#and got blessed with 5 different lizards today!

[kara-knuckles]

Male (green) and female (brown) sand lizards.

[fluidityandgiggles]

Sleep Is For The Weak - Chapter 7

Previous Chapters: Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 5, Last Chapter

Writing Masterlist - for previous chapters not otherwise linked, Read on AO3

Notes (I guess): I decided to post this earlier than usual, both in honor of fanfic writer appreciation day and because I finished writing this one yesterday, and I was going to schedule it, and just not worry about anything... and then there was a power shortage and as I’m was writing this, on Tuesday, I had to rely on my phone to provide me with wifi. God bless... (Well, I have wifi now, don’t I?)

I just thought that after all the angst of the last two chapters you’d appreciate a bit of sweetness, and where this chapter started almost as harshly as the last two, it’s just. So sweet. And fluffy. And I feel so happy that I managed to do such a thing. Well... that and prove to the world that I’m a massive nerd. (If you really want to know, some of Emile’s rants in this chapters are based on actual answers I gave in my finals. And those of you who know me well enough know that I studied theatre in high school...)

Thanks and credits go to @broadwaytheanimatedseries for the initial idea (and for being there to listen and talk about ideas with when we hang out, which happens a lot more lately actually), to @whatwashernameagain the absolute angel for Keep Him Safe and for being incredibly awesome (and for the German translation of one of my favorite quotes ever), to @anony-phangirl and @asleepybisexual for their usual contributions that shall never go un-thank-ed and uncredited, and a special one to @winglessnymph who is the person and inspiration behind a good chunk of Emile’s background and who, after showing them a screenshot of this chapter, just said “my old high school can burn, but yes at least Emile survived”.

Tag list (sort of): @bunny222, @ab-artist, @secretlyanxiouspersona, @your-username-is-unavailable, @virgilcrofters, @why-things-go-boom, @ilovemygaydad, @violetblossem

Trigger warning: period appropriate transphobia (the early 00s were not exactly trans-friendly). This chapter in particular also has mentions of alcohol and drug use.

—————

"But I want you to come!"

"Leah, sweetie, I can't come. I'm going to Emile's. But I'll see you sooner than you think, okay?"

"Okay… but it's not going to be fun. Rachel is two and she's boring and I don't like Mom."

Leah called every day after school. Remy could've been in a class, or at a group meeting, or taking a shower, and she would call every day after school. It was somewhat adorable.

But now was no time to deal with adorable.

"Emile, my darling, my precious, my sweet sweet love," Remy declared at the beginning of their morning sols 20 class last Monday, "can I come over for thanksgiving?"

"Didn't you say you have to see your mom?" Emile whispered over his cup of tea, struggling to get comfortable. The weather got extremely cold lately, and at thirty-six degrees at eight in the morning, not even the four layers and giant thermos full of tea could keep Emile warm enough to survive morning classes.

India literally asked him if he's not supposed to be used to such temperatures, which earned her a lecture on hypersensitivity and illness caused by stress.

"But it's Linda! Emile, babe, sweetheart, darling, dollface—"

"Don't call me bubbeleh and I'll consider it."

"It'll be worth it. I promise—"

"I need to ask my mom, and my sister is coming to pick me up because I'm kinda scared of flights, and Minnesota is kind of far away."

"Alright. I don't mind."

He really hoped Nathalie would agree.

"I don't want to be here alone," Leah half-whined.

"I know, babe, but it won't be long. Trust me."

He let her talk about school for a good while more, at least until he could hear Linda screaming at her to stop holding the line. It was horrifying. He didn't remember her doing it much.

Then again, she was barely home anyway.

The call disconnected rather quickly, right on time for his appointment at the psych clinic. The grad student who claimed Remy as his personal project was supervised today by the head of the department, as part of his research, which meant Remy had to be on his best behavior.

It also meant he'd get misgendered. Which was a thing said student, whose thesis was on gender dysphoria and gender identity (same subject as his big project for AP psychology back at Bronx Science, really), made sure to not do.

This was going to be fun.

——

"You went to the Bronx High School of Science, right?"

"Yeah? Gurl, why you asking me? I told you that already."

"A 4.0 GPA, went to a gifted program in Columbia—"

"Why are you asking me questions you already know the answer to?"

"Dr. Freeman wanted to hear those for himself," Remy heard the guy - Michael, his name is Michael, stop calling him "the guy" - mutter to himself as he typed away on his laptop.

"What makes you think that you're a boy, Miss Harris?" The doctor asked, pushing his glasses up. What a prick…

"Well, considering how I was quite literally diagnosed with gender identity disorder by a licensed psychiatrist, I don't think I am. I know I am."

"And yet, you've enrolled into Harvard under the name Rebecca. Is there any explanation as to why?" Freeman looked directly at Remy. "You're an intelligent young person, and enrolling under your preferred—"

"I didn't know I could do it, and now I have, like, no idea how to change it in administration."

"Biologically speaking, Mr. Harris, the concept of sex is very non-binary." The older man's gravelly voice seemed to chill even Michael, still taking notes. Suddenly he didn't seem so evil.

"First of all," Dr. Freeman said, "in sexual species, you can have female be XX and males just be X. For example, in insects. Female birds are ZW and males are ZZ, for reptiles it's temperature differences that female or male make. In some flatworms it's a penis fencing competition. Some fish like clownfish and parrotfish can have females become males because there are no males left, and the New Mexico whiptail lizards are a female-only species who reproduce asexually. Some species, like cuttlefish, have males act like females in order to get close to the females. And fungi have thousands of sexes. And that's not even getting close to humanity."

The doctor cleared his throat and took a sip of his coffee. "You can be male because you were born female but have a 5 alpha-reductase deficiency, and so you develop a penis in puberty. You can be female because you were born with XY chromosomes but you're insensitive to androgens, or because your Y is missing the SRY gene, both of which would result in developing a female figure. You can be male because you were born with two XX chromosomes but one of them does have the SRY gene. You can be male by having two X chromosomes and one Y, or a female by having only one X chromosome. And you can be male or female by being born in the wrong body for your brain.

"As I said, there is no such thing as two biological sexes only. So I'll ask you this again. Why would you enroll as a female named Rebecca if you know that you are neither?"

Remy had no idea how to respond. The professor looked at him, straight at him, and Michael kept typing away…

"...I told you, I had no idea I could do that."

"I'll write you a note to give to Vivian in administration. She'll take care of everything, you just need to provide her with a name."

"It's Remy—"

"I hope you understand that this isn't legal, it's only official. I don't have a doctorate in psychology just to explain what's the difference between the two to my students."

Remy nodded nervously, swallowing air. "Yes sir."

——

"Your suite is so much more comfortable than mine," Emile wiggled on the couch, petting his bunny, as Remy was making him a cup of tea. "You can… clearly see Leah was here."

"The marks on the wall? Yeah… she brought her scooter with her and wouldn't stop running into the wall with it."

Emile giggled - how much cuter could this boy get? - and scratched Mycroft's head a bit. "I asked my mom and, yeah, my grandparents and my uncle and his family are coming over, so it wouldn't be that much of an issue if you came over, but…"

"But?"

"We're having thanksgiving at my grandparents' on my dad's side. So it might be a bit of an issue. I'm sorry…"

"Don't be. It's okay, we didn't plan for this or whatever. I'll watch over Leah and you take care around your family, okay?"

"Okay. Have fun with her. She'll really need it."

"I know and I'm willing to suffer for that."

The kettle started whistling. Remy filled the mug with the boiling water and took it to Emile.

Just yesterday Emile screamed "I waited five minutes and the weather didn't change, get your shit together, Boston" at the sky when it started to snow. It wasn't even that much, Remy had seen bigger storms and he was sure that Emile did too - he was from Minnesota, after all - but it was still somewhat funny. After asking, Emile explained that in Minnesota, and basically all around the Midwest, "if you don't like the weather, just wait five minutes".

Remy didn't think he meant it literally. He probably didn't.

"How's India doing?"

"Midterms."

"Cool."

Emile was muttering something to himself in a language Remy didn't understand. He let Mycroft go and the bunny just sat there, on the couch, looking happy enough.

"Hey Remy, what's the Hebrew word for thanksgiving?"

"...I'm a Christian from New Jersey. Why are you asking me?"

"I don't… I don't know. My parents are expecting me to call my cousins before thanksgiving and they don't know English or Dutch yet… not that I know that much Dutch either, but… wait, you're from New Jersey? I thought you're from Manhattan."

"Only since I was five."

"Oh. Cool."

Remy moves the bunny and sat down next to Emile, who leaned against his side and put his head on his shoulder. His hair was incredibly soft, Remy was never quite able to stop running his fingers through it, and the whole situation just… made Remy feel like everything was going to be okay. Just… don't move from this spot, where the his adorable, tiny friend was cuddling up to him and muttering to himself in a different language, and everything will be alright.

His hair smelled like jasmine and seawater. And Remy was torn between admitting to himself just how much he liked it, and wondering if Chris would be jealous.

"You went on a date, right?" Emile raised his head, his hair tickling Remy. "I just…"

"Yeah, I did." And it was a bit better than Halloween. Chris was… way more interesting when not in parties, apparently. For one, he did not talk about his crush on Harrison Ford, and he did talk quite a bit but at least it was about law school and not Indiana Jones. It was… it was great.

"Huh… that's nice." And then, "a friend once asked me on a date. I had to say no."

"Why? Was something so wrong that—"

"No… I like that guy, but… he's the same guy who always paid me to bake weed brownies for him and his friends, and that's not very appropriate, right?"

He had to do a double take. "Weed brownies?!"

"Yeah… my school was the druggie school, you know?"

"No… I didn't know."

"Yeah… it's not like my parents couldn't afford to send me where my sister went, but they were worried about how the stress would affect me so I went to a public school. And… at least I only ever sneaked vodka in water bottles and baked weed brownies, I never, like… held someone's hair out of their face in the bathroom or had to keep someone from killing themselves, which now that I say it out loud just sounds so bad and I totally would've done it if I had to but—"

"Emile, babe, you're making me worry. Like, really."

"Sorry… I never ate weed brownies, though. I'm sensitive to weed."

This… this was the thing that baffled Remy about Emile. This… tiny, pure, angelic thing, with the soft hair that always smelled like jasmine and seawater and the bright, sparkling eyes. His soft little friend whose sunny disposition never faltered, not even in the darkest of times, and whose dedication and determination shone through everything he did.

Emile Picani, the sweetest human Remy ever met, was used to sneaking vodka into school and baking weed brownies.

Fuck.

"How do you even find out that you're sensitive to weed if you don't, like, smoke weed or whatever?"

"You have to decarboxylate the weed to activate it, which basically means heating it up, and the smell gives me migraines, so… that's how I found out."

Yeah, because that's so much better.

"But I mean, good riddance. Can we watch Mulan? I want to do something…"

"Aren't you reading that Sartre thing?"

"No Exit? I already finished it." Emile sipped on his tea. "I don't… get it? I can see why Estelle and Garcin will never achieve an epiphany, but Ines came in already aware that she's amoral… can't she just… leave Hell?"

Gilliam gave the class an optional assignment, to read and analyze No Exit by Jean-Paul Sartre. It wasn't even going to go into their final grade, but he did say that it might be very important to the next semester when they study Freud ("and how he almost ruined the entire field of psychology, more or less"), so Remy chose to leave it for Christmas break. Or maybe not even read it.

"It's something like sixty pages, it's shorter than Hedda Gabler or The Cherry Orchard… it's an easy—"

"Question one, what the fuck is Hedda Gabler, and question two, what cherry orchard?"

Emile's eyes lit up and he almost jumped in his seat, spilling some of his tea on his lap and causing Mycroft to hop a bit farther. "Did you ever do theatre?"

And off on a rant he went, explaining every little nuance and allegory in both the plays ("so like, back in Ibsen's time, realistic theatre was meant to portray real life and keep the three unities, so Hedda shooting herself off-stage is meant to shock the audience as well as preserve the unity of place, which is pretty much…", "you know, the reason it's called Hedda Gabler despite Hedda being married to Jorgen Tesman is to show that Hedda sees herself as the daughter of General Gabler first and the wife of Jorgen Tesman second", "the cherry orchard is never really in scene ever, so it's kind of like a fantasy, or trying to hold onto a thing that isn't there anymore, like the Russian aristocrat's status, so when middle-class Lopakhin buys the orchard and orders to start cutting it before the others even left is like an even bigger sign that the aristocracy has fallen and there is no place left for it in the modern Russian society, in the face of the upcoming bourgeoisie and their budding materialism").

It was worse than Leah talking about betta fish. Well… no it wasn't, but he couldn't bring himself to shut Emile up… he was too cute to be told to shut up.

"So I just… I don't get it. Ines should be able to pick herself up and walk out the door, so why isn't she doing it?"

Emile was out of tea by the time Remy caught him looking at him with questioning eyes and realized he'd completely zoned out.

"Maybe… societal pressure?"

"Maybe… but it still makes no sense. She's in one room with two incredibly selfish people… can I boil some more water?" Remy nodded and Emile practically jumped out of his lap. The cold immediately hit Remy with a wave of disappointment. He wanted to hold Emile just a bit longer...

"Then again," Emile kept ranting, "this is the play that coined the term ‘Hell is other people'. L'enfer, c'est les autres. De hel zijn de anderen. Hagehenom hu hazulat."

"How many languages was that…?"

"Four." Remy choked. "I don't speak Dutch or Hebrew very well, I told you that. I only know the basics because of my family. But I do know this saying in five languages. I think... My oma and opa really like saying it. But I don't remember how to say it in German."

This boy was impossible.

"No, no, I do remember it. Die Hölle, das sind die anderen."

And Remy absolutely loved him. (A bushel and a peck.)

"And I only know how to say it in German because my neighbors are German. So like… I really only speak two languages."

"That's still way more than me, babe."

"Well, enough about me! I want to hear more about your date! How awesome was it?"

Oh, it was great. Chris didn't talk only about himself, he was actually interested in listening to Remy talk about his interests, they had a lovely dinner and went to see a slightly better than okay movie (he was not going to tell Emile that The Ring gave him nightmares for three days after watching it though), and he kissed him when they got back to Harvard. Nothing big, everything was nice, and they were going on a date again in early December. Nothing could be better.

Except the voice in his head, calling him a liar.

"That sounds very nice," Emile muttered as he plopped back down next to Remy and put his cup of tea on the table. "I'm sure you'll have a lot of fun. The Two Towers and Chicago are supposed to come out in December. And I promised my sister I'll go to see both of them with her."

A comfortable silence settled in. Remy tried to focus on anything but how nice it was to cuddle Emile, especially today that all his suitemates had other obligations. It was almost time to leave for thanksgiving - those who left for thanksgiving anyway - and… it meant he wouldn't see Emile for a week.

He didn't think he was a fan of the idea.

"Can we please watch Mulan? I haven't seen it in forever!"

Remy had to oblige.

——

"Hello?" The tiny voice that came through the phone made Remy so happy, and he had no idea why. "Who's that?"

"Leah, aren't you supposed to be doing your homework?"

"Remy oh oh oh Remy I have so many things to tell you so yesterday I went to the park and I found a shiny rock and—"

"Leah, I called to tell you and Linda that I'm coming over for thanksgiving." The high-pitched scream almost ruptured his eardrum. "But you have to be on your best behavior, okay? I know it's a very hard thing to do, babe, but it's for Linda."

"Okay! I can behave very good!"

"I know you can, sweets. I just need you to promise me that you will."

"I promise that I will! Pinky promise! When you get here it'll be a pinky promise, okay?"

All that was left was to hope that thanksgiving won't be such a disaster.

If it was, though, Remy would start considering smuggling Leah with him to Cambridge.

[cthulhuofficial]

August 19, 2019

I’m reading Heir to the Empire, so I made this meme to celebrate Thrawn catting around the universe wearing a lizard stole.

A thing I noticed in the writing is that Thrawn repeatedly refers to “humans and aliens.” “This civilization combines both human and alien architecture,” that kind of thing. Thrawn, honey, I got some news for you... I wonder if this is an author oversight, writing from the perspective of a human being a human, or if this is intentional and Thrawn is either himself so drowned in the Empire’s propaganda that he has subconsciously othered himself from his own race, or maybe he is trying to downplay his alienness among the Empire staff with his “I’m not like other aliens” routine. I think about these things a lot since I watched the original Manchurian Candidate, which I thought handled this beautifully in the scenes where the captured soldiers are being brainwashed and interrogated; the white soldiers, in their hallucinations, see only white people, and as a white person, I didn’t really notice this, until they showed the black soldier’s dream, and everyone in it was black - really made me think about this “them” versus “us” mindset, and how people’s defaults are different.

Things I was grateful for today:

Being able to have somewhat heated/political discussions with Sean and feeling okay about it (after I asked for reassurance!)

Realizing I needed reassurance after said discussion, and actually asking for it

Being in a relationship with someone that I can discuss books in depth with

Had a fun puzzle to solve at work, I figured out a solution, and Rob even blessed it

How good I feel after I tidy up my house

Sean helping so much with my car problems right now

Sean in general!!!!

My hair is looking a little healthier than it has lately

My blood tests came back totally normal - health is so important.

Habits accomplished:

Took vitamins

Brought lunch

Brought coffee from home

Tidied my house (cleaned my kitchen and did a load of laundry, although I have to put it away still)

Read 5 pages

Avoided reading political blogs

Worked out (30 minutes of running)

Took a walk at work

[savemestucky]

Gairaigo: Happy Birthday Steve Rogers (1942)

Here’s a bitty chapter of Gairaigo for Steve Roger’s birthday~ Depending on my workload this week, I’m hoping to have another birthday chapter written from Steve’s POV. NOTE: The sections in italics are in English but represent them speaking Japanese.

Gairaigo [formerly Poppies Growing In Cartoons, the link leads to an almost full chapter]: James Bukawa doesn’t know that he and Steve Rogers went to the same elementary school or grammar school- until he’s 14 years old and he’s carrying 60 pounds of laundry to the tenement past the gas station. Steve/Bucky/Jim AU, Japanese-American Bucky Barnes

Shout out to @literaryartisan for their wild enthusiasm for this AU and for asking me real good questions that push me to keep writing!! and to @seasirpent who loves my writing even if they’re not into Marvel <3  

Bucky’s staring at the ceiling of the barrack when Yamaguchi John starts padding around and rifling through his footlocker.

“You gotta light?” John speaks with an even weirder accent than his Kyushu-Ben, John’s from Osaka and Bucky still isn’t 100% sure where he fits in with the universal rivalry against Tokyo. When Bucky doesn’t answer right away, he knocks on the wall and Nakamura Ben comes through the door flap and sleepily passes a book of matches over. Bucky’s busy wondering about whether or not Mrs. Watanabe had time to fix Steve a cake with the money he wired and decides he’ll finally roll out of his cot when he smells John and Ben brewing coffee [from the god damn can of coffee he got at the general store].

���Rise and shine, Jamie, they’re not gunna take beauty rest as a good reason to skip out on work” John gives him a crooked grin as he blows smoke out the cracked window.

“And- God Bless America!” he can’t tell whether or not Ben’s being sarcastic as he raises his tin mug of coffee in a toast, Ben’s only 19 [really too young to be housed with the other bachelors] and all kinds of snarky, but Bucky would put down money on him joining the service if they’d let in Japs.

“Yeah, happy fourth Jamie,” John says way too cheerily.

Bucky rubs his eyes and mindlessly accepts the coffee they pass him, “unnn, fuck off John, at least I get beauty sleep- you look like you could do with some for that mug.”

John snorts into his coffee and Ben gives him a little grimace- Bucky ought to be nicer to him, Ben’s parents didn’t want him to learn Japanese growing up so he barely speaks Tokyo-ben [never mind trying to figure out what the heck John and Bucky say]. They bicker a little bit about the heat: John says this is nothing to August in Osaka and Ben says you could fry an egg on the pavement in San Fransisco, Bucky silently figures the internment camp is the hottest place they’ll ever be because the water comes out of the ground warm and there’s no protection from the dust storms or the god damn lizards. He thinks about going to the mess hall and starts pulling on his trousers and realizes John’s been holding out his suspenders and saying “Jamie” for a hot second.

“Thanks man,” he mumbles as he takes them and buttons them on to the top of his pants, fiddling a bit with the clasps so they sit nicely (just like Mrs. Watanabe always told him to. he just wishes his pants were nicely pressed and misses the dry cleaners and steve so badly right then). After a long second, he realizes he ought to apologize for not answering sooner, “Sorry, got a head in the clouds today.”

“S’no problem,” John says across the room as he shaves in the little mirror they have pinned up, “you’ve always been slow with Jamie anyway.”

“I’ll never call you James,” Ben shouts through the wall, “Bukawa, maybe- you’re not that respectable.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, combing a dab of pomade into his hair, “No one calls me Jamie back home.”

“Okay, what are you then?” John quips back and Bucky thinks that for all John acts like a fast-car-bachelor and sees more than he should to get a good dig at ya’, he’s considerate in the ways that count. 

Bucky dies in his throat, only Steve calls him that really. The dry cleaning gang call him that when they speak English, but Steve gave him that name and the idea of sharing any part of Steve with them seems especially hard on his birthday when all Bucky has of him right now is a single censored letter and a little water color of the back alley. He frowns at his comb for a second, “My ma’ calls me Jeimu.”

“I can do that,” Ben strolls through the doorway, all high-school cocky with his hair sticking up and a cotton plaid shirt on. It’s easy to forget that they’ve only been living together since May: he’s already used to the sounds of the other bachelors in their barrack moving around, it’s not that different from Shizumbe’s complex morning rituals or the Watanabe’s intense hanafuda nights. He’s not sure he’d finish a fist fight for John or Ben (maybe Ben) but he’d drag them home after and help with the iodine: so far, most of what they’ve shared were long nights playing koi-koi with the creased deck of hanafuda cards that Mr. Watanabe gave him and griping about the camp.

It’s-

it’s not that Bucky doesn’t understand people here. He gets the people that say they need to keep their heads down, they need to be good American citizens- and if locking them up ‘till the war is over is the only way to win it then- then. Then gaman. Persevere. Enduring. Maybe that’s where he stands; he’d walk by and clench his fist when the neighborhood starting having “No Japs” signs- but Steve-

Steve got banned from the local barber too when he cussed them out for refusing Bucky a haircut. The letter he got from Steve was short (censored) and merely told him that all was well at the dry cleaners and that he was doing his best to stop the vandalism at the shop (which, sounds like, isn’t nearly so bad for Japs in Brooklyn. John’s office building was almost burned down in Anaheim) and Bucky- I’m with you till the end of the line. He’s almost positive that Steve would be joining in the meetings down the gangway where the Yoshida brothers were trying to organize people, to demand better wages, to join the service, to protest and get the fuck out of the California badlands. But he’s not positive: Steve so strongly believes in duty to his country, a country that has turned its back on Bucky. He wishes he could just call Steve now and ask him directly: wants to know if Steve would be ashamed he wasn’t doing more to get out of here or if Steve wants him to keep his head down and survive and come home safe.

Ben looks a little like Steve slouched in the doorway; his complexion is a little lighter than theirs (he’s still finishing high school and doesn’t have a job yet, he had to stop going when the neighbors started throwing rocks at his parent’s shop) and he’s still a little lanky and his grin is painfully (young) daring and rebellious (afraid). “Jay-mu” he tries out, and Bucky realizes he couldn’t stand it if Ben called him Bucky.

“Jeimu,” John absently corrects as Bucky tosses him a clean handkerchief to put in his pocket, “ready?”

Bucky checks his watch, “we don’t get to stand in the mess hall for another 5-”

Ben clucks his tongue, “I doubt those soldiers are gunna stop us from lining up early to get grub.”

John gives him a sharp look, “they beat old men for less.”

“Oh yeah?” Ben huffed, and Bucky uneasily looked out the window to see if there were any other neighbors listening in, “bet you know all about the cold world, huh?”

John stepped forward and grabbed Ben’s arm, “Yeah, Nakamura, I know a thing or two about how this shit works. My pa’ wants me to go back to Osaka because when he came to visit- two days in the U.S. an’ he got fucking beaten by the neighbors for not minding the butcher’s wife on the street. So yeah, I know how white people can be. We’re stuck here ‘til they decide yellow people are worth a cent- you’ll fucking keep your head down ‘til they point the guns elsewhere or you won’t have one at all.” John shook him firmly for a second, “you understand me? You parents aren’t here-” his voice softened, “eh? someone needs to look out for you a little so you can go home safe.”

Ben looked at his shoes mulishly, “I don’t need anyone to take care of me... ‘n ‘sides, it’s easy for you to say, you had a fancy life before this. You got something to go back to.”

“-Is that what you’re getting out of this, Ben? We had lives? We all lost those-” Bucky breathed, sagging against the wall, Bucky felt the air getting punched out of him; in his mind, Ben and Steve snapped apart forever. Bucky didn’t need to ask anyone to take care of Steve- he knew the moment he left that Mrs. Watanabe would keep him in line as she always did, and he knew that Steve would keep doing his best to earn his keep. Steve might not know when to get out of a fight- but at least he knew what family meant. “Jesus fucking Christ- Ben-”

“- you little spoiled, Shit,” John hissed, “do you think I can go back to that? They had me in Tule Lake Ben, they took me right after Pearl Harbor- y’know why? Because I was born over there, I went to school there, because I write my mom every damn week. And now? Now I can’t hold a damn camera straight anymore, I can’t keep my hands steady enough. I can’t even go back to Osaka to suffer with my family. Yeah,” John’s voice turned snide, strangely cruel for the man who had taken Ben under his wing for the last months, Bucky suspected this outburst was a long time in coming, “your parents might be in another camp, but they’re not in Tule Lake. And they’ve made sure people are minding you, do you think it’s coincidence those Honda-s keep dropping by once a week?” He finally let go of Ben’s arm, his voice was hoarse “we can’t make sure you’re safe if you don’t help us. They want an excuse to make an example of a Jap.”

Ben looked guiltily at Bucky, John had started aimlessly (angrily) rifling through his ruck sack and they were both at a loss after that outburst. Bucky looked at his watch, “the line started a few minutes ago.”

They wordlessly left the barrack and walked over to the mess hall, ignoring the flags their neighbors had put out over their doorways. Ben lamely waved at the people who came by to chat with him (now he knew that Mrs. Ito and Doy were checking in on him). Ben and Bucky poked at their beans and rice, John scarfed it down, pulled out a book, and pointedly looked away.

“I’m sorry Jeimu,” Ben said quietly, pushing the last bit of food around his plate.

Bucky gave him a sidelong look, “I don’t think I’m the one you’re supposed to apologize to. But thanks anyway. ‘s mighty decent of you.”

“I- I know that,” Ben seemed much younger then, unsure of himself and a little afraid, he turned more towards John who kept his eyes trained on his book, “but my parents raised me better. I’m not doing anyone favors- I’ll do my best to clean up my act. I’m sorry, John. I- we don’t have many friends here. You ‘n me ‘n John, we gotta stick together, right?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said through a pull of water, “yeah, that’s right.”

“You got anyone waiting for you back home?” Ben asked timidly, Bucky saw John tilt his ear a bit.

He licked his lips, “Not a dame.” He started shoveling in the rest of his food, trying to dodge the questions about his real life- about Steve (he wanted to keep Steve to himself, try to tuck him away in an envelope to look at before he went to bed so he wouldn’t worry about his asthma in the summer humidity).

“But?” John looked up and leveled his eyes at Bucky, “what’s in Brooklyn? You got a lotta family?”

“You could say that,” Bucky hedged, “ma kicked me out in high school, but the dry cleaners took me in.”

“The Watanabes?” John prompted him, Bucky fought the urge to give him a dirty look- trust John to remember the one time he really mentioned working for them.

“Yeah, they took in the stray kids like me and my buddy Steve.”

“Steve?” Ben looked at the clock and John started putting away his book while they all tidied up their trays to take up to get washed. “Don’t know many Japs named Steve.”

“That’s ‘cause he ain’t Japanese, he’s a whitie.” Bucky stood up, piled his dishes in the bin, and left the mess hall. Back at the table, Ben tried to follow him and pester Bucky with a million questions- but John kept him back.

Bucky spent the day loading up the storage room for the kitchen: mostly bringing in sacks of rice with a few other guys as the ladies bustled around prepping vegetables for lunch and then dinner. A few women chatted with him about the night’s dance in the gym and around 3pm. his aunt dropped by to check in on him. He ducked out for a minute to check the mail and got a letter from Mrs. Watanabe (he didn’t get a chance to read it, but the envelope had a scrawled message about a fruitcake for Steve’s birthday). He ended up helping the kitchen move around pots of stew as they portioned it out and got a generous second helping in exchange. He got back to the barrack after dark: the way lit by some too-widely-spaced street lights and sparklers lighting up in the guard towers, the curfew had been lengthened for the night and he passed more than a few couples covertly making out. John was smoking a cigarette on the front step.

Bucky briefly considered trying to slip past him, but John lit up a cigarette for him and Bucky ended up sitting down next to him.

“There’s more to that Steve, isn’t there?” John said casually, stretching out his legs.

“He’s my best pal,” Bucky took a long drag of his cigarette, peering out into the other barracks and idly looking at the folks dressed up to dance, “he’s a little thing, but he’s got a good head on his shoulders. He’s gunna go places.”

“No,” John said bluntly, “there’s more than that- he's something special to you.” Bucky almost choked and John gave him a compassionate look out of the corner of his eyes, there was a long pause and then “y’know, it’d be harder for me to hide it back in Osaka. In front of my parents? They kept showing me off to nice girls, I picked up photography so I could get away. Maybe this place isn’t the best for me, but there’s others like us in Anaheim.“ He pushed his shoulder against Bucky, “tell me about this Steve.”

Bucky stubbed out his cigarette, “It’s his birthday.”

“No shit?” they shared a crooked grin.

“Nah,” Bucky snorted, “he’s a tough son of a bitch, maybe a hundred pounds soaking wet, but- he’d got a good heart and won’t let other people start shit. Last year on his birthday I took him out to Coney Island and we were almost banned after he busted a guy’s lip,” he thought for a sec, “he wasn’t too riled up when the fella was just teasing a little pussy-cat, but then that shit called me Jap and he lost it. Started hollering about America bein’ a place for everyone.”

John barked out a harsh laugh.

“I know, I know-” Bucky let out a long breath, “but my best guy, since we were in grammar school. He even learned Japanese, he’s working at the dry cleaners now.” He looked at his watch, “well, with any luck, now he’s having a slice of cake and a cuppa coffee.”

John gave him a fond look as he ashed his cigarette, they both stood up, “I was thinking of just bailin’ on this dance, I get the feeling it’s teenagers and married folk, how about you and I have a drink?” he snagged a flask from inside his jacket.

Bucky took a long pull and the two went in for a long night of cards.

[ratkingdnd]

Chapter Fifty Three - Maze Boys

The heroes stand in their area, cheered on by the crowd as the other mansions disappear, revealing the remaining two groups of Theatre and Musique. Their champions look tired, bloodied and worse for wear, it would seem that they didn’t come out of the mansion as easily as the first three hives. Above the heroes heads numbers start appearing, Scaly looks forward and can see a beefolk, clearly trained in the arcane arts waving a wand that made the numbers appear above their head. Mr. Sandy White floats down from the sky once more and starts announcing the scores “Hive de la Dansant, 292 points. Hive de la Musique, 221 points. Hive de la Theatre, 138 points. Hive de la Peinture, 303 points”, at this point the crowd starts going wild. Hive de la Peinture seemed to be a crowd favourite and at this point they were ahead. “Okay, okay settle down” Mr. Sandy White said in his weird voice. “Finally, Hive de la L’Ecriture….308 points!” the crowd roars into life, it was as if the stadium itself was rumbling with the sound of foot stomps, claps and the flutter of wings. “The trials are close! L’ecriture only lead by 5 points! The next trial will be the final one and it is a doozy! Everybody prepare for the greatest games to ever bless the Feywild!” says Mr. Sandy White. The crowd continues to cheer as the champions walk into their respective rooms around the stadium. 

The heroes are greeted by the hive’s queen and Jerry at the door to their room. “I would just like to say that we are so proud to have you as our champions” says the Queen, “When Jerry asked me to consider you, I thought he was an idiot, but now after watching I have come to see that I was completely wrong”, Jerry stood behind the queen, with a huge smile on his face. “Please come inside and accept the delicacies we have prepared for you”, behind the queen, Jerry opens the door to their room and the heroes are hit with a waft of what smelled like the most delicious meal. Upon walking in, platters among platters of food line a bench in the middle of the room, enough for 30 people with ease. Candles light up the table and sconces sit along the walls, a deep steam rolls out of a door at the back, the heroes know to be the entrance to their own private bath house. Dolgan walks directly in, taking an item of clothing off for each step he walks. He reaches the dining table, completely naked and grabs a whole roast chicken, and without saying a word walks directly into the bath house, disappearing into the steam. “Oh man, that seems like a good idea” says Scaly as he does the same following Dolgan into the steam room. The rest of the heroes follow in suit, grabbing a large plate of food off of the table before heading into the steam room. Vaurien chooses to pick up a bowl full of rose petals before following the rest of the heroes. 

All of the champions sit in their own baths, the steam rolling off of the top of the water like a thin mist shrouding the room in a little privacy. Each of them munch away at their food, Dolgan was covered in grease from the whole roast chicken, but the occasional dunk into the water of the bath allowed him the cleanliness he was after. Vaurien choosing to take the more sensual approach had place the rose petals into his bath and was enjoying the steam, warmth and aroma of the now rose scented water. “Grerry?” says Dolgan, his mouth full of chicken, “Yes mate?” says Jerry appearing out of the steam as if he had teleported in there, “Could I possible get a massage?”, “Of course” says Jerry, “I’ll have someone come in here in a few minutes”. Dolgan dunks himself under the water one more time to wash the chicken juice off of himself before getting out of the bath and into a towel to dry himself off. He walks off into a more private area that housed a smaller, singular bed and lays down on it with his head sinking between two pillows so that he was facing the floor. “Hellooooo” says an odd voice as Dolgan hears the curtain being pulled back on the entrance. “Hi, just a full body please” says Dolgan, still facing the floor. Little did he know, that Scaly had put on the clothes of the masseuse that was supposed to be looking after Dolgan, and Scaly was going to be the one to massage him instead. “Oh that feels great” moans Dolgan as Scaly rubs deep into his back, massaging his shoulders all the way down to the tip of his butt crack. Scaly’s forked penis starts to make its way out of his scales, dancing like the python of a snake charmer. It starts spitting out little bits of fluid, hitting Dolgan on his back, “What is that?” Dolgan asks, now a little confused, “Just some oils” says Scaly, but forgetting to put on his feminine voice. Dolgan turns around immediately, “YOU!” he yells before launching at Scaly and tackling him onto the ground, Scaly’s penis still shaking around like a lizard's tail. Dolgan grabs his throat, “Don’t EVER do that again” he yells, Scaly starts to pass out from the lack of oxygen before Dolgan relaxes on his grip and Scaly splutters back to life. 

Meanwhile in the bedroom, Ned, Vaurien and Buffalo had gotten out of their baths and were getting ready to get into their beds. “Can I help you with anything else tonight?” asks Jerry, “I’m good thanks” says Buffalo, “Hmmm actually…” Ned ponders for a second, “Jerry, you wouldn’t happen to have any access to a bear skin would you?”, “A bear skin?” questions Jerry, “Should do, let me find out. I can let you know in the morning”. “Awesome, thanks mate” answers Ned before rolling over and placing his blanket over himself. Jerry walks to the door to leave, before he feels a tap on his shoulder “Woah!” Jerry says in shock staring at Vaurien, “You scared me”, “A crown of autumn leaves” says Vaurien, “Huh?!”, “A crown of autumn leaves, can you find one of them for me?”, “I….guess so, maybe, maybe not. I’ll have a look”, “Thank you” says Vaurien before he dissipates into a watery cloud and reappears in his bed. Jerry shrugs and walks out the door, closing it softly behind him. 

“Up and at em!” yells Jerry Ba booooowwwww, he blows into a small conch shell horn, abruptly waking all of the champions. “Woah!” Jerry dodges quickly to the right as a pillow comes flying at him, courtesy of Ned. “You wouldn’t be doing that if you knew what I got you Ned!” says Jerry in a sing song way, Ned sits up in his bed, bleary eyed. Jerry was holding up something large and white, “It’s no bear skin, but it’s the skull of one!”. As Ned’s eyes started to focus more, he noticed that indeed, Jerry was holding the skull of a bear, “Holy shit! Thank you!” he says, getting up, completely naked, his penis swanging around the place and walking over. Jerry attempts to look away slightly so as to avert his gaze from Ned’s member, but after a second gives up, having seen Ned’s penis many a times by now, he clearly didn’t care who saw him naked. Ned takes the skull from Jerry and places it slowly on his head, the power of the bear filling him with strength and resilience, “This is so much better than a skin” Ned says, touching the skull on top of his head, “I will put this to use today”. Vaurien by this time had also gotten up and was looking at Jerry, “Don’t worry I got yours too!” says Jerry, as he turns around and reaches behind him, revealing a large crown covered in orange leaves, “Though, does this do anything for you? What is its purpose?”, “I am in my autumn phase at the moment”, said the burning orange skinned eladrin, “It’s purpose it to be on my head” he says cryptically. “Okay” says Jerry a little confused, but not terribly fussed. “Guys, eat breakfast and then head outside. You have 1 hour before the next trial starts. Get yourselves sorted and meet me outside”.

The heroes eat, clean and prepare themselves without any issues and walk to the door. Jerry greets them, “Great. Come to the front door, I’m about to walk you out”. The heroes line themselves up single file behind Jerry as he opens the door to the stadium and the walk out to cheers, shouts and screams. “Hive de la LE CRI CHUUUURRREEEE!” they hear Mr. Sandy White yell their name out in a long draw, the crowd rises up out of their seats clapping their hands and buzzing their wings. Their queen and a few guards were standing next to the front door clapping as they walked past “You got this!” says the Queen, a giant smile across her face. Jerry leads them to the centre of the stadium where Mr. Sandy White was standing. All the other teams were next to him in small sections in a circle. “Stand on the platform” says Jerry, ushering them through, Mr Sandy White motions them to walk over to him and the champions follow, seeing that the platform was a round disk slightly raised up out of the sand with a giant pole in the middle. As soon as all of the champions had gotten onto the disc the platform starts rising slowly, each of the hives in their small sections. Some of them in huddles speaking to each other, some of them looking out over the crowd and others staring at each other. The disc continues to move up the pole until the disc is well over the top of the stadium. “Look!” says Buffalo pointing to the heroes right and in the distance was a gigantic tree, “Bon Gland” Vaurien says under his breath, “Bon what?” asks Scaly, “Bon Gland, it’s the sun court’s court. It’s also the jail of the fey”. “Bon Gland is correct says Mr. Sandy White, his voice booming out to the audience. The third trial will be the most difficult as it will combine puzzle solving and combat all in one. The champions will all start from different positions from the outside of a hedge maze. In the centre of the maze is the Bon Gland, a 400ft tree that houses some of the most despicable life forms in the Feywild, but all of them will be on their best behaviour as the champions climb level by level until they face their final foe on top of the tree. “Hmm, doesn’t sound too hard” says Dolgan, “This will be hard” says Vaurien, “The feywild is just as dangerous as it is pretty. If they are using fey native creatures to run this maze and the tree, we are in for the fight of our lives”.

The disc travels over the top of the stadium, the heroes got to choose their entrance first as they had finished with the most points at the end of the second trial. The disc drops them off at the north west entrance and then continues to drop off the rest of the hive’s one by one until they had all been placed at their entrances. The heroes entrance was completely blocked by overgrown vines as they were not allowed to enter until everybody was ready to go. The audience from the stadium had flown over so that the sky was almost black with beefolk watching all the hives get ready to enter their third and final trial. The number three appears on the vines of the hedge maze entrance, 3, 2, 1….the numbers flash across the vines. The vines pull apart by some force, creating an opening where the champions are allowing them to enter. “GO!” they hear Mr. Sandy White’s voice echo around them and they walk into the hedge maze as the vines close behind them. Immediately they feel a sense of cold, the temperature was considerably lower in the hedge maze. So low that they were able to see their breath as they breathed in and out. The hedge’s were also incredibly high, about 70 feet up in the air. The ground seemed to be a mixture of soil and grass, changing as they walked forward. The last thing they noticed was that the crowds cheer had disappeared, in fact they could hear nothing but the sounds of their feet crunching the sticks and grass under their feet. The heroes look around at each other and with a shrug start walking forward.

“Does anyone have a gameplan hear?” asks Buffalo, no one answers. “Anyone?” says Buffalo as he turns around to see why the others weren’t answering, but they were all standing in a circle looking at the sky. “What are you doing?!” Buffalo asks, but the only answer he got was Dolgan pointing directly up, “What’s that?” he says. A giant cloud was over the top of the hedge maze and was coming down quickly, unnaturally quickly. Within seconds the giant cloud had come to the top of the hedge maze so that it fit snugly on like a lid of a pot. The light inside the maze dissipated instantly, leaving the heroes in dim light. Buffalo takes an arrow out of his endless quiver and loads his bow, aims up and shoots directly into the cloud that was now covering the entire maze. The arrow shoots up pooffff creating a small hole in the cloud. “At least that lets in a little light” says Dolgan, and as if the cloud was listening, the hole quickly closes over with more of the cloud, “Ahh shit” he says. Sheeeeew the arrow flies back through the cloud, this time piercing another hole in the cloud, about 10 metres in front of where Buffalo originally sent it, “We’re probably going to have to deal with that at some point” says Buffalo with a sigh, “Let’s start moving guys, the longer we stand still the less likely we are of winning this competition”. The heroes start walking, taking turns here and there as they travelled. “We’ve got to find a strategy for this, at least doing something other than just walking and hoping to get somewhere” says Buffalo, “I’ve got an idea” says Scaly, as he reaches down to his belt and gets his little pouch out. Opening the top of the pouch he reaches his hand in and pulls out Brulee, his familiar. Snap! Scaly clicks his fingers together, producing a flame in his hands and putting it to the wick on top of Brulee’s head. Instantly she wakes up, wildness glowing in her flame filled eyes. “HEY!” she says, turning around to look at Scaly, “Brulee, can you zip forward real quick and find us a good way to get to the center?”, “YEeeeesssss…..” she says, the sound of her voice trailing off as she had already left the group. “What?” says Scaly, looking at the rest of the heroes looking back at him with a look of frustration on their faces, “You need to train her she’s nuts” says Ned. “She’ll be back, don’t worry” Scaly says, but the heroes find themselves waiting. “I’m going to try and climb the maze wall” says Vaurien, “See if I can’t see where the tree is from the top so that we can at least know the direction we should be going”, “We’ll wait with Scaly then” says Dolgan as Vaurien places his swords in their hilts and starts climbing upwards. 5 minute’s pass, then 10 minutes, “We need to go” says Buffalo, “We can’t until Brulee comes back” says Scaly, “Isn’t she attached to you magically? Won’t she just find you no matter where you are?” says Dolgan, “She’s trying to find us a way to the Bon Gland” says Scaly, Ziiiiip a flame flies past Scaly’s head at breakneck speed. “Brulee!” says Scaly, “Did you find us a way to Bon Gland?”, “Bon Gland?” says Brulee, “Noooooo…I was just trying to burn through this maze, but I think it’s protected by something” she says, speaking faster than anyone could really understand. “Errrrgggh” says Ned, getting up off of the floor after waiting for Brulee. Dolgan and Buffalo rolls their eyes. Vaurien manages to get his way back down to the ground with the rest of the group, “It’s directly forward” he says, pointing down the lane Brulee had just returned from. “Then let’s head that way” says Dolgan, “We’ve already wasted too much time” and the heroes start following Vaurien.

Continuing forward, Dolgan let’s his hand run along the side of the maze, “I once read that if you hold out only your left hand in a house fire and touch the wall you will eventually get to a door” he says, running his hand through the thickets. “I guess that makes sense” says Buffalo following closely behind him, “Well the issue is, that I’ve had my hand in the walls for a few minutes now, and I’m quite sure they’re moving”. The group stops and turn to look at Dolgan, “What do you mean?” asks Ned, “I thought it might’ve been just bugs or my imagination, but after taking a closer look, the walls are moving. It’s very subtle, but they definitely are”. “Shit” says Buffalo, “So Vaurien climbing up and finding the Bon Gland potentially means that we still aren’t going the right direction due to the moving maze”, “I’m quite sure” answers Dolgan. Buffalo lets out a loud sigh and kneels on the ground, “Let’s try this” he says as he places his hands into the ground, digging his fingers into the dirt and closing his eyes. After about 10 seconds, Buffalo opens his eyes to find the rest of the champions all looking at him with perplexed looks on their faces. “Nothing” he says, getting up and shaking the dirt off of his fingers, “What were you doing?!” asks Scaly, “I thought maybe my connection with nature could potentially alert me to the direction of the giant tree if I got deep with the dirt but it may be something that doesn’t work as well here in the Feywild”, “I see” says Dolgan, “Good idea, bad luck”. “Yeah” says Buffalo as the heroes continue on, lost, in the hedge maze.

The heroes continue to walk for a few more minutes before coming to a square clearing with only the entrance they came in from, about 30 feet across. “Well this is different” says Buffalo, looking around the area. “Well this is different” says a voice in a sarcastic tone behind Buffalo, he turns around to find himself face to face with Dolgan. “Why are you mocking me?” asks Buffalo, “That wasn’t me’ says Dolgan but Buffalo was already looking behind him, “The entrance!” says Buffalo, Dolgan turns around along with the rest of the heroes to catch the last of the opening close over. Buffalo runs over to the now closed over entrance, fumbling his hands through the sticks and leaves. He turns around back to the heroes with a defeated look on his face, “We’re not getting back through there” he says. “We’re not getting back through there” the sarcastic voice rings out again, this time from the otherside of the clearing. “Who is that?” says Buffalo, “It’s me” says the voice, but still, no one showed themselves to take ownership for it. The heroes continue to glance around, none of them able to see anything out of the ordinary until Dolgan yells “THERE!” pointing at the far right corner of the clearing, “Where’s? There’s nothing there” says Scaly, “Look closer” says Dolgan. 

The champions squint at the corner, attempting to find anything out of the ordinary and after a few seconds, a fairy walks out of the thick maze hedge. “I’m not that hard to see” it says, it was clearly a fairy but looked considerably different to the other fairies the heroes had met and seen so far in the feywild. It was roughly the same size, had a rough woody toned skin with brown and green highlights. It’s head look like a bunch of thorns and leaves made up to form a face, whilst it’s back was covered in small spiky spines, similar to a porcupine. Each of the spines also seem to be covered in a green viscous liquid that was slowly seeping out of the tip of the spines and onto the floor. It reaches behind it self and grabs one of the spines around the base, nearer to it’s back and with a sickening Snap! It breaks it off into its hand, bringing in front of itself and staring as the green liquid drips down the spine and onto it’s hand. “This one will do” it says as it bellows out a whistle loud enough to make the hedge maze itself shudder a little. Instantly a small black and red looking fly like creature flies out from the hedge maze and rests next to the little fairy. The fairy jumps on the back of the fly and gives it a little whack on it’s head with it’s spine and the fly starts flying directly at the champions. “What the hell!” yells Ned as he drops down onto his knees, narrowly avoiding the fairy cavalier and it’s spiny needle, but before the heroes can even react the little fairy and it’s fly had already u-turned and was heading back for Buffalo. “Yeeeeeeeee” the yell of the fairy was more cutting than a goblins shriek, perhaps because of it’s small stature. Buffalo pulls out his bow and draws an arrow, aiming directly ahead at the dive bombing fairy, but he was too slow, the fairy flies straight at his chest and jousts him with the spine ripped from his own back. The spine sinks a couple of inches deep into Buffalo’s flesh. Immediately the needle starts pulsing green and the viscous fluid flows out of Buffalo’s wound. “Arrrgh!” yells Buffalo, keeling over in a second, holding his chest and rolling on the ground. 

Dolgan runs over to Buffalo, his hands lighting up with the distinct colours of holy magic as his hands cure the wounds of his fallen teammate. Meanwhile Scaly spawns a flame ball in his hand, hurling it at the fairy. “Woooah!” yells the fairy, clearly enjoying itself as it zips around the clearing before sticking it’s twig like fingers in it’s mouth and blowing, unleashing another ear aching whistle. Two more of the little bramble fairies appear. Vaurien closes his eyes and disappears in a cloud of vapour, appearing behind one of the fairies and brings his swords down onto it in a matter of milliseconds. The fairy is sliced in half, dropping in a goo of green and red. “Yuck” says Vaurien in disgust, flicking his swords downwards so as to remove the green goo off of his weapons. The original bramble fairy flies towards Scaly, “Murus Ignis” (Wall of fire) he says without raising his voice as a wall of fire rises in front of him just in time to catch the wooden bramble fairy in its wake. By the time the fairy thinks to stop, it is already on the other side of the wall and burnt to a crisp, it’s mount crash landing onto the ground in a ball of fire. The third fairy was riding a huge dung beetle, about the size of Ned’s foot. It charges directly towards Dolgan who was still holding his healing hands over Buffalo, but it’s attack was short lived as Ned’s axe swings down on the fairy and dung beetle, splitting both of them in half as the beard catches the head of the fairy and travels all the way down its body and then into the beetles. “Phew” a quick sigh from Dolgan, “I can’t heal this” he says, “It’s not regular poison, it’s something else. Best we can do is just to help him through”. Dolgan reaches an arm under Buffalo and nods at Ned to do the same. They both pick him up, slumping Buff over their shoulders as they continue.

A new entrance, or rather an exit establishes itself in the clearing on the opposite side of where the heroes came in from. Scaly walks out first, with Dolgan and Ned carrying Buffalo second and Vaurien following up the rear. The heroes walk for a minute or so, following the straight corridor before Dolgan and Ned bump into Scaly’s back, a groan from Buffalo seeps out of the now sweating archer, “Why the hell did you stop!” asks Ned, but Scaly wasn’t paying attention. Instead, he was glancing around, looking at the sides of the maze in confusion. “What is it?” asks Ned, this time in a slightly more worried voice. “We’re back where we started” says Scaly, “I know, I saw these little berries before”, “How do you know they’re the same berries”, “I just know” answers Scaly. “He’s right” mutters Buffalo, both Ned and Dolgan turn their heads to see that Buffalo had at least gained a little consciousness. “They’re the same berries, there’s a faint outline of our footprints. We’re back at the start”. 

Buffalo pulls his arms out from over Dolgan and Ned’s shoulders, falling forward a little, but managing to stumble himself back into stability. “Also, the entrance, where we first came into the maze, didn’t look like that when we got here” says Buffalo, turning around and pointing at the exit of the clearing they just left. “That’s because that’s the back of the clearing” says Ned, “It’s not though” responds Buffalo, “Trust me, if we were able to cut through those oddly coloured maze hedges right now, we would be outside the maze. It’s moving around us and I think our actions are determining how we get through. It’s the only way to explain what is happening”. “That part of the maze hedge IS oddly coloured” says Scaly, walking towards it slowly. “Why is it a different colour to the rest of it?”, Scaly reaches out a hand and places it on the slightly greener area of the hedge maze, but his touch was short lived as the vines of the hedge reach out and grab his arm “ARRGH!” Scaly yells, as he rips back his arm and starts running back towards the heroes. “It’s alive!” he yells, the champions turn around to see their lizard friend running at them full pelt, and behind him was what could only be described as a humanoid looking bundle of vines with garden shears in its hands, also made from vines chasing Scaly. “Go” says Dolgan to the rest of the group, as he quickly whips out a bunch of rope from his rucksack and ties it to each side of the narrow hedge maze corridor. Vaurien runs ahead and Ned lends a shoulder to Buffalo, who whilst still being able to move, wasn’t terribly fast. “DUCK!” yells Dolgan as Scaly edges nearer to Dolgan’s rope trick, Scaly slides down onto his side, feet first, flying under the rope and gets himself back up to a sprinting pace as Dolgan follows in his wake. Scaly turns around looking back at the monster, seeing it hit the zipline, it’s vines wrapping every which way around the rope. The group continue to run forward, slowing down bit by bit as the threat of the vine gardener grows less and less. 

As the heroes continue to run, Scaly whips open his little pouch again, lighting a flame in his hand as he runs and igniting Brulee’s wick. She immediately zips out of the bag and starts flying alongside Scaly. “HEY! Why are we running?” she asks with a confused look on her face, “Vine man….garden shears….chasing us….help” says Scaly his out of breath voice managing only a couple of words at a time. “Okay!” says Brulee as she flies ahead of the group in a flash of burning flames and within seconds is out of sight. “Shit” says Scaly, realising that Brulee might’ve gotten excited again and just left, but after a few more steps he sees a small light up ahead. It gets larger and larger the closer he gets, sheeeeewwww Brulee rips past him at breakneck speed, turns in mid air and lands back on Scaly’s shoulder. “Make a right, right, left, right, right” she says, “Are you sure?” asks Scaly, “Of course I’m sure, there’s a nice bee man there. He said you’d be safe with him”, “Better than this I guess” says Scaly as he yells to the front of the group “Make two rights, a left and a right!”. Buffalo turns around and nods, leading the way. Scaly turns the corner to see Buffalo standing at a door made out of vines, holding it open and waving his arms about ushering the champions inside. “Quick, Quick!” he says, one by one the champions run through the door, Buffalo the last to enter as he shuts it quickly behind him, as the heroes look around and find themselves in a square clearing.

“Hi!” says a bee in the corner, he was standing behind a wooden counter cleaning glasses out with a cloth. Behind him was a small wooden stand full of golden liquids in little jars. “How can I help you today?”, “Where are we?” asks Ned, “Well you’re at the crossing, from part one of the maze to part two! Congratulations!” says the well dressed bee. “The beefolk games would like to give you a complimentary honey drink and honey toast” says the bee. “We have a giant vine monster chasing us” says Buffalo, “We have to go!”. “Nothing to worry about here” says the bee, “This is a safe zone, nothing except contestants can get in here”. “Oh, okay...have there been contestants through here yet?” asks Ned, “One group” says the bee, “Bunch of weird looking blue skinned people. Painters I think they said they were?”, “Shit” says Dolgan, “They’re the ones close to us in points and they’re ahead of us”. “They’re not too far ahead” says the bee, “Chug this down and head on out, it’ll give you a lot of energy” he says as he places five little shots of honey on the bench. They all take the shot and a munch of the bread placed in front of them, immediately feeling invigorated. “Woah, this bread is amazing” says Scaly looking around at the group each of them staring at their own piece of bread. “That there’s honey bread, it’ll grow back a limb”. “Thank you” say the champions almost unanimously. Ned finishes his last bite first and looks at the rest of them, “Onwards?”

[fashiontrendin-blog]

Accents, Language and Race: 5 People on Why They Code-Switch

http://fashion-trendin.com/accents-language-and-race-5-people-on-why-they-code-switch/

Accents, Language and Race: 5 People on Why They Code-Switch

The first time I actively noticed someone code-switch I was about 10. I told my mom (who is white) that she put on an accent around my dad’s relatives (who are black) at Christmas. “Please stop,” I said in the car one day. When you’re 10, everything is embarrassing, but I think there was something about that particular brand of code-switching that stuck out to me. It seemed so inauthentic, an attempt to belong in a way that just came off as awkward. So often when we talk about code-switching, we talk about a certain group shifting to meet the expectations of a dominant culture. I think watching that in reverse was what caused me to notice it, even though I had been code-switching for most of my life.

There’s the linguistic-focused dictionary definition of code-switching — “the practice of alternating between two or more languages or varieties of language in conversation” — and then there’s the more colloquial one that centers around changing one’s behavior, conversation topics and dress when around different groups of people. There’s a podcast, a Key & Peele sketch and a million memes about code-switching, and for Duality Month at Man Repeller, I wanted to hear from some other real-life, self-proclaimed code-switchers about their experiences. Below, five women talk about the hows and whys of their personal code-switching and how it feels to move between languages and identities.

Rachita Vasan, 24

I grew up not feeling at home in my own skin, feeling too Indian for Americans and too American for Indians. You internalize those judgements and value systems, not realizing that in doing so, you’re setting yourself up to fail because you consider yourself to be an inherent contradiction.

But you can’t sharpen a knife without a whetstone — as hard as my childhood was in a lot of ways, I credit it with so much of who I am today. Constantly having to reevaluate your audience and context can take a lot out of you when the entire world is trying to tell you who you’re supposed to be. So I developed a really strong internal radar for what felt authentic and honest to me — time spent understanding other people was also time spent nurturing my intuition and sense of self. Especially as an only child, I didn’t have anyone Indian-American to really model behavior off of other than myself, so I got really good at observing and learning from the people around me, even if they weren’t “hybrids” like I was.

When you code-switch, you get really fucking good at understanding the power of words

The practice of putting myself in other people’s shoes to delve into their state of mind is one that became critical to almost every skillset I’m proud of today, especially writing. When you code-switch, you get really fucking good at understanding the power of words, how to get people to take you seriously, how to override their lizard brains shouting stereotypes and misconceptions in the background of your conversation. I have an endless fascination with the nuances in language and communication because as far as I’m concerned, I am a nuance.

There’s a tension in code-switching, you know? But there’s also an energy and a power in that tension; eventually, I learned that being from two cultures didn’t have to mean I was excluded from both. It meant that, once I grew enough to feel secure about who I was and who I wanted to be, I could be greedy with my identity — I could have everything I wanted, I could be unpredictable, I could have all of the above instead of a, b or c. I might look like I’m caught between two cultures, but I am exactly who I am and where I belong. That hyphen in Indian-American could have been a shackle, but I turned it into a bridge.

Victoria

My brain subconsciously goes back and forth from thinking in Spanish to English. If I’m thinking in English, I’ll blurt something out in Spanish and vice-versa. I often find myself accidentally describing things using Spanish slang and being unable to explain to English speakers what exactly this slang word means.

Sometimes certain topics and emotions bring out the Spanish or English in me. It’s interesting because when I’m talking about love, joy and all things sweet, I tend to speak in Spanish. When I’m angry or annoyed or anything of that sort, I tend to speak in English. I think that has to do with how romantic Spanish sounds compared to harsh English.

Overall, it’s a blessing and a curse, but I consider it a huge part of my identity now.

Leslie Bartley, 26

I learned to code-switch from an early age. I watched as my mom, and our lineage of Kentucky women, find out that if we wanted access to jobs, mobility and respect, we better scrub our tongues clean and recognize that how we talk to our family is NOT how we talk in public. Put your shoes on and hang your banjoes up; it’s school time.

“I heard your accent. Thank god I got rid of mine years ago.”

A hellish CEO I met recently in an elevator in Bangkok asked me where I was from after a gregarious introduction from my end. After telling him Kentucky, he responded, “I heard your accent. Thank god I got rid of mine years ago.”

To create balance in spaces I own or feel responsible for, I draw on tropes of Southern women of yore, caricatures of my matriarchs who don’t sell used cars like my actual mom, but had the whole day to focus on buttermilk biscuits and receiving the boys for supper. If I want to make guests, new folks or students of mine comfortable, I’ll greet them with a plucky “Hay y’all,” clasp onto their forearms and ensure them that “I got you baby!” As I’m pushing into my late twenties, I’m starting to recognize the patterns of when I use my Kentucky accent outside of familial spaces, and every time it’s to create warmth.

Olha Kurenda, 18

As a native Ukrainian, I speak a whopping five languages: Russian, English, German, Polish and Ukrainian (naturally). In my country, code-switching is very common, since so many people speak both Russian and Ukrainian every day without realizing that they have changed languages.

I love code-switching with my mom. She doesn’t speak English and German fluently, so hearing her pick up the words I use when talking to my English friends, sometimes without knowing the meaning of them, is hilarious. All the languages I speak have allowed me to learn words which do not exist in other languages. German pick-up lines are amazing; you can compliment someone by telling them, “You look hot as a rat.” In Ukrainian, you can call someone a breadcrumb and they would feel flattered. In general, code-switching allows me to know so many idioms, and using them in other languages can be a lot of fun!

Code-switching really spices up my speech and makes people slightly confused. But sometimes you have to confuse people, right?

Jean Hall, 33

Code-switching is as much a part of growing up black as double-dutch and hot combs; you would be hard-pressed to find an educated black person who hasn’t mastered the art. I grew up in a predominantly white suburb of Washington, D.C., and commuted an hour each day to attend an all-black, African-centered private school in northwest D.C. I was labeled the “white girl” immediately. Not only did I live in white west bumfuck, but my mother is from Connecticut and my father is from New Jersey … I lacked that particular D.C. drawl, the one that pronounces crayon as crown, and so I “talked white,” too.

In kindergarten, I learned to minimize the parts of me that my black inner-city peers referred to as white. At school, it was “crown”; at home, it was “crayon” or my mother would pop me for talking [like that].” I spent kindergarten through high school switching between the codes of the streets and the codes of my mama’s house. In high school, I had more freedom and thus more access to the hood. My street code was solid, I dated boys who sold drugs, I had an adopted big brother from a hood that claimed me, I danced on speakers at go-gos (dangerous dance parties that usually ended with gunshots), I was all set! Then came college, where the hood persona became a bit less necessary. My mother was thrilled when she realized my D.C. accent was slowly fading away.

I learned that my underlying hood edge gave me a kind of cachet

I moved to New York after college, to Bed-Stuy, to be exact (not today’s Bed-Stuy, but the Bed-Stuy of 10 years ago when you could still get your purse snatched). I finally lived in the hood, and my years of practice served me well. If the little hoodlums came at me sideways on Nostrand Avenue, I knew exactly what to say to shut them all the way up. But at work as a visual merchandiser for Louis Vuitton, a different code was expected, and my education and upbringing prepared me to switch easily. I’d read the right books, visited the right countries, wore the right brands and pronounced them properly. While working in fashion — like magazine fashion, not retail — I learned that my underlying hood edge gave me a kind of cachet. I would find the white people I worked with picking up my slang that had now morphed into a weird amalgamation of Atlanta, D.C., New York and California hood.

Let’s fast forward 11 years … I’m 33, and Bed-Stuy isn’t the hood anymore. I’ve done enough soul-searching to know and love who I am: I’m a little bit country, a little rock and roll and even a little Soul II Soul. I’m educated, confident, well dressed and well travelled, but I prefer bodega coffee to espresso, consider “chicken and mumbo sauce with a jumbo mix” a delicacy and I am exactly the same everywhere I go.

Illustration by Emily Zirimis.

[itsashleymcdonald19blog-blog]

6/15/17

This morning we work up at 7 am. got breakfast, and checked out. We had a 3 hour drive from the Daintree Rainforest to Cairns. The bus ride was find. I am getting more used to the incredibly curvy roads and car sickness. Once again I took int eh beautiful scenery before we arrived at our next destination.

We arrived in Cairns at 12:00 pm and all of our rooms were ready which was a blessing! These rooms are sooooooo nice in comparison to what we have been staying in. We all have nice beds where no one has to worry about insects, lizards. or anything in their sheets. We have a bathroom, and plumbing, and a shower that we don’t have to share with bugs. It is a great day! We basically dropped off of our stuff and made a game plan for the afternoon.

Nia, Cody, and I had our Mijin Swing reservations t 3:00 so we thought that it would be smart to take a taxi over to that side of town and grab some lunch so we didn’t have to be stressed on time. As we walked out of the hotel we probably saw 5 taxis and just hopped in one of those. our first driver was very nice and took us to a pub about 5 minutes from where our excursion was. He explained that to get another cab it was very simple and all we had to do was have the restaurant call one for us. We ate our lunch and at 2:00 had the restaurant call us a cab.

We figured that an hour was plenty of time and would give us time to get there early. We were incredibly wrong. First we were waiting fro 10 minutes, then 15, then we went inside and they said it was still on its way, then 30 minutes, and that is when we began panicking (mainly me).

We ended up surpassing from Cody so he could try to get one in a different area, then we debated walking, then I was running through the parking lot trying to track down a taxi to take us. It was awful. I was terrified that we would be late and that they were going to cancel our reservation and that just would have been awful. Luckily, our cab picked us up at 2:45 and we made it to the site by 2:55. Talk about cutting it close on time… but we made it.

We arrived on site, checked in and went to the patio. I don’t thing any of us were prepared for who high it was but we watched a few people do it before us. Our nerves were going… we were all extremely anxious, but so excited.

Finally, it was our turn! We made it to the loading deck where we were fitted for harnesses and helmets. The guys cracked lots of jokes about it being his first day because he could tell I was so nervous. We all individually were fitted ant then went out to the aiding deck. This was when it really hit that we were actually doing this and we were about to be lifted almost 200 ft. up in the air and then dropped at rocket speed. We were extremely anxious and then it was time. We were being lifted backwards to prepare for our drop.

We were lifted so quickly, it felt like seconds and we just kept getting higher and higher. It was terrifying. We were able to see over all of the trees, see the ocean, and everything below us looked like ants. We waited for the light to turn to green so we knew that it was time to pull the release rope. It changed to green and I said, “1….2…..3…!” and then we were dropped and started flying!

The drop was absolutely terrifying! It was almost as if we got a mini bungee jump and then we were soaring through the air. It was incredible. I have never fleet so free in my life. The ride lasted about 5 minutes which was much longer than I had expected it to last and then the guy asked if we wanted to go again.

It was only $30 and Nia and I decided to do it again, just us this time. It was almost more terrifying the second time. We both felt as if we went higher up and both felt that the initial drop had a lot more bounce to it. Needlessly to say, we absolutely loved the swing. This was one of the coolest things I have ever done in my life and is definitely a highlight of my trip.

I honestly cannot believe that I did it. After we got off, we decided we both needed a drink so we each got a sex on the beach and just relaxed for awhile. The only bad part of this experience was that Nia and I both paid for the multimedia pack which includes pictures nd videos but the system crashed and they lost our footage. This was really disappointing at first but they were able to find one of our videos and emailed us it for free and gave us the refund. Thank god Cody and Tristan were there to take videos of us from the bottom because otherwise I would have been extremely upset.

I am still extremely happy with our experience, and I am happy with the footage we got. On the bright side, now I have $80 I didn’t have before. I am so happy that I did that swing, and I will remember it for the rest of my life.

We headed back to our hotel to do some homework for about an hour before the girls and I went to dinner. For dinner we walked into downtown Cairns and went to a wonderful dinner place. It was delicious and it was so cute. It was called the Courtyard and they had very Americanized food and we were all very excited about that. I had a fried chicken sandwich with aioli and onion rings and a strawberry lime cider. Australia has given me a love for cider too bad its not as big of a thing in the states( and that I’m not legal there).

After dinner we just kept walking in the downtown area where some girls outside of a travel place were like “Hey, come on in!!” we were all really hesitant and we were like, “Why? What are you guys doing?” They said were all just hanging out and then were going to go to Gilligans afterwards, if you come with us you will get free drinks and pizza!” We al asked why they were doing it, and they basically just told us it was for advertising and Gilligans pays for all of it. After some hesitation, we realized we were very safe and headed into the travel place. They were doing raffles and I ended up winning something but I had to decline because we were traveling to Sydney the next day.

After we hung out there for a bit we got VIP wristbands and walked to Gikugians. We were greeted on the balcony with tons of drinks and pizza. We sat at a table and met 2 girls and one guy that were traveling together. One ggirl was from Wells and the others were from Great Britain. We talked to them for a long while and it was so interesting to hear their take on things and their lifestyle. They thought ours were very strange and different from theirs. I am incredibly jealous of them because one girl was finishing up her trip of 9 months, one was going to be gone for 7 months, and the guy was going to be gone for 2 months. Shortly after, we met these 2 girls who were our age studying abroad here. They were from OHIo and they were so nice and so fun We ended up hanging out with them for the rest of the night.

At Giligans it was ladies night which meant every girl got frree champagne for an hour. It was crazyyyyy in there. 1 it was massive, 2 there were soon many girls, 3, guys were dressed up as girls to get free booze, 4 Why doesn’t America give out free drinks like this?

Giligans was my favorite bar./ club we have been to yet. It was full of big screens that projected music videos, the DJ was great, the company was fantastic, and we didn’t have to ay for a single drink.

As I mentioned earlier, it was ladies night, which also meant that they had a pole dancing competition. Let’s just say we had no idea what we were getting ourselves into when we were there. Kayla actually entered the comeption and she killed it just had a good time and kept her dignity. But… that was not the case for everyone. We will shut say that we saw wayyyy too much of some people. I actually don’t want to see that again haha.

Overall, the night was a blast. I had so much fun and it is one that I will remember for the rest of my life. I am a firm believer that everything happens for a reason and I am positive that we were supposed to walk into that little travel place. I am so happy with the friends I have, the experiences I am having, and the memories that will last a lifetime.

It was about 2:30 when we went to bed and had to get up early to catch our flight to Sydney. We will see how I feel in the morning!

Things I learned today: 

Wallabies and kangaroos love god courses and open lawns. 

Queensland is known as the sunshine state. 

In Queensland, you can get fined for sticking limbs out of a car window 

McDonald’s is far too large of a corporation 

Taxis are not reliable here at all. 

Read the terms and conditions before you sign waivers.

Glass of good= glass of boxed cheap wine.

Listen to the locals they know all the best places to go.