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mostlysignssomeportents · 5 years ago

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#5yrsago Aaron Swartz was no criminal

Dan Purcell, one of Swartz' lawyers, writes about the spiteful and unreasonable charges that led to his suicide—and MIT's gutless support of his prosecutors.

I am a lawyer in San Francisco with a firm called Keker & Van Nest. I was one of Aaron's lawyers in his criminal case, in 2012 and early 2013.

I didn’t know Aaron that well, and our interactions were always colored by the fact that he didn’t really want to be talking to me. I was a criminal defense lawyer after all, and the only reason we knew each other was because he was facing a federal criminal indictment under the CFAA (Computer Fraud and Abuse Act) for computer fraud.

Those of you who knew Aaron don't need me to tell you what kind of person he was. Brian Knappenberger's excellent movie, "The Internet's Own Boy," will tell you more about Aaron than I could. But one thing Aaron was not was a criminal, and I'm here to clear up a few misconceptions you may have about what he did and what he was charged with.

One thing that drives me crazy is when people refer to his criminal case as a case about "hacking." And they do it in sort of a pejorative, scary way. And it's just nonsense. Aaron was, of course, a hacker in the broad sense of the term: he was an innovative thinker, looking for creative ways around problems. But in the criminal sense of the word, as somebody who breaks into a secure computer system for nefarious purposes, Aaron was no hacker, and he didn't do anything like that.

One thing that Aaron strongly believed was that the advances, the discoveries and the secrets we’ve collectively unlocked over the past millennia, about how the world works, belong to all of us. Aaron greatly resented people or entities who try to lock up scientific knowledge and keep it away from general use, so they might monetize it for personal gain.

You might be surprised at how much money is being made in this world by entities that follow just that business model. They take things that are in the public domain, and take them out of the public domain, and then charge for access to them. One field where this happens a lot is academic publishing. Obviously, there is so much information in so many books that it’s not practical to just have physical copies of them all. Digitizing all that data is an easy solution, and indeed there are many places to look up scholarly content online. But when you go to try to do that, you'll generally find that there's a subscription fee, or you can't access them unless you are affiliated with a certain institution. They're in the public domain—meaning that everyone is entitled to read it—but they’re not actually public or available for public use.

This bothered Aaron. It bothered him a lot. And he had fought against this problem throughout his life. He wanted to teach the system a lesson. So, he went to MIT, a university that had, and still has, one of the most permissive computer networks in the world—certainly for an institution of that size. At the time he did what he did, in 2010-2011, anyone in the world could walk onto MIT’s campus. With or without a student ID. With or without any affiliation with MIT at all. They could log on to MIT’s system as a guest. They didn't have to use their real name. And then they could do whatever they wanted on MIT's system.

One thing that MIT made available to its users was access to JSTOR, an online database of scholarly materials. So anybody in the world could go to MITs campus, they could get on to JSTOR, and they could download articles from JSTOR. Anyone.

That’s what Aaron did.

He went to the MIT campus, like anyone could have done. He logged onto the system, like anyone could have done. He went on to JSTOR, like anyone could have done. And he downloaded articles.

That is not hacking. That is walking through a door that MIT, the owner of the door, deliberately left open for anyone to walk through.

Of course, the story's not exactly that simple, because Aaron didn’t want to take the time to manually download thousands of articles, which would have been impractical. He wrote what experts have confirmed was a fairly simple computer program to automate the downloading. So he left his laptop behind, and he went on his way. He downloaded the files, but he didn't steal anything; he used the access freely given at MIT. All the articles that he downloaded stayed in the JSTOR database. They were still available to anybody with access to JSTOR. If you have a JSTOR subscription, and you go to the database, they are still there today. He didn't deprive anybody of access to that material.

After a while, JSTOR noticed the downloading activity and JSTOR shut down access to their database from MIT’s network. For a few days, nobody could get onto JSTOR using the MIT network. That was an inconvenience, for sure, but it was temporary, and MIT’s access to JSTOR was soon restored.

What Aaron did, whether you call it a prank or a consciousness-raising exercise, was not a crime. He downloaded a bunch of articles he was permitted to access using an automated program that made it easier. The idea that anybody could think that was a crime was insane to me. Was it inconsiderate? Possibly. Many acts of civil disobedience and conscious-raising are, and I think Aaron probably would have pleaded guilty to that.

JSTOR was the ostensible victim here, but JSTOR made it clear from the start that they didn't see this as a Federal case. They didn't want Aaron to be prosecuted; they just basically wanted it to be over.

So, why all the fuss? Why did this terrible thing happen?

The first reason is prosecutorial discretion. The prosecutor was Steve Heymann, the head of the Computer Crimes division of the United States Attorney’s office in Boston. You’ll hear a little from him, and a little about him, in Brian’s movie, but I have nothing good to say about him. You might ask, like I did, what Aaron’s actions had to do with “computer crimes.” Aaron hadn’t broken into a secure network and stolen credit card numbers. He hadn't stolen anyone's healthcare data. He hadn't violated anyone's privacy. He hadn't caused anybody to lose any money. There are things that are "computer crimes" that we all recognize are invasive and dangerous, and this was not one of them.

But Steve Heymann did what bureaucrats and functionaries often choose to do. He wanted make a big case to justify his existence and justify his budget. The casualties be damned.

Unfortunately, he had a lot of weapons on his side, in addition to having the power of the Federal Government. He had the Computer Fraud and Abuse Act, which is an over broad federal statute that has been made more broad by federal prosecutors trying to stretch its terms. But under the indictment in Aaron's case, the government still had to prove that Aaron had gained unauthorized access to a computer system. Our defense was really pretty simple. There were going to be other nuances, and we were going to talk a lot about Aaron’s motivations and the type of person Aaron was, but our bottom line was going to be that Aaron had done only what MIT permitted him to do. He hadn't gained unauthorized access to anything. He had gained access to JSTOR with full authorization from MIT. Just like anyone in the jury pool, anyone reading Boing Boing, or anyone in the country could have done.

We hoped that the jury would understand that and would acquit Aaron, and it quickly became obvious to us that there really wasn't going to be opportunity to resolve the case short of trial because Steve Heymann was unreasonable.

Of course, after Aaron's passing, it's really easy for them to say "35 years. That was a bluff. It was never gonna happen." That was not what they were telling us. Heymann always insisted on a sentence of hard time in Federal Prison. We said, "this is really a very trivial thing. Can't we resolve it with probation or some other thing that made a little more sense and would make it possible for Aaron to go on with his life?”

He said "no." He insisted that Aaron plead to a felony and serve prison time. And of course, what he said, as prosecutors often do, is that if we go to trial, it won't be so easy, and if we lose, well, this is a tough judge, and the prosecution is going to recommend a very difficult sentence. Aaron may end up having a term of years.

These after-the-fact statements they're making in the media, to try to make them seem more reasonable? That's all they are.

It really goes to show you how much power prosecutors wield in our Federal system. They dictate the charges that are brought. They dictate how serious the sentence will be, because the sentence depends on how the crime is charged, and there are sentencing guidelines that limit the judge’s discretion. And if a prosecutor has bad judgment, as Steve Heymann did—blowing out of all proporition a harmless effort to point out a problem with how public-domain information is being locked up—there isn't a lot you can do about that other than fight, and the consequences can be terrible.

The second reason for this terrible outcome is MIT.

As a defense attorney, I never expect the prosecutors to do the right thing, but I did expect MIT to do the right thing. JSTOR, as I said, came out and said "We don't want to see Aaron prosecuted. We consider the matter closed." MIT never did that. MIT carries a lot of water in Boston. I don't know if they could have stopped Heymann from prosecuting Aaron, but they could have done a lot more than they did.

MIT is an institution that was known for creativity, for hacking, for pranks, for pushing the boundaries—and for showing that good can come out of it. In this case, they responded like a typical corporation. They were entirely gutless. They were supplicants to the government, and they did whatever they could to help the government's case. They were not cooperative with us. A lot of people in the MIT community are furious with MIT, and I think they have good reason to be.

There's no question that Aaron paid a price because of who he was, because he was in the habit of sticking his thumb in the eye of the government, of challenging things, and of challenging certain things that were happening that weren't fair. He was an activist, and he wasn't afraid to ruffle a few feathers.

We'll see what the FOIA requests come to. I don't think there were orders from on high to hurt Aaron, and that Steven Heymann was just the arm of the law. But there's no question in our society, those that go along, get along better, and Aaron wasn't willing to go along, much to his credit.

In the end, the whole thing makes me very sad. It is sad for all of us that Aaron is no longer with us. Sad for his family and friends, most of all. I’m sad I didn’t have the chance to try to help him, and walk him out of the courtroom a free man. We could have done that, and it was certainly what he deserved. But I'm glad to honor Aaron's memory, and to think about what we can do for our own sakes, and our country’s sake.

Photo: Wikipedia

https://boingboing.net/2014/11/18/aaron-swartz-was-no-criminal.html

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imaginezimbits · 6 years ago

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Plzzzzzz pt3 of zimbits football!!!!! I love your writing!! It's soOOOOO GOOOOD!

Ask and you shall receive (eeeeeventually!)Read it on AO3

“Y’all go on and get now, I have orientation in the morning,” Eric scolded the lumbering football players clogging up his teeny dorm room. His roommate, a perfectly nice seeming boy from Oregon, had disappeared shortly after the team’s arrival, and Eric couldn’t blame him.

“Fuck orientation,” Holster dismissed. “You’ve been chilling with us for a year, what more do you need to know about the college experience?” Eric put his hands on his hips.

“Maybe some people from my actual class?”

“Pft, whatever. Rans and Shitty are gonna be in school forever with their majors; you’ll have plenty of people to do senior year with.” Ransom made himself comfortable with Shitty on Eric’s bed.

“That’s right, brah,” Shitty agreed, welcoming the snuggles. “You’ll never be rid of us.”

“Graduation is a myth,” Ransom added gravely. “And bro, you can make all the friends you want. You’re a freshman with invites already lined up for the sickest kegsters of the year.”

“If you do say so yourself,” Eric huffed. “I admit, you boys make a strong argument, but I shudder to think what your fearless leader has to say about y’all encouraging me to shirk responsibility like this.” He turned to the man in question only to find him twisting back and forth in the desk chair, nibbling on one of the peanut butter cookies Mrs. Bittle had sent to thank the boys for carrying all of “Dicky’s” boxes.

“Um.” Jack looked between his friends, who were watching him expectantly. He swallowed. “Well, I mean, I was gonna ask if you wanted to hang out tomorrow since it’s the last day before classes.”

“Jack!” Eric cried over the boys’ boisterous cheers. “You’re supposed to be the responsible adult here!” Jack shrugged, tiny smile playing at his lips and winning Eric over easily.

“Well…they really don’t teach you anything useful…”

“So you figure you can talk me into another day of nonsense with this lot?”

“Was kinda hoping.”

“Well I suppose I could be persuaded to give up an afternoon of icebreakers and forced socialization.”

“Good. I hear Annie’s has their Pumpkin Spice Lattes out early this year. And the art theater is screening Goonies, so we were thinking of hitting that too.”

“How can I say no to that then?”

“Just meet us at the Haus at eleven tomorrow.”

“I’ll come at ten and we’ll make breakfast.”

“Deal.” Eric nodded. “Alright boys,” Jack said to the room at large, “let’s clear out, we scared Bittle’s roommate out long enough.” The boys all stood and followed Jack to the door, leaving Eric with hair ruffles and back pats. Jack held his hand in a wave as he followed the end of the parade into the hallway, closing the door behind them. Eric sat down hard on the bed, grinning broadly.

“Eric Richard Bittle, what on Earth do you mean you don’t know what happened at orientation?” Mrs. Bittle demanded over dinner - she’d made her son’s favorites to lure him home for a meal to extract details. Eric stopped picking at his mashed potatoes and exchanged a panicked glance with his father over the rim of the sweet tea glass Coach was using to avoid having to chime in.

“Uh…Jack said it’s stupid? And the guys were going to see Goonies?”

“Jack said, hmm? And I suppose if Jack Zimmermann jumped off a bridge you might think that sounds mighty fine too?” Coach put his glass down.

“Suzie,” he said, laying a gentle hand over hers and giving her a significant look. Eric saw the realization dawn on his mother’s face, could practically hear the unspoken “breakdown” that hung in the air, but what was actually said was, “Jack is a responsible young man. I think he and Junior’s other friends will see to it that he isn’t completely lost.” Suzanne sighed.

“I suppose. But Dicky, don’t you dare make a habit of skipping out on your responsibilities.”

“I promise, Mama, I will stay right on top of everything.”

And he did. Between the Haus study group and the relative simplicity of his first semester classes, Eric was able to keep up with his studies. Until the Midterms Kool-down Kegster, when, happily situated on top of one of the hockey players in the frat next door to the Haus, he remembered.

“Oh fuck!” he sat up abruptly, hair askew and shirt rucked up.

“Dude, already?” the hockey bro asked, eyebrow raised.

“I have a paper due tomorrow,” Eric explained, already starting to extricate himself from the bed.

“Oh dude, that sucks the big one.”

“Sorry. I uh, had fun?” Eric patted at the tuft of hair sticking up on the back of his head.

“Yeah, was good for me too,” the guy said blandly, already reaching into his pants. By the time Eric was across the room pulling the door shut, hockey bro’s dick was out, his head flopped back against the pillow, as if Eric had never been there at all. Well then, glad he’s not too heartbroken, he thought to himself and trudged down the stairs.

He stood outside the hockey house, staring at the Haus and feeling the street vibrate beneath his sneakers. The party ball hastily duct taped to the living room ceiling lit the windows in a flashing array of rainbow. The only light from upstairs came from Jack’s room. His fingers slid across his phone screen before the decision was fully formed.

“Allo?” The distracted greeting said Jack probably hadn’t checked his caller I.D.

“Hi Jack.” Eric paused. “It’s Eric.”

“You don’t say.”

“I just did.”

“Are you okay? Need me to come get you?”

“I’m okay. Except I just remembered I forgot to write my paper for American History.”

“Bittle, it’s two a.m.”

“I am aware. Jack, I just left mid-hookup for this, if you know anything at all about U.S. history, please come help me, otherwise fuck my grade I’m going back upstairs.” The exasperated sigh was a protracted burst of static in his ear, but Jack relented.

“Okay, give me five to find my notebooks and some pants. And know that you definitely owe me a batch of those homemade granola bars.”

“Anything.”

“Five minutes,” Jack promised, then promptly hung up.

When he saw the light in Jack’s room go out, Eric stood up from the porch steps where he had been waiting. It took another few minutes before the front door of the Haus opened to reveal Jack, backpack slung over his shoulder. They met in the middle of the street and Jack gave a tired but fond grin in response to Eric’s grateful smile, and in mutual silent agreement, they made for Eric’s dorm.

The room was empty, so Eric texted his roommate that he’d gotten home okay and wished him a fun night when the roommate said, “Enjoy, see you after breakfast ;)”

“Well, looks like we got the place to ourselves for the duration,” Eric told Jack, trying not to sound like he could think of much better reasons than this stupid paper for him to want Jack alone.

“Good.” Jack made himself comfortable on Eric’s bed, kicking off his shoes and getting his notes and laptop set up. “I brought reading to do while you’re writing, but I’ll help you outline and edit.”

“You are a saint.”

“I am an insomniac. Believe me, this is going to be just as good for my sanity as yours.”

“Well alrighty, I guess I won’t feel too bad.”

“I still expect granola bars.” Jack winked. Eric’s face burned, but he just focused on getting a blank document ready to go. “So what’s this paper on, eh?”

“I have to write a few pages on a New Deal program and its immediate and long-term effects.”

As luck would have it, Jack knew a lot about the New Deal. And he had more than enough feelings about it for Eric to pick a thesis. Jack flipped his notebook open to a page covered in messy, blocky print, turned it towards Eric, and laughed at his horrified expression.

“What?”

“This is completely illegible,” Eric complained.

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad.”

“Really Jack, is this how your brain works? Because if so, I have to say, I’m a mite concerned.”

“At least I have notes, Bittle.” Jack gestured at the blank document on the screen. “Is this how your brain works? Because if so, I have to say, I’m a mite concerned,” he mimicked.

“Jack Laurent Zimmermann, let me live,” he huffed, flopping over onto the comforter, taking the laptop with him. Curled on his side with the computer, Eric started filling in the heading and basic title of his paper and jotting down a few of the points Jack had made into a quick outline. He’d started sorting through JSTOR to find the shortest relevant articles possible, figuring Jack had disappeared into his own corner of peer-reviewed purgatory, when the bed shifted under him and a warm weight pressed along his back. It was Jack, and Eric almost jumped out of his damn skin because Jack had spooned up right behind him, chin hooked over his shoulder and arm flopping down over his abdomen.

“How’s it going?” Jack’s breath tickled as it blew over Eric’s skin, the low rumble of his voice vibrating through Eric’s ribs.

“It’s…happening. Slowly. But I don’t think I’ll flunk.” Jack nodded, chin digging a little uncomfortably into Eric’s shoulder.

“Yeah, this is looking pretty good.” He figured Jack would let go and return to his reading, but he stayed wrapped around Eric.

“How’s your reading coming there?” he asked teasingly.

“Done.”

“Already?”

“I did start it at a decent hour. That is possible.”

“Hmmm…sounds fake.” Eric could feel gentle laughter at his back. Well…looks like this is just his life right now. He went back to writing, struggling to get all of the bullet-points in his outline put into coherent sentences. For a minute, he blanked out, staring at the blinking cursor on the screen. He was tired and warm, and he could feel his eyelids drooping. And then Jack spoke up.

“Created the infrastructure necessary for the rapid development of industry during the war boom of the early forties?” Eric physically shook off his exhaustion.

“Hmm?”

“Oh, just…where you were going with that sentence. You could say ‘In addition to the immediate economic relief and placation of the anxious, unemployed masses, the formation of the WPA created the infrastructure necessary for the rapid development of industry during the war boom of the early forties.’”

“Oh. Thanks, that’s really good.”

“Not my first rodeo.” Eric typed in the end of the sentence, and getting past that block gave him the burst he needed to get the rest of the paper out, Jack proofreading as he went, keeping himself tucked close throughout. At some point, he caught part of Eric’s hoodie in his fingers, idly rubbing at the soft fabric. Eric didn’t realize that there was such a soft side to Jack. He knew he was kind, one of the most loyal and dedicated friends he’d ever had, but compared to the rest of the group they hung out with, he’d never been up for all of the casual cuddling (aside from Shitty trapping him in a bear hug). This gentle, sleepy Jack was incredibly endearing, and Eric’s chest felt warm and tight.

He put the finishing touches on the essay around three thirty. After saving the document about five times and promptly sending it to the print queue, he closed the laptop with a satisfying “slap,” and turned to look over his shoulder at Jack, only to find him fast asleep. Exhausted and resigned, Eric just wiggled carefully out of Jack’s arms and trudged off to the bathroom to brush his teeth. While tugging on his pajamas, he briefly contemplated sleeping in his roommate’s bed, but upon realizing he didn’t really know how clean the guy was and feeling like it would be…cold - a rejection of this intimacy Jack offered, he lay back down and pulled a blanket over them both.

Eric expected to sleep terribly, to lie awake staring at the ceiling until the sun came up, Jack woke, and he was inevitably left with the uncomfortable silence and an empty bed. Instead, he slept the best he had since coming to college. The bed was warm and, completely relaxed, Jack was actually very soft to snuggle against. Eric’s breaths unconsciously synched with Jack’s, his eyes got heavy, and the next thing he knew, the sun was streaming in from the single window.

He stretched, joints popping pleasantly. And then his foot brushed a leg, and all of a sudden, he snapped back to the moment and felt fully Jack pressed up behind him. He startled just enough to jostle the bed, and his heart skittered in his chest as Jack stirred. The arm around his waist tightened momentarily, and a soft groan escaped Jack as he woke fully. The sound shocked down Eric’s spine and oh god, he was actually going to die. In some twist of cosmic mercy, Jack wasn’t sporting morning wood - that would be the actual death of him.

“Oh. Hey.” Jack’s breath ghosted over Eric’s neck, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut so he could compose his voice enough to get out,

“Morning.” Jack stretched again, and the movement pushed them closer.

“Morning. I didn’t ruin your sleep, did I?” He looked so genuinely concerned Eric couldn’t let him be uncomfortable.

“You didn’t make a peep,” he said, because he couldn’t quite admit just how much Jack didn’t ruin his sleep.

“Okay.” They lay in silence for another minute, unsure of how to act normally now that they were both lucid. Eric was about to roll over and see if Jack just passed back out when their phones buzzed simultaneously, the group chat lighting up with all the dirt and surreptitiously taken pictures of shame. It gave them something appropriate to do with their hands and something safe to talk about. Lying next to each other, they made fun of their friends’ questionable-at-best choices - Holster making out with his ex, Esther (again), Ransom instigating body shots, Shitty’s general personality. The best chirps got sent to the group chat, but mostly they were just giggling to themselves and speaking in broken sentences as they realized they were nowhere near the losers of this week’s morning after. Jack even went as far as to say,

“I think I definitely chose the best place to wake up today.” And even though Eric knew how Jack really meant that, his brain couldn’t really switch off the nagging curiosity of what could be if Jack thought differently - was different.

The chat died back down after a while, everyone either going out in search of food or back to sleep. Jack locked his phone back up, let out a final stretch-and-groan, and asked,

“Wanna hit Commons? I’m getting pretty hungry.” Eric took the out and agreed, hopping out of bed and shucking out of his pajamas. He tried not to imagine Jack’s eyes on him as he dressed. When he turned around, Jack was idly thumbing through his textbook.

“You ready?” Jack looked back up.

“Oh. Yeah, let’s go.”

At Commons, Jack and Eric split up - Jack to the omelette bar, Eric to the buffet. He loaded his plate with a pile of french toast sticks and homefries, drowning the whole thing in the watered-down fake syrup in the vat at the end of the line. Jack sidled up behind him, and in lieu of greeting said,

“You should eat more protein.” Eric jumped, flushed, and finally defended his breakfast.

“I am a figure skater, I need energy. If I become some muscle-brained jock-head I won’t be able to get any lift to my jumps.”

“Hey, a muscle-brained jock-head just saved your grade.”

“I’m just sayin’, don’t go mocking my diet plan - I get results.”

Jack conceded the point then, and sat down with his heap of egg whites and spinach, tucking in with one last glance at Eric’s plate that fell between longing and dismay. Looking at the man himself, Eric could relate. Jack was sweet and smart and handsome, and whenever Eric had brought Philip to hang out with the guys, he hadn’t batted an eye, just chatted as politely as Jack ever managed about college plans and books they were reading. He was exactly the kind of friend he’d dreamed of having in Georgia. If he was being completely honest with himself, Jack was the kind of boyfriend he’d dreamed of. But there be dragons.

Because for all that he went to a super-queer liberal arts college and might accidentally minor in Women’s, Gender, and Sexuality Studies, Jack Zimmermann seemed as straight as an arrow shaft. And even if he did like men, he was older and played football and drank horrific concoctions that contained lots of kale and protein powder. There was no way Eric would be remotely his type. Eric could feel himself getting maudlin, so he shook himself and took a sip of coffee to ground himself.

“Falling asleep there Bittle?” Jack asked, smirking over his orange juice.

“I don’t know how in the hell you’re even awake right now,” he covered.

“I did get a little extra sleep,” Jack reminded him, and god did he not need to be reminded of Jack falling asleep spooned up against him.

“That’s right, you abandoned me,” Eric teased.

“I did not,” he objected. “I was there the whole time.”

“And what’s your alibi, the drool patch on the back of my shirt?”

“I do not drool!” This came out louder than Jack had probably meant for and they got a couple of looks. “Do not!” Jack whispered forcefully, leaning across the table.

“Do too!” Eric whispered back, leaning in as well. Their faces were inches apart, and Eric had to fight to keep his face from softening. In the end he couldn’t quite manage it after Jack reached up to wipe a smear of syrup from his cheek, the pad of it rough and warm on Eric’s face, and then licked the syrup off like it was nothing. And then made an exaggeratedly offended expression at how ludicrously fake it tasted.

Eric hated his life. Before he could do anything stupid, he leaned back into his own space and returned to his breakfast.

The dining hall offerings were meager enough that Eric texted his mother to say he was coming over for dinner and did she need anything from the store. She told him to grab eggs and some greens for a salad and “I’m thinking I’ll do brownies for dessert. Maybe you can pick up some ice cream to put on top.” Eric didn’t miss what a loaded statement that was. His mama thought brownies were just about the lowest a baked good could sink. Tiny batches, an inelegant slop of batter waiting in a pan, and finicky to make to boot. But they were Coach’s favorite comfort food, hot and sticky fresh out of the oven, a scoop of ice cream melting over top.

“What’s wrong with Coach?” he asked. Mama sighed.

“I don’t know, baby. He was just in a rotten mood when he came home from practice. He was real quiet, just took a beer and a puddin’ cup back to his study.”

“I wonder what happened,” Eric murmured, thinking briefly of Jack and wondering if he was upset too. He clicked away from the call to his messaging window and sent off a quick text to Jack. Coach is in a mood. You alright? There was no reply bubbles, but he hadn’t expected a prompt reply. Instead of waiting to hear back, he wrapped up the call with Mama and headed off to the Stop & Shop.

Back at the house, he set the bags of groceries down on the kitchen table and started rifling through for the greens to get started on the salad.

“Thank you, baby,” Mama said, brushing a hand across his back as she passed behind. “I know you’re just on the other side of town, but I do miss having you around.” He laughs, but tucks his chin over her shoulder on his way to get tongs, promising,

“I miss you too.”

They had everything set out on the table in a few minutes, and Suzanne hollered “Riiiichard! Diiiiner!” towards the back of the house. Coach joined them a moment later, dropping into his seat at the head of the table with a grunt that sounded more pained than ill-tempered. He complimented Suzanne on dinner and asked “Junior” how his classes were going as always, and between bites, Eric and his mama traded glances.

Neither of them dared ask about practice until the brownies were cut and ice cream scooped. Only then did Suzanne clear her throat and and ask, “So sweetheart, how was practice?” Eric shoved a large spoonful of ice cream in his mouth, anticipating a long-winded speech about whatever the boys had done to piss him off. Instead, Coach looked a little awkward and addressed Eric.

“Well, funny enough, I wanted to talk to you about that.”

“Oh?” Eric’s ind raced, frantically trying to recall if he’d played a part in any activities that could’ve affected the boys’ game. “Well fire away.”

“It’s - it’s a favor - a biggun, and you can say no.”

“Okay…Daddy, you’re makin me nervous.”

“Sorry, sorry. Uh, well, you know how our backup kicker has been on leave with mono?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it seems our starting kicker busted his ankle playing soccer.”

“Oh…So you want me to…”

“Fill in, yeah.”

“Coach…”

“I know. I said it was big. And I can see about pulling one of the boys from fourth string, but you’ve got a good leg and you know the team.”

“Richard,” Suzanne warned.

“And kickers hardly ever get tackled,” he promised.

“Richard, that’s enough,” Suzanne said again, firmer. Eric was silent for a moment, staring at his father. Things were different now than they were in Georgia, he knew this. He had his father’s support, the boys knew he was gay and didn’t make an ordeal of it - a few of them were even queer too. The only thing that really bothered him still was the idea of being tackled, but the fact that Ransom and Holster would be his defense…

“I’ll do it.”

“You will?” Both his parents sounded shocked, but a grin was breaking out from under Coach’s moustache. Meanwhile ama looked like she’d swallowed a frog.

“Dicky, you know you don’t have to, right? Not if this is gonna bring your problem back.”

“I’m not gonna faint, Mama,” he told her, trying not to sound irritated. “You’re not supposed to even touch the kicker, and besides…” Eric looked at his father. “I wanna help the team.” Coach nodded, beaming.

“Practice is at 3:30 tomorrow. We’ll get you out there and see if you’re comfortable, and if all goes well, we’ll play you Friday.”

“I’ll be there,” Eric promised.

“Thank you,” Coach said. “I can’t tell you how much it means that you’re even willing to try.” Eric nods at his father, but when he stands to clear the table, he’s engulfed in a bear hug. He squeezes his eyes shut and reminds himself that his father is already proud of him. This is just icing on the cake.

#jack zimmermann #eric bittle #zimbits #coach bittle #suzanne bittle #football au #omgcp

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ta-ether · 7 years ago

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So You Want to Study the Middle Ages

A Few Disclaimers: I am not a medievalist yet, but that is the path I’m on at the moment with goals to go to grad school for Medieval Studies. Also, this is mainly if you want to go into European Medieval Studies. I will only be limited help for outside of Europe, but I am more than willing to ask around for help if you want. Also this will probably best work for people going into college or already in college.

This sucker’s just over 4 pages with 12p Times New Roman and 1.15 spacing, so the rest of this is under the cut.

My sweet summer child. You are in for a ride. Buckle up, because this is gonna be hard. (Not the best words to start out on but this is not for the faint of heart, trust me.)

First thing’s first. Choose a region. Just one. For me, it’s England. Now if you’re scared that choosing one region will not let you learn a lot about the general world at that time, you’re wrong. England interacts with France, who interacts with the Holy Roman Empire/ Germany, who interacts with Italy, and they all have contact with the Near East, and then they all interact with Iberia. And when I say “interact” I mean “fought.” Trust me, it will cascade, and if you don’t have a “home base” you will get far too overwhelmed.

This is where it goes into what I personally have done. After I chose England, I went into the Renaissance there – specifically Elizabeth I. It’s useful to start in the Renaissance because there’s more accessible knowledge about that period. I started super young, so I also read a lot of historical fiction at this point. This isn’t reliable for facts, but it’s not bad if you’re just starting out and want to dip your toe in the water.

From there I took a brief hiatus into Classics. This is helpful because with this you can go down from Classics and up from Renaissance and meet in the middle. Also this is the part where you’re going to want to learn at least a little bit of Latin. It’s honestly invaluable. I had the amazing fortune of taking Latin since 7th grade, but if you’re going into college, you can probably take the gen-ed requirement for language and you’ll be fine. You only need about 2 years of good Latin, because Medieval Latin is… how you say… not that complicated. The hard part is mostly the vocab, and you have dictionaries for that.

Now that you’ve made yourself at least familiar with Classics and the Renaissance, you can actually dive into the Middle Ages! Why don’t we do this earlier? Well I’ll tell you. There’s so much bullshit about the Medieval Period online, and even in books. Seriously, Sturgeon's Law is a THING with Medieval Studies online – 90-95% of what you find at first is going to be false. This is why you wait, so you don’t get bamboozled. Personally – I’d start with a “pop history” book. These are books that you can find in like, Barnes and Noble in the “History” section. Now, these books are not well regarded in the academic communities, but fuck em look, everybody needs to start somewhere. Personally, I read Dan Jones’ The Plantagenets super early in my “Medieval career” and it gave me an overview of the period and new places to look for things I was then interested in (The Anarchy!). Also, it had a family tree. Never underestimate the usefulness of a family tree.

So now you hopefully have a place you want to focus on, and also a rough time period, event, or person you want to focus on. Now, because academic books are expensive, you’re going to go to the primary sources, which are free online. You don’t need to panic! Primary sources are hard but not impossible, and I believe in you! You’re gonna go to the Medieval Sourcebook from Fordham and you’re going to poke around a little and look for your little niche. You don’t need to spend a ton of time on this. A day or two should suffice.

Once you’ve read some sources you should pretty much know if you still want to go into Medieval Studies. If you’re not having fun with the sources, you may want to reconsider. Trust me, from here on out if you don’t love it, you will not be having a good time. I respect your decision if you want to bow out. This is not for everybody.

If you had a blast with the sources, congrats! You’ll probably have fun with everything else. Maybe. Next you’re gonna go and look at the academic side of things. Don’t worry if you don’t have access to databases. You can survive – I know I did. My suggestion: go to Google Scholar and type in what you want to see and poke around. If you’re young, you may not understand their language, but that’s ok. You can learn. If you’re really into it, you can look at their sources and dig in further! Bibliographies and work cited’s are a fucking gold mine. Google Books can also be amazing and always check to see if they have a book you find. If the book’s old, archive.org might have it in full. So Google’s mostly free and easy to access, but you can also use JSTOR a limited amount. With a free account you can access 3 papers every 2 weeks or something. Yeah, it’s kinda bullshit but it’s not bad. If you’re scared of wasting your free papers on something you won’t like, feel free to message me and I can look for you as well, and download papers for you or something. I’m not an amazing resource, but I’m willing to be a resource.

I haven’t talked about libraries yet, which is so typical of me. Part of how I work is that I’m likely to check the internet and forget the library, which is stupid. Pro-tip: check the library. Always check the library. Your local library will probably not have academic books, but they might have databases. Look at your local library’s website to see if they have databases for patrons to use, and if you’re up to it, ask the librarians. This may be hard if you have social anxiety (trust me I know), but librarians are up there with teachers as being underrated, underpaid helpful people. 85% of them will be more than willing to help, and they might even ship a book in for you or something. If you can use them, do. Also, if you live in a college town and can physically get to the college library, you can look around there. If you’re local you should be able to check books out, but even if you can’t you should be able to look at the books there or make copies.

This basically marks the end of what you can do on your own, and believe me I wish you could do more without help, but the truth of the matter is to do anything further you’re going to need to go to college and take classes.

There are more schools with medieval programs than you think. Big schools, small schools, rural schools, city schools – I go to a super small rural women’s college and we have a MARS (Medieval and Renaissance Studies) program, but I’m pretty sure we’re an exception. Point is, you can find a school. From there I suggest you get in contact with a professor there and try to get a meeting with them, which is what I did. Try and wow them with your tenacity and what you’ve done already or something. If you can’t get a meeting, just email or perhaps call. (*shakes fist* Networking!) Then take some classes.

Once you take some classes and you still want to go into this… you have incredible fortitude. Congrats. Now, this is where I am now, so I can’t help beyond this, but I’ll tell you what I’ve been up to. This summer I was able to get an Summer Honors Research fellowship at my school where I am being paid to do my own research with my professor. I’m studying 14th century English Coroner Rolls, am learning Medieval Handwriting, and am beginning to work with actual Medieval documents. Seriously. I’m living the dream. (If you want pictures of my documents ASK ME I love showing them off they are my babies. My lovely, wonderful, unreadable babies.) In the coming years I am planning to try and get my ass to England.

Some words of encouragement: Look, it’s notoriously hard to get into Medieval Studies. It’s just not accessible and I hate that about it. You have to want it. You can’t wander into being a Medievalist. It’s hard and a slog and it’s so easy to be discouraged, and everyone will tell you that what you’re doing doesn’t matter, and somehow you have to just keep going.

I’m writing this essay with tips on how to get into Medieval Studies because I wish I had more guidance before I hit college. I was flying in the dark for a while, and I basically bumped into doing useful things by accident.

If you want to go into Medieval Studies, I want you to know that I’m rooting for you and if you’ve read this entire thing, you probably do want to try at least. Know that I have access to a pretty damn good college library with inter-library loan privileges, a scanner, and a really smart professor. If you need a book or an article and you don’t have the means to get it, please message or ask me. If you just need a place to start, ask me! If you’ve read this entire thing, message me. I love to talk Medieval with people and I have like… one person to talk to, and she’s my professor. I would include a list of books I read that were helpful, but this essay is starting to become a novella at this point so you can ask. I sound super lonely – “ask me, message me!” Ha! You would be right. I am lonely.

#middle ages #medieval #tagamemnon #medieval studies #medieval shitposting #CUE THE IMPOSTOR SYNDROME FUCK FUCK #WHY AM I PRETENDING I KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON

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dustin-parrish-blog · 8 years ago

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Small Matters | Dustin & Lea

Dustin has something to share with his sister.

For all she didn't always love spending time with her brother, Lea did feel a bit excited about getting to go out and garden today. Her butterfly bush wasn't set to bloom just yet, but she could check on it, and also help get the rest of the garden ready for spring and summer. She finished pulling on her blue high top Converse before yelling up the stairs, "Dustin, get down here, too much screentime'll kill even more brain cells, you know! Mum's already waiting outside for us!"

With a loud groan, Dustin shut his laptop, wondering briefly if there was any use in making up a sudden test that he had to study for but no, that way he would be forced to actually study all week. Or, he could come up with a sudden sun allergy. Maybe he'd been bitten by a vampire recently. Yes, that was perfect. Laura Parrish totally would not panic at all at that and let him browse the internet on his bed in peace. "Coming!" he yelled back as he eventually got up from his bed and made his way towards the stairs. "Also Lea, that is just stupid, almost everyone uses screens these days all day. And we haven't suddenly become stupid, have we? Besides, I'm not sure that would have an effect on my brain at all, I can already feel my brain cells slowly dying off having to hear the stuff that comes out of your mouth each day..."

Lea raised an eyebrow as Dustin arrived at the top of the stairs. "It is not stupid, it's a true fact and I know that, dumb-ass. I use a screen too, obviously. I'm just saying that you could use some more outdoors time, it's not gonna hurt you too much and oh, wow, good one! How long did it take you to think of that comeback?" She rolled her eyes and held up a pair of sneakers before tossing them to the bottom of the stairs. "Now! We're already late."

"Yeah, you do, I'd like to see you go one day without your phone," Dustin muttered as he reluctantly came down the stairs. There were so many better things he could do than spend time with his sister and his mother in the garden. Even homework would probably be more fun. "I spend plenty of time outdoors!" came his reply, rolling his eyes. He did! He walked or biked to school and drove his bike to places he wanted to go to. Oh, and he had recently been at the bonfire at the beach all evening. Grabbing his shoes, he put them on before making his way towards the door letting to the back of their property. "How can we be late to plucking weeds in our own garden?"

Rolling her eyes, Lea crossed her arms and looked up at Dustin. "Yeah, but I talk to my friends via my phone. It is a necessary mode of communication, and besides, I also spend time outside all the time, so at least I've got a proper balance, unlike some of us." She trailed after Dustin as he headed to the back door. "Because, dear brother, even in our own house we can have plans, and those plans can have set times. Just like you can be late to dinner, you can be late to plucking weeds and getting our garden all set for the coming seasons."

"I also talk to my friends," Dustin huffed as he opened the door and stepped outside. Cold air attacked him as soon as he set foot into the garden. Or well, maybe it wasn't that cold, but it was definitely not as warm as his room, which he'd been heating so it was full of warm, stuffy air. "Yeah no, that makes no sense," he just told Lea, when Laura Parrish spotted them, kneeling over a flower bed. Or vegetable bed. He couldn't exactly tell. "Come on, you two, grab a bucket and help get rid of all the weeds!" she instructed them, a smile appearing on her face. "Hey munchkin, I see you made it outside! That's great- no, don't pull that face, this is fun."

Lea raised an eyebrow at her brother. "Uh-huh, sure." She followed him outside, running a hand through her hair and twirling the ends. She breathed in the scent of the air, wrapping her arms slightly around her body - despite wearing tights under her jean shorts and a long sleeved shirt, she did still feel the chill of the Maine spring. But she unwrapped her arms from her body as their mother gave the both of them a wave. She hop-skipped over to where Laura stood and grabbed a bucket, quirking her lip as she did so and replying, "Yes, all thanks to me. Otherwise he'd still be stuck upstairs in, like, some virtual reality or whatever." She raised an eyebrow as their mother placed a gloved hand on her calf and said, "Lea, let's all enjoy this time, no matter how we ended up out here, alright?" With a small huff and a rolling of her eyes, Lea gave a nod. "Fine, fair enough." A glance over to Dustin. "So long as he agrees, too."

Dustin did not, in fact, stop pulling that face. If he was forced to go outside into their garden to pluck weeds, fine, he would go out and help, but he didn’t have to look happy doing so. Who knew how long this was going to take and how long he would be forced to be civil to his sister under his mother’s supervision. Virtual reality? Did Lea know nothing about the Internet? “Yes, just because I’m googling something definitely means my brain enters another reality,” he replied and rolled his eyes. When his mother basically reprimanded Lea to be nice, Dustin couldn’t help but smirk, but quickly changed his face back to normal as soon as Laura Parrish turned her head back to him. “I’m being perfectly nice, and I’m all for enjoying this wonderful time together!” Dustin quickly replied, just a small hint of sarcasm in his voice as he grabbed one of the buckets and kneeled down.

Lea gave another small huff. "I thought you were playing a video game, I do know what google is. I use it to find good academic articles when I wanna write papers for, like, history class. Have you heard of JSTOR? It's great." She knelt down next to their mother and began tugging a few weeds out of the ground, letting her hair fall over her shoulders. She threw the weeds into one of the buckets and gave her mother a small kiss on the cheek, before readjusting herself but not before she gave Dustin a small face - one that she knew their mother couldn't see. "Hey, I'm glad the weather worked out, I'm real excited to see how the garden turns out this year! It'll be the second year with my butterfly bush, I hope it'll bloom again."

"Yeah, I have heard of JSTOR, I'm not stupid, Lea," Dustin replied, mouthing 'unlike you' so quietly that his mother definitely wouldn't hear it. He started plucking out a few weeds. Or, he hoped they were weeds and not the plants they had put in the dirt on purpose. "Also, I'm sure you use google for other stuff, too. Like, how to make friends when you're ugly or-" "Dustin!" Laura Parrish gave her son a stern look. "I don't want to hear anymore of this, do you hear me? Or you'll have to get all of the weeds from the other side of the house completely on your own, and I don't care how long that takes you, you will not be able to see your friends before you finish the task. Or, you could just apologise to your sister now. The choice seems rather simple to me." With a sigh, she turned back to the task at hand. "Oh, I'm very excited, too, I've got some great additions planned and we'll grow plenty more herbs and possibly a few more fruits ourselves. Some fruits from the store just never taste like they do when you grow them yourself."

"Well, I am sorry. I did not know and I thought it a good sort of site to mention. It's good to get the best sources possible when writing papers." Lea commented, sticking out her tongue at Dustin, still hidden from their mother. As their mother admonished Dustin she kept her face facing the ground, a smirk threatening to creep across her lips. Well, things did come around, and Dustin did deserve that reminder. She had plenty of friends, after all. His statement wasn't even sort of true. "Ooh, you are so right. Plus, there's just something extra nice about growing stuff all on your own. Gives you a certain sense of accomplishment." She grinned up at their mother as she pulled up a few more weeds. "You are right, Lea." Laura replied, turning to Dustin. "What would you think about my making extra-locally grown fruit salad this summer?"

"Oh, I didn't discover that website for school work," Dustin said, shaking his head. "I just think they have interesting articles in general. People can be interested in stuff even if it won't get them a good grade," he told her, pulling a face at her when she stuck her tongue out at him. "I'm really sorry I said you were ugly," he mumbled finally, ripping a few green plants out at the same time and dropping them in the bucket. There was a high chance those had been weeds. "I think I'd probably try that, yeah," Dustin told his mother. At least fruits where somewhat sweet. Though he wondered if their own fruits from the garden would look just as good as the ones they could buy at the supermarket. Since those came from actual farmers, who probably knew exactly what they were doing. Laura turned to her daughter, observing her pluck a couple of weeds from the ground. "I think you've got this covered," she said, as she rose to her feet. "In the meantime, I'm going to put more seeds on the lawn, it's time we get a nice, full green lawn again. Please down kill each other. I'm still close enough I can hear all attempts of murder."

Lea sighed. "I know, I like the articles in general, too. Just yesterday I was reading one about the history of... whatever, anyhow, not the present point at hand." She grinned when Dustin apologized. "Thank you Dustin, and mum, I'd try that too. Especially if we maybe try out a solid berry one? We can see how the fruits we grow work out, though." She watched as their mother got up, giving her a small wave. "Don't worry, I know I've got this for sure!" She waited until Laura was out of earshot before turning to Dustin. "Don't bug me, I want to do a good job of this. I care about how our house looks, and I want to give the plants the best space to grow, okay?"

Dustin stared at his sister for a few seconds, not sure what to even say to that. He'd been so sure that Lea was just pretending to be so into this to suck it up to their mum that he never considered the possibility that she actually cared about plucking weeds and planting berry bushes. "Are you actually serious?" he asked her, his voice incredulous. "Who even cares- you know if we don't do a good job of this, mum will make it look good anyway. And I don't think the plants care about weeds anyway," he said, flicking a piece of weeds at her. "You're so weird sometimes, I can't believe you're not adopted."

Lea looked straight back at Dustin. "Yes, I am, as a matter of fact. It might be boring as hell sometimes, but it is important to help out in the house's upkeep, and I know mum'll make it look perfect if we don't do the best job we can, but she works really hard, Dustin. She shouldn't have to do that." She glared at him as he flicked some weeds at her. "Yeah, well, I'm not, jerk," she said, flicking a few of her weeds over to Dustin. "Also weeds can sometimes kill plants, or at least impede their growth. Maybe you should ask mum if you can make a weed garden or something if you're so into them."

Dustin shrugged. "I just think that a garden can look good even if it's a little messy," he said. "That could give it charm, actually. As long as it's green, who cares if the plants were originally supposed to grow?" Still, he plucked out another couple weeds, before throwing both them and the ones that Lea had flicked at him back at her head. "Well, I wasn't there when mum supposedly gave birth to you, so I'm just going to pretend that you were switched at birth because that means we're not actually related," he said, shifting a little to be more comfortable kneeling over the flower bed. "And sure, I will ask her if I can grow a weed garden. I might actually make a huge income with that if I sell the weed at school. I'm sure she'll say yes."

Lea rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well, you would. I've seen your room." She blew a few strands of hair out of her face. "Because gardens should look nice and not just be all green, jeez." She ducked and grabbed the weeds, throwing them forcefully into the bucket. "Not switched at birth, Dustin, plus I don't think that's even all too common and I look like mum, so ha!" She pushed herself off the ground and went over to Dustin at his next comment. "Not that type of weed, oh my god." She picked up a stray gardening glove and whacked him on the shoulder before going to kneel back down. "I meant like these." She held up a plant. "Plants that can impede the growth of other plants. Not drugs, or I'm telling on you."

"My room isn't messy! It's just homey," Dustin protested. "And I think that gardens that are super orderly and perfect look stuck-up, sorry. So maybe that is why you like them so much," he told her and despite his words plucked out a couple more weeds. This was boring. Why couldn't he go back inside? But his mother would definitely notice it if he snuck back inside and let Lea happily do this boring work on her own. "You can't know for a fact that you aren't, and maybe you just look like her by chance." He was just minding his own business, plucking out another plant that he wasn't sure was a weed, when suddenly his sister came over to whack him on the shoulder with a glove. "Ow!" he said loudly and rubbed at his shoulder, glaring at her. "What, would you tell on me if I was selling weed to the other students at school or if I ever smoked some?"

Lea have a small sigh. "Oh, that's what you're calling it?" She let a bemused look cross her face as Dustin continued to weed the garden, despite still complaining. "Yeah, well same goes for you, then! You could've been switched as well, you know." She giggled when he exclaimed out loud. "Serves you right, y'know. Also yes, you should not do illegal activities like that, and also why would you smoke some? It smells soooo bad, ew!" Lea said, making a small gagging face.

“Yes, that’s what I’m calling it, because that’s what it is.” Dustin’s room had lots of stuff in it, that’s what made it so comfy and nice. Not everything had to be perfectly orderly to look good, not all close had to be hung up in his wardrobe and not every book had to be in the bookshelf and it was also perfectly fine that a couple of papers were flying around. “I kind of wish I was switched at birth, then I could live with my real parents and I wouldn’t have to see you again.” He dropped his hand from his own shoulder, raising an eyebrow at her. “Me and illegal activities? Never.” If you didn’t count underage drinking, breaking and entering and illegal streaming, he’d actually never done anything illegal before in his life. “I think it’s kind of obvious why people would smoke it, Lea. But thanks for letting me know you hate the smell, I’ll make sure to smoke it in your bedroom if I ever do.” Maybe he should ask Quinn if he wanted to try it. Even though he had no clue who even to get weed from, but that couldn’t be so hard to figure out, could it?

"Fine, sure, whatever." She replied brusquely. It wasn't Lea's fault that she liked order, liked making sure that her room looked nice and presentable. Drawers for set items, a roughly color-coded set of bookshelves (which certainly took some effort but was well worth it in the end). "Yeah, but if you'd been switched you'd still be with me, so sorry, you're stuck with me for life, no take-backs no matter what." She beamed over at Dustin before throwing a few more weeds into the bin. "Okaaaay, well, if you've never done anything illegal I see utterly no point in starting up on them. Even you have to be smart enough to realize that, right?" She wrinkled her nose. "Smoke it in my room and I'll find a curse that turns all your clothing hot neon pink or maybe one that makes you smell like my peach or apple or strawberry perfume." She hissed, narrowing her eyes.

“Fuck my life,” Dustin muttered as he kept on plucking out weeds. “Maybe I want my clothes to be that colour, have you considered that?” He gave her a look. “Men can wear pink, it doesn’t make them gay or anything…” He threw a couple of weeds into the bucket. Okay, maybe he didn’t even own any pink clothes so Lea kind of had a point. “And maybe I want to smell like a fucking fruit salad, okay? You know my life.” He didn’t want to. “But yeah, if I’m going to smoke it, I’m going to do it in your room. So you’ll get in trou-“ “What are you two talking about?” came the voice of his mother from behind him. Dustin nearly pushed over the bucket. “Taylor Swift,” he said quickly, eyes darting to his sister, warning her to keep quiet and go with it. “Well,” Laura said. “I just got called in to work. Nadine called in sick so I’ll have to take her shift. Your dad make dinner tonight. Oh, and please, I put new seeds for the lawn, the two of you will need to water it so they can grow.” She leaned down to press a small kiss to the top of Lea’s head before ruffling through Dustin’s hair.

Lea shrugged. "I know, pink actually used to be more stereotypically a boy's color before it became a more stereotypically girl's color. It's derived from red, which was considered a stronger color and therefore more suitable for boys. Also I know it doesn't make you gay, Dustin! Clothing doesn't do that, it's a natural thing from birth, or whatever." She tossed some of her hair over her shoulder. "But I do know that there's no way wearing pink or smelling like my perfumes is something you'd be into." A small huff. "And you can't - " she began, talking partially over him before their mother came out and even Lea half-jumped. "Yeah-huh. I was telling Dustin aaaaall about her, and the evolution of her songs from more country to more pop." She narrowed her eyes over at Dustin. "I hope work goes well," Lea said, beaming up at Laura, "and of course we'll water the lawn. Don't you worry." In a few moments their mother was gone and Lea turned to Dustin. "You know mum and dad would never believe I'd smoke that shit. Your plan would neeeever work."

"I already knew all of that, Lea," Dustin just retorted as his sister told him about the history of the colour pink for boys. "And like, I don't get the whole stereotype that gay people like pink because gay people are also supposed to have a good sense of fashion and pink is clearly horrible, so." He picked at a few more weeds, watching his mother walk back inside the house to get ready for her shift. Thankfully she hadn't heard any of the conversation. He wasn't sure exactly where his mother stood on the issue of weed, but he doubted it was something she would be okay with in relation to her children. "Uh, yeah? I mean, obviously I wouldn't just smoke in your room and think that's it, no. Before, I'd drop hints that freshman girls were caught smoking in the girl's toilets at school. And maybe I'd drop the name of one of your friends. So then, if they smell it in your room, it becomes more believable. Also. I think I'm gonna get started on the watering the lawn part, you have fun making space for your plants."

"Hey, how was I supposed to know that you knew it? It's not something that everyone does know!" Lea grumbled. "Pink is not horrible, FYI. It's a lovely color, but I wouldn't expect you to know what's fashionable and what's not, sooo... also it's a stereotype for gay men, not gay women." She followed her brother's gaze towards their mother before snapping back and glaring at Dustin. "Right, and if they asked me about that I'd tell them that no, I've not heard of any reports of that and I don't know where you got it from. Also none of my friends would smoke weed, obviously." She half-hissed at Dustin. "Half of them don't even drink soda 'cause it's too bad for you. Have fun with the watering," she said, rolling her eyes. "Just keep it over there, I'm not ready for it just yet."

"I know what stuff looks good and what doesn't," Dustin protested, frowning. "Like, I dress myself and I don't look ridiculous. So there's your proof." He pushed himself off the ground. "Okay, but mum and dad might think you were just protecting your friends and I'm not sure they would know that your friends definitely wouldn't smoke," he said before walking over to the shed where they stored the water hose. After turning on the water, he held it out onto the lawn, making sure the grass and the new seeds were getting watered. Then he moved a little. Fuck. This was the most boring work ever. But it was still better than digging in the dirt to pluck weeds.

"I mean, I've seen people dress worse, but... I wouldn't say that means you're extra skilled or anything." Lea pursed her lips. "Well, don't do it or else I'll find some major way to retaliate. Don't doubt me, Dustin. You know I can." She grinned up at him before she went back to picking out the weeds. After a few more moments, most of them - if not all of them - seemed gone, and she made her way over to where Dustin stood with the hose. "Give it to me." She demanded, holding her hand out. "I need to make sure I get the dirt out from my nails." Lea raised an eyebrow. "Also see, isn't this nice? Being outdoors! It's so pretty out today!"

"Thank you," Dustin replied sarcastically. "I mean, I guess that means that I definitely couldn't be gay then," he said, before shrugging. "Oh yeah? What would you do?" he asked, before going back to watering the lawn while his sister was busy with the weeds. He looked up when he heard her approach him and asked him to give him the hose. "Oh, you want to get all the dirt?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Sure, I can do that." But instead of handing her the hose, he just held up, splashing water over her head and body. "I know, it's just beautiful! Hope it won't rain." He started laughing.

Lea rolled her eyes. "Sexuality is not tied to clothing, you know. You know Jenna's gay, right? She's super open and even has a girlfriend and she's never worn flannel in her life." She hummed briefly to herself. "Something unexpected. Still up for debate, and as if I'm gonna tell you. Nice try, though." When he sprayed her with the hose she spit out a bit of water. Okay, should have seen that coming. "Rain's good." She spat back, water dripping off of her hair and onto her nose. In a quick moment, she grabbed part of the hose and turned it back to Dustin, covering him in water. "Not that you need to get aaaaany taller, but hey, you said you wanted to keep weeds around, right? You need to water them to make them live."

Actually, Dustin hadn't know that Jenna was gay. From what he'd figured, freshman girls, which included Lea's friends, were completely obsessed with boys. And how was he even supposed to tell if the girls were dating when they always acted super close and affectionate anyways? It took him a little by surprise that Lea had a gay friend, although it wasn't very surprising that in theory, she was good with gay people. They had been raised like that after all. "You're not telling me because you don't know yet," he told her, and really, he should have held on more tightly to that hose and stopped Lea from grabbing it. When the ice cold water hit his face, he let out something that could only be classified as a very manly yelp. It wasn't summer after all, so this wasn't a nice and refreshing surprise - this was cold and wet and the exact opposite of nice. "I think humans usually ingest water by drinking it, not by diffusion through our skin," Dustin retorted, wiping a hand over his forehead to get the wet hair away from his eyes. Reaching out, he tried to grasp his sister's shoulders, wrangling her to try and push her to the ground which had turned a little muddy from all the water.

"I do know." Lea giggled. "But surprises can be good, plus, it'd be more fun for me." She paused, watching the water drench him. "Just. Like. That." She flicked her wet hair over her shoulders. "Nice yelp, by the way. Also I know humans ingest water by drinking it, but maybe you're like, part alien or something. It'd explain a whole lot." She wriggled out of his grasp as he tried to push her onto the ground. "Nice try, big brother, but looks like you didn't succeed. Oopsie daisy." She smirked up at him, brushing some hair out from her face. "Also you'd better not ruin this shirt, it's one of my favorites."

"You mean, it would explain why I am so exceptionally smart?" Dustin asked. A disappointed frown formed on his face when he didn't succeed in pushing her down into the mud. Damn. He would have loved to see that. "That is one of your favourite shirts? God, how horrible must the rest of them be then," he told her, starting to shiver a little. Pulling at the hose, he tried to direct it back so that it would drench her instead of him. "You look like you need the watering, dwarf, not me."

"Uh, no." Lea rolled her eyes again. "Absolutely positively not what I mean, at all." Her eyes narrowed briefly. "Wow, what an insult. Truly brilliant, one for the books - even!" She said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. However, Dustin did succeed in hitting her with water the next time she tried, and Lea coughed, spitting some of it out of her mouth. "I am perfectly happy with my size, thankyouverymuch," she said, running the words together. "Plus, I'd rather be tiny then some freakish giant."

"Haha. It was much better than your insults," Dustin replied, rolling his eyes at her. He had to grin when it turned out that he was successful getting her with the water hose again. "You look like a fucking fish," he informed her as she spit out some water, and then he started to laugh. "Oh, you're happy with your size? How can that be when you can't even reach high cabinets, Gimli?" With a glint in his eyes, he towered over her, hose in his hand, as he tried to stick the end of it down the back of her top.

"Uh-huh, keep telling yourself that, and who knows?! Maybe one day it'll come true." Lea crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow over at Dustin. "Also I like fish, and I know for a fact I do not look like one, but thanks anyhow! Dad got some new ones over at the aquarium." She brushed her fingers against her nose. "I have no idea who the hell Gimil is, and besides, I can climb to reach them or use a step stool. At least I don't have to duck to get through a doorframe." She sidestepped him and tried to grab the hose, in hopes of spraying him directly in the face.

"You like fish? Yeah, you keep telling yourself that you don't look like one," Dustin retorted and grinned. "You look like the ugliest fish I've ever seen. In fact, you totally look like a blobfish," he said. "And one day, I'm going to duct-tape you to a chair and make you watch all three Lord of the Rings movies. One after the other, with no break or mercy," he told her. "It will change your life." His plan to directly spray water down her back did not succeed, and instead he got a huge load of ice cold water spraying directly into his face, blinding him for a few moments. He spluttered a "fuck you", but then a plan formed in his head. Turning his body into the other direction, he started sprinting towards the back door of their house. With this head start, he was likely the first one inside their bathroom and therefore the first one who could get warm under the shower.

"I mean, they aren't my favorite animal, but I like them well enough." Lea cleared her throat. "Um, no. I do not look like one of those, thank you very much." Though soon enough he had moved beyond and she let out a sigh of exasperation. "Duct-taping me to a chair sounds really freaking painful, Dustin." She rolled her eyes. "Maaaaybe someday you'll get me to watch them, we'll see." She giggled as the water hit him in the face, but in the brief moment she'd lost focus Dustin had begun to run toward the house - Lea darted after him, ducking under his arm as he opened the door and moved so that she was standing right in front of the stairs, one hand on the railing and the other on the wall. "Nuh-uh, no way are you getting to shower first. You'll use up all the warm water and I'll have none left!"

Fuck, why did the backdoor take so long to open? The handle, again, was a bit stiff so it was difficult to get it down - and of course, just as Dustin had opened the door Lea had moved through it by going underneath his arm. Why the hell was she so fast?! He moved inside, towards the stairs, which she was practically guiding like a dragon was protecting its eggs. "Like you wouldn't do the exact same thing!" he retorted, darting forward and grasping her shoulders, trying to push her to the side so he could run up the stairs.

"Um, no, I would only use the allotted amount, thank you very much. Plus I actually have more hair than you do and I need to make sure it stays all nice." Lea smirked up at him, trying to wriggle out of his grasp but falling slightly against the stairs. Nothing too bad, though she did narrow her eyes. "That's not fair!" She pushed herself up and ran up the stairs after him, trying to make it to the bathroom door to block it.

"Yeah, well, and I have more skin than you in total since I am bigger than you," Dustin told her, letting out a triumphant laugh when she fell against the stairs. He started racing up the stairs, which truthfully wasn't that easy with heavy, wet clothes. He was still wearing shoes, and for a moment he feared about what his mother would say regarding the wet dirt inside the house and on the stairs, but that didn't matter now. What mattered was that Lea actually tried to get after him and block the door. This was the only bathroom they could use, since his parents would definitely notice if one of them took a shower inside their en-suite bathroom. He reached for her arm. "I swear, if you go in first, I'm going to set fire to your English homework," he threatened, though truth me told, that was a threat he would never go through with.

"Right, you're a giant." Lea giggled again. Once she'd made it up the stairs she crossed her arms in front of her chest, staring straight up at Dustin. "You better not, and if you did that I'd set fire to your PS4. Call it faulty mechanics and all that. Let. Me. Into. The. Bathroom." She reached her arm around and under Dustin's and undid the door, ducking again under her brother's arm to get into the bathroom. "Well, look at that. I win, sucks to be you." She smiled again before slamming the door shut.

Dustin rolled his eyes, like Lea would actually set fire to his PS4. Didn't she know how much that had cost? Determined to not let her into the bathroom, he gripped her tight, but somehow, she was able to open the door and sneak inside. Mouth open, he watched as the door was slammed shut in front of his nose. "Fuck you, Lea!" He yelled, slamming his fists against the door. "Fuck you!" He tried the door handle, but of course, the door was locked. His cold, wet clothes were clinging to him like a pair of second skin. "I will drip on everything you love!" he threatened through the door, before retreating, searching for somewhere to keep warm. After getting his phone from his own room he promptly sat down on Lea's bed, wrapping her blankets around his dripping body. This would serve her right.

"Right back atcha!" Lea replied as she turned the lock to fully close the door. She stripped out of her wet clothing and flung it on the floor, before turning up the shower so that it was very warm and stepping in, shouting to Dustin - "screw you, big brother, but I still won!" and smiled to herself, scrubbing her shampoo into her hair and making sure to use her favorite peach-scented body wash. She wasn't about to be so cruel as to totally use up all the hot water, but taking a little extra time couldn't hurt - especially since it was Dustin's fault that they were both soaked, wasn't it?

Not only was he freezing cold, shivering even though Dustin was wrapped in the blanket (it probably would have been a good idea to take off his wet clothes but he wasn't going to do that in her bed and if he went back to his own room instead of dripping on her bed that would be no fun) he was also quickly becoming very bored. Waiting for something was always annoying, and waiting to get out of his ice cold clothes and under the hot spray of his shower was excruciating. To pass his time, he took out his phone, starting to play a game but quickly getting bored of it. Then, he opened the gallery of pictures he'd taken. Most were completely random shots from outside, from his sister, there was even the shaky picture of that weird ghost, but then, yes. There were a couple of pictures he had taken of Quinn. One of them showed him right in the middle of the process of eating a pancake, it wasn't a flattering picture. What would Lea say if she saw that? Wait, would Lea think it was weird that he had pictures of Quinn on his phone? Lea had pictures of her friends, he knew that, but that felt different. Would Lea think something about the pictures of Quinn he had on his phone if she ever saw them? And what if she did, what if she figured it out, how would she react?

When Lea was four years old, she had decided that it was about time to move on from baths, as fun as they were, and have showers. Though being tiny and having a lot of water hit her head with great force had been a shock to start with, she quickly found that it was quite fun - and when their mother wouldn't allow Lea out in the pouring rain, she could always shower and style her hair in fun shapes with shampoo before rinsing it all out. Her rubber duck could come into the shower, too - back when she was little - and baths were too babyish, anyhow. Lea ran her hands through her hair, untangling it section by section, before rinsing out the shampoo and moving on to the conditioner - squeezing a decent amount into her palm and running it smoothly through her hair and ducking her head under the stream of warm water. She stepped out of the shower and wrapped her body with one of her giant fluffy green towels, expertly tying her hair up in a topknot under another, smaller towel.

Dustin was still moving through the pictures on his phone, but really, his mind was somewhere else. If he told her about Quinn and him, would she think that he was gay? Was he really gay? Maybe she knew something about that. She had gay friends, after all - okay, and that was another reason that maybe, he could tell her. Since she was clearly okay with her friend having a girlfriend maybe she would be okay with his thing, too. Of course, he couldn't be absolutely sure because it was always different when it was family. Always. Thumb hovering above the screen, which showed a picture of Quinn, smiling, looking up at him with a controller in his hand, he suddenly got the urge to tell her. The kiss, and everything else, how he felt about boys, or one boy - that was so far his most safely kept secret. He hadn't breathed a word to anyone. He hadn't had anyone react to it. And maybe it was time. Yes, he should tell Lea. He should tell Lea so she could tell him if this was okay, if this was really him.

Lea stepped out of her towel and grabbed her robe off of the hook on the back of the door. Towel still wrapped her hair and head, she exited the bathroom and turned toward her room. She turned the handle on the door and opened it, before looking up and straight at Dustin, sitting on her bed. "What the hell, Dustin?!" She said, her voice rising. "Get out of my room! I just washed those sheets and now I'm gonna have to get them all washed again!" Lea narrowed her eyes and stomped over to her clothes hamper, hanging her still-drying clothing on the side before standing up again and crossing her arms, staring straight at her brother. "You can go, now."

Now that Dustin had made up his mind, waiting for her to come back from her shower just became more unbearable. He kept flicking through the pictures on his phone, but he couldn't relax, or even smile at them anymore. What the hell was she going to say? Would she be happy for him? Or maybe would she say that actually, she thought that he wasn't really into boys, but that he was just enjoying the attention of the one person who actually seemed to like him and paid attention to him? He had almost forgotten that she wouldn't be happy about the bed situation when she suddenly appeared in the doorway, yelling at him. "Well, you shouldn't have taken a shower first then!" he retorted, but his voice lacked the usual fire. He watched her go over to the clothes hamper, biting his lip. "Actually, no, I can't go. I wanted to talk about something with you first. Something related to what you told me about Jenna."

"You have your own room! Plus mine smells like my body mists and I thought you always complained about them." Lea snapped back, glaring at him - startling a bit when he mentioned Jenna. "What about her?" She raised one of her eyebrows in a perfect arch, taking three steps towards Dustin. "She's one of my best friends, so don't even think about saying something obnoxious."

Dustin just shrugged. He wasn't going to tell her that the reason he was sitting on her bed was to annoy her. He had a feeling that wouldn't go over too well with her. "Relax, I'm not going to say something about her," he replied, frowning. Did she really think that he was going to make fun of her friend for being a lesbian or say something bad? "Like, why would I say something obnoxious? I kinda- Did you know that Quinn is gay?" he wanted to know. "I mean, he's pretty open about it, so I'm not, like, outing him against his will. So maybe you knew already."

"Because you're a teenaged boy and you already tend to say obnoxious things, big brother." Lea rolled her eyes. "Also, um, no? I knew he was a senior but I don't know everything about every senior or anyone else in the school. I know a decent amount, though. Could probably peg who'll win prom queen and king, maybe." She squinted at him. "So, what's your point? We both have gay friends? Congrats, it's not a big deal. Doesn't make them any different than if they were straight." Lea moved over to her dresser and undid the towel around her hair, before putting some leave-in conditioner into it and brushing it through - then turned back to face Dustin as she began to weave her hair into one thick braid. "Is that all? The shower's waiting for you."

Dustin rolled his eyes, he did not say obnoxious things. Never. "Yeah, but I thought you might know a bit more about him seeing as he comes over quite a lot," he replied, biting his lip. He pressed a button to make his phone screen come back to life, looking down at the picture. He could just tell her that it was all and be done with it. He could just get up and take a shower. But then, he still wouldn't know what she'd say about it. "No, that wasn't really my point," he said. "Especially considering that Quinn isn't just my friend." The last words came a bit quicker than he meant to say them, but as soon as the sentence had formed inside his head, it wanted out. Shit. This was it. He looked up at where she was standing, eyes tracking her every facial expression and movement.

Giving a small sigh, Lea took a few steps towards Dustin. "Him being around does not guarantee that I'll know loads more about him. I do know he's way into computers, even more than you, and that he once ate my last watermelon popsicle probably because you told him to, but I didn't know he was gay. No." Lea fiddled with the end of her braid, twisting it tightly around her finger. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" She took a few steps towards him and raised an eyebrow. "What is he, then?"

"Okay," Dustin just said. And sure, of course she wouldn't know he was gay. She would only know if he'd told her, or if she'd been stalking his blog. Which she probably hadn't. Because why would she spent hours going through her brother's friend's blog? Of course not. He bit his lip as she asked him to repeat himself. He himself didn't even know what they were. Quinn hadn't exactly asked him to be his boyfriend. And to use that word... that would feel like a huge step. "He's still very much my friend, my best friend," Dustin mumbled, looking down at his hands. "But, um, he likes me. And I'm very sure I like him, like, I kept thinking about him? All the time? And I feel really good when I'm with him, which honestly is not surprising because he's one of the nicest people I know and to be fair he is very attractive-" Dustin stopped to take a bit of breath, suddenly aware of the fact that he was rambling. But how else was he supposed to explain this thing to Lea? "So, the point is, there's kind of this thing between us." He looked up at her, still biting his lip.

Lea pursed her lips and turned her head to the side, as if to examine Dustin. Process what he'd said, more fully. "So, like, are you gay?" She bit her lip. "Is that what you're trying to tell me?" She squinted at him. Not that it mattered, but it was still something - something she hadn't known about Dustin. Lea had never really given much of any thought to what his sexuality was - he was Dustin, so it didn't matter. "Or at least into Quinn? I guess he's cute, though not really my type." She shrugged.

Dustin sighed. That was the big question, the question that he had been asking himself nearly every day for a while. Or at least, ever since he figured out that he liked Quinn as more than a friend. "I don't know," he said truthfully. "Would that be a problem if I was?" he asked her. Okay, so she was fine with Jenna, but Jenna was a girl and Jenna hadn't been living with her for the past fifteen years. Was she going to be angry that he kept this a secret from her? "I mean, I think there's at least a 70% chance I'm gay? I think. Like, I've never been into a single girl at school and I very much enjoy kissing Quinn." He shrugged, looking away, then back at her, trying to read her reaction off her facial expressions.

Lea rolled her eyes. "Why the heck would it be a problem?" She asked, squinting at him. "Though if you go any further with any talk of kissing we might have one, because eeeeeeeew as much as we share DNA, I do not need to hear any details about who you're swapping saliva with, holy crap." Though if Quinn and Dustin were doing anything, a message to Quinn or some talk with him in the hallways at school was in order - though school seemed like a less appealing idea. "Also did you really have to tell this to me when I am in my freaking bathrobe? I don't even get to have this memory in a pretty outfit." She narrowed her eyes at him.

"I don't know! I thought maybe you would be mad because I kept this a secret from you!" Now that Dustin thought about it, maybe it had really been irrational to think she would be angry. Hearing her reaction now, it was such a relief. Even though, yes, technically he could have guessed she would be fine with it. "Oh my god, you are so immature! I just mentioned that we kissed, nothing more, nothing about spit or anything. So, can I tell you that this started by us holding hands or is that too inappropriate for your baby brain to handle?" Dustin asked, rolling his eyes at her next words. "And I'm in fucking wet clothes, what's your point?" She was nothing but ridiculous. "What memory?"

"Well that's freaking stupid, but fine." Lea pursed her lips. "I am not! I just don't want to hear about my brother kissing. I've got nothing against it as a general concept." She glared at him. "Chill the heck out, big brother, I thought you've said I'm supposed to be the one with no chill." Lea scrunched up her nose. "On my bed, where you could've gone and gotten out of them in your own freaking room, so I don't have sympathy for that, sorry." Lea hopped onto the bed, next to Dustin and turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. "The memory when my annoying as heck big brother confided in me about one of the most important things ever and I'm in a freaking fluffy bathrobe."

Dustin started grinning. "Oh my god, I have a new weapon against you. Every time I want something from you, I can just start talking about kissing Quinn in as much detail as I can, and only stop when you do what I want you to." This plan was genius. He shrugged when Lea complained about him being on her bed. "Well, I had to be here 'cause I wanted to tell you my secret," he said, not mentioning that his original reason for going into her room had been to drip all over her things instead of his own. Looking back at her as she joined him on the bed, he raised his own eyebrow right back at her, mimicking her expression. "So? Looks stylish. You'll always remember you were in a fucking fluffy bathrobe, and you will always remember that bathroom fondly as the 'my-brother-told-me-he-might-be-gay'-bathrobe. Also, um, can you please not say anything about this to mum and dad?" he asked her, biting his lip. "They're pretty open-minded when it comes to gay people, but they're still assuming we're both straight and so far the open-door rule for me only applies to girls and I'd like to keep it that way."

"Um, no. That is cruel, and if you do that I'll just plug my ears and ignore you." Lea smirked. "That sounds incredibly fake, Dustin." She continued, with a rolling of her eyes, which only continued as he copied her expression. "This robe might be cute, but it is not any sort of stylish look. Also that's a freaking long name, big brother." She cocked her head to the side, her braid falling down her side. "I won't say anything, I'm not about to be a jerk and out you to our parents. Plus sexuality's a whole tangled mess, if we're being honest."

Dustin crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Uh, you know you can't ignore me. So you'll probably still have to hear all about it. And besides, it's not like I could terrorise anyone else with this stuff," he told her. "It's not fake. Don't call me fake. You're fake." He stuck his tongue out at her, even though technically she was right. "Well, you can't call it a coming-out bathrobe since I didn't technically come out," he mumbled, smiling when she said she wouldn't say anything. "Awesome. So being maybe-gay does have its perks. 'Cause if you bring over a guy, you two will be watched like a hawk by mum and dad. Isn't life beautiful and fair?"

Lea sighed. "I can try, practice does make perfect, after all." She narrowed her eyes. "What if I get a boyfriend and tell you aaaall about that?" Lea smirked. "Except that no, I wouldn't. I don't need to hear your thoughts on my love life." She pulled her robe tighter around her body. "You didn't, no, but it is news that you're into boys and I knew that time you got together was a daaaate. See? I'm right about everything." She let a soft giggle escape her lips. "Life is not fair but there's no boys around even though Jackson gave me those candy hearts or whatever."

"But I'm still un-ignorable," Dustin retorted, chuckling. "Yeah, there's no way you would tell me about your possible boyfriend. You'd probably just tell your friends instead." He ignored the fact that the reason he couldn't do that was that he pretty much had no friends. This wasn't the time to think about that. "Also, yes, maybe that was our first date." He couldn't help but smile. "I mean, it wasn't a date originally, but it kinda turned into one. But you totally could not know that. Just a lucky guess on your part." He refused to believe that his sister could read him that well. "Oh, so his name is Jackson! You never told me that. I'll have to keep a closer look at him then." He laughed. "Wait, are you even into boys? Cause, I mean, being gay is heritable, so maybe you are, too."

"Only because you're giant and have an obnoxious voice, but I have practice. I am immune." Lea raised an eyebrow. That was not completely true, not at all, but it was important to say. "Yeah, you're right. I would tell Jenna and Beth and all the others, and ha! I knew it." She huffed. "Psh, not a lucky guess. I am simply that brilliant." A proud smile crossed her lips before turning into a frown. "Why would you bother keeping a closer look at him?" She squinted. "Um, I guess? I don't know, I've never really given a lot of thought to what I am, if we're being honest. There's other more important things to think about."

"Um, excuse you? I have a beautifully energetic and deep voice!" Dustin protested. "And I can make you listen, definitely." He frowned. "What, you would tell them? But surely you would tell me first if you got a boyfriend? I mean, you're the first person I told. First and only person," he said. "And don't look so smug. It was Valentine's Day after all, and you're not brilliant at all." Dustin shrugged. To be fair, he had been mostly kidding. "Um, I don't know. Probably to make sure he's not bothering you or anything. I mean, giving you candy hearts? That's a pretty bold move," he said. Lea raised a few good points about sexuality and how important it was not, but of course he couldn't admit that to her face. "Of course you haven't thought about that. You're just a baby after all."

"Again, no, but if that's what helps you sleep at night, keep telling yourself that." Lea shook her head. "No you can't." She rolled her eyes. "Because you don't have as many friends as I do, Dustin. Don't try to make me feel special, it's not gonna work." She replied, "and I'll look as smug as I want. With good reason, just saying. Also aww, how cute! You do care about me!" Lea laughed. "Still never ate any of the hearts, but it was a bold move. I can't help it that I'm pretty though." At Dustin's next comments she rolled her eyes again. "Not a baby, just not something I focus on. My age has nothing to do with it."

"I do have many friends I could tell," Dustin protested, even though technically it was a lie. There was no one at school he would tell, and he wasn't exactly sure if Noah considered him a friend or just an annoying, if not slightly amusing teenager to put up with. "Shut up, I don't care about you at all!" he lied. "Like, why would I care about you? You're just the person taking up the room that could have been my own gaming room." He grinned at her. Of course he did care about her. But her ego was already so inflated, she didn't need to hear that. "Of course you'd say that, I bet you've never even held hands with a guy." He stuck out his tongue before getting up from the bed. "I better get out of these clothes before I catch something."

"That is factually incorrect, Dustin." Lea pursed her lips. "Even if you do have friends, I don't think you'd up and share this with them." A glare flashed across her face at his comment, if only for a brief moment. "Liar. Oh my god, Dustin, you are the worst at lying." Raising an eyebrow, she continued. "Nope, mum would have had some craft room in here for her knitting or dad would have gotten it. Not you, ew." She wrinkled her nose in false disgust. "You don't know that I could have held hands with many guys. I do have quite soft hands, I use excellent lotion." She rolled her eyes. "Yes, especially 'cause if you catch it you're sure to make it so that I, too, will catch something. Feel free to go, now."

"You make it sound like I have no friends!" Dustin protested, frowning. "And I would tell them, definitely..." It wasn't like just everyone could know though. Because as soon as the word travelled around, his mum was bound to find out. And then he could say goodbye to peace, she would bug him about this so much. "You can't know that. I'm sure that as an only child, they would have loved me even more and given me that room." He rolled his eyes at her last comment, god, she was just so naive. "Whether you use lotion or not doesn't mean guys will want to hold hands with you. Guys don't care about stuff like lotions. I don't use lotion to make my hands soft, and I do hold hands with Quinn a lot." He made his way towards the door. Somehow, it felt nice being able to share this with someone, though it kind of made him want to share it with others, too. It was almost a pity he didn't have a group of close friends he could share secrets with like Lea did.

#lea #touchofchatzy #chatzy #small matters

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thetalkingpart · 8 years ago

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Own your space.

It’s great having a research blog and not having to hand it in at the end. It makes it feel more personal. OK the last time I started a project I actually ended up with an insane amount of freedom but going in it didn’t feel that way. When I started my HHG I was the only person not doing research for their thesis, I didn’t know any of the other researchers and I was worried I would be somehow kicked out or that my work wouldn't be good enough.

This actually still bothers me.

I have trouble going back to my old project (a moment’s ornament) even though I would in a million and one ways love to keep it up. It’s not perfect and I don’t want to have to stand and defend my typos or my interpretations of The Buccaneers. And somehow when I get emailed comment alerts it’s always someone telling me to correct one of these two problems.

It’s stressful to go back to something you’ve finished and admit it isn’t perfect but it’s also hard to admit it’s done. In a way this 10 week project is all about re-writing two previous papers --which means re-reading them, something I never do-- and of course I have already front loaded myself with way too much research to avoid that as long as possible.

I have trouble getting closure from my HHG partially because the Fellowship was supposed to be my chance to get to write about Virginia Woolf so I could do some other topic for my senior thesis. And then I never did write a senior thesis, I never graduated, and in some ways I’ve been trying very hard to make this research experience as different as possible from my first one.

Not that HHG was a bad experience just that well I’m older now, I work two jobs, I have a better sense of my health and metabolism. In some ways my summer researching did lead me to a burn out I never figured out how to handle. I knew I liked what I was doing but it left me exhausted and my extreme anxiety over what would be next...and the crushing weight of living up to a good start in some ways OK I still haven’t dealt with that at all.

So starting this project on Milton (right now the working title is #musing but I’m gonna need to work on that) it’s been very hard to avoid deja-vu and guilt and icky feelings. But part of avoiding that has to be writing about it right? I was paralyzed the last time I ran a research blog. I was worried I wouldn’t be serious enough. The whole point of running a research blog isn’t just to organize the notes and keep up to date on things, it’s to allow a little self-awareness to creep in at the edges of the work. So I had a piece drafted about rhythms and getting started but this is how I want to start, owning up to the anxiety and the excitement and reclaiming the blog part of the research blog that I have traditionally avoided and edited out of my projects.

You have to be comfortable to do that... or comfortable enough to take the discomfort and ride it through to the benefit.

When I got started last week I downloaded tons of jstor articles to read and threw myself into various library catalogues. I also cleaned out my entire desk and set up a bookshelf to hold all my research apparatus: books, pencil sharpeners, glasses of cooling tea. It was important, I knew, to have a space. I was pretty sure my space was absolutely perfect and texted a few friends only to have one of them sensibly text me back that I needed a library space.

I had spent all day, I thought, making myself a library space. Did she mean I needed to rent a carrel at the public library? Nothing else was really an option. No, she pointed out, make yourself a space in your house.

When I was first researching I had a lovely library carrell that I had picked out months earlier and grabbed the very first day I could. I would wake up in the morning and roll into my carrell and refuse to leave until lunch and then hang out for hours until the library kicked me out. But I don’t live on campus and I don’t have that much time anyway. In many respects the 2017 me is jealous of my earlier opportunities, I’m going to be researching in between work shifts and staff meetings and American Literature Classes and cat feedings and oil changes.

Hilariously though I have more space than I ever had at college. I’m living with my mother and we have two empty bedrooms.

“I think you need to convert space in your house into library space” Ani had said and actually, this was something I could totally do. Did I have to start all over again? Yes. But, Ani was right. (And I’m hoping by starting my project in such an open-minded way lots of good judgement and open minded-ness will follow...) Stepping into my new research space I am immediately focused. I don’t start putting away clothing or feel immediately tempted to work from bed. (I cannot promise I won’t end up working from bed sometimes though.)

And, I can’t stress this enough, the process of emptying cleaning and claiming a room just for me and my writing made my writing seem suddenly so much more important. Suddenly looking at my weekly calendar it doesn’t seem like too indulgent to block out four hours on a monday night or plan to wake up and do two hours of reading early thursday morning.

#blogpost #musing #research angst #hello digital humanities

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ravenqueensspecialboi · 7 years ago

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Fic Writers Week Day 5

Day 5: Verbatim

You mean I have to choose? Alright, just sticking to Haikyuu for this one. Here’s a bunch of quotes broken down by fic:

Little Ghost, Little Ghost, One I’m Scared of the Most (Haikyuu, BokuAka, One Shot):

"Vampires have tangible bodies, so you would have seen it by now. So it has to be a gho-" Kuroo trailed off, looking up from his phone as confusion, then realization dawned on his face. He whipped his head around to glare at Bokuto. "You moldy soybean, I can't believe you're trying to drag me into a conversation about paranormal bullshit." Bokuto smacked his hands on the table in frustration," Dude, I'm telling you the truth! I've been telling you the truth! There's a ghost in my apartment! I heard it!" Bokuto paused, then added, "Wait, did you just call me a moldy soybean?"

Pretty Lights and Corner Stores (Haikyuu, DaiSuga, Series):

"I really couldn't impose," Koushi replied. Yes, good. He could still talk. Score one for Koushi.

"I am many things, dear Sugawara, but a liar is not one of them," Tetsurou said, and boy wasn't it weird to see a cat talk.

Koushi almost pushed Tooru down the stairs. Almost. Instead, Koushi opted to tousle Tooru's perfectly styled hair and revel in the offended screeches that Tooru emitted.

"Can you be less of an asshole?" Koushi snapped. "I could," Tooru said before going completely limp and dragging Koushi down to the sidewalk.

"Koushi, Koushi the cat is talking," Tooru said. "Koushi why is the cat talking? Koushi why is the cat talking!?" Koushi and Daichi both opened their mouths to reply, but Tetsurou beat them to the punch. "Well, guess the cat's out of the bag," he said, shifting into human form with a lazy grin.

Koushi wasn't sure if he was dreaming that his boyfriend was calling his name in an attempt to wake him up, or if Daichi actually was that dumb. He knew that Koushi wasn't a morning person, and that under no circumstances was he to be woken up before his alarm. Ergo, this had to be a dream. Koushi burrowed deeper into the covers. If he hid under the blankets, he didn't have to wake up. Those were the rules.

Ghost Finders Incorporated (Haikyuu, Multi Ship, Multi Chapter):

“Seriously, I SAW Bigfoot at the supermarket the other day, Asahi. He was there and he was looking for coupons in the dumpster. One of these days, I'm gonna fight him.”

"Sure, let me get Danny Phantom on the phone and have him come right on over," Chikara grumbled. When his comment was met with confused looks, Chikara's face flushed. "You know, Danny Phantom?" he asked. "The cartoon character? Who's half ghost? Conveniently fights ghosts too? Sucks them into a thermos? You know what, never mind."

"Futakuchi you jerk," Moniwa grumbled. "What the hell have you done now?"

"NOT TODAY BOX GHOST," Chikara screamed as he chucked his thermos at the pile of boxes. The thermos collided with the box, spraying coffee everywhere. Chikara breathed heavily as he watched the coffee seep into the cardboard. The box hadn't moved again. "Chikara, what the fuck?" Kinoshita groaned from behind him. And didn't that make this whole situation better?

"So when is a ghost not just a ghost, but an asshole?"

"Suga, I hate to interrupt," Daichi cut in, "but what the hell are you reading from? Suga looked up at Daichi, then back down at the book in his hands before responding, "It's an encyclopedia." "Suga…" "I'm not lying when I say it's an encyclopedia," Suga said in his defense as he held up the book. He pointed at the title which definitely contained the word 'encyclopedia' and continued, "See? Encyclopedia." "The Encyclopedia of Scary Things?" Daichi pressed. "I found it at the bookstore," Suga explained. "It was in the clearance bin." Daichi let out an exasperated sigh, "Suga, I thought I said we should be looking at credible sources." Suga leveled Daichi with a look and deadpanned, "We're looking for ghosts and you want my sources to be 'credible'. Right, my bad. I forgot that I needed to get all of my information from Paranormal JSTOR. Let me get right on that." "I see your point," Daichi muttered, but Suga wasn't done. "Dark JSTOR, show me forbidden research about the supernatural."

Tanaka and Noya were instantly all over Aone, sizing up the large, silent man with the most intense, synchronized scrutiny that Daichi had ever seen exhibited between two people who had just met two days prior.

"Sorry, you said you're the researcher?" "That I am," Suga replied proudly. "And you use The Encyclopedia of Scary Things to get your information?" Moniwa pressed. "Sometimes, yeah." "Is… Is that really the most credible source of information?" "That's what I said," Daichi muttered. Suga glanced down at the book in his lap. He studied it for a minute before looking back at Moniwa, "I mean, considering I got it from the clearance bin, it's probably not the foremost in paranormal research. But it's got the best title out of all the books I have, so it's my favorite." Moniwa did not look amused. "Well, it's probably better than when I was reading off of Wikipedia articles," Suga reasoned. After a moment of intense eye contact with an increasingly distressed Moniwa, Suga turned to Narita. "Can you grab the Breverton's Phantasmagoria out of my bag? It's the black and orange book."

The Planchette spelled out, "D-E-A-D-S-E-R-I-O-U-S". "Hilarious."

"I hate everything that these past two months have stood for," Kei said.

Fright Night (Haikyuu, BoKuroo, One Shot):

Kuroo let out the most undignified screech of his life as Bokuto lifted him up and backwards. The rest of the group looked on with a mixture of alarm and bemusement as Bokuto readjusted his grip on Kuroo and slung him over his shoulder. Bokuto took off down the hallway, screaming, "Not today, Ax Man!"

Bokuto flexed, one eyebrow raised with a shit-eating grin plastered to his face. "What can I say? These muscles are built for lifting Tetsus."

Not So Passive-Aggressive Post-It Notes (Haikyuu, DaiSuga One Shot):

"We need some sort of system," Suga groaned as he pulled a box of dubious looking leftovers from the fridge. "Like a 'Hey, so and so is making dinner tonight' sort of system." After a moment, Suga elaborated, "Chores list is the word I'm looking for."

The following morning Daichi woke up to two Post-it Notes on his face. Wondering how Suga could have stuck the paper to his face without waking him up, he removed the neon green pieces of paper and gave them a once over. The first one read, "Here's a passive aggressive Post-it note for you asshole >:0 –S".

"So, what happened exactly to warrant this one?" Kuroo had asked once when he came over for a study session. "You're going to have to be more specific," Daichi said without looking up from his notes. Kuroo cleared his throat and began to read, "Suga, there is a difference between 'dad' and 'daddy' and which one is appropriate to call me in public. Will discuss later. Daichi."

You Teach Me, And I’ll Teach You (Haikyuu, DaiSuga, Multi Chapter):

Daichi was so screwed he failed to notice the Pelipper heading straight for him until it hit him like a freight train.

Daichi gave Suga a smirk before asking, "And you ended up living here? What, did you decide the soda wasn't enough, so you took the house?" Suga glanced at Daichi out of the corner of his eye, his expression unreadable as he deadpanned, "No. The soda wasn't enough."

Suga hopped off the porch to meet her and crouched down to catch her in his arms. The Mudkip nuzzled under Suga's chin, happy to see him. "So I heard you like Mudkips," Daichi called from the porch. Suga stiffened visibly and Daichi choked back a laugh. "You are quite literally the worst person in Hoenn, Sawamura Daichi," Suga hissed, straightening to glare at Daichi.

"Good thing we're surrounded by water Pokémon because you are thirsty as fuck," Yui teased.

Right. Conversation. Words. Manners. Yes. That's a thing that Suga could do.

The people in the red sweaters Daichi had seen when he first arrived passed Daichi and Suga, making their way north. Daichi assumed they were on their way to the Ocean Museum, which was odd considering Daichi could hear them muttering "seven-point-eight out of ten, too much fucking water" and "would not come here again" under their breath.

Daichi groaned, flopping face first onto the futon. Shimmer, who had been unceremoniously left behind by Suga that morning, mewled pathetically at Daichi, stretching to paw at Daichi's ribs. When Daichi didn't immediately respond to the vaporeon, Shimmer mewled again and jumped up onto the futon. Shimmer proceeded to clamber onto Daichi's lower back, curl into a ball and fall asleep.

"Shit, it's the PokéCops!"

Like You a Latte (Haikyuu, DaiSuga, Series):

"Take that sass and put it in your pocket."

"Sounds like you've got a latte on your mind," Suga managed to choke out. "Did you just make a coffee pun at me?" Sawamura asked. "That's pretty dorky." "My shop's called Espresso Yourself and you're surprised I'd make a coffee pun at you?" Suga retorted.

Suga fished his own phone out of his pocket and programmed Daichi's number into it (he tilted his phone away so Daichi couldn't see the arm flex emoji and the prayer hands emoji Suga added next to his name).

"This is now a 'Gang up on Suga' free zone. Ok? None of you are allowed to give me shit for the rest of the day. Effective immediately. You all have ruined my life."

"Do you wanna borrow my fancy underwear, or are you sticking with the shrimp boxers?"

"I will pay literally any amount of money for the cat to not be in there," Daichi pleaded to the empty air before cautiously approaching the dumpster.

{Attachment: help.jpg}

The group turned to see him leaning against the frame, the kitten perched on one shoulder and an incredibly smug look on Oikawa's face. "He was attacking the toilet and was soaked from the sink, so I decided to intervene. Seems he likes Uncle Tooru best-." At that moment, the kitten lunged at Oikawa's head, digging his tiny claws into Oikawa's scalp and biting at his hair. Oikawa let out a screech, smacking into the door frame as the kitten continued his attack. Koushi let out a squeal of delight and raced over to scoop the cat off of the panicked and mildly offended Oikawa.

"You are doing the best job! Who's a little fighter? You are! You are! Who wants to fight the very concept of existence? That's right, it's you!" "Daichi, your boyfriend is praising that little monster for attacking me," Oikawa pouted.

#long post #fic writers week 2017 #fic writers week #haikyuu

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