #tombs #music loops #adventures with purpose #soundtrack work #documentary #atmospheric #mysterious #ethereal #creepy #organic #trial & error #vibe #feel #SoundCloud

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4ltrd · 2 years ago

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See Update in Reblog Below!

I've futzed around with a bunch of machine translation over the years, and here's what I've landed on (for Android and Windows).

Note: For both of these, the translations are wildly imperfect. Having some knowledge of the language you're translating obviously helps, or you're going to be confused when Google or DeepL decide to infer the wrong pronouns because they aren't people and don't understand context.

EverTranslator

When I'm purely on my phone, I use EverTranslator. It's free and much better than it used to be once you make a few changes in the settings. I have it set to . . .

Joiner between text blocks: Space

Remove ending dashes: On

Remove line breakers inside text blocks: On

Remove spaces in Chinese, Japanese, and Korean text: On

EverTranslator: https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=tw.firemaples.onscreenocr

UGT (with a controller)

Mirroring Your Screen on your PC

I cast my phone to my laptop via Windows Phone Link or ScrCpy when I use UGT.

§ Windows Phone Link

Upsides of WPL:

It should be natively included in your version of Windows (you'll need to get the app on your phone, though).

(Usually) sound will come through your PC instead of phone.

USB connection not required--you can connect wirelessly to a PC on the same internet connection. Great if your phone is charging across the room.

Downside:

Can't rotate the screen manually for apps that are weird about rotating (AKNK).

§ BlueStacks

This method ought to also work with BlueStacks, but I haven't ever used BlueStacks because I'm paranoid about where I allow my Google data to be accessed.

§ Samsung Dex

Samsung Dex doesn't rotate apps at all, so that method is straight out.

§ ScrCpy

Scrcpy via USB Debugging mirrors your Android to your PC without having to root your phone. This is a little more advanced than using Windows Phone Link or BlueStacks, but you're using your own phone without granting anyone your Google credentials AND you can rotate the screen easily (unlike Dex or Windows Phone Link).

Upsides of ScrCpy:

You can rotate the ScrCpy window on your PC by holding alt and pushing the left arrow key. Great for AKNK's outings and sleep support.

Downside:

Getting sound through your PC rather than phone via ScrCpy is less reliable. Though it supposedly ports audio to your PC natively with the latest release, I still need to use the dev's SndCpy: https://github.com/rom1v/sndcpy/blob/master/README.md

Setting Up UGT

UGT requires more work than EverTranslator, but once you've set it up, it's worth it. You can use it for anything on your PC. Congratulations, you can now play any untranslated Japanese otome game via emulator.

A walkthrough on how to set up UGT: https://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=2741318181

You'll need to futz around with the config file a bit, especially with the autoglue, even when you move from game to game, but it's worth the hassle.

UGT normally supports controllers to make it easier/faster to translate (and save your wrists/fingers), but that feature is broken at the moment. The dev knows. So, I cobbled together a script in AutoHotKey for my Xbox controller . . .

Autohotkey: https://www.autohotkey.com/

The script: https://vatnalilja.neocities.org/UGTAHK

Once you load this script into AutoHotKey and run it, the buttons on your Xbox controller will work as follows:

UGT's normal functions will work; consult the program

A will translate the active window (use ctrl+F10 to set a translation rectangle so it's not unnecessarily translating everything onscreen—you can always use ctrl+F10 to set a new rectangle)

B will clear the translation (the equivalent of spacebar in UGT)

Y will act as the left click of a mouse button

Left joystick will act as a mouse, so you can move around the screen to select things without touching the mouse

I updated the above AHK config file so its set back to UGT default (ctrl+f12), allowing you to run it out of the box with UGT. My original version was tailored to my modified hot keys.

These AHK settings may conflict with games that require these buttons on a gamepad, but you can look up AutoHotKey's instructions and easily change them in the script. I promise it isn't hard. Otome games are usually point-and-click, though.

This is what my setup looks like on Windows with my Android phone cast to my laptop via Windows Phone Link using UGT and a controller (not that you can see the controller part). It's so big. Good for my old eyes!

Here's my setup via ScrCpy:

DeskTranslator

Another option besides UGT is DeskTranslator, which won't require you to connect Google or DeepL in the settings or set up anything in Google Cloud Dashboard, but will require you to know some Python, access PowerShell, etc.

The installation directions for DeskTranslator and its requirements are available on each repository page, and if you need help installing Python packages, you can very easily search Google for the right commands to copy/paste into PowerShell.

One nice thing about DeskTranslator is that it will give you reasonably real-time translations without having to push any keys/buttons. Use this combined with Windows' captions in a foreign language and you can have translation of spoken dialogue that has no built-in captions in your game.

You can also drag the translation box over a normal dialogue box and use it that way, too (like UGT or DeepL's app--see reblog below for more on DeepL's app).

When used with ScrCpy, you can simply hold your phone in your hand (connected to your PC by USB) and tap the screen like normal. No controller or keyboard hot keys are needed.

ScrCpy + SndCpy with Windows Captions and DeskTranslator

ScrCpy + SndCpy and DeskTranslator

If you use Apple products or a controller other than an Xbox controller, YMMV. There is a version of UGT that is on Linux and experimental on MacOSX: https://pypi.org/project/pyugt/. Godspeed.

#akuneko #devil butler with black cat #otome game #ainana #idolish 7 #ensemble stars #enstars #twisted wonderland #twst #otome #real-time translation #foreign captions #foreign subtitles

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benoitblanc · 2 years ago

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for the sleepover, tell me what you're writing about and your favorite line so far if you have one! ✨

okay this kind of has three answers so i'll answer all of them! i always love talking about my writing projects (derogatory and affectionate) :)

original project: i am still dragging my feet with my crime show, which i have made little to no progress on in the past like two years, rip. you might have seen me talking about it before but tldr the very basic premise is that it's about a group of petty grifters who accidentally pull a con on the mob and get roped into this massive imbroglio of crime lords and long-seated feuds in the parisian criminal underworld. i unfortunately am STILL outlining, and the two scenes i do have written are in script format anyway, so i'm not going to post a favorite line

x-files university au: this has sort of replaced my peggysous time loop fic as my big fic project right now, which is really a shame because i am literally a loop and a half away from being done with the time loop fic so i should really get back to it so i can PUBLISH THE GODDAMN THING. sigh. i hate plot bunnies. this one is especially annoying because it's pretty much a rehashing of the mytharc episodes from season 1 (with a little futzing around with the timeline + m&s are uni students + doggett and reyes are also there), which means i kind of need to rewatch them... but i am only 2.5 seasons into watching this show for the first time. (sort of. as you'll see with the next project i've sort of been skipping around a little. don't worry about it.) however, i am kind of obsessed with my weird little college agents and their weird little project for investigative journalism 401, so we keep chugging away at it. i'm putting my favorite scene from it thus far under the cut below, plus a bonus line specifically for you :)

x-files uhhhhhhhh: i literally do not know what to say about this one without giving things away, but i will try: it's a season 5 au that deals with grief, devotion, and codependency with a hint of psychological thriller mixed in just for shits and giggles. i also read the recipe wrong and added a full cup of angst instead of a teaspoon, whoops. i know this means nothing to you because you don't even watch this show but for those of my followers who do i don't even think i can say what characters are in this without spoiling things. as such i am not going to post a line from this one either

sleepover asks!!!

(and read on for some snippets from my txf wip!)

my favorite section from the txf university fic (bonus points if you catch the non-txf reference):

“Or how ’bout this: happy family of seven moves into this huge big house in Massachusetts last year hoping to flip and resell it, and within a month, there’s a kid dead of cyanide poisoning and the mom took a one-way trip off the top of the staircase.”

“That’s a horrible tragedy,” Scully starts, “but-”

He slaps the newspaper on the table. (“Do you just carry that around?” John asks.) “The dad went to every publication that would listen claiming the house was haunted.”

John is rubbing his temples, and Scully mutters something that sounds suspiciously like ay yi yi. Monica, however, is nodding thoughtfully along. Mulder might kiss her, if a. he weren’t dead certain she’s a lesbian and b. he hadn’t recently come to the realization, completely unprompted by any real-life events, that he’s more partial to redheads.

and a bonus completely out of context line for mitali!

“Because Han Solo is a slut, that’s why. Open the button.”

#thanks so much for asking!!!#answered #arwen writes #*mutuals #*mitali

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carleylyonwrites · 2 years ago

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Ever since 2016, my evenings and weekends have been filled with theatre. And I don't mean watching it — I mean creating it. Directing, performing, dramaturge-ing (is there an actual word for that?), flipping from hanger to hanger in closets stuffed to the brim with vintage costumes, rummaging through mountains of props, building up confidence in bright-eyed young actors, pacifying my fair share of divas... and holding my breath as the music fades down, the lights fade up, and the play begins.

All of this was crammed into the hours of the day not occupied by a nine-to-five job. Theatre is not something I have to do. It's something I choose to do because of the joy it brings me. I've been asked many times over the years by family and friends, "Don't you get tired?" And my honest answer has always been, "No way. I love it."

But today, in the year of our Lord 2023, as a 30-year-old woman who's been involved in something like 17 productions since graduating from college, I am officially tired.

It's kind of weird when I think about it, because I know people twice my age who are hustling just as hard — if not harder — than I was, and they don't seem to be burnt out. Then again, what's that thing people always say, something about how "the only person you should be competing with is yourself"? Pretty sure someone said that. Once. Maybe. Anyway.

This doesn't mean I don't adore live theatre, or performing, or directing. It doesn't mean I want to stop forever. But life has taught me that when intuition speaks, I'm a fool if I don't listen. When I picture sitting down at my desk to block a show, when I imagine finishing up my day job only to jump in the car and drive off to a rehearsal that will stretch all the way up to (and nowadays, past) this gal's bedtime, I feel visceral resistance, with two simple words permeating every ounce of my being:

Maybe you've got something in your life that has burnt you out, like theatre has burnt me out. Maybe your intuition is telling you it's time to take a break. If that's the case, consider this your sign to listen to that intuition. I did, and after politely declining a few opportunities in 2023 that — while lovely on paper — sent my gut running for the hills, I feel like I've just taken one giant exhale.

Without any further ado, and because we love a list in this house, here is a list of five things I'm going to do this year with all the glorious spare time I'll have in light of my lil hiatus from the stage.

Number 1: Literally Nothing Jerry: "So uh, what'd you do last night?" Elaine: "Nothing." Jerry: "I know, 'nothing,' but what did you actually do?" Elaine: "Literally nothing. I sat in a chair and I stared." I firmly believe that we as human beings should be shamelessly vocal in our desire to do nothing. In 2023, I will be blocking off entire evenings to do nothing. Get home from work, make some dinner, futz around with jigsaw puzzles, rewatch Gilmore Girls for the billionth time. And if someone asks me, "Hey are you busy Tuesday night? Wanna hang out?" on a night when I've scheduled nothing, my answer will be, "Yeah, sorry, I'm busy Tuesday doing nothing." Here's the way I look at it: My husband and I want to have a child soon. This may be the last year for the foreseeable future that I'm not responsible for the survival, happiness, health, and well-being of a helpless potato sack (albeit a cute potato sack whom I will love with all my heart) of a human being. So yeah. I feel like I deserve a year where, several nights per week, I do absolutely nothing. Number 2: Read a Bunch of Books I used to avoid reading for leisure at all costs. There are a few reasons for this. First and foremost, I was usually too busy reading scripts so I could come up with production concepts, block shows, conduct research, memorize lines... all that jazz. Second, I hated the ergonomics of reading. I was always uncomfortable, and I was too busy fixating on my discomfort to process any of what I was attempting to read. And third, I have this thing where I hate the way pages feel between my fingertips. Sacrilege, I know. Then, a year or so ago, I gave an e-reader a chance. And dangit, if that thing didn't change the trajectory of my entire life.

I dislike Jeff Bezos as much as the next middle class citizen, so I gerrymander my ethics by adoring my sticker-covered sage green Kindle Paperwhite, drawing the line at actually buying books from Amazon. Instead, I've turned into a Libby app addict, renting the e-books from my local library. And you know what? I can live with that. Especially because it's led to an approximately 3,900% increase in the number of books I read annually. I set a Goodreads goal to read 30 books in 2023. It's Feb. 1, and I've already read 12. I'm no mathematician, but all signs point to yes, devouring works of fiction is a way that I actually want to spend my time. Number 3: Paint Silly Little Pictures I'll keep this one short, because there's really no big story to it. Painting is one of those things that makes me feel warm, fuzzy, and fulfilled inside. Am I an expert painter? No. Are there hundreds of millions of better painters than me in this world? Absolutely. Do the images I paint make my heart happy? Yep. They really do. There is something so darn cool about seeing a thing or a place in my head, and then creating it out of thin air. That's what painting is for me. I just love it, plain and simple, but I've so rarely had the time to sit down and do it regularly. This year, Imma do that.

Number 4: Climb (Fake) Rocks Physical fitness is the worst thing ever, period. I don't want to work out. I don't enjoy working out. I don't feel healthy or happy or accomplished after I work out. I'm also 30, and I'd like to, you know, survive for a while yet. So, against all odds, I found a workout routine that doesn't make me want to curl up in a dark corner and die: rock climbing.

Rock climbing holds a special place in my heart as the one activity in high school gym class that I actually enjoyed. And when an old college friend and I recently reconnected, and I found out they were a member at a climbing gym, I thought, "Hmm... maybe. Just maybe."

Am I any good at it? Hell no. But is it tons of fun? Is it a challenge that for some reason keeps drawing me back in for more? Is the chalk bag I bought very adorable and aesthetically pleasing? Do I feel kinda sexy and adventurous while doing it?

Hell yes.

And you best believe getting home from rehearsals at 10:30 or 11 PM every night was draining my already non-existent motivation to exercise well below zero. Thus, the year of no theatre becomes the year I try (and probably fail, but who cares?) to become a semi-decent climber.

Number 5: Make Music I'm pretty darn lucky to have grown up in a musical household. Both my parents can play the piano, and I started messing around on a baby grand (I know, right? Privilege for days) when I was about 5 years old. I'm no Mozart, and I'm definitely not the best pianist in my family, but I can play pretty darn well, and I miss the days where I used to be able to sit at the piano for two, three, four-hour stretches and just play. Stumble through sheet music with my mediocre reading skills, figure out favorite songs by ear, play old classics that my muscles refuse to forget. I never want to say to someone, "Oh, I used to play all the time, but I can't remember any of it anymore." So this year, we're setting aside designated time for piano therapy.

In January, I learned how to play "Rocket Man." Solid start. So maybe I shoot to learn one song per month. That'd be pretty cool. And if a song a month is too much, that's okay, too. The chance to even sit and improv for a few hours after work is something that completely fell by the wayside when evenings were all booked up, and on weekends, exhaustion caught up to me and deterred me from using any kind of creative energy. The idea of waking up early on a Saturday morning and plucking away, no schedule, nowhere to be, no one to tell me it's time to stop? Yes, please.

Well, I guess that's it. Or as the kids say (I think they say this?), "That's it. That's the Tweet."

Happy 2023, everyone.

#stagelife #2023 diary

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cmdonovann · 2 years ago

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Accomplishments! Quantum Break fansite in progress!

(originally posted June 8th, 2023; crossposted from dreamwidth.)

Well, I removed Tumblr from my phone to prevent me from wasting so much time there, which means I now have nowhere to easily and quickly post my inane thoughts (at least not without feeling like I'm bothering people on Discord or in direct messages, though perhaps that's something I should work on). You know what that means! It means I'm probably going to try posting them here instead. Thing I want to post about: I'm making a Quantum Break fansite! I've been wanting to do this for ages, and actually started putting together a couple of little graphics for it during the "Quantum Break Appreciation Month" event I ran on Tumblr in April, but I hadn't made much progress on the project since then... until the past few days, anyway, when I started brainstorming what I actually want to do with the site, how I want to lay it out, and so on. Yesterday I put together some CSS for the site, and today I did The Hard Part: I set up a git/GitHub repo for the site, and got the "deploy to neocities" script working for it, so I can easily and quickly make updates to the site in VSCode, then push from there to GitHub to neocities all at once, like I do with my personal site. Was this an absolute pain to set up? Yes! Somehow, it took me even longer to do it a second time than it did the first! But I did it myself, with a lot of encouragement and rubber duck-ing from a few very helpful people in the Fandom Coders chat. Can't say I'm not proud of myself for that. I would not have had the skill or confidence a year ago to do something like this, especially not all the mucking about I did in the terminal trying to set up the git repo in the first place. Anyway, I am, to put it mildly, extremely fucking excited to continue working on this site. I've got big plans: first order of business is to get an archive set up of all the Quantum Break fanfic I can get my hands on (and get permission from the authors for). After that, I'm probably going to do the same for fanart and image edits like photosets and gifsets from Tumblr, since the CSS page styling for those will likely be similar (though I expect to run into some attribution problems with older Tumblr posts, what with so many deactivated or moved blogs post-2018). Once that's sorted out, I'm considering looking into the best way to archive fanvids, but honestly that might be put off for a while longer, as video hosting and video players are way out of my skill level currently. Maybe I'll import some of my Quantum Break playlists from my personal site, too? Oh yeah, and at some point down the line, I want to make a searchable wiki with transcripts of all the in-game narrative objects. But "searchable" is probably going to be a stumbling point there, and transcribing takes ages, so this will be last priority, I think. Wow, that's... a lot, actually! Damn! This is gonna take a while. Not that I mind spending a couple of years poking at a project, obviously. *Gestures at my longfic that took four years to finish...* I've been neck deep in this fandom for over seven years, what's another five or ten? XP

btw, since it's fairly easy to post images on tumblr (compared to dreamwidth, anyway), here's a screenshot of the section that's currently in progress: the fic archive index!

(ignore my filler text... i usually use karkalicious as my lorem ipsum, so at least i'm not committing THAT particular crime here.)

i'm still futzing around a little with the styling (negative margin my beloathed) but it's coming along pretty well! i've already got a branch where i've started... you know, actually adding fic to the site, but i won't merge that into the main and add a link to the front page until the style problems have been fixed (or at least, fixed enough to be easily navigable on mobile, which... is not the case right now, lolrip).

#quantum break #coding #fansite #dreamwidth #cmdonovann #well that was surprisingly easy! i didn't expect copypaste to preserve the formatting...#also added some commentary #because it's been a couple days since the dreamwidth post #and i've been working on the site since then lol

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honeylikewords · 5 years ago

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C, k, w. For whoever you wanna write for.

Thank you! I decided to experiment and go out on a limb with this one and try someone new, someone I’ve never written publicly for before: my version of Harvey Dent!

I’ve mentioned a few times before that Oscar is my ideal casting for Harvey (and many people seem to agree; there’s even talk that he was cast for the role in the upcoming Batman movie, but that the role had been cut from the final version of the script), and I just think it’d be fun to play around with the idea.

This version of Harvey that I’m experimenting with is inspired by the Harvey from Batman: The Animated Series and Oscar’s role as Basil Stitt in Lightningface, and is largely based on the understanding that Harvey is a fundamentally good person, and completely capable of healing, change, and growth (i.e. the occasional run in comics or other adaptations wherein Harvey is saved from himself and given proper care and support, allowing him to progress towards health).

Of course, I do want to mention that characters like Harvey are not accurate (nor entirely helpful) depictions of conditions like dissociative identity disorder, and the condition itself is complex and covers a rather broad spectrum of individual disorders and behaviors and experiences, with much dispute in medical and psychiatric communities about classification, origin, treatment, et cetera, and therefore is not something I feel qualified to weigh in on.

That said, Harvey is a character I love and care about, and therefore do feel comfortable writing about him with the intent of portraying respectful admiration and sowing the seeds of wishful thinking for a healthy recovery for him, a happy life with loved ones, and a prosperous future for his character. In that way, my Harvey will be written as having a well-developed support structure and beginning to lead a more healthy lifestyle.

Now, with all that out of the way, here is my first foray into writing out some of my (admittedly lighthearted and possibly OOC) concepts for my interpretation of Harvey!

C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?):

Harvey Dent is in a strange, self-made bind about physical touch. On one hand, Harvey is desperately touch-starved, viciously craving even the most minuscule of intimacies, aching for something, anything, be it as light as a brush to his wayward curls or a hand on the small of his back; the mere idea of something like being held in a loving pair of arms, safe and steady, makes him fucking dizzy.

But, on the other, deeply marred hand, Harvey is petrified of himself and doubts his capacity for tenderness. He fears that some dark, malicious part of himself lies in wait, hoping to strike when he is most lulled into comfort; worse yet, Harvey is afraid that those he loves and trusts the most will, by some horrible twist of fate, turn against him and hurt him when he least expects it.

He tries to fight against those thoughts, and tries to reassure himself that he would never lay a hand on his loved ones, and especially never raise a hand to someone as precious to him as his sweetheart, but the niggling worm of his anxious thoughts still chews away at him from time to time, and he finds himself avoidant of touch, even if it’s something he yearns for passionately.

Harvey is naturally drawn to physical expressions of love, so telling himself “no” or shying away from something like being cuddled by his beloved feels both unnatural and cruel, and it exhausts him and his patience to try and uphold his self-enforced isolation. It’s like pulling teeth for poor Harvey; all the boy wants is to lay in bed with his sweet girl and feel the warm, solid weight of her against his skin, knowing she is his and he is hers, feeling that comforting press and release of their breaths falling into unison as they unwind together, and he just won’t let himself have it!

That said, as his relationship with his beloved strengthens with time and endurance, Harvey’s trust in her builds, too, and he grows more confident knowing that all sides of him, regardless of mood or memory, care about her, love her, and would never do anything to intentionally harm or frighten her, so their intimacy is able to flow more naturally.

Once they are at a comfortable place in their relationship, Harvey’s beloved goes out on a limb and curls up on the couch, patting the cushion next to herself. Harvey takes a seat and feels her put her hands on his shoulders and gently coax him into a laying position, his head resting squarely in her lap.

She asks if he’s feeling alright-- his solid cheek has turned a deep and detectable shade of warm tan, and his eyes skitter around her face, shyly flitting from feature to feature-- and when he nods his consent, she reaches out a hand and passes her fingers along his hairline, tracing the coast of his curls as they transition from deep brown-black to stark white. Harvey holds his breath, afraid that if he moves even a single muscle, the spell will be broken and she will change her mind, repulsed by his scars, his odd hair, his mismatched eyes, his... everything.

But she does not pull back. She merely runs her fingers across his face, brushing at the crests of his strong cheeks, down his angled jaw, along the lines of his lips. She gazes at him with dreamy eyes, smiling to herself, and she hums, as if distantly amused.

“You’re so handsome, Harvey,” she purrs, using the back of her hand to card softly across the ridges of his scars.

She’s lying, the familiar voice snarls. Lovely little liar, but a liar nonetheless.

Harvey ignores it and turns, burying his face in her belly, unwilling to let her see his flushed face and watery eyes. He takes a deep breath and puts his hands on her back, tugging her into himself, and him into her; he’s going to let himself have what he wants, for once.

From then on, Harvey finds it much easier to take the initiative to cuddle his beloved. When his Id takes greater control, Harvey will sometimes lift his sweet one up into his arms and confidently stride to the nearest cuddling spot-- be it the couch, his armchair, or the bed-- with her pressed to his chest, a cocky smile and waggling eyebrows meeting his beloved’s surprised expression. When he’s more reserved but still craving her touch, he’ll try to indicate his needs by nudging his head against her, hoping she takes the cue and fiddles with his hair, which relaxes him so deeply.

Both are, in their own ways, uniquely endearing to his partner, but she loves when he regains even a sliver of his former savoir-faire and confidence and sweeps her off her feet; it feels like there before her is Apollo Dent once more, proud of himself and proud of his love, and she is always happy to see him grow more comfortable in his skin and around her!

As for how they cuddle physically, Harvey has a few positions he enjoys: he is quite fond of the aforementioned couch position, with his head in her lap and her fingers brushing his hair until he grows drowsy; he likes when she sits on his lap in his tall-backed armchair, reading a book together, her arms looped around his neck; he dearly delights in spooning his darling, stretching his broad arms around her and pressing her tightly to his chest, their bodies adjusting to one another’s curves and planes so naturally.

But of all these, Harvey’s favorite would have to be laying in bed, on his back, with her laying half-on, half-off him, her head on his chest, her hands rubbing up and down his stomach and chest. Something about that combination of pressure and weightlessness, warmth and coolness, space and proximity, just feels ever so right to him, and often sends him into a deep and restful slumber. If he ever needs to melt into comfort, that’s his go-to.

K = Kiss (How do they kiss? Who initiated the first kiss?):

Before his accident, Harvey was a big proponent of kissing. Big fan. Huge. He loves the contact, the intimacy, and the adrenaline rush; nothing made his heart race and his head spin quite as much as winning a massive case or getting a public event under his belt and tugging his girl to his side, planting a deep, excited kiss on her lips and dipping her into suspension in his strong arms. It made him feel powerful and proud, and the kiss sealed the deal every time.

However, in the aftermath of his burns, Harvey’s kisses have had to evolve.

The hunger for them is still there, as potent and all-consuming as ever, but for a long while, he felt that the texture and warping caused by his scars made him, frankly, unkissable, so he avoided the act entirely.

Still, much like cuddling, Harvey grew back into his intimacy and allowed his yearnings to come to fruition, and surprised all parties involved by being the first one to initiate a kiss in this new stage of their relationship.

It happened one day when Harvey was sitting at the kitchen table, poring over a copy of the Gotham Gazette (the Globe, Times, and Daily Planet sitting in a neat pile, waiting their turn to prophesy and portend), running his finger over the rim of his half-drunk coffee cup.

He looked up from an article about the upcoming local elections to see his girlfriend futzing with something on the kitchen counter, tugging out a frying pan and ducking into the fridge. Deciding to mind his own business, he turned his nose paperward once more and returned to scanning the article, though his vision slipped back to her every few sentences or so.

The sound of the stove starting alerted him to her cooking, and he soon heard the familiar shattering of a cracked eggshell, the sputtering of the white hitting the pan, and the scrape of a spatula. Somewhere else in the kitchen, the toaster popped, as did the lid of a jam jar.

By the time Harvey had finished the article and flipped over to the sports section (ever the avid follower of the hometown baseball team, Harvey wanted to check in on the Gotham Knights’ standings), he saw his beloved round the counter and join him at the kitchen table, sliding a plate behind his paper.

He folded the paper at the median and peered down: there, on the table, were the eggs (soft scrambled), the toast (mid-doneness, teetering on dark, spread with a dark red jam speckled with seeds, indicating to Harvey that it was, in fact, raspberry), a pair of small sausage links, and a glass of orange juice.

Blinking, Harvey looked up from the plate and over to his girlfriend, who was now back in the kitchen and preparing a second round of toast. He pointed down at the food, then cleared his throat.

“This yours?,” he rasped, voice still a little rusty from misuse.

“Nope. That’s yours,” she returned, working a butter knife into the furthest crevices of the jam jar. “I don’t like seeing you just having coffee for breakfast. Makes me worried about your blood sugar levels.”

Harvey paused.

Then he stood up from the table, likewise rounded the counter, put his hands on either side of his girlfriend’s hips, turned her away from the jam jar, and kissed her squarely on the mouth.

The kiss only lasted a few seconds, but it was long enough for her to slip a hand onto his cheek and cup him close, and for Harvey to move his hands to the small of her back, rocking her body closer to his. He breathed in deep through his nose and broke the kiss after a beat, lips separating with a light ‘pop’, and pressed his forehead to hers, smiling to himself.

He could hear her breath stutter and shake in the aftermath, and when she regained a stable pattern, she made a small, re-centering noise, halfway between an “ahem” and a “whooh”, then put her hands on his chest.

“What was that about, hon?”

“Nothin’,” he managed through his puppyish smile. “Thank you.”

“It’s just eggs and toast,” she giggled dizzily. “I suppose I’ll have to see what happens when I make you dinner!”

At that, Harvey chuckled, nipping her bottom lip with his teeth.

“I suppose you will,” he reiterated.

Again, much like cuddling, after that, Harvey began to allow himself more kisses more often.

He’s a fan of taking his beloved’s chin between his thumb and forefinger and tugging her up for a deep one, but equally pleased by pressing a light kiss to her temple before she heads out the door. He adores kissing her, slow and hungry, while they relax and enjoy each other’s company, or quick and fervently in brief spare moments of privacy. Every kind of kiss delights him.

Still, when he gets sensitive about things like his face or lips, and the texture thereof, he’ll ask her to only kiss the unscarred side of his face or the unburnt corner of his lips, which she’ll, of course, agree to do, but all the while remind him that his scars are no affront to her nor a deterrent to her kisses.

“They’re perfect lips,” she reminds him, even as she acquiesces to kissing just the unmarred portion of his mouth, “both sides.”

W = Wedding (When, how, where do they propose?)

Marriage was a concept Harvey found himself more intimidated by than comforted by throughout most of his life.

Harvey feared becoming someone like his father-- tyrannical, abusive, cruel and callous-- and trapping someone, inescapably, inside his own self-destructive world through the bonds of marriage, and often feared that if he grew too attached to his partner that she would, like so many before her, discover his flaws and abandon him, breaking his heart irreparably. He feared growing worse and worse with age, feared locking himself into something he couldn’t commit to, feared lashing out and hurting someone he had promised to protect and provide for; he feared what could happen to her if something went wrong in this terrible town, and if he did something that might set her up as a prime target through which to punish him.

Still, through all his fear, the idea of marriage floated in his mind, congealing and solidifying as a concept the longer he loved his sweet girl, the more he thought about her as a fixture of his life. It didn’t seem reasonable to ask her to stay, to bear all his burdens alongside him, to struggle with him in the dark places he fell into, but at the same time, some selfish, childish urge inside begged him to keep her and claim her, to make himself part of her life inextricably.

Harvey fretted back and forth over the matter, waffling between extremes; it didn’t help that his personality shift had allocated his loyalties so unusually. While his Id, manifesting as Harv, was designed to be self-preserving and independent, Harv also was possessive and uncompromisingly loyal to his beloved, unwilling to even contemplate the idea of not having her in his life: Harv, though categorically opposed to any social strictures, was as dedicated as a married partner already to his one and only, and utterly determined not to share her.

Harvey, the more balanced Ego, was a proponent of the idea of marriage but petrified of the consequences of his possible failure to perform in such a bond, and thus went back and forth on his potential spousal value, torn between the love he felt for his dear one and the anxiety he encountered at the idea of letting her down.

In summary: Harv believed marriage was a sham but he’d do anything to keep his girl his to love, and Harvey believed marriage was a sacred bond of love but feared he’d fail as a spouse as his father had failed his mother all those years ago, throwing the two halves into conflict and a restless oscillation of opinion on the topic.

Still, there was, thankfully, no rush for them to come to an immediate conclusion: Harvey’s girlfriend had no problem with their relationship as it stood, and was perfectly happy to just be by his side, loving him and caring for him as he loved and cared for her, while assisting in his recovery and reintegration into everyday society. There was no hurry for some big, life-altering change, nor any pressure to push towards “the next step”, as it were.

That, however, did not change Harvey’s internal struggle on the topic, which came to a head one day when the couple was on the couch, Harvey’s hair being finger-combed by his doting dear as she watched some home restoration show idly in the background.

Harvey gazed up at her face and listened to the couple on the screen talking about bay windows and a portico and something something crown molding and “our budget of blah blah thousand dollars”, and began to imagine the process of buying a house.

He imagined it was very, very stressful-- after all, even trying to nail down an apartment in Gotham, District Attorney’s position and salary to his credit, was difficult-- but likely very gratifying. Owning a home, a place to call one’s own, to share with someone you loved... it sounded nice, in a sort of saccharine way.

Somewhere inside, Harv made a retching sound, but internally agreed that it did sound rather nice. Owning things did always appeal to Harv.

Harvey’s mind wandered to the idea of moving in with her, somewhere quiet and old, a fixer-upper with rooms to paint and floors to re-carpet and sconce lights that made everything look eerie and Victorian but in that nice, warm way. He pictured her sitting in a room full of boxes and unspooling packing tape, wearing one of his old NYU hoodies and “practical shoes” for moving day, smiling at him over a package of plates. His heart soared.

“Hey,” he rumbled. She looked down, curious, fingers stilling in his hair. “Would you ever...”

He trailed off, wondering if there was a non-embarrassing way to ask what he was thinking.

“Would you ever... want to... if you... had the choice to, uh, would you want to... live with me for the rest of our lives?”

Harv and Harvey both cringed.

There was a pregnant pause as Harvey stared up at her, bated in his breath, as he waited for her to respond. He watched her face, still at first, slowly spread into a knowing smile, her eyes warm and glittering with promise, and observed her as she bent down and pressed a light kiss to his forehead. Sweeping her hand across his brow, pushing his hair back, she nodded and twirled a curl of his shock-white hair around her index finger, springing it loosely.

“Mhm,” she hummed. “I would be very happy living with you for the rest of our lives.”

Harvey nodded slowly, reaching a hand up to stroke the fullness of her cheek with his calloused, burned hand, admiring the softness of it that he could still feel, nerve damage be damned. He pinched it slightly, causing her to giggle and tug lightly on the curl still wrapped around her finger.

“It’d make me... very happy to see you every day,” Harvey stated. “Forever. You know.”

“I think I get the idea,” she laughed, bending down to rub her nose against his sweetly. “I would be very happy seeing you, too, Mister Dent.”

She hovered her lips above his, tantalizingly close, and Harvey slipped a hand up to the nape of her neck, brushing the sensitive hairs there.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

And with that, he tugged her down.

Though it was by no means a proposal, nor even the promise of one to come, it satiated both halves of Harvey for the time being and soothed something inside: he knew, inherently, that she meant it. She did want to be with him. And he hoped that his intention to live a life dedicated to her, ever-loving and ever-loyal, was somehow, even slightly, conveyed by what he’d said.

But, for now, in lieu of a proposal, this would do.

Thank you for asking!

#long post #messages #anonymous #oh my goddd i stayed up way too late on this BUT i told myself i needed to finish an actually long piece of some media somehow so. here we g #anyway now im tired and going to bed see y'all later #harvey dent #original #please dont show this to any actual diehard comics stans theyll eviscerate me

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eponymous-rose · 5 years ago

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I may have finally appeased the Duolingo owl...

In terms of actual results, it was phenomenal to get me back on track with the French I haven’t used daily since high school, and it got me to a comfortable reading level in both Portuguese and German, to the point where I can read news articles etc.---in both cases (especially Portuguese), I was able to carry out simple conversations with native speakers without too much trouble, although it wasn’t hard for me to get left in the dust when the conversation picked up speed. Might be my French bias, but I feel like this model works best for Romance languages (I’ll be revisiting Spanish and Italian---I feel like Italian was just a shorter course when I took it). Japanese and Korean were pretty difficult to tackle without any sort of tutorial in the mechanics of the scripts (and I know Korean has a very logical script!), so I’d recommend supplementing heavily unless you’re just aiming for vague recognition of written words.

Polish I tried briefly before going to Poland and had to bail on. FOR NOW. So many letters...

A lot of people may be unaware that Duolingo has actual written-up lessons and forums at your disposal online---if you’re baffled as to the logic behind a particular answer, you can pop in and get a quick answer. There are errors every now and then, but I know I had five or six error reports get responded to eventually, and the correct answers were shifted accordingly. It’s loads better than it was when I started, and I’m a little astonished at how flexibly it “grades” some of these sentences.

For Portuguese and German I also kept a notebook for a bit with sentences to practice offline. Another thing that helped was stumbling across PDFs of the Harry Potter books in like six languages (alas, long-lost on some hard drive or other)---reading sentence-by-sentence aloud was phenomenal practice. Obviously, though, real-live conversations are the way to go... and in some bigger cities, Duolingo organizes language club meet-ups so you can practice in person, although I’ve never tried that myself.

If you’re into gamification, Duolingo also recently added leaderboards, and you can advance or drop levels each week based on your XP earned. Basically, I found it to be a phenomenal thing to futz around with if I’m stuck waiting for a bus or plane or just feeling a little anxious and wanting to twiddle my mental thumbs. Fun as heck.

#duolingo #this may be the gaming achievement i am proudest of #so #eponymous gaming tag

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stusbunker · 6 years ago

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Weddings and Other Holy Deals

For Better or Worst: Chapter One

Featuring: Sam Winchester x Emery Simmons-Winchester (OFC)

Setting: Mid Season 14 AU

Word Count: 1675

Summary: Sam finds an unlikely solution to the Michael problem in Dean’s head. His soon-to-be wife has her own side of the deal with the powers that be.

^*^*^

Jan. 20, 2019

Somewhere beyond the neatly trimmed lawns and the perfectly timed sprinkler systems, over a wide porch with a loveseat swing and past a storm door with etched glass, slept a Winchester. It was not a normal place for this Winchester, Sam for clarity’s sake, to be upon waking. But this wasn’t a usual day, for the hunter or anyone honestly. Though he had lived another day like this one, the excitement and anticipation he felt as he rolled over and saw his clock face shining back at him was unmatched. Today, Sam Winchester was getting married, and if he knew anything it was the best decision he had ever made. That things would only get better after today. Rare is certainty in life, which was why Sam held fast to his and began the life-changing day.

Across town, Bandit woke his bride. Bandit is her dog, soon to be their dog, a Setter mix that loved to herd. Emery Simmons had always been an animal person, but Bandit was a surprise blessing from her former life. She hadn’t asked to bring him along, though as there wasn’t much she had left, she supposed it was a perk to balance her expectations. She roamed through the short-term rental, contemplating the dress that had been left for her as she made herself a cup of tea. Bandit demanded a walk and a bout of catch in the park, which Emery accommodated, unhurried by the little preparations for the small ceremony. They weren’t going to start without her, after all.

Sam had exercised, showered and shaved by ten o’clock. He had another three hours before the service was scheduled, idle hands met a replaced contact list in his phone. He didn’t know any of these people yet, well he knew one. With little else to bide his time, Sam hit the old rotary phone icon below the smirking face.

“Whoa, when did they futz with our phones?” Emery asked, spinning around with Bandit’s leash before tucking her phone beneath her ear.

“Dunno, it’s weird right?” Sam stared at the tux bag hanging in the bedroom. Their bedroom.

“Creeptastic, actually. What’s up?” She sounded worried, maybe she was distracted. Sam was overthinking her tone and almost forgot to answer her.

“I didn’t have anyone else to call?” Sam offered, sitting at the end of the bed, huffing at himself with a sad smile. “Forget it, I’ll let you get back to your, stuff.”

“Hey, I’m just out for a walk, you’re not bothering me. Sam?” His name came out heavy, like she was reminding herself who she was marrying. He didn’t blame her. There was a scuffle on her end of the line before she groaned. “No, Bandit, no!”

Sam’s forehead shot to its full height. “Is that— are you walking a dog?”

“Uh, yesssssss? Is that going to be a problem?” Her sudden defensiveness made him grin, the image of her struggling with a leash warmed Sam from head to toe.

“Not at all, the opposite really. I love dogs.” He understood why she was anxious; they barely knew each other, it was a bit soon for a potential first fight.

“Well, good, shit, had me panicking there for a minute.” The conversation lulled as she reached the porch, each stumbling over small talk before she looked at the clock on the microwave. Sam was starting to pace, but the relief that there would be someone else in the house with them made it seem less scary somehow. They said their goodbyes and Sam decided he better eat before the nerves resurfaced. He quickly fried some bacon, out of habit, and tossed together a smoothie. Everything he could possibly want stocked in the fridge and cupboards; they had done their due diligence, apparently.

Two and a half hours later, Emery was hiking up the church steps, dress bent over her elbow and simple veil trailing behind her loose curls on a winter breeze. She had never had a lot of friends, but today was a day when a female entourage would have come in handy. She thought about her mother and how she would have worried over her hair until it needed to be reset. She sent up a silent prayer to her, telling her that she was finally making an honest woman of herself. Adding a few choice words that would have had them both pursing and posturing before breaking down into fits of giggles. God, did she miss her. She smiled quietly, opening her eyes and the heavy glass door.

The church was cavernous and quiet and after countless trips inside hallowed walls, Sam was able to appreciate the architecture and the scale of the ancient organ pipes. The minister seemed confused, but accommodating, given the last-minute organization. Sam stood at the end of the aisle, hands in his pockets, the ring box lightly brushing against his thigh. A blast of sound curled throughout the space, nimble fingers flying over aged keys as the timeless march stopped Sam’s heart. This was it, a pact fulfilled. He inhaled, swallowed, and turned to face his future.

Emery hated heels, but given the size of her husband, she may have to learn to live with them. The dress was forgiving at least, the gentle satin flowing as she glided down. Tried to glide. There was no one to give her away, no one at her elbow to keep time with, no onlookers to slow down for, no photographer to capture their faces as they saw each other for the first time. This moment was theirs alone, shy and appreciatively sacred. He smiled at her without teeth, dimples mesmerizing as she lost her rhythm, strolling to him out of the step-halt-step that was expected of her. None of that mattered anyway.

She shook her head and smiled back, licking her lips as she remembered the minister was waiting for her. Carefully she stood in front of Sam, toes of her white slippers lining up with his reflective black shoes. A small bouquet of orchids clutched in her right hand, her left petting her skirts as she tried to rub off the sweat.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here-,” the ceremony began. They echoed the scripted vows, eyes locked on each other in hopeful promise. Cautiously optimistic was too naïve for these two, humble veneration too romantic. They stood as strangers, forging a partnership to save those dearest to them. It was a contract that required both of their souls, willfully shared and bonded before Heaven and Earth. Samuel Winchester took this woman, Emery Simmons as his lawfully wedded wife. And she him. For better or worse.

Two days prior

Two days and a series of choices prior, stood the other Winchester in an underground fortress, three hundred fifty miles due East. Dean was in his bedroom, staring at Death, or Billie, if we’re being technical. Which we should, being the time jumps and all. Billie handed him the last remaining outcome of his life on Earth. The book, once one of countless possibilities, remained his sole option from world ending calamity. That was until Sam burst in, with a very stern angel on his heels.

“Dean! Listen, so—Naomi thinks she can help us. Help you, with Michael.” Dean looked from Death to his brother to the psychotic bureaucrat, the exhaustion heavy in his eyes and on his heart. Puppy dog’s hopeful eyes barraging him with an innocence he hadn’t had to let down gently in ages. Dean felt, unabashedly, like the oldest soul in the room. The women regarded each other, silent conversation earning only an audible hum from the former Reaper.

“Interesting. Dean? I think you need to hear them out. I’ll be in touch.” Billie nodded to Naomi and vanished before Sam could get a word in. No one mentioned how these beings, especially the angel, entered the Bunker. A place lauded as being the securest on the planet, had conveniently become a haven for all sorts of unmentionables.

“Okay, let’s hear it,” Dean sighed, perching on his bed as he listened to the latest hair-brained scheme. That night, after hours of arguing, endless curt responses from Naomi and rebuttals from Castiel, Dean agreed to leave with her. Before Naomi whisked him away, she shared a pregnant glance with Sam.

“We’ll be in touch,” the platinum blonde angel replied curtly. The air was suffocating with tension, Dean tried to get Sam’s attention and Cas glared at his former puppet master.

“Wait, what am I supposed to leave like there isn’t something else going on here?!” Dean bellowed at Naomi, who looked like the cat that got the cream, rolled her eyes.

“Boys, one thing at a time, please?” She gestured to a corner of the library, where a glowing pattern had appeared on the old tiles.

“How’d you—” Cas stared in awe as a portal to Heaven opened before their eyes.

“This is a one-way, temporary portal, Castiel. Don’t try to stowaway or the deal, all of the deals are off. Do I make myself clear?” Naomi glared at each man like a field trip chaperone. The men nodded, but Dean’s jaw worked over all of his unanswered questions. The pounding in his head intensified the moment Naomi arrived, which almost, was a relief. It meant Mikey knew something was happening and his suspicion was enough to swing Dean’s vote.

“Alright boys,” Dean sniffed. “See you on the other side?” He shook Cas’s hand before pulling him into a brief hug. Sam stood waiting, an arm up and one underneath, they embraced as equals. Another risk, another potential goodbye.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, bitch.” Dean chided, giving Sam a knowing smirk.

“Too short a list, jerk,” Sam tossed back, as Dean took Naomi’s hand like the kid forced to partner with the teacher in dance class. The portal swayed and flickered, the angel and the hunter pulled skyward, though Heaven was much farther away than the instant transport suggested.

“Sam?”

“Not now, Cas.” Sam stormed off, thumbing through his phone, needing to make some calls.

^*^*^

Read On: A New Normal

#for better or worst series #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x ofc #s14 au #sam x emery #simwin

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argylemnwrites · 6 years ago

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More Than Enough

Pairing: James Ashton x MC (Emily Day)

Book: The Freshman Series (Post The Senior)

Word Count: ~1700

Rating: PG

Summary: A volunteer event at a school causes Emily to wonder if James is reconsidering key elements of their future.

Author’s Note: Written for Day 18 of the Choices July Challenge (prompt - Family). Sorry this is a day late, but work wiped me out yesterday, so I didn’t get a chance to finish this piece until tonight. All the baby talk in TRH got me thinking about my MC from TF series, who I always saw as childfree. So if TRH baby talk is not your thing, this one might be more your speed!

Emily spun the ring around her finger, a nervous habit she picked up in the first few weeks after James slid it onto her hand on the roof of her first dorm. It was a perfect proposal that seemed to bring her four years at Hartfeld full circle just as she was closing that chapter of her life. At first the size and weight of the stone had caught her attention all the time. As wonderful as it made her feel to carry around a symbol of their relationship, to broadcast to the world that she was his and he was hers, quite frankly she was not used to jewelry, and so playing with it was a natural response to something so out of her realm of normal. But now, over a year later, she barely registered it most of the time. It felt as if it has always been there, just another part of her left hand. Still, futzing with it when she was anxious was just habit she picked up somewhere along the way.

She shouldn’t be nervous. She understood this on an intellectual level, but deeper in her heart and soul, she just couldn’t help it. The way he had acted about the whole thing, with such energy and enthusiasm, was completely unexpected. And quite frankly, she didn’t know how to process it.

It started two weeks ago when James had come home from work unusually happy. He had been working as an editor at this publishing house for about four months, and Emily knew he didn’t love his work. It had been harder than the two of them had hoped it would be for him to find a job when he followed her to London just over a month after she had moved there. And his first job, working as a script advisor for an low-budget film company, had turned out to be an unmitigated disaster. Calling it a “company” was a vast overstatement, as it was just two men and one woman, none of whom seemed to have shared any of their visions for their film with each other, instead arguing over tone and pacing of their project through James. After six weeks, he’d quit out of sheer frustration and fear that any future paychecks were unlikely to materialize given the overall financial state of the group. It hadn’t taken him as long to find this job, but it still wasn’t something he loved. Nevertheless, it was more likely to give him further industry connections, even if James clearly wished he could spend more of his time writing his own work as opposed to editing and revising the work of other writers.

So when James came home nearly giddy, pulling a bottle of fairly expensive Merlot out of his bag, Emily had assumed that he had gotten a promotion or an interview for a different position. Instead, he’d announced that his company had asked him to volunteer at an outreach event aimed to increase reading and writing in schoolchildren.

“Tina said they were asking all the published authors to participate. I’ll be expected to read a story to some of the younger children, then the older children will have a session where they get to ask questions about being a writer!”

Emily had taken a moment, trying to gauge just why James was so excited about this event in particular. But before she could even wrap her mind around his enthusiasm, he had placed a glass of wine in front of her, kissing her on her cheek as he sat down next to her and opened up his laptop. She assumed he was working on his poetry, but when she passed behind him on her way to grab the bottle of wine, looking to top off both their glasses, she was surprised to see him browsing the children’s book section on Amazon. And as the days trickled on, getting closer and closer to his “field trip,” not only did a package containing Oh the Places You’ll Go arrive at their address, so did a comical striped hat and a matching shirt. James was clearly committed to being a hit with the random children, and that fact caused an inkling of doubt to take root in Emily’s heart, growing and flowering like it never had before.

The two of them had not really discussed having children since their weekend away during her senior year. It had not seemed necessary since they were so clearly on the same page - they did not envision children as part of their future. But here was James, acting giddy at the thought of spending half a day volunteering with some children at a random school. Was it possible that James had changed his mind? Had he decided that becoming a parent was something he wanted?

Emily’s stomach was in knots at the mere thought of the idea. Sure, in college she had been the “mother” of the friend group in numerous situations, but that didn’t mean that she wanted an actual child. Helping out an adult was one thing, but being completely responsible for another human life was a terrifying prospect that held almost no appeal to her. Plus, why would she want to give up her clean, tidy, modern flat for mess and chaos? Why would she want to forego spontaneous weekend getaways for play-dates and trips to the local park? Why would she want to spend all her money on clothes that her child would outgrow in a few months when she could splurge on a new pair of heels for herself?

But if James wanted children now, she had no idea what she would do. It was bad enough listening to both her parents and his parents drop hint after hint that they were hopeful for grandchildren soon after the wedding. If James started making such statements, it would break her heart. She loved him completely and irrevocably, but she was not sure if she could give him that. It just was not what she saw for their future, no matter how hard she tried to imagine things.

So here she was, waiting for him to get home from his day with the schoolchildren, torturing herself by staring at his company’s Pictagram which had numerous posts from the event. He was so happy; there was such a joy in his eyes. He was clearly good with the children, a short video clip showing him adopting different silly voices with the students completely engrossed. Emily could hardly bear to watch.

“Good evening, my dear!” James called out from their flat’s entryway. Emily could hear him hanging his jacket up on the hooks they had placed by the door, buttons clicking against the wall. “I hope you’re hungry, as I grabbed Thai food from that new restaurant down the street, and I may have bought way too much. It just all smelled so delicious, I couldn’t resist.”

He dropped the takeaway bag on the table, heading into the kitchen, continuing his so-far one-sided conversation, “How was your day?”

“It was fine, nothing too exciting.” Emily paused for just a moment before she continued, asking the question she dreaded, “How was yours?”

“It was wonderful! I had such a good time!” James returned from the kitchen, placing two plates and some silverware on the table with the food. “The younger children were so much more attentive than I could have hoped for, and some of the older children had some really insightful questions.” He sat down next to her at that, grabbing one of the plates and opening up the takeaway containers.

He was radiating pure joy as he talked about the children. She had to bring this up now, before the wedding got any closer. “James, I have to ask, is this something you want now?”

“To eat? Yes?”

“No… children. Do you want to have kids at some point?”

Her question clearly caught him off guard, as he stopped scooping rice onto his plate and stared at her. There were several agonizing seconds of silence before he spoke. “Have you changed your mind about parenthood?”

She shook her head. “No, but with the wedding only a few months away, I just thought we better get this cleared up now. I know you had a great time with the students today, James, but I still don’t want to have kids, and I don’t think that I’ll ever want kids, so if that’s something you’re realizing you want, I think we need to have an honest conversation, because I don’t know what that will mean for us.”

James placed his plate back on the table, grabbing her right hand in both of his. “I like kids, and I did have a great time with them today… for one afternoon, where I didn’t have to worry about actually parenting any of them, and I was not responsible for anything other than reading and answering some questions. One afternoon, after which I returned home with takeaway Thai food to a clean, quiet flat that is the perfect size for two adults.”

Emily let out a shaky breath, feeling an immense wave of relief wash over her. “So, you are still okay if we don’t have children?”

“Okay with it? Emily, I adore the thought of us growing old and grey together, side by side, just you and me. I love the life we’ve built together, filled with eating out and fine wine and going to the ballet and taking expensive vacations.”

“And you’re fine with not having a family?”

James shook his head, “You are my family. We don’t need to have children to be complete. You are my muse, my perfect partner in so many ways. Why would I need any more than that?”

Emily smiled, leaning over and kissing him gently. It almost felt silly now, how worried she had gotten over the mere thought that James might be good with children. She had faith in the life they had created for themselves, though. And James was right, they were a family, and she didn’t see herself ever needing more than the two of them. He was enough. They were enough.

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