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rivalsforlife · 3 years ago

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Ace Attorney 20th Anniversary Character Poll (and how to participate in it!)

Hey there. If you haven’t heard the news, Weekly Famitsu Magazine (a Japanese gaming magazine which has, historically, been where many new ace attorney games are announced) is going to have an article releasing on October 21st featuring Ace Attorney for the upcoming 20th Anniversary.

This is pretty decent news, I think, though we don’t know yet if there’s going to be a new game announcement or any other sort of news. What is confirmed is that they’re going to run a fan poll where you can vote on your favorite characters, cases, and Payne hairstyles, among other things.

This does not ask for personal information, and as far as I can tell, you don’t need to be in Japan to respond. The poll is, however, solely in Japanese, and I assume they’re expecting answers in Japanese as well. I took the liberty with the help of google translate to attempt to make a rough translation of the poll, and you can follow along with this and fill it out yourself if you wish! Keep in mind this may not necessarily be extremely accurate, because google translate, and if anyone knows better than I do, please do correct me!

The poll closes September 30th 2021 11:59 PM Japan time - so there’s not a lot of time to fill it out!

Here’s a link to the poll. The questions are under the cut.

Also, keep in mind that this will address characters that appear in all of the games, though no major plot spoilers are present.

I recommend using google translate on the webpage if you can, it makes things a bit easier to navigate. I didn’t put the Japanese phrases next to the translated answers, since there was no option to copy+paste, so it would take up too much of my time - I can if someone really wants me to, though. Don’t solely rely on google translate though, as sometimes it will do things like translate “Naruhodo Ryunosuke” to “Phoenix Wright”.

As well, for some things like character responses, you may want to double-check their names on the wiki, just in case I got something wrong (which is quite likely.)

Here’s the translation:

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The weekly Famitsu November 4, 2021 issue (released October 21, 2021) features a special article on "Ace Attorney," which celebrates the 20th anniversary of the series! Among them, we will carry out an “Ace Attorney” series fan questionnaire. Please answer whatever questions you can.

There are 20 questions in total. If it takes too much time to fill in, the input may be reset, so if you feel that your answers are going to be long, we recommend that you prepare a separate text and copy and paste it.

Please note that answers to the questionnaire may be excerpted and edited and introduced in the weekly Famitsu, Famitsu.com, and other media operated by our company (KADOKAWA Game Linkage Co., Ltd.).

* In the page, "The Great Ace Attorney: Adventures" may be described as "Great Ace Attorney 1", and "The Great Ace Attorney 2: Resolve" may be described as "Great Ace Attorney 2”.

The deadline for responses is 23:59 on Thursday, September 30, 2021.

QUESTION 1

ペンネーム（必須）

(Pen name (Required))

This is a free response question, so answer whatever you want your pen name to be.

QUESTION 2

性別（必須)

(Gender (Required))

This has three options, which are, in order: Male, Female, or Prefer Not To Answer.

QUESTION 3

年齢（必須）

(Age (Required))

The options are, in order:

Under 10

10s

20s

30s

40s

50s

60s

70+

CHARACTER QUESTIONS

QUESTION 1

Q1.『逆転』シリーズの中からもっとも好きなキャラクターを教えて！(最大3名まで記入可)

“Tell us your favorite character in the Ace Attorney series! You can fill in up to three people.”

The following questions have a small free response box where you can put in the character’s name. Underneath that, in the larger free response box, you explain your reason. I’d recommend going onto the ace attorney wiki page of your favorite characters, going to the “names in other languages” tab, and then copy-pasting that name in there. If you’re avoiding the wiki because of spoilers right now, you can either send me an ask asking for the name and I’ll try to get back to you asap, or ask a friend who is not avoiding it.

You don’t *need* to fill out the explanation section if you’re not confident in your Japanese and don’t want to risk it being thrown out if it’s in English. You could try google translate, but keeping it simple would probably be best, otherwise it may come out weird.

QUESTION 2

Q2.『逆転』シリーズで好きな弁護士は？(メインキャラクター編)

“Who is your favorite defense attorney in the “Ace Attorney” series? (Main character edition)”

This is a selection box where the options are, in order:

Phoenix Wright

Mia Fey

Apollo Justice

Athena Cykes

Ryunosuke Naruhodo

The free response section below asks for you to give “A word on your favorite point”, which… I have no idea what that actually means. Sorry. Someone who actually knows Japanese, get back to me on that. It may be explaining why they’re your favorite, or it may be ... talking about pointing, it’s hard to tell with this series.

The next few questions (3-8) follow a similar format with the question then free response, so I will focus on the questions for each one.

QUESTION 3

Q3.好きな弁護士は？(サブキャラクター編)

“Who is your favorite defense attorney? (Minor character edition)”

This is another selection box where the options are, in order:

Marvin Grossberg

Diego Armando

Kristoph Gavin

Raymond Shields

Calisto Yew

Kazuma Asogi

Ryutaro Naruhodo

Gregory Edgeworth

QUESTION 4

Q4.好きな検事は？

“Who is your favorite prosecutor?”

Selection box options are, in order:

Miles Edgeworth

Winston Payne

Manfred von Karma

Lana Skye

Franziska von Karma

Godot

Klavier Gavin

Gaspen Payne

Simon Blackquill

Nahyuta Sahdmadhi

Ga’ran Sigatar Khura’in

Sebastian Debeste

Taketsuchi Auchi

Barok van Zieks

Zacharias Barnham

Darklaw

Flynch

QUESTION 5

Q5.好きな相棒キャラクターは？

“Who is your favorite assistant character?”

Selection box options, in order:

Maya Fey

Pearl Fey

Larry Butz

Ema Skye

Trucy Wright

Rayfa Padma Khura’in

Kay Faraday

Susato Mikotoba

Herlock Sholmes

Iris Wilson

QUESTION 6

Q6.好きな依頼人は？

“Who is your favorite defendant?”

Selection box options, in order:

Larry Butz

Will Powers

Maggey Byrde

Maximillion Galactica

Matt Engarde

Ron Delite

Terry Fawles

Iris

Wocky Kitaki

Machi Tobaye

Vera Misham

Juniper Woods

Damian Tenma

Solomon Starbuck

Ahlbi Ur’gaid

Bucky Whet

Dhurke Sahdmadhi

Ellen Wyatt

Magnus McGilded

Soseki Natsume

Gina Lestrade

Rei Membami

Albert Harebrayne

Espella Cantabella

(Yes, I don’t think Turnabout Reclaimed is on here, for some reason. Neither is Zak Gramarye.)

QUESTION 7

Q7.好きな証人は？

“Who is your favorite witness?”

This is just a free response, since there would be too many options. Again, find your favorite witness and copy+paste their name in Japanese into this.

QUESTION 8

Q8.好きなマスコットキャラクター、動物は？

“Who is your favorite mascot character or animal?”

Selection box options in order (there’s A LOT, and I’m uncertain on some, so be prepared) are:

Steel Samurai

Mr. Monkey

Pink Princess

Evil Magistrate

Missile

Polly

Blue Badger

Trilo

Regent

Nickel Samurai

Jammin’ Ninja

Mr. Hat

Widget

Bum Rap Rhiny

Phony Phanty

Taka

Clonco

Ponco

Orla Shipley

Rifle

Sniper

Shah’do

Plumed Punisher

Sergeant Buff (the helicopter)

Proto Badger

Pink Badger

Bad Badger

Steel Samurai Daddy

Pink Princess Mommy

Rocky the Polar Bear

Patricia Roland’s white fox

Sirhan Dogen’s dog Anubis

Money the Monkey

Jezaille Brett’s swan

Astique the Elephant

Darka the cat

Wagahai

Toby

Usalock (Herlock rabbit)

Kumaris (Iris bear)

Chunosuke (Ryunosuke mouse)

Nyasked Disciple

Usato (Susato rabbit)

Hedgina (Hedgehog Gina)

Nyasogi (Asogi cat)

Nyan Zieks (van Zieks cat)

Eve the Cat

Constantine the Dog

Mr. Blue Badger (the Blue Badger of PLvsAA I assume?)

[can’t believe they put the parent versions of steel samurai + pink princess in there but not the iron infant?]

QUESTION 9

Q9.キャラクターの仕草(アニメーション)で印象深いものとその理由を教えて！(成歩堂龍一の滝のような汗、成歩堂龍之介の泳ぐ目、御剣怜侍の礼など)

“Please tell us which game has the best character animation (Phoenix Wright’s sweat, Ryunosuke Naruhodo’s darting eyes, Miles Edgeworth’s bow, etc.) and why?”

Selection box options in order:

Ace Attorney 1

Justice for All

Trials and Tribulations

Apollo Justice

Dual Destinies

Spirit of Justice

Ace Attorney Investigations

Ace Attorney Investigations 2

The Great Ace Attorney

The Great Ace Attorney 2

Professor Layton vs Ace Attorney

Then in the free response portion you can talk about your favorite animation and why it is your favorite. If you think you can do that. I just put in my favorite by searching up the character name and trying to google translate the pose, which may not be effective, but you can give it a try.

QUESTION 10

Q10.好きな“珍名”キャラクターを教えて！(小中大、星威岳哀牙、コゼニー・メグンダル、ジョバンニ・ジコールなど)

“Please tell us your favorite pun name! (Redd White, Luke Atmey, Magnus McGilded, Carmine Accidenti, etc.)”

First you select the game it’s from, I think, which are in order:

Ace Attorney 1

Justice for All

Trials and Tribulations

Apollo Justice

Dual Destinies

Spirit of Justice

Ace Attorney Investigations

Ace Attorney Investigations 2

The Great Ace Attorney

The Great Ace Attorney 2

Professor Layton vs Ace Attorney

Then in the free response you give the name. Again a situation of finding the character you want on the wiki and copy+pasting the name into there. This might be a little odd because of the pun names being different in English and Japanese, so proceed with your own discretion, I guess. (For instance, if “Rei Membami” is your favorite pun name for some reason, this would be very odd because “Haori Murasame”, her original name, is not a pun... looking at the name explanation sections on the wiki might be a good idea. If you’re totally not sure, you can pick one of the examples.)

GAME QUESTIONS

QUESTION 11

Q11.印象深い事件は？(最大3つまで記入可)

“Which is the most impressive case? (Up to three can be entered)”

They follow the same pattern of “enter a case” and then “explain why”. Again, you don’t have to fill out the explanation if you don’t want to.

The order of the cases is:

The First Turnabout

Turnabout Sisters

Turnabout Samurai

Turnabout Goodbyes

Rise from the Ashes

The Lost Turnabout

Reunion and Turnabout

Turnabout Big Top

Farewell, My Turnabout

Turnabout Memories

The Stolen Turnabout

Recipe for Turnabout

Turnabout Beginnings

Bridge to the Turnabout

Turnabout Trump

Turnabout Corner

Turnabout Serenade

Turnabout Succession

Turnabout Countdown

The Monstrous Turnabout

Turnabout Academy

The Cosmic Turnabout

Turnabout for Tomorrow

The Foreign Turnabout

The Magical Turnabout

The Rite of Turnabout

Turnabout Storyteller

Turnabout Revolution

Turnabout Visitor

Turnabout Airlines

The Kidnapped Turnabout

Turnabout Reminiscence

Turnabout Ablaze

Turnabout Target

The Imprisoned Turnabout

The Inherited Turnabout

The Forgotten Turnabout

The Grand Turnabout

The Adventure of the Great Departure

The Adventure of the Unbreakable Speckled Band

The Adventure of the Runaway Room

The Adventure of the Clouded Kokoro

The Adventure of the Unspeakable Story

The Adventure of the Blossoming Attorney

The Memoirs of the Clouded Kokoro

The Return of the Great Departed Soul

Twisted Karma and His Last Bow

The Resolve of Ryunosuke Naruhodo

On a Dark and Stormy Night

English Turnabout

Mysterious Labyrinthia

The Fire Witch

The Great Witch

The Golden Court

A Taste of Despair

Secrets of the Underground Ruins

The Story's End

The Final Witch Trial

The Last Inquisitor

The First Story

Since that is a LOT to navigate, use the Japanese to help you. The games are laid out pretty simply: if you know the game and case, you can find it pretty quickly. It goes mainline -> Investigations -> TGAA -> PLvsAA. Mainline Ace Attorney games are 逆転裁判 followed by a number corresponding to which entry it is, with the exception of the first game (which is first on the list anyways). Investigations games start with 逆転検事 and followed with a 2 for investigations 2. Great Ace Attorney starts with 大逆転裁判 with a 2 for Resolve, and Layton vs Ace Attorney is レイトン教授 VS 逆転裁判. After the game title you can find the case number.

For some reason, Dual Destinies and Spirit of Justice’s DLC cases don’t seem to be on this list. Sorry if those are your favorites. Maybe yell in the free response box about that.

MISC QUESTIONS

QUESTION 12

Q12.触ってみたいのはどれ？

“Which of the following do you want to touch?”

The options are, in order:

Phoenix Wright’s Spiky Hair

Miles Edgeworth’s Frilly Cravat

Apollo Justice’s Sparkling Forehead

Dahlia Hawthorne’s Fluttery Butterfly

Lotta Hart’s Fluffy Hair

Kazuma Asogi’s Fluttering Headband

Golden Professor Layton

And there’s an option for “other” below.

QUESTION 13

Q13.食らってみたいのはどれ？

Google translate says this is “which do you want to eat” - I think it’s more like. “What do you want to be hurt by?” or something.

The options are, in order:

Oldbag’s Ray Gun

Steel Samurai Spear

Edgeworth’s Salary Assessment (aka a salary cut)

Franziska von Karma’s Whip

Godot’s Thrown Coffee

Simon Blackquill’s Finger Sword

Justine Courtney’s Extending Gavel

Susato Takedown

Barok van Zieks’ Heel Drop

And then you have a free response section to explain why... if you want.

QUESTION 14

Q14.以下の中で味わってみたいものはどれ？

“Which of the following would you like to taste?”

The options are, in order:

Dee Vasquez’s T-Bone Steak

The Cough-Up Queen’s Lunchbox

Godot Blend No. 107

Jean Armstrong’s Authentic (?) French Lunchset

Victor Kudo’s Birdseed

Detective Gumshoe’s Weenie Bento Box

Violetta’s Tea

Coldkiller X

Guy Eldoon’s Salty Noodles

Whet Noodle’s Soba

Dane Gustavia’s Candy

La Carneval’s Beefsteak

Van Zieks’ Holy Grail

For some reason they don’t offer you the option to justify your choice with this one.

QUESTION 15

Q15.ハシゴ派？　キャ��ツ派？

“Ladder or stepladder?”

The options are “ladder” and then “stepladder”. You have the option to put something else if you’re a heathen.

QUESTION 16

Q16.好きな亜内一族のヘアスタイルは？

“What is your favorite Payne Family Hairstyle?”

Options are:

Ace Attorney 1 and 2’s “73 hairs”

Ace Attorney 3’s full set of hair

Ace Attorney 4’s “hair only on the sides”

Ace Attorney 5 and 6’s Gaspen Payne Hair [idk what this actually says sorry]

The Great Ace Attorney 1’s chonmage

The Great Ace Attorney 2’s “sprout of hope”

Then you can put in a word about your feelings about the Paynes in the free response.

QUESTION 17

Q17.好きなBGMとその理由を教えて！

“Which is your favorite BGM and why?”

This is a free response so you’ll need to track down the song name itself… good luck with that. Then you can explain why in the free response section… even more good luck with that. The wiki does have the soundtracks of the games in English and Japanese, I believe, so it shouldn’t be too hard to find.

PLAYER MEMORIES SECTION

QUESTION 18

Q18.『逆転』シリーズで泣いたことはある？　それはどんな場面？(※何度も泣いた人は、もっとも泣いたシーンをお答えください)

“Have you ever cried during the Ace Attorney series? If so, at which scene? (* For people who have cried many times, pick the scene you cried at the most.)”

The first option is a “yes” or “no” for if you’ve cried or not.

The second option is again picking a case, which I don’t feel like writing out again, but it’s in the same order as in question 11. Then in the free response you write what scene you cried in with that case. You could try finding the dialogue - this thread https://forums.court-records.net/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=29682 has a place to download the dual japanese and english scripts for most games except for aai2 and the great ace attorney games. For those ones... good luck.

QUESTION 19

Q19.開発してほしい『逆転裁判』グッズはある？(逆転裁判凡例つき六法全書とかなるほどくんのヘアワックス、考える人型の彫像時計など)※グッズ化が実現するわけではありません。

“Do you have any “Ace Attorney” merchandise you’d like us to develop? (Ace Attorney-themed law books, Phoenix Wright’s hair gel, a clock shaped like the Thinker statue, etc.) *This does not mean it will be made into merchandise”

This is a free response section, so good luck explaining, again.

And finally:

QUESTION 20

Q20.開発スタッフに向けて、お祝いのメッセージをお願いします。

“Give a congratulatory message to the development staff!”

If you don’t know what to put here, you can just copy and paste the following:

20周年おめでとうございます!

Which just says “Congratulations on the 20th anniversary!” I think. If I got it wrong, it’s hopefully not horrendously offensive. If you tried to type your answers and have no confidence in your Japanese, you can input “日本語は話せません”, “I don’t speak Japanese”, though they may have figured that out already.

And with that the survey is done and you can submit! We’ll see the results in October. Thanks for following along!

#ace attorney #this'll definitely be interesting. hope this is accurate!

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blueskrugs · 4 years ago

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Some People Do | Nathan MacKinnon

title from an Old Dominion song of the same name. highly recommend a listen while reading.

the only other words I have are that I cried while writing this.

length: 6.2k words

I know that time just keeps going on And words by themselves can't right all the wrongs

No one ever claimed that dating an NHL player was easy. In fact, it was hard as hell. Dating the face of a franchise, the savior of a franchise, was hard as hell. It wasn’t that you didn’t love Nate. You loved him more than anyone else, more than you sometimes thought was possible. But sometimes you wondered if your relationship was doomed from the start, if carrying the weight of the expectations of Denver on Nate’s shoulders was too much for both of you to handle.

Nate had proclaimed himself unromantic before, but you didn’t really need flowers and extravagant gifts. With Nate, it was always the little things. He would cook you breakfast in the mornings before you left for work and he for practice. He would sneak into your apartment when you had a long day at work and clean up. (Never laundry though. He always said he was too scared of fucking that up.) It was letting you cuddle on the couch, no questions asked, no words spoken, on days you really needed it; he always seemed to know about those days even before you did. You knew the other boys teased Nate sometimes, everything from ribbing him about being whipped to roasting him for his somewhat abysmal gift-giving skills. Nate would just blush and give them that shy little smile you loved so much.

That’s the way things were for a long time. You were both happy, comfortable. You wondered sometimes, on the hardest nights, if you had gotten too comfortable. If you had forgotten just where you were, who you were with, and how lucky you were that Nate had ever given you the time of day in the first place.

You missed the drama of the Avalanche’s historically bad, never-before-seen debacle of a year that had been the 2016-2017 season and came into Nate’s life when they were back on their feet, making a name for themselves in the standings again. You still saw the damage it had done to him, though, in the way he blamed himself for losses, took them a little harder than anyone else– except maybe Gabe– in the way he dialed up his intensity even stronger than ever until he was satisfied. Except he was never satisfied, probably would never be, bar winning a Cup or three.

The Avs dug themselves out a hole. And then they hit a wall again.

It was the same old shit that always seemed to dog the team, injury after injury, games that just never seemed to go their way, no matter how hard they fought.

October started out fine. They won more than they lost, and it looked like they could have a chance at being something this year. The end of October came with a string of losses. Mikko went down with a lower-body injury on Halloween.

November continued a downward spiral. Nate stopped scoring, Burky broke his wrist, and they only won a handful of games the entire month. Nate started coming home late from the arena, sweaty and exhausted; you knew he was running himself ragged, literally, on the treadmill and on drills. His blue eyes were hard as stone, and the set of his jaw grew more tense with each loss the team strung together.

Road trips were the hardest. From the start of your relationship, you and Nate made a point to FaceTime during roadies. You looked forward to those calls all day, because no matter how terrible the game had been, Nate would see you and smile. You would always do anything for him to smile. The calls continued that terrible season, and for a while, it seemed like nothing had changed. Nate’s eyes were more tired than usual, his brow permanently furrowed, but you would answer the phone, and that would all disappear for a moment when he grinned at you.

You had just gotten out of the shower when your phone started ringing with a FaceTime call. You were surprised to see that it was Nate. You hadn’t been officially dating for very long at all, and he had only left for the road trip that morning.

“What the hell is on your head?” was the first thing out of Nate’s mouth when you answered the call. Somewhere off camera, you could hear Tyson Barrie cackling.

Your hand flew up to your hair, which was wrapped in a towel. “It’s a towel, dumbass. And I just got out of the shower, I’m not wearing makeup or anything,” you whined.

Nate rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to respond when Tyson leaned into frame. “Hi, Y/N!” he yelled. Nate flinched.

There was a moment of darkness and what sounded like the two wrestling on the bed for a moment, before a whispered, “Get out of here!” and a door closing. “I’m sorry about him,” Nate said, picking his phone back up.

You just laughed. You had only met Tyson one time so far, and he seemed like fun, if not a little crazy. “Let me just-” You reached up to tug the towel off your head.

“No, don’t! I mean, I think it’s cute,” Nate said. You froze, staring at his blurry face on your phone screen. You were pretty sure he was blushing in the shitty hotel light. “I just- I missed you, and I don’t care what you look like. I mean-wait, I don’t want you to think you need to have makeup or shit on for me to think you’re beautiful.” Yeah, he was definitely blushing now. He was also smiling a little bit, cautiously, as if he was afraid of your response.

You smiled back, settling in against the pillows on your bed, and saying, “Nate, I literally saw you this morning.” He shrugged.

“Wanted to see your face again,” he mumbled. Then, “Can I call you tomorrow after our game, too?”

He did call you the next night, and the night after that, and then roadtrip FaceTime calls became a routine.

As the season went on, you waited by the phone every night Nate was out of town, but slowly the calls became few and far between, until they stopped entirely.

Most wouldn't forgive what I put you through But I'm here tonight, hoping some people do

Nate started watching game film obsessively, coming home and sitting up for hours. He would watch his own clips, his teammates’ clips, clips from every other team, watching for any mistake or flaw, some way to fix this. He’d always been so serious about schedules and routines, but he started coming to bed later and later. You always tried to get Nate to come to bed with you, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and murmuring a, “Babe, c’mon, it’s getting late,” but he’d shrug you off and say back, “Just a few more minutes.”

You resigned yourself to going to bed alone. Cox started laying in Nate’s spot on the bed.

The Penguins came to town. The slump continued, for the team and for Nate. Nate got benched. It was December, and all the Crosbys and MacKinnons had come to town, too, planning to celebrate Christmas a little early while everyone could be together.

Bednar had told Nate he wouldn’t be playing against the Pens following a morning skate. Cale told you he had broken his stick against a wall afterwards. His temper followed him home, came back with a vengeance, and you would never forget the sadness on Taylor’s face and the anger on Sarah’s when he snapped at Taylor over something stupid and let the door slam behind him for good measure. He didn’t talk to any of you for the rest of the night, and he drove to the arena alone.

The Avs won in a game that was nothing short of a Christmas miracle. Nate came home in a slightly better mood, apologized to Taylor, and started channeling his anger into his time on the ice instead. It might have had something to do with the fact that you were sure he hadn’t missed the way you flinched when he had yelled.

The end of December saw a win streak for the Avs and a scoring streak for Nate.

“I thought about asking for a trade,” Nate said casually one January night. It was the All-Star break, and Nate had found a cabin on a lake in California to rent for bye week. He didn’t look up at you as he said it, gazing instead up at the stars, and your heart broke.

Nate’s arm was draped around your shoulder, and it had been a comforting weight, but suddenly it felt like it would crush you. You hadn’t been in Denver for the drama of the last teammate that had requested a trade midseason, but you knew the tale, knew the bitterness that was still in that locker room. You knew how it could destroy a team. And you’d had no idea Nate was even considering it.

He kept talking. “Thought about trying to go somewhere where people didn’t care about hockey, somewhere where it didn’t matter if I had been a fluke.” His voice broke. “I just want out sometimes. Get away from all the fucking expectations, the hope that I’ll bring the Cup back to Denver, that I can be the next Sidney Crosby, just the next best thing out of Cole Harbour.” It was the first time you had ever heard Nate say Sid’s name like that, with venom and bitterness.

You were speechless, couldn’t find the words to respond to Nate. You weren’t even sure he wanted you to respond, to argue with him. So you just shrugged off his arm from your shoulders and pulled him into your chest, resting your chin on his head as you watched the stars together.

The trade deadline passed. Nate still wore an A for the Colorado Avalanche, and no one would ever know any differently.

I know you're hurt, I know it's my fault But I've kept "I'm sorry" locked in a vault

You called Sid late one night in March. He answered quickly, because he always did when you or Nate called, even though it was after midnight in Pittsburgh.

“Sid, I don’t know what to do anymore,” you had cried, with Cox curled up next to you on the couch in the dark. Nate was asleep upstairs, gone to bed early for the first time in a long time. Cox heard your tears and shoved his face into your hand, asking for attention, letting you use him as comfort. You petted him absently as you told Sid everything. And Sid listened, even as you told him stories of the season he already knew, told to him by Nate in similar late night phone conversations, even as it ticked past 1 in the morning in Denver. Sid waited until you finished talking before responding, spewing sympathy and advice that you only half listened to, still caught up in your thoughts.

In the best days of your relationship and in your worst, you didn’t know what you would do without Sid.

You thought back to the first summer you visited Nate in Cole Harbour. You hadn’t gone the first summer after you’d started dating, as you’d only been together a couple of months, although Nate had begged you pretty much the entire summer. The next summer, though, there was absolutely no getting out of visiting.

You had never been to Canada before, and you had grown up spending your summers on a lake, but you were convinced nothing would ever compare to Nova Scotia. Nate had laughed at you when you ran out onto his deck, a wide smile on your face. You spun around to look up at him.

“I love it here,” you said. Nate laughed again.

“You’ve barely even been here. You haven’t seen the good stuff yet.”

“I have a house, water, and you, what else is there to see?” Nate chuckled fondly at you.

You spent the day out on the water with Nate, Sid and the dogs. It was peaceful out there in the sun, the silence only occasionally broken by Sid’s ridiculous laugh or one of the dog’s barks. You were dozing in the sun when Nate came over to you.

“Come swimming with me for a bit.” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m tanning, Nathan.” Sid laughed. Next thing you knew, you were being picked up and thrown over Nate’s shoulder. Sid laughed louder. Sometimes you really hated him and that fucking laugh. “Nate!” you shrieked. “Put me down!”

Nate simply said, “Okay,” before he was throwing you in the lake. You came up spluttering. Nate and Sid were both doubled over in laughter, and dogs were caught up in the excitement and barking.

“Help me out,” you whined, reaching a hand out of the water. Nate took pity on you and grabbed your hand.

You pulled him headfirst down into the water.

Sid came up to you on the dock on your last night in Cole Harbour. Nate was up at the house, getting you a blanket and more wine, and you were watching the stars.

“You’re really good for him, you know,” Sid said without preamble, settling next to you on the dock. You waited for him to continue. “I’ve known him for years, and I’ve never seen him as happy as he has been this week with you here.” You blushed. “And you should hear the way he talks about you on the phone, God, I didn’t know it was possible for anyone to get him out of his head and stop focusing on hockey, I don’t know how you do it.” He paused, gazing up at the clear sky.When he spoke again, his voice was soft. “Nate takes everything so seriously. He’s gotten pretty fucked up over bad relationships in the past. I was a little worried when I saw how fast he was falling for you, when he’d call or text me like a middle-school girl with a crush. But I don’t have to worry, because you two are so good together, like you’ve known each other forever, and will be together forever.”

Nate chose that moment to reappear. “Talkin’ about me?” he asked, pushing Sid out of the way so he could sit next to you.

“Only good things,” Sid smiled.

Nate draped his arm across your shoulders and the blanket over your legs. You leaned your head on his shoulder.

“I love you,” Nate whispered into your hair, brushing a kiss to the top of your head.

Nate came downstairs not long after you hung up with Sid. He found you crying on the couch, trying to muffle your sobs into the sleeves of one of his Avalanche hoodies. He made a soft, wounded sound, and you startled. You didn’t have a chance to apologize– for waking Nate, for breaking down– before he was climbing onto the couch next to you. He pulled you into his lap wordlessly, kissing away your tears, holding you as you shook.

He whispered sweet things to you as you calmed down, I’m sorrys and I love yous breaking the silence of the night. Cox whined, crawling his way into your lap as well. Nate’s heartbeat was steady beneath your ear, his breathing even, and you found yourself soothed by it. The two– well, three, if you counted the German Shepherd who was decidedly not a lap dog– fell asleep on the couch like that. When you woke up again, sunlight was streaming into the living room, and you were still safely wrapped up in Nate’s arms.

He looked younger, softer, in his sleep, the burden of being Nathan MacKinnon momentarily forgotten. You couldn’t help but stare, a soft smile on your face. Nate shifted under you a couple of minutes later, eyes blinking sleepily open. He grinned when he found you inches from his face, already watching him.

“Good morning,” he whispered, stretching up to kiss you gently. “D’you want breakfast?”

You buried your face in Nate’s neck. “In a minute,” you mumbled. “Comfy.” Nate laughed, loud, and you felt it in every inch of your body that was touching his.

As you sat sipping your coffee in the kitchen later, watching Nate cook you breakfast, like he had for so long, you could almost convince yourself that everything was fine, that the stress fractures of your relationship weren’t on the verge of breaking completely.

Some people say sorry to hear it's okay But I know it's not so you don't have to say That you understand 'cause I know you don't

In the living room where you had left your phone after last night’s phone call, you got a text. Then another. And another. Nate’s phone started ringing; his face went white, and he dropped the spatula he was using.

Confused, and starting to get worried, you set your coffee down and rushed to pick up your phone. The first thing you saw was a text from Mel, simply saying, “i’m so sorry.” Nate was still on the phone in the kitchen, speaking in an anxious hushed tone to whoever was on the other end. You ignored the handful of other texts you had received in favor of looking at your Instagram and Twitter notifications which were blowing up. You clicked on one with a shaky hand.

Your heart dropped. Your phone fell to the floor with a clatter.

In the kitchen, Nate’s voice rose, but you couldn’t hear any of the words he was saying over the pounding of your heart in your ears.

You sank to the floor and picked up your phone again. You had been tagged in a series of pictures, all of Nate. There was Nate with a girl in a bar, with a girl in his lap, his arm wrapped around her waist, his lips on hers. There was more than one post, too, all dated, starting all the way back in November. All nights when Nate and the Avs were on road trips. Different cities, too, but always the same girl.

Blonder than you. Prettier than you. Better than you, apparently.

There were dozens of pictures. Some were dark and kind of blurry, but all were unmistakably Nate.

You scrolled through all of the pictures again. Cox whined next to you. Nate still hadn’t left the kitchen, but you knew he had been tagged in all of the posts too. Texts and notifications were still rolling into your phone, from friends and family and strangers. You turned your phone off.

Then Nate was crouching in front of you, brushing your tears away. You hadn’t even realized you had been crying. You scrambled away from Nate’s touch like it burned you; his hand stayed outstretched in the air.

Just ten minutes ago, you had been beginning to think that things could get better again, that you could fix the damage in Nate, in your relationship. Now, everything you had known for the last two and a half years lay shattered at your feet, spread out for the whole world to see.

“You weren’t supposed to find out like this,” Nate murmured.

A hysterical laugh forced its way out of your throat. Your hands were still shaking, but your anxiousness had just been replaced with anger. “I wasn’t supposed to find out like this, or I wasn’t supposed to find out at all?”

Nate flinched a little, and you felt a brief flash of vindication. “I didn’t mean-”

“You didn’t mean what, Nathan? Didn’t mean for me to find out, for the whole world to find out? Or you didn’t mean to say it like that? Like you were just waiting for the right time to tell me, but it never worked out?” Nate had stood up again, but he wasn’t looking at you. “God, I was sitting around like a fool all season, waiting for you to call me, but of course you never did, because you had found someone better than me. Did she get to go to games, too, when you were flying her all across the country?”

Nate was flushed with anger now too. “You don’t understand-”

You cut him off. “No, Nate, I don’t fucking understand. I thought, I don’t know, maybe the past two years actually meant something. So tell me, make me understand, because you lost me a long time ago.”

“Just shut up!” You took a step back from Nate, though he hadn’t moved. You weren’t sure Nate had ever raised his voice at you. “We were in Ottawa in the beginning of November, and we all went out to a bar because we finally got a fucking win. She started flirting, and she had no idea who we were, and it was so nice to meet someone and not have the expectation of being Nathan fucking MacKinnon. I never had to listen to her lie to me about how well I played or some shit about how the team would figure it out, that we could get better.”

“Did all the boys know?” you whispered. “Have you all just been laughing at me behind my back all season, while I’ve been blindly in love with a boy who’s been flying another girl to all of his road games?”

Nate paled and took a half-step in your direction. You backed up again, until your knees hit the couch. “No, they- they knew I was taking the season hard, I guess, so they gave me space. Gabe might’ve been getting suspicious, but I- they would never do that to you.”

“Excuse me for not believing that. I believed you would never cheat on me, either, but here we are.” You turned to leave the room.

“If you’d just-” Nate was angry again. You spun around, your heartbreak fanning the flames of your own anger.

“If I’d just what, Nate? Stopped caring about you and hockey? Stopped supporting you? Stopped caring about us?” Your voice broke, and you blinked back the tears burning behind your eyes. You had started out yelling again, but now your voice was quiet. “I’m sorry I tried, Nathan. I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough for you.”

You turned again, started making your way towards the stairs.

“Wait, Y/N, please.” Nate’s voice came out desperate, like he was choking back tears. You couldn’t possibly understand why; he had done this to himself. “I never actually slept with her.”

“Good for you, Nate.” You let out a humorless laugh. “I hope the PR team has fun trying to save you and your fuck-ups. The posterboy of the Colorado Avalanche showing his true colors at last.”

Nate finally let you turn and make your way upstairs. He didn’t follow as you made your way into the bedroom and packed a bag with enough clothes to last you until the next road trip. He was sitting on the couch, stiff and tense, but he jumped up when you came back down the stairs.

“Where are you going?” he asked, starting to reach out to grab your arm, but stopping himself at the last second, grasping at the air instead. “Please, Y/N.”

“I don’t know, Nate,” you sighed. “But I can’t stay here. I’ll be back to get the rest of my stuff while you’re on your next road trip. Say hi to your other girlfriend for me.”

Nate followed you outside. Cox barked once as you climbed into your car. “But-but you live here, with us! Please, let me fix this.”

You turned to Nate one last time. “You know, you could have fixed everything else that screwed us up this season. I really thought we could’ve been fine. But this, Nate? I don’t know anymore.”

Nate flinched as your car door slammed. You watched in your rearview mirror as you drove away. His hands were shoved in his pockets, unmoving, and then he was out of sight.

You drove aimlessly around Denver for a while. You let yourself get lost before you found somewhere quiet to pull over. Except, the breakdown, the tears, never came. Instead, you felt numb and hollow. You had really been foolish enough to believe that you could love Nate through everything, and that he would love you back. Hadn’t Sid said it seemed like you would be together forever?

When Nate showed up at the game the next night with a fresh black eye, no one commented on it. No one commented on EJ’s freshly bruised knuckles, either.

The season ended quietly. The Avs had managed to turn the season around, stop the bleeding, but they never quite could fix the damage. You had moved out of Nate’s house after the fight. You rarely saw each other anymore, but you didn’t tell him you kept going to games until the very end. You just couldn’t keep yourself away, no matter how much it hurt to watch him down on the ice.

Nate went home to Cole Harbour. You stayed in Denver.

Sometimes you thought back to the beginning of your relationship with Nate. You remembered what it was like when you first met, when Nate was still shy and quiet. It had been so stupidly fucking cliche, too: in a goddamn Starbucks.

You listened to the man next to you in line rattle off a list of coffee orders, ranging from basic to borderline ridiculous. The baristas were already beginning to look overwhelmed as the cups lined up. He had the grace to look sheepish, at least, and tucked what looked like a ten dollar bill into their tip jar. You didn’t pay him much more mind after that, stepping to the side and trying your hardest to stay out of the way of other patrons while you waited. Then your grandmother had called, asking for technology help, even though you were hundreds of miles away from home, and you had other family that literally lived five minutes away from her. You were distracted and missed that a barista had called your name. You were still caught up with your phone and didn’t realize until someone was tapping you on the shoulder and tentatively saying your name.

You looked up, surprised, and your entire field of vision was filled with one very blond, blue-eyed, broad-shouldered man. First, you made the connection to him being the one with the list of coffee orders in line next to you, and then, that the man standing in front of you, struggling to balance several coffee carriers, was Nathan MacKinnon.

“I grabbed your coffee by mistake,” he said. “It got mixed in with all our orders, and I only just noticed it had a different name on it. I’m really sorry.”

You smiled, taking your coffee. “It’s not a big deal, don’t worry about it. I didn’t even hear them call my name.” Nate still looked apologetic. “Did you lose a bet or something?” you asked then, looking at the stack of coffee cups Nate still held.

He grinned at you. “Something like that.”

You had left the Starbucks that day with Nate’s phone number. At the time, you had no real intent to use it; you didn’t kid yourself. Nathan MacKinnon was a former first-overall draft pick, hero of the Colorado Avalanche, and you were just some girl whose coffee he accidentally stole.

Nate texted you first. He did that a lot in the beginning. He was always a little awkward– a life spent focused on hockey meant that he wasn’t the best at small talk– but he was sweet and could make you laugh.

When he first asked you out, you said no. You had watched his face fall, watched him bite his lip and take a step back from you. You felt a surprising rush of sadness settle in your chest as Nate’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. You had said no because you didn’t want to be just another girl, another fling that meant nothing. Suddenly, you weren’t sure if that’s all you would be to Nate, and you were a little scared by how willing you were to see how far it could go.

“Ask me again in a couple weeks,” you said softly. Nate startled, still looking a little bit like he wanted to run. You looked up at him fondly.

Life went on in Denver that summer without Nate. You went to work. You went home to your empty apartment. Really, it wasn’t all that different from life with Nate in Denver, at least not in the last couple of months. You texted with Sid and Sarah every once in a while, but you got complete radio silence from Nate. Tyson Barrie texted you a video of Cox and Ralph playing one day in mid-July, and you could hear Nate laughing somewhere in the background. You didn’t reply. You didn’t want to admit to how many times you watched the video, just to hear Nate’s laugh again, either.

“You are not getting my dog a fucking-what it’s called? A puppuccino?” Nate gripped his iced black cold brew tightly in his hand and glared at you. Cox sat patiently at your feet, eyeing the cup of whipped cream in your hand and licking his lips eagerly.

“It’s just whipped cream, babe! And, look, he likes them!”

Nate raised an eyebrow at you. You had forgotten that the trips you took to Starbucks with Cox while the boys were on road trips were secret. “Y/N.” Nate crouched down and squished Cox’s face. Cox looked unimpressed. “This is a highly trained guard dog. He does not need any fucking whipped cream.” Cox’s tongue darted out and licked Nate’s nose. It was Nate’s turn to look unimpressed.

You bent down to give Cox his puppuccino. He lapped it up excitedly, getting whipped cream all over his nose and whiskers. Nate rolled his eyes at the both of you.

“You’re not allowed to spoil our children.” You paused, still watching Cox try and get the last of the whipped cream out of the cup. Nate had never mentioned kids before, but you sometimes watched the smile he had when he played with Linnea or Sophie, even though he was still a little terrified of holding a baby. You looked at him, but he was still watching Cox calmly.

“Are you saying that Cox isn’t already your son?” you asked, only deflecting a little, and trying very hard to not picture Nate with a tiny baby of your own.

Nate scoffed. You both looked down at Cox, who had rolled onto his back, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. “Besides,” he said, tugging you closer by your hips, “I think Cox will be great with kids, and there’s only one way to find out.”

You just rolled your eyes.

You always had to grit your teeth and smile when someone heard that you weren’t originally from Denver and asked, pretty much without fail, if you had moved for Nate. The answer was always that you had moved for work and had met Nate by chance. If Nate was a part of the conversation, he would chip in that he’d had to work to even get you to consider dating him. He’d always kiss you after that, on the forehead, on the cheek, and he’d look at you like he was the lucky one. And you could look into his eyes and forget for a moment that you’d been upset.

You always wondered why everyone assumed you had dropped your life, your family and friends and your hometown just to follow Nate and his hockey career. Now, you were wondering if you were ready to drop your life, your friends, and everything you loved about Denver just to get away from Nate and his hockey career.

You didn’t hear from Nate when he returned to Denver for training camp. It hurt in a way you couldn’t articulate, a bone-deep ache, a hollowness that you had never felt before, the fear that you had both let your relationship go past the point of no return while neither of you were paying attention. You thought wildly as you laid in bed alone, if you would ever see Nate again, be able to look him in the eyes and tell him you loved him one more time.

Because you did. You still loved Nate, maybe always would, and you missed him, spent the whole summer missing him, had missed him long before he went back to Cole Harbour by himself. You were terrified that you lost the best relationship you’d ever had. You were too scared to reach out to him yourself, half-sure that he’d never even respond, and that would be all you needed to know that you had reached the end.

You watched the boys’ Instagram stories as they went golfing everyday after practice. You watched Nate smile and laugh with Gabe and Burky, though you noticed that the smiles never quite seemed to reach his eyes. You looked at the Avs’ social medias every day for the pictures they inevitably posted of Nate. He never seemed to be smiling. You would drive down near the Pepsi Center, only to see his face plastered everywhere. Seeing Nathan MacKinnon around Denver seemed unavoidable; he was on posters and on shirts and jerseys. Seeing Nate, though? Your Nate, with the lisp and the love for dogs, who yelled at his teammates on Fortnite and loved his family more than anything? You weren’t sure you’d ever see him again.

So whether you kiss me or you close the door Just know that I'm better than I was before

You were surprised when someone knocked on your apartment door one night after dinner, only a couple of days before the regular season began. You were even more surprised when you pulled open the door to see Nate. He startled a little when you opened the door, and you leaned against the doorjamb, allowing yourself to just look at him.

His summer tan had already started to fade. He was wearing jeans, but an old Avs T-shirt, and he was picking at the fraying hem. He was no longer as lean as he was the last time you’d seen him towards the end of the season, but he looked exhausted the same way he did in the final stretch.

It hurt to look at him for long, so you cleared your throat, tore your gaze away from the dark circles under his eyes. Nate shook himself a little, looked away from the 29 on your right shoulder. You had forgotten that you had put on an old, stolen hoodie after work. For a while, it had still smelled like him, but now it didn’t smell like anything.

“I thought you gave everything of mine back,” was the first thing he said.

You shrugged, tugging the sleeves of Nate’s hoodie over your hands. “Couldn’t bring myself to give it up.” You looked back at Nate. He looked pained. “What’re you doing here, Nate?” The exhaustion of the last couple months, the heartbreak, the worry, showed in your voice.

“I just-I wanted to see you. Wanted to try and explain, if you wanted to listen. I know I’ll never get the words right, and you could slam the door in my face right now, and I wouldn’t blame you. And if you do, I’ll leave you alone. But if you don’t, I will spend the rest of my life apologizing, trying to show you how much I love you.”

You covered your mouth to cover the sob that rose out of your chest. Nate’s eyes snapped up to yours, those bright blue eyes that you still loved so much, and he looked panicked. “Nate, I-”

“Look, if I were you, I’d hate me. Hell, EJ socked me, and I thought Sid was gonna leave me out on the lake to die when I first flew home. If you spend the rest of your life hating me, it’s all on me. You probably wouldn’t be the only one. But, fuck, Cox misses you. I miss you.” Nate stepped closer, reached out to brush his thumb across your cheekbone.

You let yourself revel in that touch for a moment before you took a step back, clutching your door for support. “I spent all summer wondering if we were over, Nate. Wondering what I could’ve done differently.” Nate bit his lip. He was still standing in the hallway outside your apartment. You hadn’t invited him in, and you weren’t sure you were going to at all. “I don’t know if I can do this again. If I can fall in love with you, be in love with you, and watch you go off on road trips and wonder if I can ever trust you again. I don’t know if I can do this,” you repeated.

Nate closed his eyes, seemed to be steeling himself for something. He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. And I know it’s not enough, will never be enough, and I’m sorry for that, too.”

You hesitated. Nate blinked once, twice, fidgeted with the hem of his T-shirt again. It would be so easy, you thought, to let him back into your life.

You closed the door.

The last thing you saw was Nate’s face, hurt but resigned. You leaned back against your door, slid down to the floor, and let the tears that had been burning under the surface for months out.

Part Two!

#cait writes things #nathan mackinnon #nathan mackinnon fic #nathan mackinnon imagine #hockey fic #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey imagine

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thethirteenthcrow · 4 years ago

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The Shyan Shipping Society Writing Challenge ✍️💕

Hello dear shippers!

My name’s Zhalia, a fanfic writer on archive of our own. you might know me from my stripper!Ryan au, or the cinderella au or from the many comments i leave on your amazing works.

Since October, i’ve been hosting very lowkey writing challenges on the Shyan Shipping Society Discord server. and i figured, i’d let good ol’ tumblr get a piece of it!

this is a fun lil' challenge to practice your writing with random prompts!

(shout out to @helloitsvehere for making the amazing header here and sorry to keep bugging you on it but it looks really amazing now darling <3)

✨RULES✨

✧ the challenge is held at monthly, we don't want to pressure anyone too much and we want to give you enough time to work! on top of that, the minimum amount of words for this challenge is 50, which is a very low bar, it's no school, this is for fun!! also don't worry if you miss a month.

✧ from the day we set the prompt, you have one month to meet the challenge. with this, we request a chapter or a start. if a prompt inspires u to write more than a oneshot or one chapter, feel free to expand as much as you can outside the challenge! everyone is requested to post their submissions on the same day (so say we start at october 1st, then you're only allowed to submit your submissions on october 31st, no sooner). We then hope to announce the new prompt on, for example, november 1st to continue the cycle, but it may differ at times.

✧ There are no specifications to your writing. you may write however you like, a story, a description, a poem, anything is allowed. you're free to write in any rating, be it G or E-rated. we prefer M/E of course, cause we're thirsty like that. if you’re an artist, you’re free to join too! more elaboration in the FAQ below :D.

✧ if you have ideas for prompts, please DM me on Discord or mail me on [email protected] ! i love to hear em <3 (keep reading for more information on the challenge)

i can’t wait to see all your lovely works! i’m really stoked to see and chat with you and learn all that’s going around in your wonderful minds.

much love,

Zhalia💖

✨FAQ✨

o What is the Shyan Shipping Society (Server)?

The shipping society is a discord server owned by @bradpistachio where a bunch of shippers gather to chat about anything: their lives; the boys; other fanworks like fanfics and fanart; annoying antis; we have a writing lab to talk about your own works, and much more! The server is filled with amazing artists like madamecrimson, @helloitsvehere, @pizzacastella, sonzaishinai and many more. The server is an active and welcoming community. In the server, I also roll out the updates for this challenge and answer all your questions. Will we see you there?

o Do i need to join the server to post?

It's not required! The server is a lil' bonus, a place where you can talk with fellow shippers about anything, but also where i will be reminding you of the challenge. We have handful of channels dedicated to this writing challenge, so it might help you out. It's also easier for me to follow, and whenever you have questions i will reply faster there than anywhere else. But, again, it's not necessary.

o If i join the challenge once, am i required to join every month?

Most definitely not! You're free to join and leave whenever you want. Sometimes a prompt doesn't inspire you, or life dragged you away from writing and that's completely valid! This challenge is supposed to be a fun way to motivate you to express yoursef through your art, but it's not school so don't ever feel pressured :).

o What tags do i include, what are the ratings we work in?

There are no required ratings and/or tags for you to use. In general, the prompts are all focused on Shyan, but if you'd like to add Standrew as a background relationship, feel free!! If the prompt is Watcher-oriented, but you feel like you need a bit of that spice that Curly brings with him, i encourage you! On top of that, you're free to choose whichever ratings you feel fit best. Personally, i mostly live off of M- and E-rated fics, but if you're uncomfortable with graphic descriptions of anything, and would rather keep it a fluffy G-rated fic, then knock yourself out! I believe you know what's best for your work!

On the shipping server, the prompt will have a set of recommended tags, these are ideas i'd write the prompt in, but they aren't mandatory. If it says 'friends to lovers' but you'd rather write 'established relationship' then feel free! It's your work after all.

o Is there a minimum and/or maximum word count?

There is a minimum word count of 50 words right now, to show that you're seriously participating (i mean, wouldn't want "he smiled, they kissed, they fucked, the end" as a fic, right?). Your work does not have to be finished in order to fulfill the prompt, you can write one chapter, or one paragraph and edit it later when you have more time. If a prompt inspires you enough to write a long fic about it, don't feel pressured to finish it within a month! Take your time!! All we ask is for you to have written a start, and post that to the collection.

o i am no writer, but i’d love to make art for this in another way, is that possible?

Of course! originally the challenge was only made for writers, because the server was filled with a majority of writers. however, over the past few weeks we’ve had a handful of artists join our little community as well, people like sonza and @berakangkang. Sonza has blessed us by filling the October prompt as well, so if you’re an artist and you’d like to participate, please join! we love love love your art. honestly. the server goes wild on fanart.

o When do i post my submission?

Everyone who joins the challenge, posts their submission on the same day. This is the last 48 hours of a month - CET timezone. The next prompt will have been rolled out a day before we open submissions, so you can get familiar with it for a day or two before starting on it.

o I don't think i'll reach the deadline, now what?

You can contact me privately about this through our discord server - for fast replies - or via my email ([email protected]). I will open the collection for you so you can submit it later. Keep an eye on the deadline though, a challenge won't be reopened a month after the deadline.

o I have an amazing idea for a prompt, where do i submit it?

On the discord server, we have a channel named 'prompts-and-ideas' where some of these prompts even came from, you can submit them there and @ me so i'd know it's for the writing challenge.

If you don't have discord or don't want to join the server, you're free to mail me your idea with Shyan Shipping Society Prompt Idea as subject! I look forward to your ideas!

here’s the link to the parent collection on Archive Of Our Own, where you can always find the new prompts for the next months, and where you can post your work once i open the collection.

i can’t wait to see your works! i’m very excited to see what you all can come up with <3

ps,

this is the first time i host a writing challenge like this. i’m still learning my way around ao3′s function to make prompt meme challenges, and there may always be little bugs in the system, because i have but a small brain. i rely on carl-bot to remind me to post and open submissions and everything, to keep it running smoothly. i am trying my very best to make this fun for everyone. also i crave feedback, so if you have any comments, complaints, ideas, critique, please hit me up!!

oh and yeah i am very inactive on the tumblrs because i don’t uh catch the vibe of this platform but i’m trying. i’m trying. 👉👈

#shyan #we took an oath #skeptic believer #buzzfeed unclean #shyan shipping society #shyan shipping society writing challenge #fanfic #fanfics #archive of our own #archiveofourown #ao3 #writing challenge #please bear with me i have but a small brain #zhalia does a thing #zhalia's writing challenge #discord #discord server

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rpgmgames · 5 years ago

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November’s Featured Game: Grimm's Hollow

DEVELOPER(S): ghosthunter ENGINE: RPG Maker 2003 GENRE: Indie RPG, Adventure WARNINGS: Discussions of death, losing a loved one, grief SUMMARY: Grimm’s Hollow is a spooky, freeware RPG where you search the afterlife for your brother. Reap ghosts with your scythe, explore haunted caves, and eat ghostly treats on your journey through death.

Download the game here! Our Interview With The Dev Team Below The Cut!

Introduce yourself! *BB: My name's Bruno and I did some of the music along with Nat! I’m super happy to have participated in this game! *NW: I’m Nat Wesley, a.k.a. Natbird! I’m a composer available for hire with a few projects in the works. I’m honored to have had the chance to work on the soundtrack to Grimm’s Hollow! *GH: Hello! I go by ghosthunter online; I started developing RPGs with a friend in school when we found out that we both enjoyed RPG Horror. I enjoy art, webcomics, cartoons and narrative-driven indie games a lot. I bought RM2K3 on sale and started pouring pixel art into it, before learning how to do things like chase scenes, cutscenes, etc. I used to fantasize about making my own game, drawing dungeons and ghosts in the back of my sketchbooks, before I finally started Grimm’s Hollow. Now I’m near the end of high-school, and I’m hoping the best for uni!

What is your project about? What inspired you to create this game initially? *GH: Grimm’s Hollow, originally, wasn’t as ambitious or personal. It was simply just going to be “my first game”, something that I could finally put my doodles and RM2K3 skills to. I wanted a game that a younger me would have enjoyed, back when I first discovered the classic RPGMaker games and replayed them constantly for those endings. That was my initial inspiration. It eventually evolved into an action turn-based RPG that relies on timing, yet it’s mostly narrative-driven. You traverse death in search of your sibling, and try to make an escape. There are unexpected pieces of me that ended up in this game, some of which I’m still noticing even now.

How long have you been working on your project? *GH: Since the summer of June 2018.

Did any other games or media influence aspects of your project? *GH: Standstill Girl, OFF by Mortis Ghost, Undertale, Over The Garden Wall, and the animation medium in general.

Have you come across any challenges during development? How have you overcome or worked around them? *GH: Many! Making your first game is such a giant learning curve, that the list of challenges goes on. I would say that the most difficult issue I encountered (and that, in some ways, I am still facing after release) is working around the limitations of the game engine I am using. I wanted to see whether creating an engaging but simple 1-party RPG in RM2K3 (without going completely custom) was feasible, and I experimented with quick time events as part of that. I worked around the engine’s built-in formulae so players could see progress when they upgraded their stats - although the game might display as defence as “10”, in reality the game stores it as 40 since the engine splits defence by 4. Since I did not want to create an RPG which was too complex for my first game, I also scrapped traditional staples such as armour or weapons. There were also issues such as having an appropriate “game over” handling event which wouldn’t shoot you back to the title screen after you lost a battle; getting RM2K3 to play a small cutscene where you faint and respawn somewhere else was tricky. I felt that if the player had to reload after a loss, it would disrupt the game flow.

Have any aspects of your project changed over time? How does your current project differ from your initial concept? *GH: Like I mentioned before, the game started off impersonal. I just had a soft spot for a spooky cute aesthetic, and I wanted to indulge in that. It was (and in its essence, still is) meant to be a short story, to keep the player invested for the short game length - nothing grandiose. The original draft did not have Baker play a role in the narrative - he was just an ordinary shopkeeper NPC. For a long time during development, Lavender did not even have a name. In the very first draft, she was a silent protagonist the player could name and customize. But she played a very active role in the final outline, so it was hard not to give her own unique voice when one emerged from the narrative naturally. I am glad I did; she grew on me quite quickly! Grimm was virtually unchanged from beginning to end. The only difference was that a close friend suggested that he seemed like he would be into drinking Oolong tea - so that’s what he offers you when you meet him. Timmy also did not go under massive overhauls like Lavender and Baker did, but his relationship with Lavender became much more fleshed out as I wrote the narrative. In other facets of the game’s design, there were not many changes to the original prototype.

What was your team like at the beginning? How did people join the team? If you don’t have a team, do you wish you had one or do you prefer working alone? *GH: It was just myself, doing the art, writing, programming, etc. But halfway through creating the second cave, I realised I would need a very specific sound for Grimm’s Hollow. So, I contacted Nat for music, but I also created a post on tumblr calling for a composer since there were many tracks to make. I met Bruno as a result! I am very happy with their work and I am so grateful I’ve got to work with them! (Some players are asking for an OST release, which is in the works).

What is the best part of developing a game? *GH: I really enjoyed the early stages of development: creating new tilesets, sprites and maps and piecing them together in the editor, then taking a small screenshot and sharing it with my friend over summer vacation … It was nice to see the game’s world slowly come together. I think that’s what I enjoyed the most from beginning to end: that sense of world-building, that sense of relaxation from making a small cosy game. The latter started to disappear as work and other responsibilities started to intrude, and pressure began to seep into development time - but I never stopped loving making the world and characters. I also want to say that, by lucky chance, I have met a lot of kind people from making my first game. I’m very grateful for that, so thank you to everyone.

Do you find yourself playing other RPG Maker games to see what you can do with the engine, or do you prefer to do your own thing? *GH: All the time! Other RPG Maker 2003 projects are great inspirations for pixel art tilesets, as well as how to code harder features such as custom menus. They’re also just fun to play.

Which character in your game do you relate to the most and why? (Alternatively: Who is your favorite character and why?) *GH: Lavender and Timmy are relatable to me in multiple ways. I can’t elaborate on Timmy since that would go into spoiler territory, but I somewhat relate to Lavender’s insistence on managing her life on her own - sometimes to her own detriment. I’d say the most fun character to write for was Grimm. He can be unintentionally silly while speaking in the most formal way, but also very caring too. Everything he does and says was easy to write, whereas I had to think harder for the interactions between everyone else - especially for very crucial scenes regarding their development. That being said, my favourite is still the game’s central two siblings. I can not pick between them for the life of me.

Looking back now, is there anything that regret/wish you had done differently? *GH: I wish I started testing even earlier! Not only does it give you a good sense of what’s missing, but seeing people enjoy what you’ve made yet get hindered by bugs is a very strong incentive to fix your game immediately. When I was lacking motivation or was stuck, I found that good feedback and support made me motivated again. I also wish that I could have pushed the deadline a little further, or perhaps released the game on Early Access since it will take me a while to refine post-release bugs - but as it is, the 31st of October really was the deadline for my game due to external circumstances (no, that deadline wasn’t just because it was Halloween!). Other than that, I wonder if using an updated version of RPG Maker would have produced the same game …? It’s hard to tell, but I hope people enjoy it for what it is - I will be working on that post-release patch soon!

Do you plan to explore the game’s universe and characters further in subsequent projects, or leave it as-is? *GH: There are no current plans, but I would be happy to have the opportunity to improve and expand on the game. As it is, the game’s released for free and done as a hobby, so I would struggle to do that by myself.

What do you most look forward to now that you have finished the game? *GH: Earlier on, I was really looking forward to players’ reactions. Games are made to be fun, and I would have felt distraught if my game didn’t achieve what it was set out to do. Yet it was not just about the gameplay; it was about the narrative. I hoped that what I found funny, the player would too; what was heartfelt to me, was heartfelt to the player as well. Like sharing a laugh, or just a good experience together. I hoped they would enjoy the feeling that went into it, despite the struggle of making it against circumstance and limitations. Now, I look forward to resting and sleeping once this over. I want to explore my other interests, improve, and explore new media. I want to relax, and refocus again like I was before the heat of development.

Is there something you’re afraid of concerning the development or the release of your game? *GH: Bugs! Some are easy to fix, but others are harder due to the limitations of the engine (e.g an error in one ending is caused by an overflow error).

Do you have any advice for upcoming devs? *GH: Show your game as early as possible, to as many people as possible. As soon as you have something playable, it’s ready for feedback. You’ll see if that game mechanic you spent hours refining works, or if it doesn’t work and why. You’ll understand what players enjoy and what they want more of, but also what they don’t like or don’t enjoy. And you will definitely encounter bugs. You’ll be able to pinpoint and fix minor problems early on that can easily become a larger issue later. You’ll be able to fine-tune your game so its best bits shine, and the difficulty is just right.

Question from last month's featured dev @dead-dreams-dev: Is there anything you’ve added to your game for no other reason than because you’re hoping fans will get a kick out of it? Fanservice, fourth wall breakage, references to other games, jokes, abilities that are just ridiculously overpowered and badass, etc? *GH: It’s hard to say; game design is trying to find the intersection between what’s good for the player, what the developer enjoys, and what’s feasible to implement. Every decision made should be conscious of that … I think a lot of the game’s early light-hearted jokes was not only made because I enjoyed it, but I hoped the player would “get a kick out of it” too. But more so, I think it’s because I would struggle to write a story which is serious and bleak from beginning to end. The game is a little self-indulgent in the narrative that way.

We mods would like to thank ghosthunter & team for agreeing to our interview! We believe that featuring the developer and their creative process is just as important as featuring the final product. Hopefully this Q&A segment has been an entertaining and insightful experience for everyone involved!

Remember to check out Grimm's Hollow if you haven’t already! See you next month!

- Mods Gold & Platinum

#rpgmaker #rpg maker games #indie games #pixel games #rpg #adventure #cute #grimms hollow #grimm's hollow #gotm #game of the month #gotm 2019 #2019 #game of the month 2019 #november #november 2019

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timetravelingheart · 5 years ago

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Consequences Chapter Eleven: A.M. Imagine

Smut, smut, smut. And a little bit of fluff.

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September and October came and went in a blur, and now they were nearing the end of November. The air had turned crisp, most of the trees were bare, and daylight came and went so quickly that Tessa felt like she barely had any time for a real-life outside of work and school and all of her commitments.

She had tried her best to watch as many Leafs games on TV in the evenings when she could, even just having it on in the background while she was writing or grading papers. She even attended a couple of home games with Steph and one his with parents. Ema had gotten her phone number so now they texted fairly regularly, especially when they were both watching his games in their own homes.

But exams were coming up soon for her students and that meant some of her own deadlines were rapidly approaching so watching from home had to suffice for the most part. She had been nervous about how Auston’s hectic road trip schedule would coincide with her own commitments, but so far so good.

They had minor hiccups here and there, particularly when Auston felt like she wasn’t taking good enough care of herself and she felt like he was overstepping and intruding on her independence. Or when he had a bad game and was a little snippy with her when she just tried to be positive about it and all he wanted to hear was ‘yeah Auston, you’re right, that game was shit and the refs were brutal’. They were quickly learning the ins and outs of each other’s love languages and communication strengths and weaknesses and learning to where they both needed to work on themselves and how they could better express what they need and want.

It made the distance easier when he called her every night after a game, and if it was a home game, he usually came over to sleep at her place if he knew she had a lot of work to do. She loved that he didn’t mind coming over to her place even though it meant they didn’t always have privacy with Lydia home. In fact, it actually made her fall for him even more when she would sometimes come home after him to find them just hanging out and laughing and watching shows. Auston and Lydia developed a brother-sister relationship that she also developed with Mitch. It was always important to her that Lydia liked whoever she was with because when push came to shove, she would always choose Lydia over anyone else. Fortunately, it didn’t seem like that would be an issue anytime soon.

It was a Wednesday night and Auston had just returned from a week-long road trip, so Tessa was really looking forward to seeing him. Unfortunately, she got stuck at the office doing paperwork so she told him to just go ahead and hang out with Lydia at their place. When she walked in the door from the cold outside, her heart grew three sizes when she heard the laughter coming from the living room. It surprised her to see not only Lydia and Auston there but also Mitch and Steph. They appeared to be deep into a game of Cards Against Humanity.

“There’s the woman of the hour!” Mitch turned to her, getting up from his spot on her couch to wrap her in a big hug. “Fuck, you’re cold!” he pulled away quickly, letting her take off her jacket.

“Hey, who said you could hug her first?” Auston shoved Mitch out of the way to lean down to squeeze her close to him, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. “Hi, baby.”

“Hi,” Tessa said softly, beaming up at him.

“Hey, move it loser, I get her next,” Steph yanked on the back of Auston’s sweater to pull him away and walk into Tessa’s open arms. “Hey chicky.”

“Should I get up and hug you now or...?” Lydia looked up from her spot where she was burrowed under blankets on the couch, clearly having no intention of moving.

“Nah, I think we’re good,” Tessa winked at her before plopping down next to her and getting under the blankets. “Sorry guys. How long have you been here?”

“Just about an hour,” Steph replied, taking her seat back on the loveseat next to Mitch.

“And just enough time for Steph to be kicking all of our asses at this game,” Mitch muttered, looking at his two winning cards to Steph’s seven.

“Turns out knowing two of the other players well and having the same genitalia as the other makes this a pretty easy game,” Steph shrugged, winking at Tessa.

“The same genitalia?” Tessa repeated, confused.

“Girl humour is apparently a thing, according to Mitchell,” Steph rolled her eyes at her boyfriend.

“It is!” he shouted, as the others laughed.

They all hung out for a bit longer, just catching up, until Mitch, Steph, and Lydia all started to get up to leave. Tessa got up so she could hug them goodbye, before turning to Lydia.

“Going to see Miles tonight?” she asked her best friend.

“Yep,” Lydia started putting on her ankle boots and a jacket. “So, you know, don’t wait up or anything.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Auston yelled from his spot on the couch.

“From what I heard, that doesn’t leave very much to not do, Thighs,” Lydia grinned at him., sending a cheeky wink his way. Tessa’s eyes widened to saucers, before pushing the three laughing loons towards the door.

“Well on that note,” Tessa blushed, keeping her eyes far away from where Auston sat. “We’ll see everyone later. Drive safe.”

Once everyone was out the door, Tessa waited a beat before turning back to find a smirking Auston.

“So what exactly have you told Lydia about us?” he admonished.

Tessa shrugged innocently.

“Probably no more than you’ve told Mitch,” she replied, knowing it was likely true, before walking back into the living room and moving to straddle him, placing her knees on either side of him, her burgundy sweater dress bunching right below her heat to expose her soft legs to him. Her hands trailed up his arms slowly before fisting in the hair at the back of his head. She pulled him back gently by the hair to place a kiss on his awaiting lips, letting it deepen naturally as they sunk back into the sofa.

They pulled away after a bit, both breathless.

“Hi,” she whispered against his lips, opening her eyes to gaze into his.

“Hi,” he repeated, pecking her on the nose. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Aus,” she shivered as his hands pushed her sweater dress up even further as he explored her thighs and her lower back. She let out a sigh that he caught in his mouth, pulling her back to him so he could ravage her. She let him break their kiss momentarily so he could lift the sweater dress over her head. He gently slid one bra strap down her shoulder, placing light kisses where it used to be. He repeated the action on the other side before moving his hands to cup her bra-clad breasts and push them even closer together. He stared up at her as he placed another kiss in the valley of her breasts. She held his gaze and when he pulled away, she pulled his face up to hers to reconnect their lips, all passion and fire, and urgency. He unclasped the bra, removing it from her body completely.

Keeping their lips connected, Auston went to lay them down but was met with resistance. He pulled away from her, confused. “You okay?” he asked softly, massaging her lower back.

Tessa’s breath caught in her throat. She had been ready for this moment for a while, but the timing just never seemed to work out. With Lydia out of the apartment and the desire she was feeling deep into her bones, she knew this was it. She leaned forward and placed a much softer kiss on his neck, just under his ear.

“I’m ready,” she whispered.

Auston felt every hair on his body stand up at her words. He pulled away from her to search her face, to make sure she was certain.

“Tess, are you sure?” he whispered back. He had been ready since the first time they kissed, but he never wanted to push her or make her feel like he wouldn’t be happy to wait for her.

“More than sure,” she replied. She removed herself from his lap, looking down to see him straining in his black sweatpants. Definitely sure, she thought. She reached down to grab his hand, pulling him to his feet and guiding him to her bedroom. He watched his girl walk in only a black thong and knew he would have followed her anywhere.

When they reached the edge of her bed, she turned back to face him. Standing up on her tip-toes, she placed a trail of kisses along his neck, stopping to bite softly just under his ear, eliciting a throaty groan from him. Jackpot.

Before she could reach his lips, she reached for the hem of his sweatshirt and lifted it over his head. He leaned forward to pull her into a kiss, but she pulled back before they could connect. She shook her head at his questioning stare before reaching for the hem of his sweats and pulling them down his legs, sinking herself to the ground with them. When she gazed back up at him, he felt another groan in the base of his throat.

“Tess, you don’t have to,” he started, but she was already pulling down his Calvins and taking him into her mouth. She gave him a few sucks before kissing the tip. It definitely wasn’t the first blowjob she had given him, as they had become very familiar with each other’s bodies recently, but he always wanted her to feel like it was her choice and not his expectation. She gazed up at him, tugging as she did. He let out a deep moan, his eyes fluttering closed. When he opened them again, she was still watching him, her bottom lip tucked under her teeth. “Do not look at me like that right now,” he tried to sound assertive but his voice was strangled.

“Like what?” she replied innocently, before sending him a cheeky wink and taking him in her mouth again. His hand went to the back of her head, not applying pressure, but just needing to touch her somewhere and ground himself. He willed himself not to lose it right there. He pulled away suddenly, pulling her by her elbows up to a standing position. She merely looked at him curiously, as if she didn’t know the effect she was having on him.

“I’d really like to last so I can at least feel what it’s like to be inside you tonight,” he laughed haughtily. He pulled her in for another searing kiss, his hands tangled in her hair as hers gripped his ass cheeks. He gently guided her onto the bed, watching as she used her elbows to shimmy further up the bed until her head hit her pillows. He started to climb over her, stopping to hook his fingers under the only remaining material between them, slowly pulling it down her legs and tossing it to the side. He kissed up one of her smooth legs before reaching her heat and stopping. She knew what she was in for, and while she was also craving the feeling of him inside her, she wanted them to take their time tonight. She shivered as he placed featherlight kisses on the insides of her thighs and her hipbones. He hooked his arms under her thighs, sliding her down closer to him to place a long, warm lick on the centre of her heat.

Tessa bit back a moan as he did it again and again, before settling there, his fingers and tongue going in and out in a way that made her stomach clench. She didn’t think either of them would last very long tonight. “Aus, I’m close,” she stuttered out. “Maybe we should just-”

But he kept going. He wasn’t certain he would last once he felt her around him, so he wanted to make sure he got her off first. He could feel her getting wetter, her lower body trying to lift off the bed as he held her down by her hips. He could feel her trying to hold it in.

“Let go, baby,” he urged. “I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.” He pumped two fingers in and out, watching as she came undone in front of him, one of his absolute favourite sights. When she had relaxed slightly, he climbed up and settled himself between her legs, their hips touching. He circled her head with his arms, placing gentle kisses all over her face as she continued to come down from her high.

She directed his lips to hers so she could taste herself on him. They kissed languidly for a bit before it turned passionate again, Tessa feeling Auston pressed up against her lower stomach. “I want you,” she whispered.

“I want you so bad, baby,” he replied eagerly. “Do you have a condom?”

She nodded towards her nightstand, watching as he reached over before opening the packet and sliding the condom on himself. She was on the pill and had been for years so she knew it protected her that way. They had both also discussed getting tested to make sure they were clean, which they were. But part of her still wanted that extra precaution, and she was happy Auston did too. She figured eventually they’d probably stop using them, but for now, it made sense.

Auston lined himself up at her entrance, feeling her thighs tighten around his hips. “Are you sure?”

Tessa nodded. It had been a while since she had sex and Auston was fairly large, so she felt a little nervous about potentially feeling any pain.

Auston rubbed her again with his fingers, making sure she felt ready so she’d feel minimal pain. “You have to say it, Tess.”

“Yes,” she moaned, his fingers making her wet again and stretching her slightly in preparation. “Yes. I want this. I want you.”

Auston nodded, lining himself up again. As he slowly pushed inside her, he watched her face for any sign of pain. Not seeing any, he pushed deeper, leaning down to take her mouth in his, letting her adjust to his size. When she reached down to squeeze his ass and push him further, he knew he could start moving.

They moved together, kissing everywhere they could get their lips to reach, touching everywhere their hands could go. They found a rhythm for a while, Auston lasting longer than he had expected when Tessa felt a familiar clench in her abdomen. “Aus,” she moaned, “Aus, I’m so close.”

“Me too, baby,” he grunted against her neck, “me too.”

A few more thrusts and Tessa could feel herself letting go, unraveling around him. Her orgasm pushed Auston to his, the clenching too much for him, his high reaching as quickly as hers was coming down. When he finished, he dropped his sweaty body on hers, careful not to crush her. They laid like that for a while before he leaned up, placed a kiss on her lips, and eased himself out of her. He walked into the bathroom to dispose of the condom and came back with a warm washcloth. Tessa hissed as he cleaned her up, feeling overly sensitive after her second orgasm of the night. He tossed the washcloth in her hamper before climbing under the blanket and wrapping her up in his arms. Tessa laid her head on his chest, finding the rhythm of his heartbeat to soothe the rapid pounding of her own.

“Tess,” Auston broke the comfortable silence, trailing the tips of his fingers up and down her bare back.

“Mm?” she replied, already starting to doze off.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” he whispered, nudging her head with his nose. “I don’t think I tell you that enough, and it’s not just because of tonight.”

“You’re pretty amazing yourself, baby,” she kissed his chest before letting out a yawn.

“Thanks for taking a chance on me,” he kissed the top of her head one more time before curling his body into hers so they were embracing, her face smushed into his chest, her arms tucked together as he wrapped his around her whole body.

They drifted into a peaceful sleep in each other’s arms.

Until they woke up in the middle of the night eager for another round.

When the sun finally came up, they were exhausted, both mentally and physically, but it was worth it. They could hardly keep the grins off their faces and hands and lips off each other as they moved throughout her kitchen to make breakfast together, sneaking kisses here and there.

And when they got a little too heated and their eggs burned, they simply tossed them in the trash before running off to her bedroom pulling off articles of clothing as they went, breakfast long forgotten.

#auston matthews #auston matthews fan fiction #auston matthews imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagines #nhl writing #hockey fan fiction #hockey imagines #hockey writing

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itsaviolathing · 5 years ago

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2019 reflections

Wasn't sure where to put this so I'm gonna put it here because there are fewer people who know me in real life on Tumblr and this is kinda personal.

2019 has been a long year of ups and downs for me.

I started the year in a bad place, still getting over a really tough breakup from the guy who I thought was my soulmate.

January saw me rebound onto a guy I met on Tinder and resulted in a 2-month relationship which ultimately ended with me hurting the guy. On the bright side, I met some really kind and lovely new friends through Pat and I'm so grateful for their continuing friendship and support. January also continued to show me just how many friends I have and how much they care about me, which I had first realised just after the breakup in December. I will be forever grateful to those who saw me through such an emotionally difficult time and for their unwavering friendship. I would never have coped without them.

February saw my first instance of volunteering. I volunteered as an Events Manager with a charity called Action on Hearing Loss, and I had such a good time doing it. I put together a fundraiser for the charity, supported by the charity's fundraising manager for the North-West, which ended up being pretty successful and raised a fair amount of money. I was really proud of myself for this, and the whole process helped me become more confident in myself and gave me more direction for where my future is heading.

March saw me go back to the guy who I'd broken up with in the first place (bad idea, I know). It showed me that at that point I hadn't managed to get over him as much as I thought I had, and that I was willing to forgive him even after how much he hurt me. A few weeks later I broke up with him again, for good this time. I'd proven to myself that all the work I had put into getting over him had worked to an extent because I just couldn't love him anymore, even though I still cared about him immensely. This was ultimately a really beneficial experience for me as it gave me the closure that I so desperately needed from the relationship, as I hadn't been ready for the initial breakup and felt like a lot of things needed tying up.

April showed me that I was afraid to be alone. Since getting with Moray in November 2017, I had barely been single - we broke up in December 2018, I had rebounded onto Pat just under a month later, and got back with Moray a couple of days after breaking up with Pat. Even when I broke up with Moray again at the beginning of April, I already had someone else I was talking to which was heading in the direction of potential relationship. I realised that I only broke up with Moray when I felt like I had a somewhat-secure ship I could jump to (Sam), and I had been in the same situation when I broke up with Pat, knowing there was significant potential of getting back with Moray. This was a significant revelation for me and really made me evaluate my personal values and morals.

May was a really difficult month. Most difficult was dealing with Moray. After our break-up, his mental health spiralled and he quickly ended up in a dark place. He still trusted in me a lot, and knew that I cared for him too, and so I was on the receiving end of a number of phone calls whenever he was feeling suicidal. Some of these were daytime, others were overnight at all sorts of hours. By far the toughest was when he was actively going to do something and I talked him down over the phone while coordinating with his friends in his city to go and find him, and directed him to his local hospital for psychiatric help over the phone from a completely different city using Google Maps. Another especially difficult one was when I was woken at 4am and spent 2 hours talking him down and then messaging his mother in the morning to let her know the situation. Of course, I was happy to be there for him in his time of need but from a personal perspective it was incredibly draining and was detrimental to my academic work as well. I had to meet with my university academic advisor to talk about it because it was becoming difficult for me to manage alongside numerous academic deadlines I had in May. May saw me close myself off from people in my daily life because of these emotional struggles alongside having so much academic work to do, but I got through the month and ultimately did well in all my assessments and had managed to be there for a friend in need. May taught me that, while it can be good to be there for someone who needs support, it's so important to look after yourself first and foremost and that sometimes you're not the best person for the job. Moray managed to secure help from people whose job it is to provide that help, and he built up a local support network which reduced his need for me. I hope he will remain grateful for everything I did for him but I'm also glad that I'm not an integral part of his life anymore.

June saw me confirm what I want to do next with my life. I secured the role of Head Concert Manager for my university music society and June was the first time I was working in the role. I confirmed that I really enjoy working in Arts Management roles and I decided that this is the direction I want to take my life. I started to make plans for where I want to apply for Master’s courses and general plans for the next few years of my life, which has motivated me significantly and has provided something of a sense of security through the fact I have a plan now.

July became another month of self-reflection and thinking about my morals. The guy I had been talking to, Sam, had invited me to stay over with him for a few days in his city. It was on this trip that I ended up being his first sexual experience, which wouldn't be a problem had he not been a no-sex-before-marriage Christian 😬 Even though I went to the effort of making sure it was absolutely his decision and trying to create a no-pressure atmosphere, I ended up feeling really bad about this because he regretted it happening. July also saw me think a lot about religion and whether it would be something I could get into but I eventually concluded that it's not something I can believe in and not something I feel compelled to get involved with.

August saw some of the best weeks of the year for me. Most significantly was the 10-days of being Social Staff with the National Children's Orchestra. This was definitely the best part of my year, and I had such a great time with new friends playing silly games and building new, strong bonds. I've found that I can't wait to be on NCO courses again next year and think of these people as some of my best friends, despite only spending a week with them.

September saw me and my tonsils part company, as they were finally removed. Recovery was rough but quick and I was back to myself quickly enough to be present as Peer Mentor coordinator on the first day of Fresher's week to register all ~80 of my department's fresher's. September also taught me that I need to be more trusting and less controlling, as my experiences as Head Concert Manager that month saw me finding it difficult to relinquish control to the Concert Managers, even though they were fully competent.

October saw me become properly single for the first time in almost 2 years. I ended things with Sam because we had fundamental disagreements and it was obvious the relationship was going nowhere, but we still remain good friends even now. Ending this was a little scary for me because I had lost the sense of security that a relationship brings, but this was made easier since the change had been gradual due to the nature of long-distance relationships. It had forced me to confront a lot of my inner feelings and thoughts on the matter and I ultimately learnt a lot about myself from this process.

November saw me become distant again due to academic work, after I spent 2 whole weeks avoiding social situations and spending time in the library as much as I could manage. Once again, this was ultimately successful because I did well in my coursework, but I did miss out on social situations as a result. November also saw me kinda fall for a guy in my department - that's a stronger wording than I really mean, I kinds just had a bit of a thing for him. It was the first time I'd had a crush in ages but I handled it well and confirmed I'm still fairly decent at flirting if I'm in the right situation 😅 November also saw me self-diagnose myself with potential dermatillomania, although I’m still not sure whether it’s just a bad habit or something medical and I’ve been too unsure to go to a doctor about it, but I think if it gets worse I’ll force myself to see someone.

December was another kinda difficult month. I had a couple of crises in which I found myself feeling like all my friends had people they preferred. For every friend of mine, I became aware that they had other people they would choose to spend time with over me, and that was a tough realisation. I think this came hand-in-hand with the whole being-single-for-the-first-time-in-2-years thing, because I had always been someone's 'favourite person' (in theory) while in a relationship and had always had someone there for me and looking out for me, and December saw me feeling like I'd lost that. December also saw me find out that the guy I had liked had actually liked me at the same time but nothing had ever managed to work out, which was a bit of a bummer.

Christmas and New Year's was spent with my family which is always a little difficult as we don't always get along so well, with New Year's being particularly difficult. I'm looking forward to going back to my uni city today (1st Jan 2020) and being with friends again and starting a new year afresh. My New Year's Resolutions/Improvements are to get fitter and healthier (through better diet and exercise) and to work hard on my academic work to do as best as I can in my final semester of my undergraduate degree.

2019 was a year of learning and personal growth. I learnt a lot about myself and spent a lot of time reflecting on myself, my values, and my morals, among other things. I came to terms with things that I had never really allowed myself to think about in the past, and I’ve ended the year feeling like I know myself a lot better than I did at the start of the year.

2020 will be an eventful year and hopefully an exciting and rewarding one; I'm looking forward to finding out how everything plays out and hopefully have fun at the same time!

#2019 reflections #it's been a bumpy year #bring on 2020

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laurintranslation · 6 years ago

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a guide by a former applicant who never received a single rejection letter!

table of contents

where to begin

essays

transcripts + test scores

letters of recommendation

interviews

before we begin, please remember that while the process of applying to college may seem like it will never end, in just a few short months it will. yes, it is a stressful time full of uncertainty, and you may start to think that college isn’t even worth it, but this is the time where all the hard work you’ve been putting in for the past four years really comes to fruition. you know how hard you’ve worked to get where you are, and let your applications accurately reflect that.

where to begin

figure out where you want to apply. have a backup, somewhere you can get in for sure, at least two schools you’d be happy to attend including one you know you can for sure afford, and then of course your dream/reach school. some people do more than this (I applied to 8 in total), but this is a good starting point.

set up your common app account. the common app application usually launches on august 1, but go in before that and get your account set up so you can get a head start. the first thing I would do is fill out the application part itself, sans essays. it’s a ton of information, and it’ll be overwhelming at first, but if you can get it done, especially before you go back to school, then you won’t have to worry about it.

get organized! go through the requirements of every school you’re applying to. figure out what you need to submit and when. be aware of your deadlines from the beginning and make a checklist to mark everything off as you go.

essays

to be perfectly honest, the essays are the most time-consuming and most daunting part of this process. here’s how to tackle them:

first of all, start early. in august it may seem like you have plenty of time, but then you’ll blink, and it’ll be november. I spent a first week and a half of my christmas break trying to finish a 2000-word essay because I didn’t really start my essays until october. please save yourself that stress and aim to finish at least a first draft of all your essays by halloween.

KNOW. YOUR. SCHOOL. I cannot stress this enough. this is the one thing I can tell you that will make or break your entire application. certain schools and even programs value certain qualities in their applicants, and knowing what they’re looking for can help you cater your essay to their specific tastes. for example, NYU values the diversity of their student body and their reputation as a global institution. express why you also value diversity and how you would contribute to or take advantage of that globality. don’t go into your essay writing without some semblance of what the schools you’re applying to stand for. if you can demonstrate that you understand their missions and their vision, you can turn your borderline acceptance into a much more solid one.

on a similar note, get familiar with your school or program’s website. for one thing, it will help you get to know your school better and understand what they’re looking for (point above). you can also prove just how interested you are by naming specific programs or opportunities available that you’re interested in or even a professor you’d like to study under. do outside research too: watch youtube videos, talk to current students, and read student publications. a deeper understanding not only strengthens your essays but also helps you to know what’s available to you.

show some enthusiasm, even if an essay is for a school that’s lower on your list. admissions officers want students who want to be there. you may think you’re above gushing, but you’re not. gush, even if it’s your backup and you’re a shoo-in. apathy is not impressive to an admissions officer.

really focus on what makes you unique. I know that sounds cliche, but admissions officers read thousands of essays every application cycle, so you really need to find what can make you, and thus your essay, stand out. I promise you, you can find some unique experience to write about, even if it’s some obscure anecdote. spin it to be a thoughtful, profound experience. talk about something that has seriously impacted you or your trajectory. if you’re having a hard time writing about yourself (I know I did) ask a parent or a friend, someone who knows you well, what they think makes you different. I promise you there’s something there you can use.

work smarter. reuse material from similar prompts. reuse old graded essays. I even reused a book review I had already written for my english class. writing these essays is not your full-time job (though it may feel like it), so be smart about it where you can.

transcripts + test scores

(combining these since really at this point all you have to do is submit them)

in terms of test scores: so it’s the beginning of your senior year and you’re still not happy with your standardized test scores. take them again! you still have time! you should doublecheck to be sure, but most schools will take your test scores all the way up to the application deadline, and sometimes even after, which gives you at least two or three more opportunities to take the SAT/ACT. also, sending scores to multiple schools can get really expensive really fast (roughly $15 per school, so you do the math), so see if you’re eligible for fee waivers before you submit.

in terms of transcripts: request them early. it took my guidance counselor at my smallish public school almost 6 weeks to submit my transcripts after I requested them to be sent. the longer you wait, the more time it’s going to take them, because they’ll be doing the same for hundreds of other kids. also, double check and see if your schools require mid-year transcripts; most don’t unless you’re actually going there, but some do. make sure your guidance counselor knows you need those in by a certain date; mine almost didn’t make it in time because it took the school district almost two months to get them done. you’ve already done the hard work to make the grades on your transcript; don’t let a lack of action create an issue with it.

letters of recommendation

(this is one area that can actually really help you if you take the time and put in some effort)

teacher recs: most schools require at least one teacher recommendation. start thinking about whom you want to write your recs once school starts, and then ask those teachers as soon as possible. chances are, they’ll have other students asking as well. it takes time to write a really good recommendation, and you have to remember your teacher is doing all of this on top of their other work. so be courteous and don’t wait until three weeks before the deadline to ask.

counselor recs: pretty much every school requires a counselor recommendation. this process probably varies from high school to high school, but at least for mine, we had to print an online form and fill it out to give to them. I had no idea, however, that that was a thing until one of my friends told me. so get on your school’s website as soon as possible and see if your guidance office has a section posted about the college application process. then, as with teacher recs, make the request as soon as possible. counselor recs may take even longer (again, hundreds of students), and you don’t want to wait until the last minute to get something so simple done.

other recs: recommendations from someone associated with the college you’re applying to—a prominent alumnus (the more money they’ve donated, the better) or a well-respected staff member are your best options—can really tip the scale in favor of a borderline application. we all know that in the real world it’s not always what you know but whom you know. yeah, it’s unfair, but work that system anyways. ask your parents if they know anyone with some kind of connection to your school. if you live nearby, get in contact with a professor in your field. even if you don’t, go on facebook and find your local alumni chapter. contact someone involved and ask them to meet you for lunch. express how important that school is to you, and I’m sure they’d be more than happy to help. make the system work for you!

interviews

*a total sidenote: interviewing was actually really helpful for me personally. my interview at my former top choice made me realize what I really wanted for myself in college and totally changed the trajectory of my college experience*

let me just say, interviewing is not for everyone. some people come off better in person than they do on paper, and some people don’t. so do not feel like you need to interview at every single one of your schools if that really isn’t your thing.

again, know your school. most schools offer interviews, but it’s rarely a requirement. if your school strongly recommends you interview (ex. wake forest), you should probably do it. if not, it’s really up to you.

just putting in the effort of interviewing, especially if you have to travel to get there, shows your interest in the school and can help you in the long run. an interview is typically weighted equally with all the other aspects of your application, so unless you really bomb it, it won’t make a big difference.

prioritize. some schools offer skype or local alumni interviews to make things more accessible if you farther away, but not all do. if you have to travel for an interview, especially if it involves getting on a plane, pick your top two or three choices to focus on, especially if you think you’ll be more of a borderline applicant.

every school does interviews differently. some treat it more like a conversation, others like a Q&A. you may be interviewed by an alumnus, a current student, or an admissions director. it all varies. do your research ahead of time so you’ll know what to expect. some schools even have sample questions you can practice answering.

prepare, prepare, prepare. the more prep you do, the more confident you’ll feel, and the better you’ll do. talk through the questions you’ll be answering. have a mock interview with someone you trust, preferably who has interview experience and can give you pointers. if you know ahead of time who will be interviewing you, do a little research on that person so you know something about them and what to expect. and again, know your school and what they value in their students so you can exemplify those qualities.

random bonus tips

get in touch with the admissions director for your region. most schools have multiple admissions officers that read applications for a certain area of the country (ex. pacific northwest). most likely, they’ll be the one reading your application. so email them with your questions or issues (although, please, please don’t ever ask anything that can be found on the website, and for the love of god, don’t have your mom call or email for you). if you happen to be on campus, stop by admissions and make an effort to introduce yourself. by the time that person gets to your application, the hope is that even if they don’t recognize your name right off that bat, it at least seems familiar enough that they know you’ve made an effort and demonstrated your interest.

thank you notes! if you interview or have someone besides your teacher or counselor write a letter of rec for you, don’t forget to send a handwritten thank you note. it’s just a little adult thing to start doing that goes that extra mile. plus, if you mail a thank you note to your interviewer via the admissions office, it may get put in your file, which will reflect well on your personal professionalism.

more helpful tips & resources

if you have any questions, please feel free to send an ask. also, if you’d like more specific advice here are the schools I applied to: emerson college, univ of central florida, colgate univ, wake forest univ, college of william & mary, middlebury college, new york univ, and univ of st andrews.

essays

“those different essays that keep popping up tips” by @thisnerdsadventures

“college essay masterpost” by @studyfandom

“would you admit you?” by @genericappblrurl

“college essays” by @sootudying

“college essay edits” by @intellectys

letters of recommendation

“teacher recs” by @etudiance

interviews

“15 questions to know for college interviews” by @solustudies

“college interviews” by @cyberstudies

general

“massive college masterpost” by @heyiwantyoutostay

“college application websites masterlist” by @cyberstudies

“smol college app tips” by @365text

good luck, young ones!! you can do it!!

#masterposts #college apps #college admissions #college advice #college #uni #uni tips #uni advice #uni applications #studyblr #studyblr tips #study tips #college applications #studyspo #mine

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strayology · 6 years ago

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About me tag ~

Rules : Answer the questions and tag 10 people

tagged by my fave kachuuuu thank youuuuu

(yeah i haven’t been on for a while,, i’ve been busy with school and i’ve been kinda feeling sick being on social medias but oh well what else can i do for past time?)

1. How tall are you?

I stand a wholly 162cm or 5′3″ (yeah i have always thought I was 5′4″ but I remeasured and I was 5′3″ ;-;)

2. What color are your eyes?

black like the deep dark abyss of a black hole :’)

3. What color and style is your hair?

black,, it’s straight and I style it a couple of ways depending on my mood or outfit. most of the time I wear it down or in a ponytail

4. Do you wear glasses?

yep i do,, sometimes I wear my prescriptions color contacts because my outfit looks better without glasses lol

5. Do you have braces?

nope never did, but surprisingly my teeth are really straight??

6. What’s your fashion sense?

I usually go for more of a sporty or girl crush style. I like wearing loose fitting clothes that are baggy and long (especially on the arm but my arms are so long so sometimes its hard to find stuff that are normal length for the body and long sleeves for my arms) but once in a while i wanna feel cute so i wear a dress or skirt or something, but I feel like i can’t move freely in those lol

and I do tend to dress more in a korean style (apparently that’s the reason why a lot of people have mistaken me as korean)

7. Full name?

ummmmmm... I guess this is the first time i’m admitting on here that my real name isn’t yumi...??????

but it’s,, Yumi Yee

8. When were you born?

October 24th, 2001

9. Where are you from and where do you live?

I was born in the US but I grew up in China and i currently reside in the US

10. What school(s) do you go to?

As of right now i’m in a 4-year high school, but I also go to a career and tech school for my computer science classes

11. What kind of student are you?

ehhhhh the one that procrastinates but still tries to get work in on time. i mean i dont really like doing my school work for any classes i dont like, and I would procrastinate as long as possible and still meet the deadline. but for classes i like i will try my best to do work right away and perfect it (which usually make people call me a try hard lol)

12. Do you like school?

i mean i like it when i get to see my friends and learn about subjects that actually interest me and let me have fun in

13. Fav subject?

math, chemistry, foreign language (I took spanish), and computer science

14. Fav TV shows?

I don't watch a lot of shows but I watched The Office couple months ago and I love that

15. Fav books?

The Percy Jackson series (although I haven’t finished it oOps), the Paisley Hanover series, and i like quite a lot of poetries (I’m still reading some from these books I bought a while ago, but once I finish i will see if I wanna recommend or not)

16. Fav pastimes?

cooking/baking, reading chinese comics (I recently got into them and they are sooooo good), listening to music, watch youtube, online shopping, editing (sometimes), mess around with the html codes on my blog, and sleeping

17. Do you have any regrets?

bwahahah way too many,, but if those events never happened in my life I probably wouldn't be who I am today

18. Dream job?

being a translator or any jobs dealing with computer science (mainly web designer)

19. Would you ever like to be married?

i mean yeah, but I have never imagined my own wedding or anything but I do know I wanna get married at 28???

20. Would you like to have children?

yeah,, again i’ve never really thought about this because all ive been thinking about is what kind of job i want or how i’m gonna live with my friends or s/o after college

21. If so, how many?

maybe 1 or 2

22. Do you like shopping?

OHHHHHHH HECK YEAAAAAAAAAH,, i seriously think I have an addiction because i always wanna go shopping and I constantly want new clothes or go to the mall in general. and even if I dont get anything at the mall I like to try on different outfits and take pictures in them

23. What countries have you visited?

Well I didn’t really visit these countries but I did live in them,, China and the US

24. Scariest nightmare you’ve ever had?

literally every one of my dreams I remember is a nightmare lmao

I mean this dream isn’t really scary because it didn’t scare me that much,,

(BUT IM GONNA PUT A WARNING RIGHT HERE BECAUSE I DID TALK ABOUT BLOOD SO IF YOURE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH IT SCROLL PAST THIS PART NOW)

it was around when I was 8 years old. it was in my old house, and I was sleeping in my room and I woke up alone on my giant king size bed (yeah I used to sleep with my mom for a while because our room arrangements got messed up) nobody was home because I didn’t hear any sounds, but i saw on the wall that was next to me was starting to drip blood. I wanted to go out of my room to see what was going on, so I stepped out and saw the house was empty, and all i heard was loud dog barking noises. I was terribly afraid of dogs so i ran back into my room and yeah the blood was still dripping but i woke up right then

25. Any enemies?

oOps I have too many of them. I’m the kind of person who kinda knows what I want from a friendship, and also knows what I don’t want. So if I see anyone who has any of those traits I dont want I end my friendship with them right then and there. and if someone who i see is being rude, then I just remember who they are and never try to be around them ever

26. Do you have a significant other?

nope and probably never will :’)))))

27. Do you get along with your family?

for the most part yeah, I mean my parents and I argue once in a while over something stupid and I'll just avoid them for like 2 days to a week. but my siblings and I are super well now especially because they all posted something about us on national siblings day when I thought they wouldn't lmao

28. Do you believe in miracles?

I think I do,, I am a huge believer on luck and stuff. so yes I do believe in miracles and I think miracles do happen

29. How are you?

well today is easter and I was supposed to go on a date, but it got canceled last minutes and I’m kinda upset about it since I was dressed and all. but I feel bad for being about upset because the other person might be actually in medical danger so I tried not to think too much about it by doing photoshoots outside my backyard and i think I may or may not have a potential for stay selca day 👀 (I haven’t done a selca day since maybe october/november of 2017,, and it was an igot7selcaday)

tagging: @jxsng @hwangwhatjin @hwanginthere @sunflowerseungmin @honey-innie @jinniesmeow @wangjyunhao @ughh-m @fluffylix @hjsracha

Of course youre not obligated to do this if you dont want to !!

#tagged !!#alright time to roll around and figure out what else to do #well i still need to find a ride to the concert :(((

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unfilstrofco · 3 years ago

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What the fuck happened?

Is a question I asked myself a lot in the last few weeks. Summer 2021 was the best time of my life, I had a job, friends, and kept any possible drug addiction under control. I would smoke weed before and after my shifts and on days off I would go to parties or the beach to do MDMA with my pals. At one point there was a special event at work where my shift started at 18:00, I was doing MDMA that day until 15:00, and most of it hit me on the bus to work, MDMA is funny like that sometimes. Am I proud of how a lived? No, I have many regrets, I pushed my mind and body to the absolute limit over the course of a few months, but I managed to function, and I was happy. I would do anything if I could go back to July 2021, before it all started.

I became very close to one of my housemates from year 1 of uni, we met September 2020, and became besties immediately. She helped me through a lot, got a job at the same place I did, and did as many drugs as I. It was the perfect friendship. Until I destroyed it. I said I would do anything to go back to July 2021, but holy shit, this is my biggest regret, if I could change one thing, it's the harm I caused her. I had already quit my job in October, spent November smoking weed, and in December was when the friendship fell apart. So I completely isolated myself for 2 months, from everyone I knew, and spiraled into addiction. I hate myself for this. I gave up fighting. I had the self-preservation of the most dedicated kamikaze pilot and the self-control of a rock in a river. I didn't sleep, I didn't eat and filled myself with drugs. I forgot sobriety. I stopped caring about university, missed all my deadlines and exams and now have no other choice but try to catch up.

There are many points in life where you're at a crossroads and you have to pick a path, you might never even realise what decisions led you to where you are now. But I do, and not because I'm some sort of genius who understands perfectly how their life works. It's the fact that every decision I made was so obviously the wrong one. I quit my job, which led to me just smoking weed and doing nothing. I betrayed my best friend, which made me lose everyone I had. The shame of it made me give up on life. The mistakes I made were obvious to me, even at the time and I still did them.

I was happy, working and functioning, so what the fuck happened? I know exactly what and I think that destroys me even more.

#life lessons #oh god help me #it hurts

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shirlleycoyle · 4 years ago

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It’s Crunch Time and Data Shows the USPS Is Still Experiencing Delays

This article was sent on Tuesday to subscribers of The Mail, Motherboard’s pop-up newsletter about the USPS, election security, and democracy. Subscribe to get the next edition before it is published here, as well as exclusive articles and the paid zine.

Hi everyone, exciting news: Our second zine has been printed and is currently on the way to us, and will be mailed out to subscribers later this week or early next week. This month's edition is about a topic that has always been near and dear to our hearts: Hacking. Since most of our hacking coverage is about things that happen online, we thought it'd be cool to have a snapshot of where hacking culture is, in a printed zine. The issue features stories by Motherboard staff and this incredible cover art by Rebekka Dunlap:

Anyone who subscribes now will also get a copy of our first zine. There are also a few people who have subscribed since we sent out the first zine—we will ship you both zines at the same time.

If you want to get in on the first batch, please subscribe by Friday.

We are now a week from Election Day (somehow!) and mail service in many parts of the country still sucks. Two areas in particular where mail service sucks are Philadelphia and Detroit, Democratic strongholds in key swing states. The Washington Post published an article focusing on mail problems in those two cities as well as other swing states, although the article also made clear they're hardly the only areas experiencing delays.

Mail delays are persisting despite the USPS's carefully worded promises to stop doing some—but not all—of the stuff that made people angry over the summer, at least until the election is over. For example, they stopped dismantling sorting machines but didn't promise to put any back in service (a few recent media reports claimed a federal judge ordered them to put the machines back together; the order merely stated the USPS must do so if it could no longer accommodate election mail which the USPS has long maintained won't be an issue). They said they would not ban late or extra truck trips or overtime but also insisted they never did that in the first place, even though they obviously curtailed them significantly. And the USPS never in fact fully resumed late or extra trips, which still lag far behind pre-DeJoy levels along with overall service. In sum, delays are persisting despite court orders that mandate USPS management knock it off (to use a technical legal term).

Why does mail service still lag its pre-DeJoy levels? And does it matter for tallying votes?

We live in a country in which all votes matter but some votes matter more than others. If you live in a swing state, the marginal value of your vote in the presidential election is a lot higher than mine is in New York. Similarly, mail delays in some parts of the country could have a much greater significance than in others.

Using performance data released by the USPS as part of one of the court cases, I tried to create one chart that summarizes first class mail delivery performance since the beginning of the year. It's a little messy since it's broken down by the USPS's 67 service districts, but I think it tells an important story. Below is a screenshot of the chart, but you can play around with an interactive version of it here (the big swooping outlier that runs off the chart in April is the New York district).

USPS First Class Service Performance by District

Every chart tells a story, sometimes misleadingly so. But the one this chart is telling me accords with all of the reporting I and many others have done on the USPS so far. So I think it's worth listening to.

The story goes like this: In 2020, two events destabilized USPS performance in different ways. The first was the pandemic, which began in mid-March in certain parts of the country and, in case you haven't noticed, is still going. It destabilized service in specific places at specific times. While this could impact delivery rates elsewhere if it caused key sorting facilities to be short-staffed, in general the impacts were relatively localized. To tell this story in terms of the way the graph looks, it caused some districts to get detached from the big clump of lines that represents the pre-2020 status quo. But the status quo clump didn't change much if at all.

Then, in July, the clump undergoes a "W" pattern, where service tanks, briefly rebounds a bit, tanks again, then rises once more to almost-but-not-quite reach the status quo levels again. This second destabilizing event coincides with Postmaster General Louis DeJoy's sudden policy shifts as well as the peak of coronavirus case counts over the summer.

However, I think it's pretty clear this "W" pattern was the result of DeJoy's changes, not coronavirus cases as the USPS continues to argue. We saw throughout the previous months how coronavirus affects mail service, and this looks altogether different.

When coronavirus delays mail service, some districts fall off the clump as case counts rise in that area. That's not what we see in July. Instead, we see a sudden, simultaneous drop-off across the entire postal network. Districts didn't fall off the clump. The clump went into freefall.

What happened afterwards is the most important lesson for today: the clump stopped being quite so clumpy, meaning service performance became more erratic and with a higher variance between districts. You can tell this by comparing the density of the lines in January to that of September. In January, the clump ranged from 85 percent to 95 percent, or a 10-point variance. By September, the clump is spread out from a high of just over 90 percent all the way down to about 70 percent, or a 20-point variance.

In total, the story of this chart is one of an organization losing control. Not just in swing states, but everywhere. Even non-swing states like Alabama and Mississippi are struggling with mail service, ranking towards the bottom of first-class mail delivery.

Which brings us back to the second of the two questions I asked at the top of this newsletter: does the USPS service tanking matter for counting votes? The best answer I can give right now is: probably, but we don't yet know how much.

First, we simply don't know how many people are waiting to mail ballots until the last minute. According to the U.S. Elections Project, there were 47 million mail-in ballots still waiting to be returned as of Sunday. Some of them will be mailed back in the last week. A smaller number of them will probably be mailed back on November 1 or 2. But many likely won't be mailed back at all, with voters either opting to cast their ballot in person on Election Day, during early voting if available, or not at all. Plus, a few states have changed postmarking and ballot delivery deadlines to add some buffer time for sluggish mail service, so even if a ballot is mailed back on, say, November 2, it might be counted in one state but not the other, even if they are both delivered on November 4.

Second, it's not clear whether the overall first-class mail statistics accurately reflect how ballots specifically are handled (which are only about two percent of overall first class mail during these election weeks). The USPS has pledged to make all possible resources and alternatives available to expedite ballot delivery, particularly in the final week before Election Day. How much will they actually do, and to what extent will it move ballots faster and more reliably? This is all yet to be seen.

Third, the distinction between being on time and being two days late has a huge difference in service delivery. According to the USPS, for the week of October 10 to October 16, 97.25 percent of first-class mail was delivered either on time or less than two days late. That's within a percentage point of its performance in January.

So a randomly selected voter within the U.S. would have roughly the same expectation a ballot mailed by Thursday will reach their election official by the end of Election Day with the similar confidence as before the pandemic. But, on aggregate, a one percentage point dip across tens of millions of ballots could mean hundreds of thousands of ballots not getting delivered in time. That could make a huge difference if these delayed ballots are concentrated in just a few key areas like Detroit and Philadelphia. It could also make little difference if they're spread out across the entire country roughly in proportion to the service performance lines we saw above. And, of course, smaller numbers of ballots make bigger differences in outcomes the further down the ballot you go. How much of a difference the USPS will make is one of those things you can only really know by doing the math after the votes are tallied. But I think we can all agree it would be better for democracy if the USPS was functioning like it did in early June.

This Week in Mail

I just sent links on Thursday and not that much has happened since then. Here’s a cool story about India’s postal network. Which reminds me, I’ve gotten a few questions about how postal services work in other parts of the world, how they have handled the internet transition, etc. I will have more to say on this but for now please read this excellent London Review of Books article from 2011.

Postcards

Wash hands

Wear masks

Write letters

Aaron

It’s Crunch Time and Data Shows the USPS Is Still Experiencing Delays syndicated from https://triviaqaweb.wordpress.com/feed/

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agreatperhaps12 · 7 years ago

Text

First 10k of the *WIP* MadUndergradScientist!Hamilton AU

“Here’s the thing,” Angelica said, as soon as John had taken the seat across her desk.

This, John thought, did not bode well. ‘Here’s the thing’ was an ease-your-way-into-the-conversation phrase if he’d ever heard one, and Angelica Schuyler didn’t get to be an editor in chief by mincing her words.

“I have your assignment for this semester’s feature,” Angelica said.

John cast his eyes down on the closed lid of his laptop, as though he could see through to the screen where, just moments before Angelica called him into her office, he’d been dotting the i’s and crossing the t’s of three feature pitches in preparation for the first editorial meeting of fall semester. “Okay,” he said slowly, ignoring the twinge of indignation in his gut, because it wasn’t like Angelica to assign her senior writers stories. She must be dead set on whatever she had in mind. “What is it?”

“A profile.”

John frowned. The student magazine occasionally ran short student profiles, but John didn’t know of anyone who’d ever merited a two-thousand-worder. “Who?”

Angelica plucked a pen from the cup next to her desktop keyboard and twirled it between her fingers—a tense tic John had only ever seen her exhibit on the eve of press days. “Alexander Hamilton.”

She fixed John with a querying look, as though this name might mean something to him. It did not. John did a head-shake-plus-shrug.

“Hamilton’s a senior in the neuroscience department,” Angelica said. “You can see him pictured in a few of the banner photos on the university site. He’s supposedly some sort of undergrad superstar.”

John flipped open his laptop and Googled the name. Sure enough, the first result was a page listing Alexander Hamilton among the members of the Washington Group in the neuro department. Hamilton’s icon showed a boy with doe-big brown eyes, dark hair pulled back in a painfully tight knot, and a deadpan expression. The brief profile didn’t tell John much more than Angelica already had: same year as John, neuroscience major, involved in research on “neural plasticity in the visual cortex.” Whatever that meant.

“Apparently, he’s coauthor on some soon-to-be-published paper, which he’ll present at a conference in a couple months,” Angelica said. “And apparently, it’s a pretty big deal.” Angelica lifted her hands, palms up, as though to say that the logistics of scientific academia were just one of the great mysteries of the universe she couldn’t be bothered to fully understand.

“How did you hear about him?” John said, copying Hamilton’s information from the school site into a Word document and returning to Google. A cursory scroll through the first page of results turned up LinkedIn and ResearchGate profiles, but no social media accounts. Odd.

“Eliza,” Angelica said. “Hamilton came into the Writing Center during one of her late-night shifts sometime last year, all worked up about getting a draft of this research paper in good enough shape to show his…lab manager, or whoever—”

“His PI,” John corrected unthinkingly, as he scanned the fifth page of Google, which still held no sign of a non-professional web presence for Alexander Hamilton.

“His what?”

John glanced up. “His PI, like, principal investigator? Washington. The one who leads the research group.”

Angelica blinked. “Why do you know that?”

John shrugged, not much in the mood to discuss his own principal investigator of a father, who could never understand why John would deign to do something like journalism, why he couldn’t be more like Henry, whose graduate research on molecular machinery actually made all that undergraduate tuition a worthwhile investment—

“Anyway,” Angelica said, “the first draft of that manuscript must have been truly awful, because he kept coming back for Eliza’s help for months, and you know Eliza. Never one to leave a stray out in the cold.” Angelica rolled her eyes, albeit fondly. “So now the paper is actually slotted for publication in…” Angelica checked her computer. “…Nature Neuroscience. He’s presenting the work at a Society for Neuroscience meeting in November, Eliza says.”

John quirked an eyebrow. “Did you say his paper is coming out in Nature?”

“Nature Neuroscience,” Angelica corrected. “Why?”

“Because it’s—” John stopped himself just in time from saying “high impact.” That would have made John sound like his father, and that would have made John hate himself a little bit. “It’s a pretty well known publication.”

John switched over to Google Scholar and found Alexander Hamilton’s name tacked on to some half-dozen publications since 2014. He whistled.

“Glad you find your subject suitably impressive,” Angelica said with a wry smile. “This piece should be an interesting new challenge, given the, ah, science-y angle.”

This was true. John had showcased club service trips, investigated frat expulsions from campus for brutal hazing rituals, spotlighted a group of students who attended the Women’s March on Washington—but nothing, as Angelica put it, remotely “science-y.” Which, John thought, a prickle of excitement in his stomach, actually injected a new kind of thrill into the work. Maybe he’d finally produce a piece that even his quantum physicist father would deem substantive (compared to “all that teenage fluff” John usually wasted his time on).

“The thing is,” Angelica said, and John could tell they’d reached the crux of her initial reticence to assign this story, “Eliza says Hamilton can be a piece of work.”

John raised his eyebrows. “Piece of work” was basically Eliza for “total dickhead.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Angelica confirmed gravely. “She’s come home a fair few nights ranting about his ego, his stubbornness, his neuroticism.” Angelica waved her hand in an et cetera gesture.

“I can handle it,” John said easily. Egoists typically made the best interviewees; it was the self-conscious ones with whom extracting quotes was like pulling teeth. And John could practically list “tolerating intolerably stubborn people” on his résumé, after living with his father and brother for eighteen years. As for neuroticism, there was plenty of that to go around right here in the newsroom.

Did Angelica really think so little of John that she didn’t think he could handle a difficult subject? He’d managed to wring several good quotes out of tight-lipped administrators when the Kappas had gotten booted off campus. That had taken a good amount of grit. Why was she babying him about this?

Something of John’s stung ego must have shown on his face, because Angelica shrugged. “A five-page spread on this guy is going to require a lot of interviews and observation days. I want you to attend this conference in November, too, since it’s only a two-hour train to D.C.”

She eyed John a moment longer, and her expression softened. “Look, you’re a thorough reporter and the best writer we’ve got on staff,” Angelica said matter-of-factly. “The nuts and bolts of his research are going to get tricky. I wouldn’t entrust the story to anyone else.” She paused. “But you’re also a Nice Guy, John, and I don’t want you getting steamrolled.”

That, John thought, may have been the sweetest thing Angelica had ever said to him.

“If I can’t wrangle a difficult source, then I’m probably not cut out for journalism,” John said.

“He gets a rise out of Eliza, John.”

Point taken. Still. John stood up before Angelica could keep piling on more reasons for him to be apprehensive. It was going to be fine. “First draft deadline?” he said promptly.

Angelica spun her chair to inspect the calendar tacked on her back wall. “First draft…Let’s say, first of October. No offense, but if this piece is going to have a bunch of science-y stuff in it, I expect revisions to get hairy. We’ll want to have something solid by the time you get the conference news hook in mid-November, so we can go to press the next week. Okay?”

“Okay,” John agreed, hovering by the door. “Oh, and Angelica?”

“Hmm?” Angelica hummed around the pen cap in her mouth as she scribbled John’s deadline on the calendar.

“So you know, for when you’re editing, the technical word for ‘science-y is ‘scientific.’”

Angelica twisted around to fix him with a flat look, but John saw the corner of her mouth twitch. “John?”

“Hmm?”

“Close the door on your way out.”

John grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

Outside Angelica’s office, the student newsroom was uncharacteristically quiet for a Wednesday afternoon. Only a few of the people who seemed to reside there from September to May were scattered about: Lafayette in the digital editing corner, dual screens illuminating his face blue, Peggy lip-syncing whatever was playing in her earbuds as she stocked the printer, Aaron hunched over his copy chief desk, doing god only knew what, since there was no copy to edit yet.

Granted, it was only the first week of classes. The inaugural editorial meeting of the school year wouldn’t take place until Friday afternoon—complete with pizza to bribe everyone into attending. There was no real reason for any of them to be here, yet, except perhaps Angelica, who also needed to prepare for her first meeting with the student newspaper staff, for which she was the campus life section editor (and who John knew to have a rolled-up sleeping bag tucked under her desk).

Still, to see the newsroom—usually thrumming with deadline-driven energy—so empty traced a tickle up the back of John’s neck.

John rolled his shoulders and wove his way through the maze of cubicles to Lafayette, who was so transfixed with his work that he didn’t appear to notice John’s approach. It wasn’t until John stopped up short in front of Lafayette’s desk, reached an arm over one of his monitors, and waved his hand back and forth across the screen that Laf jolted back and looked up—glare melting into a grin when he saw it was John.

Lafayette pulled his enormous headphones down around his neck so that John could hear Hannah Montana’s “Nobody’s Perfect” blaring through. It was probably a sign that John and Lafayette spent too much time together—or too much time working on the magazine—that John knew the next song on Laf’s “Frantic Photoshopping” playlist was “Chop Suey,” followed by “Everybody Wants to Rule the World.”

“Salut,” Lafayette said cheerfully. “How was your meeting?”

John, still a bit put out by Angelica’s apparent lack of faith in him, said, “Fine.” He was aiming for airy, but must not have quite hit the mark, because Lafayette’s brow furrowed. “What are you working on?” John said quickly before Laf could ask any more questions. Lafayette couldn’t possibly have magazine work yet. John bent over his screen to get an upside-down glimpse of what he was editing. A flyer of some sort.

“Herc is helming bio club this year,” Lafayette said, “so he asked me to design some meeting advertisements for the student center.”

Ah, of course. Lafayette would do just about anything for Herc, his randomly assigned freshman roommate and effective other-half ever since. They were about as inseparable as two people could be, when one lived in the communications building on the eastern edge of campus and the other hardly left the bio building on the west side.

“I thought Herc had decided not to do that,” John said. He distinctly recalled Hercules announcing last spring—when the then-president of bio club was pestering him relentlessly to take her place once she’d graduated—that he’d sooner declare himself a Flat Earther than assume any more extracurricular responsibilities for the fall. He was already captain of intramural ultimate frisbee and team leader for a contingent of RAs (in the freshman neighborhood of campus, no less).

“Oh, you know Herc,” Lafayette said, eyes back on his computer screen, rolling his earlobe between his left forefinger and thumb—his version of the Angelica pen-twirl. “Quand le service appelle…”

It was times like these that John especially resented his father forcing him to drop French sophomore year of high school to pick up AP statistics. He simply nodded as though he understood and agreed; John had learned early on that if he asked Lafayette for translation every time Laf unthinkingly slipped into French, most of their conversations would progress like a car in bumper-to-bumper traffic. Herc must be nearly fluent by now, John thought.

Laf deftly traced his cursor along the edge of a cartoon cell to carve away the image’s background. “I’m actually meeting Herc for dinner in—” He lifted his eyes to the clock on the upper corner of his screen. “—Fifteen minutes, if you want to join.”

“Sure.” John hadn’t actually seen Hercules since he’d been back at school.

“Fantastic. Let me just finish this,” Lafayette said, eyes on his editing.

John set up shop with his own computer at the cubicle next to Laf’s and opened a new email. Dear Alexander, he wrote, paused, then backspaced the name.

It was tricky business, addressing student interviewees. John never knew how formal to make his first emails. Of course, Alexander Hamilton must be around John’s age, so it wouldn’t be a total faux pas for John to pull a “Dear First Name,” here. But if Angelica was right about Eliza being right about Hamilton’s overinflated ego, then lacing his first email with a bit of flattery probably couldn’t hurt.

Besides, the memory of Hamilton’s straight-laced lab profile picture gave John the impression that it was probably best to err on the side of professionalism.

Dear Mr. Hamilton,

I’m a reporter for the student semesterly magazine, and I’m writing an exposé about you and your work. The story will have a particular focus on the research you will present at the Society for Neuroscience conference later this fall.

My first-draft deadline is October 1. I would like to schedule a preliminary meeting with you to arrange interviews on days that I could shadow you in the lab. I’m available any afternoon this coming week, from Monday, September 4 to Thursday, September 7, after 4 p.m. If any of those windows matches your availability, please let me know the best time and place to meet you. If not, please suggest a couple alternatives that suit your schedule.

Thanks very much for your time. I look forward to hearing from you.

Sincerely, John Laurens

Sent. John snapped his laptop shut. Now all he had to do was wait.

And wait, and wait, and wait, apparently, because the rest of the week passed with no word from John’s interviewee-to-be. Each time he opened his inbox, John’s scanned the cache of new emails for the name “Hamilton,” and his stomach did an uncomfortable flip each time he found nothing.

John usually liked to give his sources several days’ leeway on getting back to him. Especially amidst the flurry of first-week-back activity, he could understand how his email may have gotten lost in Hamilton’s inbox. But at Friday’s editorial meeting, when Angelica asked how his reporting was going—with a look, like she knew John was spinning his tires—the words that tumbled out of John’s mouth were, “Great. Got an interview lined up for next week.”

The buoying sensation of satisfaction that momentarily swelled in his chest at Angelica’s impressed expression deflated just as quickly when the snide voice in the back of his mind (which sounded an awful lot like John’s father) said, Liar. As soon as the meeting adjourned, John sent a hurried email to Hamilton.

Dear Mr. Hamilton,

I’m writing to follow up on my previous message about scheduling a time to meet this coming week. Thanks!

Sincerely, John

He also sent an email to Professor Washington to request an interview. John wasn’t sure how well the head of a whole lab might know one of his lowly undergrad underlings, but if Hamilton was as prolific as Google Scholar made him out to be, John expected they must at least be familiar with each other.

Deciding that he couldn’t wait for Hamilton’s reply to start his reporting, John spent much of the following morning in the library, printing off copies of journal papers coauthored by Alexander Hamilton and trying to slog through the first few pages. Honestly, though, reading even the abstract of each was like trying to clear a forest trail with a table knife. John constantly had to pause in reading to look up words he didn’t recognize and scribble their definitions in the woefully thin margins. Or highlight words that, when he Googled them, he could only find used in similarly dense, indecipherable academic articles.

By lunchtime, John was resigned to the fact that his only hope of understanding Alexander Hamilton’s work lay in Alexander Hamilton himself. Deeply unfortunate, given Hamilton’s continued silence.

John did get one pleasant surprise on Saturday afternoon in the form of a reply from Professor Washington.

Dear John,

I’d be happy to speak with you about Alexander. He’s one of my best students, and I’m glad his work is receiving some recognition.

I’ve attached my office hours for the semester. Let me know if there’s a time that works for you, and I’ll block it off. Thanks.

Cheers, Dr. W

Pleased (and relieved) as John was to get this response, he couldn’t help his incredulity at the fact that Hamilton’s professor had bothered to get back to John before Hamilton himself.

John told himself to be patient, though. His own inbox was flooded with messages, from university bookstore advertisements to welcome-back messages from various school administrators, not to mention syllabi and first assignments from professors. Hamilton probably just needed the weekend to catch up on his cyber-correspondence.

...Or maybe not, John grumbled to himself on Sunday night as he sat in the library with Hercules and Lafayette, trying not to check his email for the third time since they’d sat down an hour ago.

“What’s up with you?”

“Hmm?” John glanced up at Hercules from the “How to file a FOIA” webpage his glazed eyes had been trying to focus on for the past twenty minutes. It was deadly boring.

Hercules pointed his highlighter at John’s hand, which John now realized had been drumming an agitated staccato against their tabletop. Oh.

“Sorry,” John said, folding his hands together in his lap.

“It’s okay,” Herc said, exchanging a glance with Lafayette, who had looked up from his own work. “You’ve just seemed...tense lately.” Hercules hitched a lightly teasing smile on his face. “And It’s too early in the semester for you to be this stressed about work.” Like he wasn’t one of the hardest working people John knew.

“I’m waiting for a source to get back to me,” John said, rubbing his eyes.

“Ah,” Hercules said sympathetically. Although he had no first-hand experience with this particular type of sitting-idle stress, he’d known John long enough to know that awaiting email replies made John feel as though someone was wringing out his stomach like a rag.

Awaiting email replies was, in John’s opinion, the absolute worst part of reporting. He’d never been the type to enjoy group projects, as he hated depending on anyone else to get his work done. But since he literally could not write stories without sources, journalism sometimes felt like one long, group project. The kind where he couldn’t be angry at anyone for not getting back to him promptly, because they didn’t even know they were in his group until he emailed them, and then they were doing him a favor by agreeing to help at all.

John gave a long-suffering sigh and checked his inbox again. Nothing.

“Who is it?” Hercules said.

“Oh, just some—Actually.” John sat up straighter in his chair. It was always a long-shot asking anyone if they knew anyone at a state university as big as this, even if they were both life science undergrads in the same year, but Hercules seemed to know everyone. “Alexander Hamilton. He’s a neuroscience student that I’m profiling for my feature this semester. Know him?”

Herc turned to his laptop, presumably to go social-media-spelunking for a photo of Hamilton. “Name rings a bell…” he murmured.

“You’ll have to look him up on the school site,” John said. “He doesn’t have a Facebook or a Twitter, as far as I can tell.”

“Weird,” Lafayette said, stroking the stubble on his chin thoughtfully. “Wait, I thought at Friday’s meeting you said you’d already scheduled an interview with this guy?”

“Ah, yes,” John said. “That. That was a lie.”

“Why?”

John couldn’t help glancing around, like Angelica might suddenly appear over his shoulder. “Because Angelica made it clear that she thought I’d have a hard time pinning this guy down,” John said.

“Why did she—” Lafayette began, but was interrupted by a drawn-out, “Oh,” from Herc.

John’s stomach twisted tighter. “What ‘oh’?”

“I definitely know this guy,” Hercules said. “Or, I don’t know him know him. We were in the same recitation group for a couple of our intro classes. He’s…” John waited for Herc to settle on the right word. “Kind of a dick. And when I say kind of, I mean he is. A dick.”

Lafayette barely suppressed a snort. John slumped in his chair.

“Like, he’d show up late all the time and interrupt the TAs and just generally had an air like he thought he was better than the rest of us,” Herc said. “Everyone kind of hated his guts.”

Well, that made two-for-two negative Hamilton reviews from a couple of the most sociable people John knew. Fantastic.

When he caught sight of John’s expression, though, Herc hurried to add,

“Disclaimer, this was all freshman year. Loads of people come into college as cocky little bastards, right?” Hercules shrugged. “He’s probably chilled out by now.”

John didn’t bother to correct him with a thirdhand account of Eliza’s experience, because Hercules was now looking slightly guilty for dialing up John’s apprehension.

“Yeah, probably,” John agreed, and started sending off another follow-up message to Hamilton.

By Monday afternoon, John’s anxiousness had morphed into outright irritation.

“Go stake out his lab,” Lafayette suggested over lunch, watching John stab grumpily at his salad.

John chewed his lower lip uncertainly. “You don’t think that’s too…aggressive?” The last thing he wanted to do was actively chase Hamilton away.

“You’re the one taking the investigative journalism course,” Laf said with a shrug. “Aren’t you supposed to be practicing aggressiveness?”

John shoved a forkful of lettuce in his mouth in lieu of responding. Lafayette grinned.

“Laf’s right,” Hercules said, which did not count, because Herc tended to agree with most everything Lafayette said. “You could probably do with some practice, in the assertiveness department.”

“I can be assertive,” John said indignantly, pulling his shoulders back a bit.

“Sure you can, John,” said Herc, a little patronizingly, at the same time Laf said, “I would not endorse you for assertiveness on LinkedIn.” Herc gave Laf a light thwack on the shoulder with the back of his hand.

They were right, of course. Pushing people around just wasn’t in John’s nature. Growing up, it had been John’s father and brother who were the unstoppable forces, and it was John’s only hope was to be as immovable an object as possible.

Still, John figured he didn’t really have anything to lose, at this point. He could do homework just as well in a hallway outside Hamilton’s lab as he could do in the library. So John rechecked the Washington Lab’s room number online and made his way to the neuroscience building at quarter-to-five.

The lab turned out to be in a subbasement, where the halls were mostly silent sans the hum of overhead fluorescent lighting. As John drew closer to his destination, he could hear the faint sound of voice spilling out of Room 0014’s open door. Bingo. John drew to a halt just outside.

He was looking into an office suite, the walls of which were lined with half a dozen shut doors. John’s eyes swept over the couches with pilled cushions shoved up against the white cinderblock walls, the kitchenette area with three coffeemakers on the counter, the large round, wooden table in the middle of the room stacked with textbooks and binders. And then, there was a smaller classroom desk jammed in one corner, piled high with open, dog-eared books and loose papers, and had more stray papers slipping out of its cubby.

There were also two men at the far end of the room, standing shoulder to shoulder with their backs to John, working something out on a whiteboard.

John rapped his knuckles against the open door and they spun around with identical expressions of surprise. John supposed people in subbasement labs didn’t get many unannounced visitors.

“Hi,” he said, glancing between the two men. They both looked at least a couple years older than John. Graduate students, he presumed. “Sorry to bother you.”

“There aren’t any classes down here,” the taller of the two said shortly, probably taking John for a lost freshman.

John bristled. “I know,” he said evenly, which of course was untrue. John had never set foot in this building before, but. Irrelevant. “Is this Professor Washington’s lab?”

“The offices for it,” the shorter guy said shrewdly. “Washington isn’t in right now, though.”

“I’m actually looking for Alexander Hamilton,” John said. “I’ve been trying to get in touch with him for several days, but he hasn’t returned my emails.”

To John’s surprise, Taller Guy let out a rather dramatic scoff. “Yeah, that sounds about right. Fucking Hamilton.”

“Fucking Hamilton,” the other agreed.

“So…he does work in this lab,” John said, stepping into the room.

“Unfortunately,” Taller Guy said flatly.

“Do you know when he might be in?”

Taller Guy shrugged. “Most days he’s here nine to three.”

“Oh,” John said, internally cursing himself for not showing up just a couple hours earlier. “Guess I’ll come back tomorrow morning, then. Thanks.”

“He means nine p.m. to three a.m.,” Shorter Guy corrected, and at John’s appalled expression, added, “Yeah, the kid’s basically nocturnal.”

“Fucking Hamilton,” Taller Guy muttered again.

“Can non-neuro students even access the building that late?” John said.

“Probably not,” Shorter Guy said unhelpfully.

John pinched the bridge of his nose. It was like Hamilton was actively trying to make this as difficult as possible for John. “Fucking Hamilton,” came out of John’s mouth before he could stop to censor himself—and, remarkably, elicited a smirk from both graduate students.

“That’s the spirit, ah—what’s your name?” Shorter Guy said.

“John Laurens,” he said.

“James Madison,” Shorter Guy said with a thumb pointed at his chest, then jerked his head at Taller Guy. “And Thomas Jefferson. Third-year doctoral candidates.”

“What do you want with Hamilton, anyway?” Thomas said, in a tone of veiled interest.

“I’m a writer for the undergrad student magazine,” John explained, “and I’m profiling him for our fall issue.”

Thomas snorted. “Just what Hamilton needs—media attention. Washington already lets him think he’s god’s gift to neuroscience.”

“Well, he’s not going to get any media attention if he’s impossible to reach,” John said, dropping into a chair at the round table and propping his chin on crossed arms.

“Yeah, he tends to ghost like that,” James said, voice much warmer now that it was clear John was no friend of Hamilton’s. “Very annoying, that.”

“You guys work with him?” John asked.

“Not on the same research project,” James said, “but we work with mouse models, too. There’s only a couple of surgical stations in the lab, so coordinating experiment time is key. And difficult, when some little undergrad shit won’t respond to any of our group messages. Even Washington has trouble getting in touch with him sometimes, and Hamilton practically kisses the ground Washington walks on.”

“When he’s not kissing Washington’s ass,” Thomas added.

At least, John thought wearily, it sounded like Alexander Hamilton was an equal-opportunity asshole, and that he probably wasn’t ignoring John’s messages alone…although John couldn’t decide whether that improved or worsened his prospects for completing this assignment in a relatively timely or painless manner.

Well, if John couldn’t get ahold of Hamilton himself just at the moment, he could at least start background reporting. “Did you say surgical stations?” he asked James, casually slipping his reporter’s notebook out of his back pocket and tugging the golf pencil out of its wire spiral.

“Yeah, for inserting electrodes into the mice’s brains,” James explained, giving himself bunny ears. “So we can measure their brain activity during experiments.”

John scribbled away. “What kind of brain activity?”

“We look at what’s going on in the hippocampus,” James said. “Learning and memory. That kind of thing.”

“What about Hamilton?” John asked.

“He looks at vision stuff,” James said, with a marked decrease in interest with the subject change, just as Thomas said, “You can see his stuff out in the hall. We should probably get back to…” and jerked his head at the red-stained dry-erase board.

“Right, right,” John said, disappointed that he hadn’t been able to get at least a sentence of plain-language description of Hamilton’s work from them, but recognizing this as his invitation to leave. “Thanks so much for your help. It seems like you’re doing some really cool work around here.”

This turned out to be just the right amount of cajolery to make James smile abashedly and allow, “Look, we’re probably going to bounce before Hamilton gets in, but if you want, you could leave him a note that you dropped by.”

James pointed at the overflowing corner desk. “That’s his stuff, if you want a post-it to slap on top.”

John raised his eyebrows at the incredible one-man mess.

“Yeah,” Thomas said dryly. “We had to quarantine his clutter to that desk. Not that that keeps him from re-infecting the big table with his junk every few days.”

“You know what, I think I’m good on the whole post-it thing,” John said. For one, John wasn’t at all sure Hamilton would notice a single sticky amidst his heap of papers, and for another, there was no way John was stepping foot outside the neuro building before he saw Hamilton in-person. “I’m gonna check out the posters. Thanks again.”

James flicked him a tired salute and Thomas raised a hand in farewell before they both turned back to the whiteboard and left John to his own devices.

Out in the hall, John walked back and forth, snapping photos of all the posters with A. Hamilton listed as coauthor. The jargon-laden posters were nearly as indecipherable as the papers, but the diagrams did help. A little.

When he was finished, John meandered down the hall in search of a comfortable place to wait out Hamilton. Finding none, he eventually sat down with his face against the wall and opened his computer on crossed legs. Looked like it was time to file some more FOIA requests.

The tedium stretched on, uninterrupted—sans James and Thomas loudly debating something down the hall—until eight o’clock, when John’s ears pricked up at the ding of an incoming email. Hamil—? No. Eliza. Possibly the first time in John’s life he was ever disappointed to see a message from Eliza.

Hi John!

I’m writing the first draft for my first American Lit essay and wanted to see if you’re still interested in being rough-draft-peer-review pals this semester, even though you’ve abandoned me to take Brit Lit instead :( I hear Prof Schmidt’s essay due date sched is p much the same for both classes. We could set up an email exchange? Please say yes! I missed your feedback over the summer. Let me know :)

Also, want to meet up sometime this week?? I missed your friendship during the summer!!! Hehe.

John grinned. Eliza was the only person he knew who could use triple exclamation points un-ironically without sounding either sarcastic or simpering. He’d missed her practically heroic levels of cheer over the summer, especially the days he was confined to his gray-walled cubicle for eight straight hours. He replied yes on both counts, suggesting the next day to meet up. Maybe she could give him some tips on Hamilton-wrangling. Speaking of…

John glanced up and down the hall—even though he knew he would’ve heard the footsteps of anyone approaching before they turned either corner—then pulled out his phone and texted Lafayette that he’d be home late tonight and not to wait up.

John was startled from light sleep later by—finally—the sound of soles smacking against linoleum at a brisk clip. John lifted his head off the wall and blinked rapidly, clearing his blurry vision just in time to see someone turning the corner and starting to walk down the hall toward him. The someone was about John’s height, with his hair tied back taut, his head bent low over a textbook. So low, in fact, that he didn’t seem to see John at all. As the boy approached, John glimpsed the earbuds jammed in both his ears, and heard the boy muttering lowly to himself. Whether he was murmuring along to his music or reading aloud, John couldn’t tell.

Was it—It had to be, right? The hair alone, but. John couldn’t see his face, so he couldn’t quite be sure.

When the boy drew level with the door of Room 0014, he stopped walking before he even looked up, as though his feet had carried him to this precise spot my sheer muscle memory. John watched him dig in the chest pocket of a baggy trench coat to withdraw a jangling key ring. The boy held his open book against his chest with one hand while maneuvering the key ring with his other. It was only now that John realized James and Thomas must have left and locked up shop sometime after he’d drifted off. John checked his watch. Nearly eleven, now. He looked back up at the boy, whose self-talk had taken on a distinctly disgruntled tone as he fiddled with his keys.

Definitely Hamilton.

John stood up and slung his bag over one shoulder, just as Hamilton gruffly shoved open the door and practically tumbled over the threshold.

John followed. He could still hear Hamilton mumbling when he peered through the doorway. Hamilton had already spilled a cascade of work materials from his backpack onto the round table. John watched him doff his trench coat, under which Hamilton was wearing a ratty gray hoodie. This struck John as slightly odd, given that it was only the first week of September and still quite warm out, even when the sun was down. Most academic buildings were air conditioned to the point of frigidity, but still.

John was tempted to pull out his phone and note every detail for potential placement in his story, but right now he had smoke to catch.

“Excuse me,” John said as politely as possible in his still sleep-thick voice. No response. John rubbed the sleep from his left eye. He just wanted to go home.

“Excuse me,” John said, a little bit louder now, but Hamilton just kept rummaging through the bunch of papers he’d dumped out, talking under his breath. Oh, for the love of—

John shook his head and schooled his exhausted, irate expression into something resembling “professionally determined.” Contrary to what Angelica and everyone else seemed to think, John was not so much of a pushover that he was incapable of doing his job. He marched up to tap Hamilton on the shoulder.

Hamilton flinched violently under John’s touch and spun on his heels, planting his palms on the table behind him to look at John with wide, almost fearful eyes.

John, for his part, was so shocked by this overwrought reaction that the stern expression fell from his face and he leaned back, hands up. He could see now that Hamilton, who was panting as though John had dunked his head underwater rather than touched his shoulder, still had earphones stuck in his ears. Ah.

For a hairline moment, the sight of Hamilton made John’s chest ache. The school site photo hadn’t done justice to the bruise-dark circles under Hamilton’s eyes or the slight concavity of his cheeks. The boy looked so supremely disturbed to find an unexpected face in his personal space that the next words queued up to leave John’s mouth were, somewhat ridiculously, ‘It’s okay.’

But before John could say anything, Hamilton’s panic-stricken expression pinched into an ugly scowl and he wrenched out his earbuds to snap, “What the hell is your problem?”

What…what the hell was John’s…Seriously?

“My problem?” John said, the pitch of his voice rising higher than was perhaps dignified. “Why didn’t you email me back?”

“What?” Hamilton spluttered. “Who are you?”

John opened his mouth but stopped up short. Right. In their conversational kerfuffle, he’d skipped clean over introductions. Which only made him angrier at Hamilton, honestly. John was a stringent eleven-to-seven sleeper. So this conversation was happening way too late for him to have his head on straight. He crossed his arms. “I’m the journalist who’s been trying to get in touch with you for a better part of a week.”

“Journalist?” Hamilton said. He was tapping his foot against the tile agitatedly. Annoyingly.

John exhaled slowly through his nose. “Yes. For the student magazine.”

“Oh. That.” Hamilton’s tone was distinctly disdainful now, but John noticed his hands to a weird…jazz-hand-like tremor, where they were hanging at Hamilton’s sides, like Hamilton needed to physically shake the excess energy out of himself.

“Yes,” John said again, levelly.

“Yeah, thanks, but no thanks.”

John stared at him. Contrary to the rest of Hamilton, which appeared in constant erratic movement, he didn’t seem to need to blink as much as the average person, giving his gaze a somewhat unnatural intensity. John’s eyes felt dry just looking at him, although that might have been residual stickiness from falling asleep in his contacts earlier. God, he wanted to go to bed. “What do you mean ‘no thanks’?”

“No. Thank. You,” Hamilton repeated, enunciating each syllable with mocking precision. “Go find someone else to write about.” He made a little shooing gesture with one hand, which John saw was covered with black pen ink in truly horrendous handwriting.

John tamped down on the urge to grip Hamilton’s shoulders and give him a good, hard, shake. “I can’t,” he bit out. “My editor assigned me to write the story about you.”

“Well, I can’t help that, can I?” Hamilton gave a kind of half-smirk and sank into a chair. To John’s supreme irritation, he shifted in his chair to hunch over the table and start picking through his papers, as though the conversation were finished.

John was far from finished. He yanked out the chair beside Hamilton’s and planted a hand over the page Hamilton was reading. Hamilton jumped. John felt the corner of his mouth twitch and immediately felt disgusted with himself. He wasn’t the kind of person who delighted in others’ moments of weakness. He wasn’t his—

He could be a Nice Guy and still do his job.

So John peeled his palm off Hamilton’s paper—embarrassed by the perspiration that made it momently stick—and muttered a “sorry.” Which Hamilton did not acknowledge.

John inhaled, exhaled, and said gently, “Why don’t you want to do it?”

Hamilton was back to leafing through his papers. “I don’t need to explain myself you,” he said. “You’re the one who came to me.”

If John wasn’t very much mistaken, Hamilton’s tone had tilted toward satisfaction, there, which gave him an idea. Time for a little ego-stroking. “When I publish the profile, it will make the lab look good,” he said. “Could score you some points with the other students and your P.I. He seemed into the idea when I emailed him for an interview.”

“When I publish my research, it makes the lab look good,” Hamilton said shortly. “That scores me plenty of ‘points’ with Washington.” No comment on the graduate students, though, John noted.

Now that they were sitting down, John could feel Hamilton’s leg bouncing under the table. Did this guy ever sit still?

Meanwhile, Hamilton was wearing an expression like, Is that the best you’ve got?

“Still, it must be tough, being the only undergrad in your lab,” John said casually. “The profile could only boost your…scientific street cred around the department.”

Hamilton’s eye twitched, but he said quite evenly, “I was the youngest student ever to join this lab and the youngest student in the department ever listed coauthor on a paper. I’m currently the undergrad with the most publications to his name and the highest GPA. Not too worried about my ‘scientific street cred,’” he said, crooking his fingers in pejorative air quotes.

“Has James Madison or Thomas Jefferson ever been the subject of a five-page magazine spread?”

John knew he’d played an ace the moment Hamilton’s leg stopped bouncing.

“My reporting wouldn’t take up too much of your time,” John hurried on. “I know you’re extremely busy.”

Hamilton wasn’t look at him now, but John could see him chewing the inside of his cheek. “Did Washington—” he began, in a tone much softer than the one he’d been using with John, and then cleared his throat. The leg jitters started back up again. “He…seemed okay with it?”

“Absolutely,” John said promptly. Come on, he thought. Come on. “He agreed to an interview next week, and it’d be great if I’d already had one interview with you beforehand. Even better if I could shadow you in the lab first.”

Hamilton looked up sharply. “Shadow?”

“Uh, yeah,” John said. He could feel Hamilton pulling back and rushed to say, “Just observing you work in the lab. Seeing you in your element.” John should really also see Hamilton in his element outside the lab—attending a club meeting, playing a sport, something—but this didn’t seem the moment to raise that point. John would have to casually slip it into conversation at a later date, once he’d pried a little bit of trust from Hamilton’s nail-bitten, twitchy hands.

For the moment, Hamilton still looked extremely reluctant to let John hover over his shoulder, no matter how professional his purpose.

“All the time I would spend with you is to make sure I paint a detailed, accurate picture of you and your work,” John said. Come on, come on.

“I—”

John caught Hamilton’s eyes flick over to one of the office doors and followed his gaze. The nameplate read: “George Washington, PhD.”

Hamilton let out a long-suffering sigh and then said, “Okay.”

John had never felt such relief over such an unenthusiastic response.

Before leaving Hamilton alone, John walked him through the basic outline of when John would need him before the first-draft deadline: a couple hour-long interviews, plus answers to fact-checks and follow-up questions that John would send along by email, a few days to shadow in the lab, a couple other scattered meetings here and there.

“I thought you said this wasn’t going to take much time,” Hamilton grumbled as John flipped his monthly planner to the “October” page.

“It’s all going to be spread out over a month,” John said, trying for reassuring and sounding exasperated, even to his own ears. It would have been even more dispersed, John thought, if Hamilton had responded to any of his emails—but, again, probably not the time to raise that point.

“In the meantime, is there anyone else you’d recommend I contact for outside interviews, besides Washington?”

Hamilton squinted. “Why?” he said, because of course no part of this could be easy.

“I need outside perspectives to flesh out the profile,” John said. “People who know you well, like friends.”

“Nope,” Hamilton said, deadpan.

John’s turn to squint. He couldn’t tell whether Hamilton was saying he didn’t have any friends worth contacting, or whether he didn’t have any at all. The latter seemed unlikely, even for Hamilton. Maybe he meant he refused to allow John to contact his friends.

“Family?” John tried.

Hamilton just kept wearing that inscrutable expression.

“Look, if you don’t come up with a short list, at least a couple of people—professors, anyone—then I’m going to fall back on Jefferson and Madison,” John said.

Hamilton wrinkled his nose. “Ugh, fine, fine. I’ll think up a couple names for you.”

John smiled, triumphant. He was getting pretty deft at using the carrot-and-stick of Jefferson and Madison’s disparagement, along with Washington’s approval, to nudge Hamilton in the right direction. John licked his forefinger and flicked the page over to his November calendar.

“Oh, and I’ll be attending the Society for Neuroscience with you,” John said, marking the 11th through the 15th with a little star in the corner of each box.

“What? Why?”

“Because when we release the magazine at the beginning of December, it’ll be good to have a recent news hook for the story,” John explained.

“I thought the the story was due at the beginning of October,” Hamilton said.

“The first draft,” John said with affected patience, “is due October first. Then it goes through revisions with my first editor, then a top editor, then through copy-edit—” “Okay, okay,” Hamilton said, shaking his head irately. Just as thoroughly unconcerned with the annals of journalistic publication as Angelica was with scientific publication. “Got it. Anything else?”

“Er.” John scanned his mental checklist once more. “I don’t think so.” He tore a page out of his reporter’s notebook. “I could write out a lit of the details for you—”

“Email,” Hamilton said, waving his hand dismissively.

“Would you actually read this one?” John said dryly.

Hamilton paused. “I read your other emails,” he said, before continuing to flip through pages of what looked like intro-level homework assignments.

John stared at him for a few seconds, no idea what to make of that, then decided the only thing to say was, “Okay.” He stood up and pushed his chair in. “I’ll be in touch, then.”

Hamilton lifted a hand in farewell without lifting his eyes from the papers.

The following morning, John met Eliza at the community garden behind the freshman dorm where she was an RA. Eliza had volunteered in that garden practically from the moment she set foot on campus—which meant that John had volunteered at that garden for almost as long.

Eliza had become John’s first college friend in their shared English class, first semester freshman year. This was back when John was even more reserved than he was now, back before he’d met Laf and Herc, back when he was fresh out of an all-boys high school and it was something of a novelty to have a girl sit beside him in class—let alone ask him, apropos of nothing, how his summer had been.

So on the first Saturday morning that Eliza texted John, bright and early, with an invitation to plant seeds and pull weeds behind her building for a couple of hours, there was really nothing for John to do but say yes. Fast-forward three years, and now he had his own pair of mud-encrusted gardening gloves.

“John! Over here.” Eliza popped up from behind a row of tomato cages that were bursting with greenery and heavy, red fruit. She waved him over, and John meandered through the squash, zucchini, and pumpkin patches. Eliza brushed the dirt off her ankle-length skirt and wrapped him in a hug.

“How are you?” she said, pulling back but leaving her hands on John’s shoulders to look him up and down.

Not having grown up with a mother, John couldn’t say for certain, but he got impressions from books and movies, at least, that this was a very motherly move.

“I’m good, thanks,” John said, smiling semi-self-consciously under Eliza’s critical once-over. “How can I help?”

“Got your gloves?”

John pulled them out of his back pocket.

“Good man.” Eliza beamed at him and wiped the sheen of sweat off her forehead with a forearm. “We’re just weeding today. Come on down, the dirt’s fine.”

John sank to his knees in the soft soil beside her, savoring the feeling of cold damp through his jeans. He’d missed this. “How was your summer?” he asked, yanking out his first weed with vigor and adding it to Eliza’s already impressive pile.

“Too short, as always,” she said, wistful. “Working in the Writing Center is so easy over the summer. Hardly anyone comes in. So I played a lot of Bananagrams with the librarians and did some pleasure reading, some pleasure writing.”

Eliza exhaled sharply to blow a stray wisp of hair off her forehead. “Peggy stayed on campus, too,” she continued, “working as a counselor for some high school STEM camps that ran throughout June and July. It was so nice to have the company.”

Even though he’d been friends with all the Schuyler sisters for the better part of three years, it still bemused John greatly to think that anyone could enjoy the company of their siblings as much as they did.

As if on cue, Eliza asked, “How was your summer at home?”

John’s hand slipped on the plant he was trying to uproot. He tightened his grip. “Work was okay,” he said, knowing full well this was not the question Eliza had been asking. “I got assigned a few stories to fill in for out-of-town staffers, but mostly I did a lot of coffee-grabbing, file-cabinet-reorgnizing, and other assorted grunt work. At least I got paid, though.”

“And you made professional connections,” Eliza pointed out, waving a weed at him.

John decided not to say that he wasn’t sure how much any of those professional connections from his small Kentucky town would matter out here on the east coast, because this was just Eliza’s way: eyes forever fixed on the bright side. John could have told her he’d been working down in a coal mine all summer and she’d probably say, What a great adventure! What great exercise! What amazing camaraderie you must have forged with your fellow miners! What excellent creative nonfiction fodder!

“Sure,” is what John said instead. “Glad to be back at school, though.”

Eliza’s expression shifted toward sympathy, now, because she’d read enough of John’s angsty nonfiction pieces and poems in their creative writing classes over the years to know that John’s relationship with his father was, well, fraught. Effectively nonexistent at best, confrontational at worst, and usually hovering in some weird middle ground full of awkward dinner table silences and pointed car ride questions about John’s class schedule and post-grad plans.

“It is nice to have everyone back,” Eliza said smoothly, apparently guessing that John had nothing else to say on the subject of summer that she didn’t already know. “Although I’ve hardly seen Angelica at all since classes started.”

This was saying something, John thought, given that Angelica was rooming with Eliza in her two-bedroom RA suite, this year.

“Most evidence of her presence, some days, is the trail of empty coffee mugs she leaves around,” Eliza said.

“Lots of late nights in the newsroom already?” John said.

“Yup.” Eliza rolled her eyes in the same fond way Angelica had, when she’d lamented Eliza’s ceaseless patience with Alexander Hamilton. “That girl works too hard.”

John could hardly argue with that. Angelica, though a year older than John and Eliza, would graduate with them this spring, because she’d taken two gap semesters after sophomore year to work journalism internships in Manhattan. Every summer, she’d helped teach journalism workshops for high schoolers at a university back in her California hometown. And since their junior year, she’d served as editor in chief of the student magazine and campus life section editor of the student paper. For as long as he’d known her, Angelica Schuyler had exhibited the professional development momentum of a freight train.

Angelica and Alexander Hamilton would probably get on like a house on fire, John thought.

“That reminds me,” he said, giving a particularly resistant weed a ruthless tug, “I hear I have you to thank for my current Alexander Hamilton assignment.”

Eliza looked over at him with a concerned pinch in her brow. “Oh, yes,” she said. “Angelica told me she’d commissioned you to cover Alexander. Is he behaving himself? He can be a handful, can’t he?” Like a hand-wringing mother at a parent-teach conference.

“I’ve only met him once,” John said. “Had to corner him in the lab because he wouldn’t answer any of my emails. He was…prickly.”

“Oh, yes,” Eliza said again, nodding knowingly. “He tends to do that, too.”

Whether she meant Hamilton going off the grid or being a prick, John wasn’t sure. Maybe both.

“Don’t worry. He’ll warm up to you,” Eliza said, with all the confidence of someone saying the sun would rise the next morning. “Hamilton is prickly, but—but like a hedgehog is prickly. Soft underneath.”

John threw her a dubious side-eye.

“He is,” she insisted. “For instance, last spring I bought a bouquet of lilies for the Writing Center’s front desk to spruce the place up a bit, and when Alexander’s paper was accepted for publication, he sent me a bouquet of lilies as a thank-you for all my help.”

“Eliza,” John said, trying not to overstep, but being familiar enough with Eliza’s careless, easy sort of beauty to know that she often didn’t know how much other people tried to flirt with her, “are you sure it wasn’t just because he, you know. Liked you?”

Eliza actually threw her head back to laugh at that. “No,” she said decisively, tugging off her glove to wipe the corner of one eye with her knuckle. “No, definitely not. I mean, it was Alexander. The thank-you note was formatted like the business letters they teach you how to write in elementary school—complete with the library’s street address under my name, and the Washington lab’s address under his. Printed out and signed with his full name.

“Also, I haven’t seen him since. I hope he’s not working himself too hard,” Eliza added, almost as an afterthought.

From John’s fifteen-minute interaction with Hamilton, he could pretty much guarantee that was not the case, but he couldn’t bring himself to dash Eliza’s hopes. “Seems like he can be a bit of a workaholic,” he said.

“Maybe even more than Angelica,” Eliza said gravely. “Whenever I would ask what he was doing over a weekend, or something, he’d just say he was working in the lab.” Eliza stood up and maneuvered her way through the shrubbery to find a yet unweeded patch of earth. “I just felt so bad for him, sometimes, because I don’t think the people in his lab are very nice to him.”

“Maybe he’s not very nice to the other people in his lab,” John said, keeping his tone carefully neutral, as it was clear Eliza had entered full mother hen mode, now—though it still remained unclear to John why she’d taken Hamilton, of all people, under her wing.

“Maybe not,” Eliza agreed, somewhat testily, “but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with Alexander defending himself when he’s being bullied by grad students.”

That gave John pause. He hadn’t given much thought to the possibility that although Hamilton, Jefferson, and Madison were all clearly throwing punches, Hamilton may be punching up, and the others down.

“He tries so hard,” Eliza went on, shaking her head. “He’s probably the most prolific person I’ve ever met. He’d come into our writing center sessions with dozens of versions of whatever section of the paper we were working on that night. It’s amazing how much he gets done, even when he’s having such a tough time of it.”

John was on the brink of asking what exactly that meant, but the seriousness of Eliza’s tone implied it was not a problem professional enough to be pertinent to his profile. John could picture both Angelica and his investigative journalism professor with hands on their hips, telling John that as a journalist it was his job to pry. But there was a difference, John thought, between demanding official statements from school administrators and nosing unnecessarily into another student’s personal life.

So when Eliza said “enough about Alexander” and abruptly changed the scheduling their essay rough draft exchange, John decided it was probably for the best that he didn’t have the opportunity to ask any nosier questions.

#fic things #the lams fic #wips #after losing a fair few documents this week #feeling especially paranoid/protective of WIP documents #also posting to put a pin in this for later #as a self-promise to finish #hamilton things

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