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royallyprincesslilly · 4 years ago

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Title: Hibiscus Kisses {1}

Chris Evans x OFC Ajali Rambaue AU {Ah-Jah-Lee, Ram-Bow}

Warning: Plot Heavy, Cursing,

Words: 6.1k

Summary: Ajali decides on a rash decision to go on a Disney cruise, not for her love of Disney, but because she needs time to figure things out after things get even more complicated in her complicated life. She only expected peace, quiet, tropical drinks, and an overabundance of Disney songs. What she got was more than she bargained for when the cruise of a lifetime on the brand new ship Enchantment turned into a nightmare. The only saving grace is that she’s not the only one living through the nightmare. Can Ajali survive the test of a lifetime and the dangers ahead of her, and better yet, will she finally be able to live a little?

Note: Hey, hey, hey, guys! So here we are trying something different/new. I hope you enjoy this. 🤞🏽 Please feel free to tell me what you think. I’m super excited to explore this one with you all. 🤗 Also, what do you guys think of the title? What does it make you think of?

As always, thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed this, please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG! ❤️❤️

I appreciate each and every one of your guys’ support and love!

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

**Very Interactive**

***French Language Incorporated w/translations according to Google***

“Yes, mom, I packed my charger and my vitamins. Oh my god, of course, I have my scarf. Mom!”

Your mother continued to press you about things any woman would never forget packing. This was how she was normally. Almost morning, she would make her routine calls. First to your sister Atali, then to you. When she made it to you, she’d ask if you ate, and of course, by the time she called you, you were usually at work or on your way to it, and you wouldn’t have eaten. Then she’d ask you why you hadn’t eaten, to which she’d go back and forth with you about the importance of eating a well-balanced meal. Somehow that would lead to her asking how you expected to find the one when you didn’t eat enough. It was a never-ending thing with her. She was obsessed with you and your sister finding the one.

You understood. Your parents had been married for well over two decades, and they were still disgustingly in love. There was also no one like your dad, so you understood. They both saw what a catch they both were. After she told you the story of how she finessed your dad and got married in record time, it always turned into focus on you finding someone to marry. No matter how many times you told her that even though marriage was great and all, you weren’t in any hurry, it never registered.

“Mom, I have everything I need. It is just supposed to be a two-week cruise.”

“You’d be surprised the things you realize you left once you’re at sea. Then it will be too late,” Cynthia, your mother warned.

“Then I’ll just buy it. Mom, I’m not going to the middle of nowhere. I am going on a huge ship from one of the world’s most reputable companies. I am positive they have every possible thing I could want to buy onboard. Plus, when we dock at ports, I’ll be able to buy much more.”

“You’re always buying. Gah, I blame your father. He spoiled you and your sister rotten.”

“I am not spoiled. It’s not like I haven’t worked for my money. Yes, daddy helped me set up my company, but I got where I am today because of me,” you professed.

“I know, sweetheart, you don’t have to preach to the choir. All I’m saying is your daddy’s wealth only helped spoil you and Lali more. I saw it in you at the playground the most. You always wanted what the other kids were playing with. If it was a ball, you tried to take it. If it were the swings, you’d overtake it, toys in the sandbox my goodness those kids would end up with sand in their eyes and you alone with the toys.”

“Some would call that persistence, hardworking, and assertive.”

Your mother laughed then tsked.

“I’m surprised that when you were in high school, I never got a call about you getting into a fight because you stole some girl’s boyfriend.”

You pursed your lips, but as you were going to open your mouth to respond, your phone vibrated, signaling a notification.

“Hang on, mom.”

You thanked the Lyft driver for helping with your bags then checked your phone.

MSG Javii: I’ve been calling you all night. Come on, Chaton (kitten). You have to talk to me at some point. Tu me manques (I miss you).

You sighed and rolled your eyes. He had some nerve, you thought.

“Ajali, hello!”

“Yes, mom, I’m here. Sorry. I was getting my bags together.”

“So, you’re really doing this?”

“Yes, mom. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Who goes on a cruise alone? What about the man I heard in the background of our call a few weeks ago? Why not go with him?”

You rolled your eyes again, thinking about that man in the background a few weeks ago who was on your shit list.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. It was the tv,” you lied.

“Ajali--,” your mother began before you cut her off.

“—Plus, mom, it’s a Disney cruise,” you stressed.

“Exactly. The people who go on Disney cruises are families, wives, husbands, kids. You are neither of them and have nether of them.”

You balanced your phone on your shoulder and rolled your luggage toward the designated pier.

“I just need some time to myself to clear my head and destress. Two weeks.”

“Ignore your mother, my petal. You take the time you need. I’ve told you, and your sister working is important, but living is just as important. You don’t live to work; you work to live,” your father said.

“Thank you, daddy.”

“Plus, maybe you will find a worthy man on this cruise while you’re living,” your father slid in.

“Oh god, not you too, daddy.”

“We are unified in this, Lulu. He may wear the pants, but I control the buttons and the zipper if you know what I mean.”

You tasted vomit in your mouth.

“Eck! That is disgusting, mother. On that note, I gotta go.”

“Wait, wait, enjoy yourself, my petal. We love you.”

“Love you too, daddy, love you, mom.”

With that, you ended the call and continued to walk toward Pier eighty-one. You passed families with rowdy children who looked like they couldn’t wait to get ice cream wasted, couples who looked as if they couldn’t wait to get to their suites and even elderly couples who were dressed to the nines for vacation, including already applied sunscreen and sunhats. Despite what your mother thought, Disney cruises were for everyone.

You’d purposely chosen Disney because you didn’t want to be around other couples who were loved up and nauseatingly adorable, spewing love in the air. You wanted to be as far from that as possible. Love was the last thing on your mind. You were going on this cruise to get away from it. Your phone vibrated and went off twice.

MSG Atali: Have you made your getaway yet?

You stopped rolling and went to reply.

MSG: Almost. I’m walking to the boarding line now.

MSG Atali: I think you’re doing the right thing. Space and time. In two weeks you’ll know what you want to do. I hope it’s what we talked about.

MSG: I know, Lali, I know.

MSG Atali: Have some fun too. It’s Disney.

You could picture her face as you read it. She was probably cheesing at this very minute.

MSG: Thank you for looking after the company while I’m gone.

MSG Atali: Boo, you know it’s my company too, right. Don’t worry; our clients will be taken care of. I’ve got it covered.

You knew she did. Atali was the older one and had always acted like it, even though she was only nine months older. You knew she could take care of things on her own while you were away.

MSG: I know, still. Thank you.

MSG Atali: You’re welcome, Lulu. Call me later. Margaret Bailey’s appointment is next. Apparently, she’s throwing some party, and she wants to be the envy of everyone.

MSG: Eck, you have your work cut out for you. Bye.

As you were putting your phone away, another message came in.

MSG Javii: Chaton (kitten), call me, please. Don’t you think you’re dragging this out a little?

You almost said, “are you stupid” out loud. The man had some nerve. Dragging it out? You rolled your eyes as another message came in.

MSG Javii: Je t’aime (I love you).

Just like that, you melted. He was playing on the fact that your father was French, and the language itself was a favorite of yours. He was not a stupid man; he was a smart businessman.

MSG Javii: I’m sorry. I know we’ve talked about it, but you have to give me more time. Please.

Unbelievable, you thought as you exited your messages and stuck your phone into your back pocket. You turned and ran smack dab into someone’s hard body.

“Shit. I’m so sorry,” you rushed out even as you were falling back.

A pair of strong arms grabbed you and firmly held you, preventing your fall.

“It’s okay, you’re lucky I don’t mind beautiful women bumping into me,” a deep masculine voice said. You knew it was a man, but you couldn’t see his face even though he looked to be well over six feet. His head was dipped low, and the hat he wore over hair that fell to his neck was so low you couldn’t see anything but the full beard that showed off a chiseled jawline.

He set you right side up and slowly brought his hands from your arms back to his side. “Stay safe out there,” he said before he walked off.

You stood there for a few moments, then looked back to where he’d walked and watched him saunter away. He had a slight dip to the way he walked that could either be seen as a happy go lucky type of thing or something that said he had some sort of swagger. Before you stared any longer, you sprang into motion with wheeling your luggage to the growing line to board the ship. Thankfully the line went quickly thanks to the ten different lanes that had ship staffers ready and eager to help guests.

When it was your turn, a friendly-looking woman with a trendy bob cut explained what to do. While she talked, her smile never fell, but you didn’t really pay attention because her uniform was so distracting. She had on a purple and green hat that had mermaid scales and Ariel printed all over it. This hat matched the shirt and skirt combo she wore. Her shirt was two-toned, on one side was Ariel’s face, and on the other was mermaid scales while her skirt was plain white. It looked like The Little Mermaid threw up all over her. You didn’t expect anything else; it was a Disney cruise after all.

After doing all the check-in steps, such as handing off your rolling luggage to the ship porters and taking a photo for your provided identification wrist band that the crew will use to identify you and your indicated needs, you boarded the ship. All the friendly faces you passed all looked happy to welcome you to Disney Cruises and to direct you to where you wanted to go. The noise inside was much louder inside than it was out. The kids that looked excited outside looked downright jubilant inside as they posed for pictures with life-sized Disney characters and got welcome ice cream treats.

You were even tempted to take a picture or two, but you decided against it. What you did not decide against was ice cream. You took an offered vanilla cone and kept on your way, looking around the ship as the other guests did. From your research, this was the best-rated cruise this year. It was a newer Disney ship and one that cost over ten million dollars to design and build. Everyone said it was the Rolls Royce of Disney cruises.

From what you saw with the décor looked to have cost a fortune. There was glass, fancy lights, and marble everywhere. It was clear they didn’t skimp on funding and clear that they had the comfort and luxury in mind. There were plants around the central atrium that gave off that tropical vacation vibe and even paintings and pictures hanging on the walls that further pushed the agenda that this was supposed to be a fun time for all.

The more you walked around looking at different areas, the more you were impressed. If the gathering areas looked this upscale, you were even more excited to see your suite.

“Can I help you with anything, ma’am?”

You shook your head and smiled at the man wearing Hans all over him. “I’m all right, thank you.”

The next thirty minutes or so were spent walking around while following the map in your hand. You found and noted where the spa, library, on-ship garden, movie theater, bowling alley, tropical setting wave pool, and best restaurants and bars were. You had every intention of soaking up all the luxury that you’d paid top dollar for. When you saw a few amenities that you hadn’t expected, your jaw dropped. You had no idea why there was an ice skating rink or an indoor sky flying dome that had the tallest clear tube you’d ever seen. You didn’t know who’d designed this cruise, but you knew it must have cost millions. You were sure you wouldn’t be getting in that sky flying dome.

When you finally got the alert that your suite was ready, it was well after one in the afternoon. The walk among the crowds was noisy. Everyone was either talking about what they wanted to do first, how enormous and beautiful the ship was, or making a plan for the cruise duration. In between all the chatter, there of course, were the screams and cries of babies and toddlers who were already losing their shit.

This is what you’d expected when you decided on this Disney cruise over another like Carnival or Norwegian. You knew that the other passengers would be of a specific age range leaning on the younger and family-oriented side, which meant you wouldn’t have to fight off unwanted suitors who tried to shoot their shot. It also meant that you wouldn’t have to deal with any sort of drama that usually happened on a cruise with young adults all looking to hook up. That was not what you needed right now. You wanted to stay as far away from hooking up or eligible men that had blue eyes or a perfect head of hair, or abs that were chiseled by Michelangelo himself, or an ass that would make a mannequin jealous.

On the elevator ride to your floor, you caught the eye of an adorable little boy with a complete head of luscious dark locks and doe eyes with an unmeasurable depth. His smile was innocent. Every time your eyes met his, he hid behind his mother. When you looked away, he looked back at you. After two or three playful back and forth glances, which had him becoming more adorable, you surprised him by not looking away. When he realized it, his squeal was so childlike and filled with so much glee that everyone on the elevator had to giggle. Over the next several minutes, the passengers on the elevator got off group by group until it was just a few people remaining.

“Sixth floor,” the elevator attendant announced.

You made your way through the door but gave the adorable boy a look. “Have a fun cruise, cutie,” you said with a wink before the doors closed with the sound of his giggles. You looked at your phone to remind yourself which room was yours, then glanced at the numbers on the wall that directed you where to go. The dinging sound of an elevator brought your attention down the hall to your right to see one man walk off. His hat was dipped down low, but you noticed his face was buried in his phone before he turned and walked in the opposite direction of you.

Focusing on the signs on the door, you walked down the left side of the aisle. It didn’t take you long to realize your room was at the end of the hall. Once you reached it, you glanced back to see the same man with his tipped low hat. It looked like the same man from before outside the ship. It couldn’t be, you thought. The odds were not that small. As you opened your door, you saw him disappear into the room at the opposite end of the hall.

Once you walked inside, you immediately thought that this was what you got when you had Atali handle the arrangements. The theme of the room was clearly sky blue. The couch in the living area was a satin, silky sky blue that looked as if it was plush and comfortable. It matched the blue and grain colored carpet before it perfectly, and the abstract blown glass art on the wall. The colors all worked together to give you a sense of peace. It wouldn't have been something you’d chosen because, unlike Atali, you liked to keep things as low maintenance as possible. Just because your family had money doesn’t mean you had to look or behave as if you did.

When you walked into the bedroom portion of the stateroom, you saw your suitcases waiting for you in the far left corner of the room. The sunlight pouring in from the screened balcony bathed the room in a beautiful, cheerful yellow that was so inviting that once you kicked off your shoes, you had to step out into it. The temperature was not blazing hot because it was just the middle of April in New York, and that meant a mix of chilly and warm days with the occasional possible snow shower. The salty air of the sea was one of your favorite smells. You remembered when your father took your family to France on your yearly family vacation. As a child, you loved the beach and the salt of the sea. When you became an adult, nothing had changed.

Not realizing how long you remained on the balcony, an intercom announcement came on.

“Attention passengers, this is Lucas Albright, one of your captains. It is with great pleasure that I welcome you aboard this Disney Enchantment Cruise.”

He paused, and you could hear the uproar of cheers and claps from over the intercom as well as in the halls and neighboring staterooms.

“We are all excited to host you on this two and a half week christening journey from New York. I say christening because you lot are the first to travel on this brand new ship. This is her maiden voyage.”

More cheers and applause came for what felt like forever.

“We will be on this beautiful vessel for two days, at which time we dock in Punta Cana, Dominican Republic at approximately eleven o’clock in the morning, where you can enjoy plenty of the excursions and activities for the day.”

Again applause followed. Everyone was undoubtedly excited about this cruise. You tried to get out of your funk and onboard the excitement train.

“We will then set sail again, leaving port at ten o’clock that evening and moving on to two days at sea until we reach our second destination of Port of Grand Turk in beautiful Turks & Caicos. At that time, we dock at eleven 0’clock and lift anchors at ten o’clock. From the beautiful Turks & Caicos, we will be at sea for two days until we reach the tropical breezes of the British Virgin Islands!”

You were already making some mental plans for everything you wanted to do at each port.

“After spending out eleven o’clock to ten o’clock time there. We set sail to the glorious white sandy beaches of—Arrrruuuba!”

At that time, the classic Beach Boys song Kokomo came on at the Aruba part. It was so corny, but everyone seemed to love it. You shook your head as the short clip of the song played loudly until it was lowered to play in the background.

“Again, we’re docking at eleven o’clock to set sail again at ten o’clock. We are then at sea for three more days until we get to Ocho Rios, Jamaaaaica!”

As he spoke, you went around the room, placing things you’d need and freshening yourself up. When he finally finished giving the itinerary, you were situated and checking the schedule of events for the day. All in all, it was set to be an action packed seventeen days at sea. Atali must have chosen this length because she knew seven or ten days would not be enough time.

“All right, ladies, gentlemen, kids, and big kids, I hope to see you all at the welcome mingle we’ve scheduled to begin within the next twenty minutes or so, at which time we will lift anchors and say sayonara to New York and aloha to the seven seas.”

He had a voice for radio or a game show. It was velvety deep, just what many women seemed to like these days. You grabbed your phone and crossbody bag and walked out of your room. You had a mission before you lifted anchor. Everyone was still abuzz with talk of the itinerary as more of the beach boys played over the ship speaker system. Vacation vibes were in full effect. Once you got to the media area, you promptly purchased your airtime so your cell would be able to work while at sea. You knew your mother would have a heart attack if you went two days without checking in with her. You didn’t think it was because she was that attached to her children though, you knew it was her motherly duty to remain up in the tea, so she felt continuously connected. As she got older and older, you realized it more and more.

As soon as that mission was completed, you made your way to the top deck where the mingle was being held. As you stepped out into the sun, you marveled at just how extravagant Disney had chosen to go with this ship. Several feet before you stretching obscenely high into the air, you saw something that looked like a rollercoaster. There were plenty of other passengers pointing to it and excitedly chattering about it. You made a mental note to stay as far away from it as possible. Who would think to ride an insanely high rollercoaster on a cruise ship in the middle of the ocean?

Slowly you walked around the deck, cordially smiling at those you passed. You passed a bar area and took one of the prepared cocktails, and proceeded to find a good spot at the side of the ship to watch them lift anchor. After several minutes of searching and bumping into all the excited kids and passengers who were posing for pictures with friends, family, and Disney staff, you found an excellent spot to press your back against.

Across the way, a familiar hat caught your eye. It was him, you thought. He always kept his head low and tried to steer away from big crowds. It was strange to you considering he’d chosen to get on a cruise ship filled with hundreds of people. He wouldn’t be able to escape the crowds. Your eyes followed him as he walked to another bar to grab one of the drinks there. As he did, he joked with the bartender, and it was then you saw a flash of his pearly smile. You couldn’t tell if he was attractive or not, mostly since all you’d gotten were glimpses of pieces of his face. Part of you wanted him to take off the stupid hat so you could be sure, but the other part—the sensible part that remembered why you’d chosen a Disney cruise slapped your ass back into focus.

“Welcome, Disney guests!”

In response, everyone around you screamed, clapped, cheered, and stomped so loudly the sound could have rivaled that of a rave.

“We are pleased to welcome you once again!”

As one of the staff members continued to speak about the ship procedures, expectations, highlights, amenities, and more, you continued to look around the deck, taking in all the grandeur before you. It didn’t take long to get lost in the directory you held. Again you took note of where everything was that you wanted to experience and even went as far as to make a plan of what you wanted to eat each night. Between you and Atali, you were the planner. You liked things to make sense and liked them to be stable and constantly reliable. You hated the erraticness of people and impulsivity. You always tried to steer as far from it as possible.

By the time the speeches were finished, you’d had three drinks and were working on your fourth. The vibration of your phone brought your attention to it.

MSG Javii: Chaton?

You rolled your eyes and sighed out a little louder than you intended. What attracted you to him in the first place was what was annoying you right now. His persistence. You sat in a nearby seat and stared at the text exchange and thought of what you wanted to reply. Five minutes passed with you not typing one word. The truth was you didn’t know what to say. You were that jumbled up. The stress of it all was making your head hurt. You rubbed your brow and began your message.

MSG: I need some time away.

Instantly a message came back.

MSG Javii: From me?

Bobbing your head from side to side, you tried to make a quick decision.

MSG: From this—us.

MSG Javii: Chaton, say what you mean. You know I prefer directness. Do you mean from me?

MSG: Yes.

A few minutes passed before he sent another message. You wondered if you’d hurt him. Part of you didn’t want to hurt him, but the other part wanted him to suffer and see what it was like to be without you. Maybe then he’d start appreciating what he had.

MSG: I just need to figure some things out.

MSG Javii: Are you breaking up with me, Chaton?

The name was killing you, and you were sure he knew it. Every time he called you “chaton,” it made your belly flutter.

MSG: I just need time and space, Javii.

MSG Javii: I love you. You know that, right? I love you more than anything.

MSG: If that were true, I’d be there right now instead of where I am. I have to go.

You closed your messages and sighed out again.

“Mm, I can easily read that expression, and if any man causes brow or forehead wrinkles, he isn’t the one.”

Your head snapped to your right to see an older woman sitting there. She wore a straw hat atop her long red hair that looked close to that of Lucille Ball’s. The hue of her hair complimented her bronze and gold complexion. Her makeup was expertly done, as was her purple painted nails that pinched the straw that was at the corner of her mouth, a mouth that was painted perfectly accentuating her cupid’s bow lips. She was gorgeous.

“Uh--,” you began as she continued.

“The only one who is worth it is the one who gives you cheek wrinkles and smile creases.”

You grinned to yourself and took a sip from your glass that was resting on the table between you.

“Trust me. I’ve dated plenty of men, ones who cause both, ones who cause one more than the other and ones who only cause one—the bad ones.” She motioned to the space between her eyebrows, symbolizing stress wrinkles from furrowing your brows.

“I have yet to meet one who only causes smile creases,” she finished.

You shrugged and looked glanced back to your phone before you put it on the table face down.

“Maybe that one doesn’t exist on this Earth,” you countered.

“A skeptic, I see. You’re one of those women who don’t believe in the one, right?”

After scoffing, you looked at her. “I don’t know what I believe. Once upon a time, I did then---things got complicated.”

The woman placed her drink down and nudged her fist underneath her chin, giving you her complete attention.

“Oh, complications are the joys of life, darling. Nothing is ever cut and dry or so simple and steady. I say go for the ride but make sure you hand on for the bumps.”

You contemplated her words. There was some logic there, but once she said nothing was simple or steady, you had to admit your heart skipped a beat. You hated when things weren’t simple. You took your glass again and finished its contents. At the same time, your eye found the man who’d caught you maybe an hour ago. You watched as he walked closer to where you were seated and caught another glimpse of his face before he passed you.

From beside you, you heard the woman whistle.

“I wouldn’t mind going for a ride with that one.”

Your laugh was loud and couldn’t be stopped. You shook your head at her, but she didn’t look one bit embarrassed or remorseful.

“It’s a cruse darling, a vacation. Now’s the time to live a little—or a lot,” she said, finishing with an exaggerated wink.

This woman was inadvertently suggesting you let your hoe flag fly for the duration of the cruise. She reminded you of your aunt Josephine from your father’s side. As a French woman, she definitely embodied the French lifestyle of only living once and to live life right the first time. You’d spent countless hours with her listening to her stories of her travels, boyfriends, escapades. You and Atali always loved to live vicariously through her. That was until Atali came of age and decided to live just like her.

You sat with this woman who introduced herself as Genevieve and listened to her stories of life and love. Usually, you hated speaking to strangers, but she didn’t feel like one. She felt like a kindred spirit, a much more carefree spirit but still kindred the same. You didn’t realize that two hours had almost passed with the two of you sipping cocktails and giggling. When you said your goodbyes, you wandered around the ship, taking in all it had to offer. You peeked in on activities that were already underway and scoped out other places you could disappear in.

You made it back to your room in time to shower, change, and put on a lite layer of makeup before you made it to dinner at one of the forty restaurants. Once you walked into the restaurant, the atmosphere screamed luxury though it was not opulently done. It still looked family-friendly, but it was done in a way that let you know that you were meant to feel important by the décor alone.

At the bottom of the long stairs, you quickly looked around, trying to find an empty table. When you’d zeroed in on one, you saw a hand waving you down—the hand of the same woman from before, Genevieve. Why not, you thought to yourself before you began to cross the dining area toward her. Within a few steps, you ran right into a body that felt like a brick wall. You could feel your body falling backward, but in the nick of time, a pair of strong, muscular arms wrapped around your back, holding you in place.

If his face had been eluding you all day, it was not anymore. The eyes you stared into were blue enough that the sea you sailed would be envious. His lips were so red that an apple would want a rematch for bragging rights and his face so symmetrical that even the perfect line of symmetry didn’t seem perfect enough when next to him. The man was gorgeous. You watched his eyes roam your face as if he was in no rush, wanting to take in every detail. What felt like minutes was probably only seconds before he set you upright. As you were prepared to speak, he smiled, and the action had you feeling like you’d been hit in the head at the same time as your gut.

“Twice in one day. What’re the odds? Are you okay?”

Rather than speaking, you nodded.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, thank you. I’m—I’m sorry,” you stuttered.

“Nah, forget about it. No harm, no foul.”

From behind him, you could see Genevie giving you a look that said she wanted to know what was being said and who he was.

“I uh—I was going that way,” you said, nodding your head to behind him.

“And me that way.” He nodded behind you. “Stay safe out there,” he uttered before he walked off in the direction you’d just come from, giving you the opportunity to walk to Genevieve.

The look on her face needed no words to along with it, but she still spoke.

“Is that the same snack from before?”

You nodded and nearly snorted out, hearing her use the word.

“What’s his name?”

“No idea, but I feel like I’ve seen him somewhere before. I just—can’t place it.”

“I don’t know how. I’d never forget a face like that.”

She had a point; he had an unforgettable face, one that stayed with you and possibly could haunt your nights. You bet he got whatever he wanted and whoever he wanted. As dinner progressed, you had your choice of different appetizers, entrees, drinks, and desserts. If one wanted Scandinavian food, they could get it, or southern food it was within reach. As you ate, you listened to more of Genevieve’s stories. She told you about the men she’d dated, the things she’d seen in her years, and lessons she’d learned from those men. The moral you learned from her stories was love often, love hard, and love entirely because while you’d remember the pain, you’d remember the love more.

As you ate and listened to her, you couldn’t help but think of the reason you were on this cruise in the first place. You were not running to love but from it. If you were to listen to Genevieve, you should have stayed your ass in New York and gone to Javii. If you listened to her, you’d probably spend another year living in sin. By the end of dinner, you’d met three other women all within the same age range as you, but they all were in different times of their lives. One was newlywed, and on her honeymoon, the second married a year and expecting her first child and the third long married with three children.

It was an interesting look at alternate timelines for you. Any of them could have ended up being you if you’d only made different choices. Part of you wondered which one you wanted to be more, your natural self, or one of the three possibilities.

After dinner, you made your way to one of the theaters to watch the planned show for the night. It was a re-enactment of The Little Mermaid, and the audience was filled with little ones who clapped and cheered throughout. You were surprised at how well the staff performed. They could have easily been true broadway stars. A little more than halfway through the show, you found the stranger with the deep eyes across the room. He was sitting alone, just watching the show with a relaxed look on his face. He looked as if he were genuinely enjoying it. Your curiosity was piqued as to why he was sitting alone watching The Little Mermaid on a ship full of people and why he didn’t seem to be bothered to make acquaintances. Who came on a cruise alone? Once you thought it, you wanted to laugh at yourself. You were the one to come on a cruise alone.

As you were about to look away, his eyes found yours. At first, they looked empty as if he were looking right through you. Then after a few moments, there was a spark in them. You watched him raise his glass to you with a soft smile teasing his lips. Realizing you’d been caught looking, you curtly nodded back then looked to the stage to focus on the show.

Two in the morning. That was the time when you finally made it back to your room. Festivities were going on all around the ship. No one seemed as if they wanted to go back to their rooms. There was something for everyone. The little ones had endless activities, including a sleepover with their favorite Disney characters, where they were set to have plenty of fun for the night. There was a mixer set up like a rave on the opposite side of the ship for the adults. From the things you saw when you scoped it out, you were sure a few siblings were going to be conceived tonight.

As you scanned your bracelet and opened your door, you looked back to see the stranger again. He was looking directly down at you. You gave him a head salute and disappeared inside your room. After a quick shower, you found your way to your balcony to watch the waves roll by with a glass of wine. It was the perfect end to the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

***If you want to be tagged/untagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!

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Tag List:

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#hibiscus kisses fic #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x black reader #black fanfiction #chris evans x ofc #slow burn fanfic #angst fanfic

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razberryyum · 5 years ago

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So you’re done with The Untamed and want more, what now?

Reposting this since I’ve updated it with new info/links. Again, I entered the fandom via The Untamed so I’m by no means a MDZS expert, just tried my best gathering all the resources I can which I hope will help some new Untamed/MDZS fan out there. If you spot any errors, don’t yell at me, just let me know and I’ll correct it as best I can, especially for any future reposts.

READ THE NOVEL

Read the original web novel the show was based on: The Untamed (aka “CQL” or “Chen Qing Ling”) was adapted from the BL web novel, Mo Dao Zu Shi (aka ”MDZS” or Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation) by author Mo Xiang Tong Xiu (”MXTX”). Yes the novel came first, CQL is only an adaptation. In the novel, you get the uncensored romance of Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, where they are canonically married and living happily ever after. The novel goes full into R18 territory so please tread carefully.

All four volumes of the novel can be purchased from the original publishing site, JJWXC. The site’s in chinese but here’s a tutorial on how to navigate it and purchase the books: JJWXC Tutorial Link.

There’s also the option of purchasing the physical copies from Yesasia which might be easier but it’s also more expensive since they’re the middle man: Yesasia MDZS Link

It would be wonderful if you can support MXTX-laoshi by actually buying the books, especially since the cover art is so beautiful and the extra chapter volumes come with a lot of awesome extra goodies, but of course there’s also the option of reading the fan translations graciously provided by the Exiled Rebels Scanlations team at their site:

They translated all the novels including the bonus chapters in their own free time and are providing the fanslations for free so please give them some love for all their hard work.

WATCH THE ANIME (aka “Donghua” in Chinese)

Watch the anime based on the novel: The donghua was released before The Untamed. Two seasons are already available (23 eps total) with a third season in production and a special chibi version of the donghua in production as well. The Eng-subbed donghua can be seen using the WeTV app or on Youtube: YT MDZS Donghua Playlist

Grant it, the donghua is even more censored than The Untamed, but the donghua team still managed to sneak in some easter eggs (f.e. WangXian naked bathing scene in the cold springs from the novel...in The Untamed they were fully clothed) and more importantly, the animation is just gorgeous so it’s absolutely worth a watch despite the censorship.

READ THE MANGA (aka “Manhua” in Chinese)

Read the manhua which is ongoing and is being officially translated by WeComics, available on their app for free. Search under the name “Mo Dao Zu Shi”.

Unfortunately, the official translations are more than 20 chaps behind the raws and there have been complaints about the quality of the translations in the past, but I believe they’re starting to improve so since they’re official, it’s always better to support the official source.

The raw untranslated manhua can be found on the Kuaikanmanhua app. Other than being in Chinese, some of the chapters (f.e. the most recent ones) are behind a paywall, but here’s a tutorial on how to purchase the chapters, provided by @chiharuzushi on Twitter: Kuaikanmanhua Tutorial

The chapters are quite cheap...I purchase 1000 KK coins for 10 rmb ($0.14) and each chapter is only 68 KK coins so even if we end up with 500 chapters it’ll still be...er...quite cheap overall (don’t make me do the actual math). The most painful part is figuring out how to set up the Kuaikanmanhua account, but otherwise, if you can read Chinese or know enough of the story by now that you don’t really need to read the words, the manhua is definitely worth reading because it’s less censored than The Untamed and the donghua.

LISTEN TO THE AUDIO DRAMA

Listen to the audio drama, which is at this point the most faithful and LEAST censored adaptation of the novel we will probably ever get! Wei Ying’s voice actor in The Untamed is the voice actor for his audio drama counterpart. (Yes, almost everyone in The Untamed is dubbed by a voice actor, EXCEPT for Nie Huaisang. Ji Li, the actor for NHS, was the only one who used his own voice. Lan Zhan in The Untamed shares the same voice actor as his character in the donghua).

Each episode art of the audio drama is AMAZING. Google Translate works well on the site, you’d want to see the listeners’ comments cuz they’re just adorable and hilarious.

Official links on Maoer FM:

Season 1: Maoer FM S1 Link

Season 2: Maoer FM S2 Link

Season 3: Maoer FM S3 Link

The audio drama was supervised by MXTX-laoshi, the author of the novel, so a lot of love and care went into the production, and it shows. The audio drama is behind a paywall but I remember it’s relatively inexpensive. Here’s the tutorial on how to purchase the audio drama from the Maoer FM site: Maoer FM Tutorial Link

Ngl, it was tough at first navigating all that, Google translate helped, but once I figured it out, it was all so worth it because in addition to the MDZS, the site houses a lot of other wonderful audio dramas. There are also MDZS fan songs on the site that are near professional quality and oh so good.

Suibian Subs have kindly translated the episodes and their translations are available here: Suibian Subs MDZS Audio Drama

Show them some love too for translating the episodes, but please if you can, purchase the episodes so you can support the audio drama team which have done an amazing job.

There’s even a Japanese audio drama which the Chinese AD team helped spearhead, available on the MIMI FM app. Here’s a tutorial on how to purchase the eps (half of the first season is out): MIMI FM Tutorial

It’s in Japanese but just follow the pictures. I’m hoping that the Japanese audio drama will end up being the MOST uncensored version of MDZS since Japanese BL dramas are not afraid (and allowed) to go all the way to R18. XD

MORE THE UNTAMED CONTENT

Lastly, if you’re just thirsting for more Untamed content, there are two spin-off movies you can watch. The first one, The Living Dead, is kind of centered on Wen Ning and Sizhui post-CQL.

The second one, Fatal Journey, is focused on the Nie brothers, Nie Mingjue and Nie Huaisang, with a cameo by Jin Guangyao. It takes place prior to Wei Ying’s return from the dead.

Of the two movies, I definitely recommend Fatal Journey more. Both movies are available on the iQiyi app, which offers a one month free trial for first members. Each month afterwards for VIP is $6.99.

You can also go on the WeTV app for even more Untamed extras: WeTV put out a special edition cut of the show which tightened up the story AND features the original ending that was intended before censorship forced the production team to come up with the more ambiguous one we saw in its original run. It was a simple matter of rearranging certain scenes and getting rid of the separation part, but imho it really made all the difference to the ending.

There’s a ton of behind-the-scene cuteness that you can watch and also concerts with the cast in Thailand and Nanjing. VIP subscription to the WeTV app is $5.99/month and the Nanjing concert is for rent for 3 months at about the same price.

The show also put out two official soundtracks, one for the vocals and one for the score. Both are available on Amazon and iTunes. For Amazon though, you can search under “The Untamed” but they did this weird thing where the vocals one is listed as “The Untamed (Chinoiserie Music Album)” (wtf) while the score is just listed as “The Untamed (Original Soundtrack)”.

Finally, most of the male members of the cast took part in a fan meet and greet at the start of the show, before it became hugely popular. The entire meet and greet is available on youtube subbed: The Untamed Fan Meeting

That’s it for The Untamed and MDZS. If you end up liking the novel enough to want to read more by the same author, MXTX-laoshi has also written two other BL novels, The Scum Villain Self-Saving System (aka “SVSSS” or “Scum Villain”) and Heaven’s Official Blessing (aka “TGCF” after its Chinese title). Both have been fully translated by fans (but always try to buy the original if you have the means, as a way to support the author!):

SVSSS Translation: BC Novels Link

TGCF Translation chaps 1 - 24: Sakhyulations Link

TGCF Translation chaps 25 - End: Suika & Rynn Link

As with reading any BL novel (aka “danmei novel” for Chinese BL books), please heed the warnings and if it’s not your cup of tea, just exit out of the page and move on with your life. No big deal, right?

Anyway, hope all this info dump helps someone! If you’re brand spanking new to this fandom, welcome, and I’m so jealous of you! Would love to relive stepping into the world of MDZS/MXTX/danmei novels all over again since I feel like I’m already running out of stuff to read and I’m beginning to panic a little.

Happy watching/reading/listening!

#The Untamed #CQL #Mo Dao Zu Shi #MDZS #WangXian #MXTX

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mrpenguinpants · 4 years ago

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Alright, I finally read Reincarnation no Kaben

AFTER MONTHS (it’s probably been a month? My mind doesn’t keep track of the days) I FINALLY CAUGHT UP TO RNK. Ty to Okita anon for the recommendation (*￣3￣)╭💕💕💕 I absolutely loved it.

After this I’ll start on the other recommendation you gave me. I kept a bit of a log of my reading journey under the read more tag.

Major spoilers for literally everything in RNK up to ch 53 “Withdrawal”.

Oh, and I’ll finish answering all my leftover asks and I SHOULD have a fic done by tomorrow. I was so ready to write and then I got up. Now I’m back to bed.

I’m just gonna write this as a log since I read super super slow and I’m only on ch 7 at the start of writing this but I’m really liking it already. Though to be fair. I love everything okita anon recommends haha. I remember you saying you were simping over Kouu and I haven’t gotten to the part where he appears but I wanted to quickly google what he looked like to prepare myself and I see this:

Well. That’s reassuring.

I was actually kinda surprised by how many western figures were in the manga since I know there are only like 7? Around 7 western figures that pop up in any anime/manga but seeing people like Albert Fish was kinda surprising but I really liked it. Also, at the end of certain chapters they write little bio’s on them so you get to know more about them was such a nice touch. I also love that the tradition of making males -> females still stays strong even outside the fate universe hehe.

---

Literally, the next chapter I see him. AHHHHHHHHH. Well maybe not him but his eyeballs.

This guy lowkey reminds me of the MC’s brother but it’s 99% because he has the same long ponytail. I wouldn’t be surprised if the brother was apart of the the Greats. Honestly, Ein reminds me of those really hard headed girls that are actually really kind on the inside but aren’t good at expressing themselves (maybe because that’s pretty much her character). I also like that Ein doesn’t like males but she’s hiding behind this guy. At least, I’m..99% sure this is Ein.

I FUCKING KNEW IT. AS SOON AS I SAW HE GOT A THEIF TALENT I COULD FEEL THE SOLO LEVELING VIBES IN ME. HE CAN STEAL TALENTS I FUCKING KNEW IT!!! I’m surprised that Neumann didn’t say anything and Haito seems to be aware of it.

Edit: Ah okay, I understand a bit now but it almost seems like Haito is the only one aware of Toya’s second talent.

Edit 2: Okay, as much as I love power hungry MC’s I’m really glad they didn’t make Toya into that. I am such a softie for sympathetic and kind MC’s like these even though it’s been done so many times. I’m really glad this didn’t feel like a rehash. I mean, some points some of the stuff Toya says it does but it’s fine, I don’t mind that. I actually gave a crap about him since I usually prefer the side characters (I UNDERSTAND ANON, I CARE ABOUT KOUU SO MUCH AHHHHH) but HAITO?? AHHHHH.

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I like that Izo always has the same hat in every adaptation he’s in lol. Istg, cats are always op. Schrodinger seems so strong and the parallel universes are my absolute shit. Sometimes I think, in one universe I did this and in this universe I’m not. Would I rather stay in this universe or be in the one where I am actually productive. Usually I pick the productive universe and actually work but sometimes I’m a bit of a slacker haha. I think this is my approach to a lot of things in life. But I digress, I don’t wanna get too deep into my life.

I can sorta sympathize with the sinners. At least the ripper guy to say the least. I love love love unhinged characters that just want to basically destroy the world or at least have fun. But then you find out- wait they are actually sympathetic oh no. That’s how I felt about Djoser in “im the great priest imhotep” (please...i beg...someone read this...I’m so starved).

As much as character development and rooting for the hero is cool and all, I just want to simp for the crazy “let’s burn the world to the ground” kinda character. I’m also so glad Toya doesn’t automatically become evil and try and steal everyone’s talents because he does seem like a good person and I really don’t see him suddenly switching fields so when he saved (I don’t remember names I’m sorry), the undead solider it was really nice. Proves that he still has his humanity and isn’t strictly relying on the branch of sin.

It makes sense that he wants to steal talents since he never had one (and it was kinda out of left field when he killed Vlad and we just never addressed that ever again haha) but to see him actually consider his actions and if he actually want’s to steal his teammates talents feels right to me. Poor guy doesn’t seem to have a lot of friends so this is the first time he’s ever seemed to have companionship, aside from Haito, so I really hope he doesn’t attempt to steal their talents. I think I’m thinking of the slime? That time I got reincarnated as a slime manga/anime. Where he’s the pokemon catcher of skills. I thought that was where it was going.

But I do kinda like how selfish Haito and Toya’s talent stealing relationship is (I mean, later it develops but my first draft of writing this I wasn’t there yet). I’m not sure if selfish or like self-gratitude/pride is the right word but it’s kind of a breath of fresh air. Rather than Haito trying to contain or “help” Toya’s inferiority she’s actually encouraging it and using her own talent for her own...acknowledgement? Er, yeah let’s go with that.

---

This. This interaction. I love this. Like, genuinely love this. We need more of this. Two people from opposite sides finding some common ground and their fight to the death is less about morals or whose on whose side but for themselves. I love that. This is actually some wholesome stuff.

Edit: AHHHHH CATCH MY UGLY CRYING IN THE BACK BECAUSE ALL THE “SINNERS” ARE ACTUALLY AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. IM DEAD. YOU’VE KILLED ME.

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I KNEW IT! YOU CAN NEVER TRUST THESE KIND OF PEOPLE!! I’m going to slap the whiteboard on this but if I see any “goofy” character I’m immediately sus of them.

As much as I hate that Hitler is getting drawn as a small child I really like this. I know the whole, oh I killed your friends but I’m letting you go because you express humanity but I’m gonna finish my death with a sympathetic line, can be annoying to people but idk I really liked this.

Honestly this and the undead soldiers death hit me hard ngl. This manga might not have my favourite art style during some points compared to like main stream manga but it has some really beautiful scenes.

BOOM CALLED IT, though it’s pretty obvious lol.

THE PONY TAIL NEVER LIES AND HES DA VINCI IT MAKES SENSE NOW

He looks so cute lol. I like that Seiya has the talent of being talented in everything while Toya has the talent to steal other talents. Seiya can probably only cap his power by his own physical/mental abilities with Toya can pull a solo leveling and go further beyond. Thinking of it like jack of trades vs master of none type deals. Though, I might be thinking too hard on this. I like that this man is actually humble but I really wish there was a tiny bit more to him since we only get this one interaction/backstory but the manga isn’t completed yet. I really hope we get to know about Seiya more;; like how he became da vinci or etc.

Everytime I see Neumann I look at that comic sans type and it kills me on the inside. But I love that her eyes are 01 just, mwah perfection. These little details that aren’t that big but it’s soooo nice. I also ahem, unhinged character heart be still. It’s really nice reading manga in bursts because you can see the art progression and damn does she look good.

tiny fang appreciation post.

ngl i’M HARD SIMPING FOR THIS MAN. It’s the pony tail, I have such a thing for guys with long hair (and this is why genshin broke me) but man the art really picked up here.

I didn’t get into it but OKITA ANON I GET IT. KOUU??? AHHHH. WHY DID YOU HAVE TO DIE??? As much as his whole “war” was a bit questionable in the beginning and tbh I still don’t really get it I like that he knows he’s not the same as the other Greats but still tries to help the other “sinners” in a way only he knows. That’s why Seiya was so important;; I get that he wanted them to have a fun death and to be understood but idk, the whole war idea and having them kill each other (especially the Hitler fights because I understand the others since they reached some kind of acknowledgement) but nonetheless, what a great guy.

Nightingale gives me mad masaki vibes from chainsawman. I hate them and I can’t wait for you to fail, but the inner part of my is cheering for you because unhinged characters are my shit. I feel really bad for Neumann, I had suspicions she wasn’t actually like that since it’s sooo out of left field but I’m really glad the manga seems to know what it’s doing. I really wish we got more Kouu interactions with everyone tho.

NOW THIS. THIS IS SOME WHOLESOME STUFF. I WANT THIS. I REALLY WANT SPIN-OFF OF REALLY SAD ANIME/MANGA/STORIES WHERE ALL THE DEAD PEOPLE HANG OUT. That’s how I’m feeling about JJK and the scroll segments or BSD WAN that just came out. IT’S SO WHOLESOME TO SEE EVERYONE NOT TRYING TO KILL EACH OTHER.

UGLY SOBBING IN THE CLUBBB AND KOUU AND CHARLOTTE AHHHH. I hate how this is phrased but the respect I have for Hitler?? YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW HARD THAT IS TO TYPE?? Kitazuka is cool tho, I really like him. Some god given talent. I’m hard simping over him but I really hope we get to know more about him later.

Getting smug mona vibes, I love this.

AHHH IVE NEVER FELT THIS UPSET OVER AN APPLEEEE. I’M ACTUALLY UPSET. IF HE DIES IM ACTUALLY GOING TO CRY MY HEART OUT.

THE FAMOUS SLAP

I’M SORRY WHA- SLENDERMAN?

Oh..wow. Okay, be still my heart. When I first saw her I thought she was really pretty but now I’m absolutely smitten. God damn, can I please have some more crumbs on these characters before they die;;

AHHH SAME GIRL FUCKING SAME????? I adore these small panels and translator notes. It’s a real breather after the sad 3am hours talk these characters go through.

Yagyuu. Jesus christ. WHY ARE ALL THE DEATH SCENES IN THIS MANGA ACTUALLY SO PRETTY AND STABS ME IN THE HEART??? that’s it. goodbye. im fucking out. im actually so upset rn. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?

---

In conclusion, and I should probably re-read what the characters say and not go off on memory because I’m about to get really deep. I really like how they phrased why they wanted to stop the branch of sin. That there are people just like Toya and Haito who, if they never found the branch of sin, could still probably lead respectable and okay lives. That there was a “them” in another universe that didn’t go down that road and that they want to be in the same universe as “them”. I know this sounds really confusing if you haven’t read the manga but going back to what I said about the parallel universe stuff.

There was a universe where Toya and Haito didn’t rely on the branch of sin, that even without their talents from becoming a returner, they could still live a happy life given their own personalities and attitudes. It was kinda moving since in the beginning, Toya wanted a talent so badly and now that he has one. He’s realizing that wait, I don’t need a past life talent in order to live. Honestly, I hard relate to that because I totally agree with him. If you have a talent you can probably live a very happy and comfortable life that other factors wouldn’t matter if you just have that incredible talent. Thinking of it as a painter or artist, if you had actual god-given talent you wouldn’t need to worry about other factors since people would naturally seek that talent. So you end up comparing yourself to others and setting that limit on yourself.

But that’s okay, it’s completely natural and I’m not saying it’s horrible if you do this. Fuck, I do this all the time. I’m not saying the manga is changing my life but it’s kind of refreshing that it get’s talked about since other adaptations of this just make the character super OP. I understand wanting to have that incredible talent, fuck who doesn’t? but you don’t need it in order to live earnestly in the bigger picture sense. Not everything you do has to be productive and honestly, learning to be okay with having fun is nice. Just being okay with who you are right now, even if it isn’t perfect in your eyes, you still have time to build upon yourself and your own talents but doing it for yourself.

But I probably missed the point and I’m going way to deep haha. But I really enjoyed reading this and thank you once again to okita anon for the recommendation^^ I always love everything you send me and I’ll start reading the next one. If anyone else has any recommendations let me know!

#WOW WHAT A FUCKING TRAIN RIDE #AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH #ALRIGHT TIME TO GO CRY MY HEART OUT #JESUS THIS ACTUALLY SO BEAUTIFUL???#PLEAE PLEASE PLEASE READ IT #IK THE BEGINNING MIGHT SEEM A BIT WEIRD WITH SO MUCH INFORMATION THROWN AT YOU BUT DO IT #IT GETS SOOOO GOOD LATER #ITS GETTING SO GOOD RN BUT I NEED TO WAIT FOR UPDATES #OKITA ANON YOU ARE SUCH AN MVP FUCK I LOVE IT #BUT YOURE ALSO KILLING ME #super duper fucking i love you i actually love you mwha #okita anon #lovely anon #anon ask #reincarnation no kaben

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anthropwashere · 4 years ago

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deadfic: she sang to me a language strange 2

More deadfic for @goodintentionswipfest but this time some of y’all might recognize this one! I cut out ~2k of language strange when I posted it because it was even more of a hot mess than the rest that I just didn’t have the energy to wrangle. Now I have an excuse to still throw it in your faces with virtually no editing!

Behold yet more bad times for Ed in the terrible werewolf AU (tw cannibalism, imprisonment, and a whole heck of mileage out of the word “fuck”). The key difference between this chunk and the previous chunk is in the pacing.

(Apologies for the bad Google Translate French. Again.)

(part 1)

A guard comes by with a bowl of mush, barks something at him but he doesn’t care, he refuses to care. The guard leaves. He doesn’t look at the bowl even though his stomach is a knot of nausea and hunger and he’s so fucking thirsty, he just wants a glass of water but he can’t remember the last time they gave him anything to drink.

The guard comes back with another guard, no, two more guards from the smell. They’re laughing. Oh, good, great, this’ll be fun. Can’t they just, fuck, give him a day or whatever amounts to a day down here? He’s tired, he’s so tired. He’s digesting the parts of Renée Poirier he didn’t throw up. Just stop, go away, let him rest.

One of the guards bangs on the top of his cage and they all laugh when he flinches. Another one must bend down because his rough voice is too close to the bars when he asks, “Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas, loup garou? Vous sentez-vous malade?”

He bares his teeth. Loup garou. Wolfman. They think they’re so goddamn funny.

They ask him again if he’s feeling sick, bang on his cage, ask him if he’s just feeling down, aw, poor wolfman, poor stupid Amestrian dog, is he sad? They heard him and the bitch chatting, does he miss his new friend? Well he shouldn’t have gone and killed her, eh? God, but the mess he made of her, makes a normal man sick it does! Like he enjoyed it—

“Shut up,” he snarls, or he means to say it in Amestrian but it comes out as nothing but a warning rumble deep in his chest. His teeth are too big again, too long, too sharp. How did Heinkel deal with this shit? How did any of them? They’d all always seemed so—controlled. Calm, cool, collected, whatever the fuck, the guards are banging on his cage more and it’s hard to think, harder than usual, what’s even fucking usual anymore.

He curls up tighter, tries to calm down. Normal man, he thinks scathingly. Fuck off with that. The guards are all bargain bin chimeras too. They look human, sure, mostly, but their eyes shine wrong and their teeth are too sharp. Little tells that used to raise the hair on the back of his neck when he was still human. Now he knows better. Now he knows the guards were all changed as a precaution, otherwise one wrong move and any one of the prisoners could take a bite out of them. Even the playing field.

He can’t deny he wouldn’t be tempted to, if it were an option. He can’t deny he’s tempted to bite one of them anyway, never mind the hell they’d give him after. He has no idea if it’s something he would have thought of when he was human or if this is that fucking animal instinct Darius always loved to harp on about. He doesn’t know which is worse or which is more comforting. He just wants the guards to leave. They’re clearly not taking him anywhere, otherwise they wouldn't have started messing with his shackles, choking him, yanking on his bad leg, shit like that. They’re just here for a laugh. There’s nothing more obnoxious than guards with time to kill until their shift’s over.

One of them declares that the reason he made a mess all over the floor must be that he doesn’t know. The other two are astounded, my god, surely he must? Surely the Amestrian dog’s not so stupid as that? Wasn’t this one supposed to be smart, isn’t that why the brass wanted him so bad? How could he not notice something so obvious? Not used to good cooking, one of them suggests, and they all howl with laughter and start to rag on bland Amestrian cuisine for a minute, which, whatever, they can do whatever the fuck they want so long as they leave him out of it.

Of course they don’t though. One of them pulls on one of his chains and he snarls, snarls louder when they pull harder. “Regarde moi,” the guard snarls back.

They all know he understands them. His mistake. He should have realized the advantage he’d have if they thought he couldn’t string more than a where’s the bathroom together. Ah well. If wishes were horses, they'd end up as chimeras down here too. He doesn’t roll over—they’ve all driven that joke into the ground—just cranes his head over his sore right shoulder and bares his teeth up at them. He’s pretty sure that’s something he would have done as a human. It’s a mean comfort.

The nearest guard’s fangs dimple his lips when he smiles. He’s got old scars across his jaw and one cheek, like claw marks. Now there’s a fucking idea. The guard asks him if he’s stupid and barks laughter.

“Stupid enough to get caught by you, I s’pose,” he says in Amestrian, because he doubts they can string even a where’s the bathroom together in his language. Either he’s wrong or they just don’t like his tone, because the guard yanks on his chain again. They’ve got him by the right arm and his shoulder throbs and threatens to pop out of the joint again. Fuck them, fuck the bastard who cut out his prosthetic clavicle, fuck the alchemists for not giving him a new one along with the leg they gave him, not like he wanted it but—fuck, fuck—

The guards laugh raucously above him. Fuck them. Fuck. Fuck. Ow.

“Regarde moi,” the guard says again, rattling the chain a little. Not enough to hurt, just enough to remind him who’s in charge. Ha. Like they ever give him a chance to forget.

He glowers up at him and the guard asks if he really doesn’t know. “Sais quoi?” He grits out, exasperated. Just spit out whatever bullshit and leave him alone.

The other two guards are grinning too. The one on the left grins wolfishly, open mouthed with his too-thin tongue lolling. Must be the one not talking as much.

The nearest guard yanks on his chain again and asks him what he thinks he’s been eating the whole time. He looks at him, baffled. What the hell did that—

Quicker than he can react the guard sticks his hand through the food slot and upends the bowl of mush in his face. He yelps, splutters, room temperature broth and soft meat clumps and cold potatoes and stringy gray vegetables spilling in his eyes and soaking his hair. He can’t see well enough to dodge the guard’s rough fingers, shoving something—meat, definitely meat—into his mouth. He bites down but the guard’s quicker; he only bites the meat, feels no satisfying—horrifying—crunch of bone. He swallows so he can snarl, but the guards all laugh and the nearest one says, “Tu as mangé du la chimère.”

He stares. They’re making even less sense than usual, and that’s saying something. He knows he fucking ate a chimera, he knows, he knows, he knows. Her name was Renée Poirier and she was a wolf like he’s a wolf, which is to say they aren’t wolves at all but they’re not human anymore either, and she’s not anything but past fucking tense because he killed her and ate her, and he killed her and ate her because the alchemists did—something—to him that made him want to kill and eat her. So what is this guard playing at?

“Je le sais,” he says, wary, flinching when the guards all laugh again.

“Non, non,” the other guard says, the one who doesn’t laugh like a dog. “Now.”

He shakes his head, not understanding—

—but he does.

The lumps of meat on his chest, on the floor of his cage, in his stomach—they came from another chimera. Someone like him. A person. They’re feeding him people, they have been the whole time and he never knew, he never knew all this time he’s been eating—he’s been cannibalizing—

“No,” he whispers. “No. You’re lying—”

“Not a lie,” the second guard says, grinning crookedly. “All eat the same. Always.”

The guards bark laughter one last time and then finally, they leave.

He shies away from the clumps of meat cooling in his cell, curls up tightly in as close to a corner as his chains allow. No, he thinks—begs. No. They’re lying. All this time, trapped down here in this freezing hell, weeks or months, his life sustained day after day by the other—no. No. It’s wrong. They’re lying. They have to be. Just another ugly trick. Please.

Time passes. The mush caught in his tangled hair cools and clots. Nothing fresh is brought, no one comes to bother him at all. He doesn’t eat no matter how much his stomach growls. They lied. He knows it’s a lie—but what if it’s not? What then? He gets so hungry. He’s so tired. But he can’t. He can’t eat. Someone will come for him. They have to find him. Soon. Please. S'il te plaît. They’re wrong. They lied. Please.

He hears the bitch before he smells her, and he smells her before he sees her standing in the open doorway of the narrow little room his cage is kept. He growls and doesn’t mind the purely animal sound that bubbles out of him. She’s the one who made him this. It’s her bite on his leg that made him this.

The bitch sighs. “The guards say you are not eating.”

He growls louder, deeper, rolls onto his hands and knees—grinds his fangs together to keep his pained yelp unuttered when his left knee hits the cold metal too hard—and glares a challenge at her. He sets the scrap of humanity left to him aside, folds it up small and hides it away where she can’t set her teeth to it. She doesn’t deserve to see it when she’s the one who did this to him.

“You need to eat,” she says. Yeah, she would say that. Pretending like she cares about his well-being when she’s the one who tore him open to allow his humanity to bleed out. Look at him, he growls. Fucking look at this hobbled, toothsome thing he’s been reduced to. It’s all that’s left of the man he was, and it’s all. Her. Fault. Fuck her. She’s proud of what she did to him. Never said it plainly but he can smell it on her. Pride in a job well done. What a bitch.

“Fine,” she says. “Don’t eat. I don’t care. Die and be done with it.”

He cackles, high and shrill. “Yeah? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

She bares her teeth—too long, too sharp—in a humorless grin. “I would. My superiors would not, however. They have high hopes for you, Fullmetal.”

“That’s not my fucking name.”

“What horrid language. You never fail to disappoint.”

His skull grew faster than the rest of his face so he can’t really grin back, but whatever face he’s managing to make at her is a nasty thing if her own expression’s anything to go by. Then again she always has this look about her like she just stepped in dogshit. Maybe that’s just how the other alchemists put her back together, he doesn’t know.

The bitch takes her left hand out of the pocket of her white coat. She’s got a syringe full of something clear, something slightly tinted green. He’s seen it twice before, but both times he was more animal than person, more eager to bite than to ask questions. This is the first time he’s been sane enough to wonder what the fuck it is.

“You need this,” she says. “You will die without it.”

He laughs, loud and barking, pitching higher into a howl that sets off the other wolves that aren’t wolves on this floor. He hears their manic fear mirroring his own and finds relief in it. He’s not the only one down here like this, this half-thing, this twisted up monster, this chimera full of teeth and fury hungry for the excuse to bite. He grins wolfishly, slitted eyes and bared fangs. “Fuck you,” he says, and finds gladness in the unhappy curl of her mouth.

“You’ll eat,” she says, brandishing the bowl of mush in her other hand that may or may not be chopped up people-chimera. “You’ll take this,” she says, brandishing the syringe so it catches the light spilling in from the hall. “ You’ll accept both or you’ll die.”

“Fuck you,” he says again. “Go take a flying fuck over the goddamn moon.”

Her snout—nose, she’s got a nose, she still looks human enough for a nose, she’s got better control than she does and fuck her for that too—wrinkles. She walks into the room and he snarls louder, feels hackles rise all down his spine, feels his bones creak and muscles strain. He doesn’t want to change but he fucking hates her enough to make the pain worth it. She closes the gap anyway, cold and confident and just out of reach of his paws—claws—whatever. She slides the bowl of mush over, just outside the narrow gap in the bars of his cage. She holds up the syringe, twists it between her fingers. Her fingernails—no, sharp enough to be called claws—tick and tap carefully against the glass.

“I mean it,” she says. “You need this. Every six days, the same as me. Seven days, you’ll start to go insane, almost as much as you did in the pit—” He flinches. She grins. Bitch. “Eight days, your body will start to tear itself apart. The shape you’re in? You won’t live nine days. This is not a threat. It’s fact.”

“Yeah?” Hard to talk with how long his teeth have gotten, how long his snout’s grown. He growls low and knows she’ll understand him. There’s a fine line between personhood and the monster she made him, and monsters can all understand each other just fine. “And I’m supposed to believe you?”

“I don’t care if you believe me or not,” she replies. “They’ll show you the truth of this, if you survive the pit.”

He flinches. She grins.

She pulls something out of the other pocket of her coat, a thin wooden shape with curving pale carvings. “You take your dose, or I get a guard to come in here and blow this.”

He squints at the wooden shape until it makes sense. It’s a whistle.

Le sifflet, the dark shape of the thing that used to be Renée Poirier whispers in his memory. His memory fractures, splintered by a high, thin scream of noise and pain that tore the scrap of his humanity, that last bit of him that can still call itself Edward Elric-Rockbell, out of the beast and left it to hang.

The bitch grins wider.

He shakes his head, shrinking back until his spine is pressed painfully against the bars nearest the walls. “You’re lying.”

“Of course not,” she says. “The truth is far more useful.”

White grins in white spaces. Yeah. Isn’t it just.

“Tell me what’s in the syringe.”

“It’s necessary.”

“Fuck you. What’s in it? What’s it gonna do to me?”

She sighs impatiently. “Consider the fact that you are dying as we speak.”

#fma #fmab #fullmetal alchemist #my writing #deadfic

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crashdevlin · 6 years ago

Text

Bottle-8: Epiphany

Bottle Masterlist

Author’s Note: Originally posted to ao3 (This is an edited and improved version), I work in info from the comics (Like Hawkeye was married to Mockingbird and Red Skull had a disappointing daughter) and I took a few liberties with what the scepter could do (but not really because the Mind Stone was used to create the Twins so what I did is not that far-fetched). This is a lot more angst than I realized when I wrote it, but it’s compelling angst.

Summary: Cassandra Campbell is a Stark Industries lab tech with dubious genetics and a history with the new Director of SHIELD. She’s been working in New York since right before the Chitauri invasion. What does she have to do with Loki, and what will happen when he returns? Starts post TDW and continues to the end of AoU.

Pairing(s): Phil Coulson x OFC (Past), Loki x OFC (Non-con), Clint Barton x OFC, Steve Rogers x OFC

Word Count: 3460

Story Warnings: So many, worst (to me) are bolded. Younger woman/older man relationship,non-con, mutilation, torture, mind control, PTSD, depression, alcoholism, forced abortions, bad things (non-con) in a church, insomnia, memory manipulation, eventual consensual oral sex (female and male receiving),

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of insomnia, nightmares, depression, alcoholism, general identity issues, bad German from Google Translate, mentions of suicidal thoughts

Cassie sat in a plush recliner, looking at the handsome black man on the other side of the desk. She didn't know what to say. "Thanks for seeing me." She settled on after what seemed like hours. "I know it's short notice, but there's a lot going on and I don't know when else I'd be able to see you."

"It's not a problem, Miss Campbell." Andrew set a folder on his desk. It was a SHIELD file and Cassie knew it was hers. "I've read your file. I know everything that's been written about you, Cassie. Can I call you 'Cassie'?"

She nodded. "I prefer it."

"You don't have to hold back anything with me, Cassie. You understand? So why don't you tell me why you're here?"

She let out a long, slow breath. "I can't sleep. I can't think, most of the time. I'm afraid all of the time. I have horrible dreams... and I have some identity issues." Her tone said that was an understatement.

"Okay. So, what do you think is the cause of the problems? Why do you think you're here?"

She snorted. "Where do I start?"

"The beginning is usually a good place. Tell me about your childhood."

"You read the file. You know my childhood. It was unorthodox, but not unhappy. My childhood was not a problem, never has been."

"You grew up in a cell," Andrew countered.

"It was a big cell. And don't most teenagers lock themselves in their rooms, anyway?"

"Yeah. By choice, not force. But, if you don't think that was the start of the problem, where do you think we should start?"

Cassie looked at her hands, clenched together in her lap. "I wanna blame the cellist. I've always wanted to blame the cellist. It'd be easier to blame all my problems on her.” She shook her head. “But it started with Phil. He taught me what happy was, then he took it away."

"Your file says that you left him. Why do you blame him for your leaving?"

Cassie looked around the office, not letting her gaze fall on the doctor’s face. "I was pregnant. He was in love with someone else. He would have stayed because I was pregnant. I couldn't let him stay with me when he was in love with Audrey. What kind of... what kind of woman would that make me?"

Andrew nodded. "So, you left him?"

Cassie nodded, humming affirmatively. "It killed me to leave him. He was everything to me. So, when I left, his daughter became everything to me."

"And how did it feel to lose her, too?"

Tears popped up in her eyes and she looked over at the man. "A lot happened that day. A lot of horr-horrible... life-destroying things happened to me. It, uh, it didn't quite hit me, at first.” She cleared her throat. “At first, I was focused on... the mutation and the scars. It wasn't until a couple days later... I couldn't stop crying. I lay in the bathtub and just sobbed. I lost myself and my world, all at the same time. I considered committing suicide, but... I'm a coward. I couldn't go through with it."

He jotted something down in the folder and closed it again. "So, you considered taking your life?"

"What point did my life have after that? I'm... worthless. I felt worthless. But I couldn't do it. So, I drank and I worked and I... faked it, 'til I kinda made it." She wiped under her eyes to catch the tears that wanted to fall. "I kept going. I stopped looking in the mirror, I threw out all of the baby clothes, the tiny socks... I crawled into a bottle. I stopped feeling. I worked, and I drank, and I slept. Not much of that last one, but I... I did sleep back then."

"You don't sleep, now?"

Cassie shook her head. "Nightmares."

"What kind of nightmares do you have?"

"It's the same every night. Even when it's different, it's the same, ya know?"

"I don't think I do know."

Cassie sighed. "Sometimes, I'm running. Sometimes, I'm fighting. Sometimes, I'm not myself. Sometimes, I'm red. But no matter what is happening, no matter what I'm doing, who I'm killing, it always ends with ‘Sie werden nie dein schicksal besiegen'."

"And what does that mean?"

"'You'll never defeat your destiny.' I'm... my subconscious mind is determined to remind me, nightly, that I am destined to be Joanna Schmidt."

"Well, why don't you tell me about Joanna?” Andrew leaned forward. “Loki hypnotized you and called you 'Joanna'?"

"Fury called me Joanna before anyone else. But, yeah, Loki told me to follow my destiny and I became Joanna. I became a villain, just like my father."

"You were a villain? What did Joanna do that was so evil?" he asked, calmly.

Cassie was taken aback by the question. "What?"

"You said Joanna was a villain. I've reviewed files of numerous 'villains', I've spoken to many sociopaths on the Index who are ripe for becoming 'villains', I did an in-depth interview with Ivan Vanko. That's Whiplash. So, I know villains. What did Joanna do? What did you do as Joanna that was so bad? Did you kill anyone? Blow anything up? Attempt to overthrow world democracy?"

"I... tried to help Loki become King of... of Midgard."

"Because he told you to. Not because Joanna actually wanted to, right?"

Cassie looked down. "I... I don't know."

"She kill anyone?"

"No," Cassie said, the words coming out defensively.

"A villain would have. Did she have the opportunity?"

Cassie felt confused. Joanna had been given the opportunity to kill several people, including the man who imprisoned her at a young age and taken the memories of her love away from Phil. She just nodded, dumbly.

"So, here's what I think, Cassie. You and Joanna, same person. She didn't kill anyone because you are a good person. You are a good woman, despite your genetics, despite your solitary upbringing, despite the tragedy that has befallen you. You're afraid that you might become your father, but I don't see any of him in you. Even when you've been hypnotized by a destructive, God of Chaos, you are still fundamentally good. So, maybe your destiny is something different. Maybe you're destined to do good, not evil. Maybe that's what your dreams are telling you."

Cassie was silent as she went over every dream she'd had, and every interaction Joanna had. "She told Phil to give up the base. She, I, didn't want anyone to get hurt. I didn't want to hurt anyone. My Lord, she is me. She's just... less inhibited. Not evil. Not Red Skull. Ich bin nicht böse. [I’m not evil.]"

Andrew watched tears roll down her cheeks, a slight smile on his lips. "Feel better?"

She nodded, furiously. "I'm not evil. Even Joanna isn't. I feel amazing. Thank you."

"This isn't the end, you know. I mean, it's a breakthrough, but we haven't covered everything."

She nodded. "I know. I just... this completely changes how I look at... everything."

"So... what about the scars?"

"They seem so much less important now. They're... when Loki took Barton's mind, he told Loki about me. Barton had been in charge of watching me when I was first released from the Fridge, so he knew all about me. So, when Loki took Stark Tower, he went searching for me. Loki wanted me to be his queen. He wanted me to have his children and wanted me to use my blood to make him an army of super-soldiers. He turned me... he put me into a trance. Then, he…” She choked on the words, clearing her throat to force herself to continue. “...froze my womb. She died pretty quickly, I think. Then, he raped me and carved his name into my chest. He, uh, wrote 'mine' in English, then he wrote what amounts to a marriage proposal in Asgardian in scars on my chest."

"That was last year. He came for you, again, a few months ago, right?"

She nodded and sighed. "That's when I was Joanna. He showed up at my apartment. I thought he was dead, but it was all a lie. He does that. That's what he is, God of Lies. Illusions, that's his big thing. He appeared in my apartment after I met Barton the first time. He was there as an illusion. Probably was outside on the street or something, but it seemed like he was in my room, scolding me for meeting with another man when I belonged to him. I did what I could to avoid him. I told my story to Tony Stark, who moved me into the Tower for protection. But it didn't help. He found his way into my apartment for real and touched me with that staff again. I was Joanna for weeks. I remember now, that I steered Loki away from conflict wherever I could. There would've been a fight at the Tower between Loki, Steve Rogers and Tony. I kept that from happening."

"There's a medical report in your file referencing a second pregnancy. That happen around that time?"

"Yeah. Joanna and Loki had sex several times."

"I notice you depersonalized that. You didn't have sex with Loki, Joanna did. But you've already acquiesced that you're the same person."

"I... can't own that one, Doctor. I might be able to admit that Joanna is just pieces of my psyche that I keep locked away, but... she enjoyed herself. It wasn't rape this time. He didn't order her to be still and have his way with her. They... made love, almost. As close as they could, I mean. He's a sociopath, so he can’t love, but... she liked it. She contributed. She.... I can't own that."

"But you wanted to own the baby?"

"I wanted to be a mother. He robbed me of that. I thought it was only fitting that he be the one to... give it back."

"The baby would have killed you."

"That didn't matter. My purpose was to be a mother. Fulfilling that purpose would have been... it would have been okay if I died, because I would have fulfilled my purpose."

"So, you need a new purpose. Your purpose was Coulson, then it was being a mother. You need a new reason to live." Cassie nodded. It made sense. "I think you have a purpose lined up." Andrew picked up the folder and flipped it open. "Says you've been courted to be an Avenger. Also, Coulson said he was interested in using you for SHIELD."

"I can't work for SHIELD. It wouldn't work. No one would trust me. I'm Red Skull's daughter. I had a two year long relationship with the current Director of SHIELD. I can't work under him. Besides, SHIELD kept me prisoner for half my life and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a bit bitter about that."

"And the Avengers?"

"I want that to work," she resolved. "But things are awkward there. They all watched me fall apart. They know more about me than they do about each other, and they've been working together for years. They've saved the world together. They saved the world from me."

"Don't backslide into that, Cassie. You were never the thing they had to save the world from. You didn't do anything evil or world-ending. That was all Loki."

She nodded, took a deep breath and let it out. "You're right. I didn't do anything... horrible."

"And I believe that you are strong enough to get past the awkwardness. I think if you could get past everything else that has happened to you, and you did start to get past everything else that happened, then you can get past the awkwardness of people knowing a bit more about you than you'd like."

"Thank you, Dr. Garner. I-I'm glad I came to talk to you."

"If you are going to be in New York, at the Tower working with the Avengers, I'd like you to come talk to me every once in a while. Monthly, maybe every other month, if you can spare the time. I'll put it on SHIELD's tab, you won't have to pay anything but time."

Cassie stood, offering her hand. "I'll see what I can do, Doc."

He took her hand and shook it, confidently. "It's nice to know I've helped give the world it's next superhero."

**********************************

Cassie walked into Stark Tower and headed to the top levels. She walked into the shooting range and smiled at Clint, who dropped his bow and rushed to her side. "Where've you been?"

"Several places. I started in a bar, where I was accosted by a former SHIELD Hydra agent who recognized me from my file, then I went down to the subway, where I was extracted by your ex-wife, who took me to SHIELD headquarters for a chat with Phil. Phil sent me to go talk to a shrink. I figured it out, though. Well, Doc Garner figured it out, but it cleared everything up for me."

Her smile was contagious, causing a confused smile to spread over Clint's face. "I'm not evil. Never was. And Joanna, she wasn't evil, either. She was me, right down to the Judeo-Christian morals SHIELD forced on me. That's why I didn't kill anyone when I was her. I actively kept people from being killed. Yeah, she was bit immodest, but fundamentally same as me. Every other problem I have... they all seem so insignificant."

Clint wiped his thumb under her left eye and smiled, softly. "So... better, then?"

"Better. Ready to get some training so I can help get that sceptre back where it belongs."

Clint nodded, pulling a gun from his waistband and handing it to her. "So, you met Bobbi, huh?"

She nodded. "The woman is gorgeous. How could you let that get away?"

"Life got in the way. The job, the life. I spent two years doing surveillance on you, wasn't able to share my mission specs with her and didn't know when I would be back. She got tired of waiting, ran into the arms of some skinny British guy she met on a job. You know how it is," Clint said, bending down to pull another gun off of his ankle.

"Your marriage died because of me?"

"No. Not because of you. Because of the job… and some cocky piece of shit named Lance Hunter. Not you, not her, not really him. It just... happened." Clint pulled the magazine from the bottom of the gun and showed it to her. "Magazine. Bullets. 9 in the mag, 1 in the chamber for the gun you've got. Don't point at anything you aren't prepared to shoot. Never point the gun at yourself, or me. Everything Ops is in the lungs. You'll hear people say it's in the heart, in the muscles, but when you get down to the brass tacks, if you can't control your breathing, you are fucked, and not in the fun way."

*****************************

Cassie made her way upstairs after several hours of controlled breathing and breaking down and putting back together her weapon. She had done well in her first training session and it occurred to her that Hydra might have given her weapons training back when she was younger. She thought, maybe, that was some of the 'indoctrination' SHIELD had trained out of her.

Steve was standing at a blackboard in the room he'd called Romanoff and Clint into when she'd first arrived back from Austria. Cassie stopped at the door. She had to get past the awkwardness and that wasn’t going to happen if she kept avoiding him. She walked in and closed the door behind her. Steve pulled his attention from the blackboard and turned.

"Miss Campbell, how can I-"

"Don't 'Miss Campbell' me. Please. You didn't even do that when we first met.” She walked closer to him. “It was 'miss', then kinda thinking I was 'devil spawn', then we were on a date and you were calling me 'Cassie'. It was a weird, fast progression, but I know you had fun on that date, Steve, or you wouldn't have asked me on a second one. I had fun, too, until Joanna came out.” She scratched the back of her neck.

“And I know that finding out that the girl you were kinda courting is baby-obsessed and was in love with the SHIELD agent who helped get you acclimated to the 21st century and was pregnant back when she was with him, well it's enough to put anyone off and I get that, and I'm not trying to cash in on that second date you offered, I just want this to not be awkward between us, okay?" she rambled. She knew she had rambled. She wished she hadn't rambled.

Steve set his chalk on the ledge of the chalk board and walked around to sit on the edge of the desk she stood in front of. He smiled, slightly. "I wasn't calling you 'Miss Campbell' because I was pushing you away or to be awkward. Phil wanted to talk to you. I thought he might want to give your relationship a second chance. He isn't with the cellist any more. He was your first love. The one you thought you'd never have again. I thought it might be easier for you if you didn't think of me."

Cassie shook her head. "Phil just wanted to let me know that he'd put me on the Index and that I had a place at SHIELD, if I wanted. Then, he shipped me off to a shrink, who actually helped me a lot more than I thought he would."

"Doctor Garner?" Steve guessed. Cassie nodded. He laughed. "The man is good. Doc Garner helped me work out a lot of my displacement issues. The sadness over losing Bucky and Peggy."

"He made me realize I'm not evil. It's a plus in my world full of minuses," she said, with a smile. She was happy the shroud of awkwardness had dissipated.

"Well, you have to have the minuses, right? Gotta have the tragic backstory to be a great superhero. Tony was attacked and kidnapped in the Middle East, had to create the arc reactor in a cave with limited supplies. Bruce lost everything the first time he turned into the Hulk. Romanoff spent her childhood in a KGB assassin school and well, everyone I knew is dead or dying. Highlight of my life was World War II. How sad is that?"

"What's Barton's backstory?" Cassie asked.

"Abusive father. Foster care. Ran away to join the circus. Learned swordsmanship and then he learned precision ranged weaponry from a man called Trick Shot." Natasha had walked in, but neither super soldier had heard her enter. "He was a thief for a while. I'm not ashamed to say I cultivated that skill when I met him. We went straight together, but he had to talk me into it. Steve, can we have the room?"

Steve nodded and stood. "Be nice, Natasha."

"You have to pick," Natasha said, shutting the door behind Steve.

"Pick?" Cassie shook her head in confusion.

"Steve is a nice guy. He's adapted well to a world where women can be more than just housewives. He's nice. Barton is a child of the 70s. He's forward. He's blunt. Those are my favorite things about him. He is obsessed with the thought of fixing you. He blames himself for you being broken." Natasha leaned against the back of a chair two feet in front of Cassie. "He did give your name to Loki, but I hardly feel that puts him at fault for everything Loki did. And it definitely doesn't put him at fault for what Joanna did. Barton is important to me. Very important. If you are going to be with Steve, you need to let Barton know. You need to pick."

Cassie looked down, shaking her head, slightly, in disbelief. "You think I'm going to string along your friends."

"I know a cocktease when I see one. Half of my career has been stringing along powerful men."

Cassie’s eyebrows came together, obviously offended, but the Russian didn’t care. "Look, Romanoff. I don't have to pick. Because I am not trying to fuck your friends, and I'm not looking for a relationship, either. I'm here to help save the world from omnipresent evil. Hydra, Loki, whatever Phil is dealing with back at SHIELD. I'm not here for love or sex. Okay?" Natasha looked her over, before nodding once, standing and walking out the door. Cassie stared after her. "I should've taken my chances in Austria with Loki. Much less drama."

KITCHEN SINK TAGS @heyitscam99 @wonderlandfandomkingdom @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mrs-meghan-winchester @henrymorganme @lonely-skys @allykat2108

#cassie writes stuff #avengers fanfiction #the avengers save the ofc #red queen chronicles #ofc

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tkwrtnewsfeed · 7 years ago

Photo

Newsfeed #86 August 13, 2017 (13 Úrimë)

ICYMI: Fantastic Credits and Where to Give Them.

I worked in Hollywood for 4 /12 years and one of my good friends is an intellectual property lawyer I’ve known since then--well over 16 years--with a client list that includes none other than Maurice (Kevin Kline) in the live-action film “Beauty and the Beast” starring Emma Watson.

(My attorney could sue anyone spreading salacious rumors about me and my work should he choose to do so, but I’m not a jerk. But he does know about it; he’s good at what he does--he’s successfully sued Google).

Translation: I’m at least 3-7 degrees of knowing how to give credit to artists. Otherwise, my attorney/friend would have me shot at sunrise. Would you like to learn how to do it without being a pain about it and spreading unscrupulous rumors? Let me explain Copyright © from a legal perspective from 30 years of working with copyrighted materials with an actual attorney that specializes in artistic intellectual properties with 40 years of experience that includes everything from visual art, music, film, books and has won a major copyright infringement case against Google (among other high profile cases) for major A-List celebrities.

1) Whatever you do is copyrighted from the moment you put it on paper by law. You don’t have to bitch about anyone stealing it perpetually. HOWEVER, you can’t complain about someone posting it anywhere in public (Pinterest, mostly) if YOU post it anywhere in public. If you share it, even asking people not to, it is already public and can go anywhere. What people CAN’T do is SAY it’s theirs. If they explicitly say “I did this” and they didn’t, you have a case. Otherwise, it is NOT copyright infringement if someone posts it anywhere.

It would be nice if EVERYONE would give credit--I try to do it if I do or link back to the original place I find something and that is time consuming if the work is not located where it came from (dead-link) or it was digitally stolen--something my attorney told me about a couple years ago. I see it all the time. But, if you make it public, it is assumed to be public. It is NOT ASSUMED to not to be copyrighted. Put that cute copyright sign on it and let it go. You should have the original as collateral, I would think. That’s the only way no one can claim it and you can properly bitch about it w/o an official U.S. Copyright.

2) I PUT “Images: ©2012, 2013, 2014. Warner Brothers Pictures. The Hobbit: The Unexpected Journey, The Hobbit: Desolation of Smaug, The Hobbit: Battle of the Five Armies. All Rights Reserved.” on pretty much every post for The Kingdom of the Woodland Realm Trilogy because the photos I use BELONG to Warner Brothers/New Line Cinema/Wingnut Productions. Altered by someone online doesn’t change this UNLESS the person altering got permission from WB/NLC/Wingnut to alter it. Otherwise, it is their property and they can sue anyone that alters their work and put their name on it if they so choose. I post this disclaimer to keep from GETTING sued--even though I don’t alter the photo in anyway. Gifs are the same way and currently seen as pirated these days and are subject to suit as with screen caps.

The reason no one gets sued over screen caps and gifs is because no one is making $$ off of them. You only get credit for edit not the work of the camera guy that was paid to shoot a film and the studio that owns his camera work. Unlike Marvel that has begun digital copyrights on some photos (you post something on Facebook, it automatically gives credit). The minute someone charges for any altered screen caps, gifs or photos and calls it their own work, that is the legal definition of copyright infringement.

Without proper credit, you are open to lawsuit by the studios, photographers. I go out of my way to avoid altered anything because then I could get sued even if I didn’t alter it--even if I am not making money from it. Which brings me to the next point:

3) IF I was making $$ and using someone’s art, then I could get sued. That means I’m not paying the original person their due (licensing fees) for use of their work. THAT includes my original story that uses and will use a great number of canonical characters from Tolkien. If I want to turn The Kingdom of the Woodland Realm Trilogy into a book, I have to do it the right way--which is get permission from the Tolkien Estate (I’ve had the paperwork since 2016 when it was shown to me by a member of the Mythopoeic Society--they are close to the Estate). They can allow me to publish after negotiations of paying for use of the characters or force me to put “not affiliated with the Tolkien Estate” and/or change names if they so choose.

Example of a Tolkien allowed to go to press with “non-affiliated” tag of Tolkien. It’s clean, so the Estate probably doesn’t mind so much. Not all of these “non-affiliated” books are bad or not liked by the Estate. The label is not exclusively a non-endorsement--there might be something unknown about as to why it’s there.

Example of a book with the coveted “Tolkien Trademark” and approved by the Estate--spoke with one of the authors; pretty cool.

You want this, you better have your %^$* together. Yes, they give them out, but they are particular--do it right: legal and above board.

I’m not making any revenue off of TKWR Trilogy but if I were, I wouldn’t be using film photos. I would HIRE an artist to tag along over to the final phase of getting this book turned into something sold on Amazon or in Barnes & Noble. Then, the artist of choice would get paid for their work properly. They could use the work from this book anywhere they wanted and it would be protected forever--example of this would be Ted Nasmith.

Due to all the rumors about people say I’m doing because they have nothing better to do with their time (regardless of the obvious), I decided not to share any Tolkien Fan Art, use and Tolkien Fan Art or consider any Tolkien Fan Art unsolicited by anyone on Tumblr, Pinterest, DeviantArt or anywhere else that isn’t done by anyone not represented by an agent or a lawyer. If I so choose, artists will have to go through my lawyer--not me. After today, there will be no artists’ works mentioned or shared by me anywhere again until I’m done with the entire trilogy--unless idiots stop spreading lies and rumors (they won’t so don’t hold your breath).

I discovered a lot of fan art pertaining to my book and I could say something, but I’m not a jerk and I’m not complaining. I’m also not making any $$ of the book. It is assumed to be public but not assumed not to be copyrighted--which it actually is (ask my attorney).

I will do something should I decide to take any number of offers to publish after a lot of legalities I will go through. For now, I’ll just watch to make sure no one’s claiming my work--my words--as their own (and some have which is why I sent the book to witnesses so I have a case and proof should I do something later on). The book will change in the final form as I edit; it already has with additions and changes in Book II: The Saga of Thranduil and Book I: The Epic of Eryn Galen and Book III: The Last Tale of Legolas Lasgalen.

I love artists here, but a few ruined it for everyone. I’ve had artists wanting to illustrate Book II: The Saga of Thranduil, but now that’s been narrowed to only one that doesn’t accuse me of salacious and reputation-altering deeds I’ve never done. Having a friend that’s a respected and experienced intellectual properties attorney with connections in the U.S. and Europe that has worked within the industry successfully for 30+ years with a stellar reputation protecting my works--all of them including screenplays, poetry, stage plays--makes it possible for me to help protect an artist of my choosing (and he’s already done wonders for clothing designer friend of mine in Florida that designed things for my film project HERETIC: THE LEGEND OF AKHENATEN*). He loves protecting properties and takes referrals. I’m not helping anyone spreading rumors.

Thank you, Captain Obvious. That was obvious.

I told someone once that I would, but they thought it better to insult me rather than allowing me to connect them to a publisher I knew that could have looked at their work without the long query process. You make connections in the business and it’s good to keep them and I do.

I live by the motto: “The ass you kick today may be the ass you kiss tomorrow” so I try to be nice and respectful to everyone--even I have to draw a line.

[By the way, there will be a LOT of versions coming for The Kingdom of the Woodland Realm Trilogy. This one is the Annotated Version--complete with all the notes and references and explanations of the use of Tolkien to create the entire trilogy. Let’s just say it took 4 hours to do the first bibliography and I just added more books. This one (which will be done for both the original version and extended version) will take years.]

But if you don’t want to be seen as an artist, it’s a safe bet you won’t think pinning = stealing. Pinterest is nothing more than a bulletin board for what people like--it’s not supposed to deal in copyright protection like YouTube or Instagram where you are actually legally protected by copyright law. If they were, a lot of stuff they still allow would be subject to lawsuit against them--not the pinners. They blame pinners to keep themselves from being liable for allowing copyrighted properties. I’ve already deleted my Art page of potential artists for The Kingdom of he Woodland Realm Trilogy. I’ve gotten blocked on Pinterest by people here on Pinterest over pins I re-pinned years ago over what they don’t know--probably out of spite. I don’t mind and don’t care. My job is to finish my work to the best of my ability and move on to the next.

Writing has been my life since the age of two. Only an act of GOD is going to keep me from doing what I love. I write because I love it. If it’s liked, I’m happy. If its not, that isn’t a deterrent for me to stop. Like any artist, I want to protect my work--but I’m going to do it the right way and I’m going to give credit due when credit is due if I eventually use an artist for The Kingdom of the Woodland Realm Trilogy. Full Stop--end of sentence. There is nothing left to say. I have to do it right because I have a too many people in the business watching me and if I’m not doing what is right, they aren’t going to want to work with me and that lessens the work I put in to write this and it will not be able to help a fellow artist along the way. My attorney acts as a free attorney for artists that can’t afford to hire expensive attorneys for protection because he believes in protecting the rights of artists and we often work together on helping artist connect with attorneys that work for free for all artists (Volunteer Lawyers for the Arts).

I know, that won’t keep some people from being jerks--I just wanted to put it out there.

*HERETIC: THE LEGEND OF AKHENATEN by Jaynaé Miller (me) is copyrighted by the U.S. Copyright Office. Any unauthorized use is strictly prohibited without prior consent for the next 100 years. In other words, I could sue a major studio if they don’t buy it from me. This is a wholly LEGAL and Recognized (and stamped) copyright. It doesn’t make the original copyright less potent, it just makes your work recognized by law and gives you further protection for your works. This includes photography, visual art, books, film, plays, videos, logos. Being a copyrighted work, it is also subject to the Berne Agreement (World Copyright Organization) guidelines for international use. With this, it wouldn’t matter where you work is posted, if someone said it was theirs, it’s a lawsuit waiting to happen. Once you put a stamp on it, by law, it is already protected by the government as it is being sent via the federal government--and it is protected from loss of materials sent as well (USPS is good and finding it, too; get a tracking number and it is found faster).

I know all this stuff because I work with copyrighted and trademarked things since I wrote my first opera and lyrics for which my music teacher taught me about this in fifth grade. I’ve written adaptations with permission of the original writers. The More You Know depends on how much you care to know.--J.

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izzyovercoffee · 8 years ago

Note

Out of curiousity, what's fandom been using as mando'a for 'clone?' I either don't see the part of fandom that picked a word to run with or I saw it and expunged it from memory for the reasons you mention.

sorry @katarnarmor I didn’t see this earlier, I always forget to check messages when I’m mobile B(((

Also, a lot of these determinations / unpacking came through conversation with @cassiansfuzzyjacket, so I’d like to give credit over to Gena as well. She’s wonderful and I love her.

Okay, so. The offending word in question is “ ara'gotenir ” from arasuum and gotenir. Yikes. Time to explain why we should not use it.

EDIT :: alternative word to use instead? eyayad. explanation here

( Also, I understand that originally the word was meant as a verb and not noun, but nouns within mando’a are constructed from their verb equivalent. So. Keep that in mind. Also, the supposition that the {also fandom constructed} word for twin ara’vod is equal. it is not, and still a poor/offensive choice, with even heavier negative ties to Arasuum due to the use of vod. anyway. )

This got really long after all, so if you don’t want the lengthy explanation, here’s the bullet points:

if ara’gotenir is used, it can only be done so in a derogatory way, as a specifically structured slur against clones, reasons following:

arasuum — stagnant, remain the same, unchanging

scientifically incorrect, clones are not exact copies

extreme negative connotations within mando’a / mando culture

negative connotations out of universe

arasuum, the word itself, has a very specific cultural context and it is a negative one — just outside of the already negative connotations the idea of stagnation and unchanging already carries

gotenir — birth, give birth

as a verb construction, as in the act to clone, then I can kind of understand it, as a very literal translation across language lines

but even so it still doesn’t apply, because the clones are not birthed, and if anything … combined with the above reasons of why arasuum is not a good word to use …

can only be interpreted negatively, as a sort of offensive irony or sarcasm

thus, ara’gotenir

is offensive, and/or

literally translates to stillbirth

so don’t use it in the context of clones and cloning =/

I’m all for world-building, and I can see some mandalorians pushing forward the idea that the clone men are not “real people,” but the thing is … I believe this was entirely unintentional. Also I can’t really throw myself behind a word that ultimately would only make the most sense when used to demean their humanity in very … very specific ways that are devastating within mandalorian understanding and language =/

I also cannot endorse creating nor using slurs for an entire body of non-white men in order to dehumanize them further than the source material, and fandom in general, already does. It does not matter that it’s fiction.

EDIT :: as pointed out by @silenthouse

aragotenir, literally translated, means stillbirth

Which only lends an even worse connotation on top of the given meaning.

Though ara has multiple meanings that can be derived, it was specifically chosen from arasuum — stagnant, remain the same. This is wrong for a variety of reasons, but I’ll try to keep this short (lmao yeah right, me? keep anything short? anyway I failed so here comes a cut) and stick to the main ones.

the science though

Starting with the literal meaning: stagnant implies that all clones are exactly the same. Here’s the thing people either don’t know, don’t understand, or don’t look up … clones are NOT EXACT copies of each other, and a simple google search of cloning myths would reveal that.

For this word to be created by Mandalorians who trained them … well. It is, at best, unkind in the way that willful ignorance is unkind.

Okay. Mando’a is a spoken language. But words lose their meaning, or new words spring up as a result of new information or out of need for a word that’s appropriate for the situation. Anyone who’s trained the clones can see that they are not exactly the same, even without the science behind it. But I digress.

the connotations of stagnation (general)

My main concern is that the word stagnant has a severely negative connotation within mandalorian culture, not even beginning to address that arasuum has specific negative connotations tied to the word itself. Then you also have the understanding that it is negative in english … It has not and will not be a word that can be taken with any neutrality in any context, full stop.

culturally speaking

At the very core of mandalorian belief systems lies the implied, if not spelled out, need for the people to be open to change, and to eternally combat stagnation. This is literally a thing, and it runs as an undercurrent in all materials, from Pacifist to Extremist and everything in between.

Mandalorians, at their core, are about struggling. Embracing the struggle, in every meaning and iteration that that can be interpreted. Struggling to survive the day, struggling against the rise of an Empire, struggling against a cultural genocide. To be mandalorian is to struggle against stagnation, against a status quo that threatens life, but also fully embrace the fight in whatever manner that means.

So, the logic follows then that people with stagnation in their name already carry the stigma against them — that somehow, in their very existence, they are already the embodiment of stagnation. Something which they cannot control, and also cannot escape. (yikes, sounds familiar, doesn’t it?)

Consider further that mandalorians are often “very easily” mistaken for one another in a way that specifically reads as a homogenization, or blanket descriptor, that is used to stigmatize them. Follow, then, the train of thought that culturally speaking it’s not a good choice.

Mandalorians may know and use that “being confused for another” as a tactical advantage, but there is a very real awareness that this is not a positive stigmatization (tbh there’s no such thing as a positive stigma or stereotype, but that’s besides the point).

Arasuum in mandalorian culture

I touched on this above, but let’s get to the actual cultural understanding:

Arasuum was a deity in the ancient Mandalorian religion. Known as the sloth-god, the Mandalorians viewed Arasuum as the personification of stagnation, who tempted the ancient clans to engage in idle consumption. Opposing Arasuum was the god Kad Ha'rangir, who embodied the universal opportunity for change and growth that destruction created. Mandalorian mythology held that Arasuum and Kad Ha'rangir waged an eternal war against one another.

The Mandalorians who believed in these ancient gods waged ritual warfare as a means of worship toward Kad Ha'rangir, whose ideals they served, taking on the name Mandalorian Crusaders as a reflection of the holiness embodied by the conflict they engaged in. By fighting wars in the destroyer god’s name, the Mandalorians sought to earn Kad Ha'rangir’s favor, and defied the temptations of Arasuum.

— the wookia (sources in the actual article itself)

So, not only do we have the cultural issues that follow the meaning of stagnation, but we now also have all the complicated spiritual implications that follow a sloth-god.

It’s irrelevant if mandalorians as a whole no longer practice certain types of religions for the reason that these religions were central in the construction and influence on mandalorian culture, from the onset. Though deities and worship have been lost to time, we can still easily see the worship and veneration of The Fight, even in the pacifists (who, frankly, actively resist and fight for the way of being, and fight for their position in the known galaxy, despite being “pacifists.” regardless of one’s opinions on them, that much is true).

So to repeat myself … people with stagnation in their name already carry the stigma against them — that somehow, in their very existence, they are already the embodiment of stagnation, and now, they’ve become the actualized manifestations of what mandalorians, at their core, are meant to resist and struggle against.

Yikes, lmao.

That said, let’s move on to the next part of the construction:

why gotenir does not make sense

Gotenir, literally translated, means birth or to “give birth.”

The clones, the ones mandalorians would be most familiar with, were not born. They were decanted. This is a very serious distinction, for a number of reasons, but let’s break it down again:

literally and metaphorically speaking

Across different media, one can find different … ah, “memories,” let’s say, of clones floating in a tube. Whether that applies to their memories of development, or things that followed their decant, I have never seen such recollections as anything more than clinically neutral.

Not once, except perhaps in sarcasm or irony, have they been described as “born.” I could have missed a moment of course, but honestly … how they were created =/= live birth. Birth is also not a good metaphor for creation.

and its actual literal translation

Stillbirth.

I shouldn’t have to spell out why this is messed up when used to refer to clones and cloning.

the negative associations when tied with Arasuum

The irony of using birth for a man who was not birthed, tied with the use of a literal manifestation of the worst possible temptation tied within the belief system, leads to the conclusion that aragotenir, and aragoten, are both inherently derisive.

You really … cannot get around it.

To say that these cloned men, specifically, were birthed … cannot be more than bitter irony, or sarcasm. There’s really no way to get around those connotations, whether that was the intent or not.

And then to tie them directly to Arasuum, the Sloth God …

Look. Here’s the thing.

This word, I’m sure, was not intended to be constructed within fandom as a slur. And, I’m sure, that there are mandalorians out there (particularly Death Watch, but others too) who do not view clones as fully human. The other day, I got involved in a disagreement in which the core argument was that clones are subhuman, and this was a purely out of universe discussion.

Within the source material, there are countless instances and events recorded of the common citizen deriding the clone army and expressing that they don’t recognize their humanity. Dehumanization in-context and out-of-context is a very real thing associated with the clones of The Clone Wars within Star Wars universe, across Legends, EU, and Canon.

As I said in the TL;DR, I cannot condone the use of this word. It does not matter that this is fiction — the clones are a huge body of non-white men, and further dehumanization is unacceptable. Fandom already has difficulty seeing them as people, separate from each other, different from each other. Fandom doesn’t even understand that no two clones are exactly the same (please for the love of the stars won’t people google cloning myths already).

We don’t need another way to deride them, as the word clone has already become, has already been used, for that specific purpose.

Also, we do have another word that just as easily, poetically, and inoffensively, works for clone. But that comes in a separate post, for two reasons: the first being that this one is already too long, and the second being that I want to really get into the why and the how of that word without the weight of this one.

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thebookrat · 5 years ago

Link

I've talked about Christina Boyd (The Quill Ink)'s Pride & Prejudice anthologies here on the blog before, mostly for Austen in August (surprise, surprise). Christina normally curates and edits these collections — which are stellar, might I add — but with the latest entry in the lineup, Elizabeth: Obstinate, Headstrong Girl, she's not only wearing her editor hat, but is making her debut as one of the featured authors as well. Today, she's stopping by to talk to us a bit about our favorite OHG (obstinate, headstrong girl), and what it is about her, maybe even more than Darcy, that draws us back to P&P again and again. She's also giving you a chance to win a pretty stellar prize pack featuring titles from each of the authors involved in the anthology, as well as a bonus giveaway (more on that below)! So make sure to check out her post below, and enter to win — and then stop back by tomorrow for my thoughts on the book!

Why Elizabeth? by Christina Boyd

Elizabeth: Obstinate, Headstrong Girl has been a project on and off my mind for some time. Even the day after the release of my anthology The Darcy Monologues (2017), readers were suggesting I put together an Elizabeth collection. But I kept putting it off, wanting to pursue other projects like Dangerous to Know: Jane Austen’s Rakes & Gentlemen Rogues, Rational Creatures, and even Yuletide: A Collection of Jane Austen Inspired Stories. As Pride & Prejudice is told mostly from the third person limited narrative of Elizabeth Bennet, and there is already so much Elizabeth fanfiction out there, I wondered if there was a need. But that thought was always there, niggling at me like an itch that needed to be scratched. (Don’t touch your face, by the way.) And when it came right down to it, I wanted to assemble this collection. Still, I needed to justify why she is relevant two centuries after her creation, why she might translate well to other era stories, and why readers might like more Elizabeth—so I made a list.

Five Reasons We Love Elizabeth Bennet:

She is confident and refuses to let anyone, regardless of sex or rank, intimidate her. “I am resolved to act in that manner which will in my opinion constitute my happiness without reference to you or to any person so wholly unconnected to me.” –Chapter LVI

She uses her wit rather than fall for petty behavior. “I am no longer surprised at your knowing only six accomplished women. I rather wonder now at your knowing any.” –Chapter VIII

She is fiercely loyal (even when she proves fidelity to the wrong man.) “…do you think that any consideration would tempt me to accept the man, who has been the means of ruining, perhaps for ever, the happiness of a most beloved sister?”—Chapter XXXIV

She recognizes her faults and strives to improve herself. “But vanity, not love, has been my folly…Till this moment I never knew myself.” –Chapter XXXVI

She cannot be bought. She would rather face genteel poverty than marry someone she could neither respect nor marry. “Do not consider me now as an elegant female intending to plague you, but as a rational creature speaking the truth from her heart.” –Chapter XIX

I could go on but we Lizzy Bennet fans don’t need to be told what we already know. And who doesn’t have a little bit of Elizabeth inside them? Once I determined that I was going to commit to this project, I floated the idea to a few of the authors I had worked with before and was pleasantly surprised how enthusiastic they were. I don’t know why I was hesitant to ask—of course, we all love Elizabeth Bennet! And because The Darcy Monologues is a collection of stories set in the Regency to modern times, I wanted Elizabeth’s stories to mirror that idea. Author Beau North suggested we approach NY Times bestselling Regency romance author Tessa Dare to write the foreword as she had at one time written Jane Austen fanfiction—and so we did—and she accepted. Her deft understanding of Elizabeth and Pride and Prejudice and the focus of our collection—well, she made my Dream Team complete! And the title, it seemed a no brainer to me. Late last spring, seeing the stories that had already arrived in my inbox: five re-imaginings or prequels or sequels in the Regency era, an Edwardian story, a 1930s story set in old Hollywood, a college-aged student in a1980’s male dominated field of engineering, and a present day story about a young coed on a blind date, I thought a Victorian era story might work too. I had an idea for an Elizabeth story about aging, and the wisdom we gain, and how older people often bestow such experiences on you. In “A Mate for Life”, set in 1855, an aged Elizabeth Darcy, with side commentary from her beloved Fitzwilliam, counsels her granddaughter about an impending betrothal while sharing how she came to marry Darcy. Since publication of our collection, I’ve received encouragement for my debut story but this, from my very practical, non-romance, non-Austen reading sister was everything:

After reading your story and pondering it, I’ve finally concluded that P&P is not a hopeless romantic story at all… For me, Jane Austen’s premise of the Darcy & Elizabeth saga is that unconditional love is not instantaneous awareness that someone is your soul mate. It’s hurdling obstacles of perceived lies and assumed transparency into another’s soul and decide quite unexpectedly, I love this person whole heartedly. The totality of my mind does not love every notion of this being because that would be absurd. But yes, despite our differences, we are very much alike, and it is the differences that make our hearts whole and compatible. I like the aged Elizabeth reflecting on her obstinate, headstrong girl ideals and then see how those ideals evolved with maturity and ‘lived’ wisdom so translated into how she perceived Darcy…

I’ve learned through my years of reading, reviewing and editing Jane Austen-inspired fiction that many refuse to read it because they have prejudices against the genre. Some discount Austenesque novels as escapism, like one man said to author Christina Morland at a dinner party, while others might read it and then write their two-lined Amazon review: “Jane Austen would be rolling over in her grave if she knew people were using her characters…” I get it. Not everyone is going to like the same stuff. (“One half of the world cannot understand the pleasures of the other.” –Emma) But words like that from my non-Austen reading, non-romance reading sister make me hopeful… If this collection about our favorite obstinate, headstrong girl can help even one person reevaluate their prejudices against Pride and Prejudice or Austen, and even Austenesque fiction, then surely that must be a win. I am confident there is enough room for everyone under the Austen umbrella. Let Elizabeth: Obstinate, Headstrong Girl be your gateway to Austenesque literature. It’s addicting. In a good way. Moreover, we hope readers will enjoy the stories inspired by Austen’s best beloved heroine in the same affectionate manner they were written. Thank you, Misty, for hosting this last stop of our #OmgItsOHG (as in oh-my-gosh it’s obstinate, headstrong girl) blog tour. And for shining your light on this collection of stories! CHRISTINA BOYD wears many hats as she is an editor under her own banner, The Quill Ink, a great reader and reviewer, and a ceramicist. A life member of Jane Austen Society of North America, Christina lives in the wilds of the Pacific Northwest with her dear Mr. B, two busy young adults, and a retriever named BiBi. Visiting Jane Austen’s England was made possible by actor Henry Cavill when she won the Omaze experience to meet him in the spring of 2017 on the London Eye. True story. You can Google it. You can connect with Christina via her website, Twitter, Instagram, or Facebook. ABOUT THE BOOK: (e-book, trade paperback, pp.350):

“Obstinate, headstrong girl!” For over two hundred years, having a “lively, playful disposition,” Elizabeth embodies the perfect imperfections of strong-willed women everywhere: she is spirited, witty, clever, and loyal. In this romance anthology, ten Austenesque authors sketch Elizabeth’s character through a collection of re-imaginings, set in the Regency through contemporary times. In ELIZABETH: OBSTINATE, HEADSTRONG GIRL, she bares her most intimate thoughts, all the while offering biting social commentary about life’s absurdities. Elizabeth overcomes the obstacles of others’ opinions, not to mention her own flaws, to find a love truly worthy of her—her Mr. Darcy—all with humor and her sparkling charm. “I think her as delightful a character as ever appeared in print…” wrote Jane Austen in a letter to her sister Cassandra, January 1813―and we think so too! Foreword by NY Times & USA Today bestselling author Tessa Dare. Stories by Amy D’Orazio, Jenetta James, Christina Morland, Beau North, Joana Starnes, Karen M Cox, Elizabeth Adams, Leigh Dreyer, J. Marie Croft, and Christina Boyd.

GIVEAWAY

The #OmgItsOHG (Oh-my-gosh, it’s Obstinate Headstrong Girl) Blog Tour began February 18 with announcement and cover reveal at Austenesque Reviews, and we hope you will continue to join us and connect with each author about their “Elizabeth” story. We’ve included a Grand Prize package giveaway (a book of your choosing from each of the eleven author’s backlist) as well as additional giveaway: my Silly Austen-inspired blank note cards and coordinating coffee mug.

Open worldwide, so be sure to participate. 1) Enter the Rafflecopter for the Grand Prize package of books, and 2) comment on the blog stops to be counted for the additional giveaway (you need not comment everywhere to be entered in that drawing but we hope you’ll have your share of the conversation.) Ends March 31. Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/51329630-elizabeth BuyLink: https://www.amazon.com/dp/0998654051/ a Rafflecopter giveaway via The Book Rat

#IFTTT #The Book Rat

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jeremycastro · 7 years ago

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Tales of the Villa in Corato, Italia

This was written in 2001 shortly after it happened in real life. It was transcribed from my journal (written in pen) onto a computer and somehow the file has not been lost amongst hella new computers, dead hard drives, ftp servers, google drives, dropboxes and however else we store our analog life on digital media.

I’m sharing this now, in 2017 just because I love nostalgia and sometimes you just gotta give it time to be remembered and shared. This is one of my favorite moments in life because history just came together and in order to make that happen, I just had to set my mind of a fantasy and do it. I hope to live my life like this often, and at times, the journey is of great significance and at times, it only is until you let it be.

This story is of a significant time in my life. Not sure how edited this version is - meaning at one stage I went through and cleaned up some sentences and thoughts to make for an easier read.

Italy story v2013 draft.doc circa 2001.

Bari Adventures-2013 draft.doc circa 2001

July 12 - Bari and Corato, Italia

These are some edited lines from my journal. Some background info first... Nick and I arrived to Bari on Tuesday, the 10th. We found a Pension (a hotel kinda) with that some old lady that loves to scream runs, which is not exactly a hotel. It is more like a convalescent home with one extra room that they rent out. Everyone in there is 100 years old and the place smells like old people. But it is ok, we love old people. On Tuesday we went out and explored Bari (the capital of the Puglia region in Southern Italy) and ate a great meal before experiencing a typical Bari Tuesday night during the summer.

We had already noted the young and vibrant nature of the city, but we never knew what we were getting ourselves into. At about 10pm, after everyone was at home having their typical feast-ous Italian dinner, the whole town came out. There were thousands of young people filling the Old Town Bari Piazza. Nick and I had sore necks because we were mesmerized by the beauty of the southern Italian women. After a couple drinks, we finally built up the momentum to meet people. In our first attempt, we met three very attractive Italian girls. They spoke very limited English and parlo Italiano un poco a poco. Luckily Nick's Italian game is coming into its own. He asked the girls, 'What's going on tonight? Why are there so many people out on a Tuesday night?' Danielle replies with a 'What do you mean? Why do you ask that? This is what WE DO.' So each night in Bari goes. We have been out on the piazza every night since.

They next day, we awoke with a mission. FIND THE LONG LOST VILLA OF THE SCAVO FAMILY. Neither of us knew what to expect. After all, this villa was nothing more than a myth in my family. My gramma always speaks of her father Michele Scavo and the family villa that he owned in Corato, the small southern Italian town/village where he and my great grandma Vincenza (Balducci) Scavo where born. We had no address, no details, nothing more than a birth certificate, an American that speaks decent Italian and a good looking guy (ME) that is blood linked to this villa. The night before in Old Town, we spoke with several people and with the helpfulness that we have found extremely common in Southern Italians (actually the same goes for the North as well), we had several places that we could check out to find more info. The TREASURE HUNT had begun. We found our way to Ufficio Catasto di Bari and with the help of some old man that seems to work 15 hours a week, we found some property with an address with no number on Via Vecchia di Trani in Corato that was associated (owned, we don't know) by my great grandfather. We now have a potential address, so the game begins. Now for my journal entry...

"The adventure is picking up some momentum now. I sent an email to my family back home and they are just as pumped and ready to roll as Nick and I are out here. We have figured out where Via Vecchia di Trani is. Yesterday, we did some exploring around Corato and also a nearby beach town called Trani, but were unlucky in our search. Today, we head back to Corato to find more info and hopefully see the villa with our own eyes. I know it is out there somewhere. There is something about this place that seems to put a serious sparkle back into my eye. I guess it was nice to sit and interact with the people that we met in the piazza. (Note: Nick and I met more people the second night) While Nick ran off, I was sitting with a couple of attractive Italian women, who spoke limited English, yet (thanks to the alcohol) we seemed to be able to communicate quite well. I think my goal is to learn to speak Italian, because my interactions with these people made me realize the importance of my Italian culture and the role that language plays in that. Having the sparkle back is nice.

This search for this villa is so strange because in America, you could not do it like this. We came to this very old and traditional town, where the families that live here now, have lived here for centuries. Hopefully this address will pan out for us because the sense of adventure is really starting to KICK in big time. Finding this villa would definitely change my life. My family would be so excited and I feel like through this, I have and AM living out so many of their dreams. I am fortunate. What I would give to bring ITALIA back into the core of our family culture. As I write this in the Bari Nord train station, waiting for the train to Corato, each member of my family is in a deep sleep (it is 3am PST), dreaming about what I am living. CARPE DIEM once again. What dreams may come? A question not to ask, for my dreams are now laid between Each Breath, Every Blink and Finding Sleep is a daunting task For I dream When I am awake. A Story written on the train ride back from Corato that day... (I'm not sure when I decided to add the rhyming thing to this story, but bear with me cause I wrote it on a loud and shakey train in 30 minutes.)

There once was a villa in a small Italian village called Corato. It was the home of two love struck Italians turned Americans, the place they rarely visited typically in the summer when the heat rose. Their young daughter chose not to visit the Italian countryside, because as most of her time, it was in American that her future dreams chose to reside. The Italian couple soon grew old and this is how the story is to unfold. As their time here passed, so did the villa and its link, at least the that is what their descendants were led to think. With the inspiration of the now older young daughter, some adventure sparkled in the eyes of the Italian-American’s family's youth. The stories were told and told, for hearing this family myth could never grow old. When the great grandson of the old Italian couple decided to travel, the myth of the villa began to unravel. His first attempt in '98 was futile at best, but that adventure spoke nothing of the next. A couple of years past for this young metzo Italiano, and despite some recent hardships, his sense of adventure remained. His decision was fast and his departure was nimble, but this time leaving was a metaphor of change – a life symbol. He joined his friends Nick and Chad, for an adventure and a mission for all to be had. Armed simply with an eye for opportunity, an ear for adventure, a waxing credit card balance and a website on the net - so the WeAreOnAMission was set. After several weeks of young and debaucherous activities, they said, let's slow down and bring on the real mission please. Off to Bari, did Jeremy and Nick leave, the search for the villa was on! Indeed. Armed with only Nick's Italian and Jeremy's blood, some say it was impossible, but we say WE COULD. So the story unfolds, we now have an address, or so we have been told.

July 13 - Bari and Corato

Meet the characters:

Jeremy, Nick, Dominic, Tina, Michele Scavo (1), Michele Scavo (2), Michele Scavo (3), Maria (Soldano) Scavo, Giuseppina (Solando) Anelli, Gino Anelli, Gas Station People, Police Chief, Giovanni Urilli, plus a ton of other extras.

The Story:

Nick and I sat in amazement during the whole 30 minute train ride through the countryside that connects the vibrant city of Bari to the old world of Corato. We get into Corato station at 1:15 and really have to hustle to get to the Ufficio Anagrafe (the state of the family office). While Nick was figuring out how to get to the office, I was mentally transferred to the summer of 1998, when I was at this very train station, embarked on this same mission. This time though was different, I was young and very naive then and now I am older, a tad bit wiser, motivated and of course with Nick. Nick didn’t figure out where the office was, but this was Italy and this was a very authentic Italian town, so we figured, the train station is here, the center of the town must be that way and the office will surely be there. After a paced walk, making lefts and rights through the small alley streets of Corato, it was 1:30 when we got to the office. We guessed right, it was in the town center, but they were closed for lunch already. All of Italia closes down from 1:30-4:30, for some good old fashion, eat/sleep and family time. Now that we missed the early opportunity to ask questions about the Scavo family and villa, we had 3 hours to kill in Corato. We wanted to figure out who in the family was still around and how many brothers and sisters my great grandfather Michele Scavo (1) had. On our way to Anagrafe, we saw a police station and decided to make a visit to see if they had an idea where we could find the street Via Vecchia di Trani. The day before, Nick and I learned that my great grandpa Michele used to own property on Via Vecchia di Trani, which translates to “Old Road to Trani”. Trani is the neighboring town that lies on the coast of the Adriatic Sea. In Italy, the police have a much different presence than that of police in the US. Yes, they have guns, unlike the Bobby's of England, but these guys all look like they are someone's dad, most are over 40 and chubby with smiles on their faces. These are people you can go to for HELP, even if you are a dumb Americani that doesn’t speak Italian or that does speak Italian, but like that of a 5 year old. There was a small map of Corato, which is a very small town, and there was no sign of a street called Via Vecchia di Trani. The police that were gathered in the main office looked at us curiously and were probably saying, “What the hell are these Americanis doing in Corato. We never get tourists here.” Nick decides to start talking because we are stumped and tells our story to one of the officers. The next thing you know, we had 6 police officers listening to the story, almost like when C3PO was telling his story about Darth Vader to the Ewoks in Return of the Jedi. I couldn’t understand the conversation, but Nick told the story of our adventure so many times to so many people, I just knew it. My Italian vocabulary was increasing, so I could figure most of it out, although their Corato dialect made it tougher than usual to decipher. Once Nick started talking Italian, they were so impressed that an American spoke the language, they just had to listen to what he was saying. During the first part of the story, Nick always makes it a point to say “Lui metzo Italiano” (He is half Italian) referring to me. Once he mentioned that the officers started to love us. It has been this way with everyone we have met. Nick has the language and I have the blood (and good looks) of the people. When you put those two together, the Italians no longer thought of us as dumb Americans, now we were almost one of them. One of the officers, the Captain, was intrigued by the story and got really excited about our adventure. He told us that Via Vecchia di Trani was an extremely old road (after all, that’s what it means) and the name has since changed. Now the only remains of the old road sit past the train tracks in the countryside of Corato. That was PERFECT. He then says “follow me”. He walks us through the small police station and what do you know, the station shares the same courtyard with Uficio Anagrafe. The Captain says to an old man, Giovanni Urilli, 'Hey Giovanni, help these guys.' and proceeds to tell our story to him with the typical Italiano gusto -; hands flying and tones and pitches like an opera singer. Giovanni, who is the Anagrafe book keeper, proceeds to the tiers of old book stacks in the office and grabs a couple of the old leather bound books. These books are the Corato State of the Family registry documents. Each citizen of Corato has a file linked to their family name, with all the info of their lives in this old city. It has their family history, their birth dates, marriage dates, past addresses and more info than Nick and I would know what to do with. These files dated back to the 1800's. People were born, raised and died in this town, which is something very unlike the people of US. Italians have deep roots within their towns, their families, their friends. Unbelievable and Nick and I are both lucky to be Americans that can actually relate to that, being from big families and growing up in Alameda, CA and Hamilton, MT. Our new friend, Giovanni, dug through the books and found grandpa Michele (1)'s dad, Giovanni Scavo. It turns out he had 9 children. Giovanni took us through the names and birthdates (and death dates) of all of them. Michele (1) had no death date and neither did his brother Cataldo because they both immigrated to the US and nobody ever called their office to tell them of their deaths. He was actually upset because nobody ever called him to tell of their lives in America. For all Corato and the books knew, they were still alive somewhere. After a couple of searches, Giovanni and the Captain decided it was really lunchtime and we were told to return at 5pm. The books and the Scavo family tree would have to wait, but we were indeed in a hot trail for the villa and now we know, a family. With the intense Southern Italian heat and humidity, we headed for some shade and a nice acqua fresca. Everything was closed, just as we should have expected. We ran across the only Cafe in town that was open and decided to go inside and get a drink.

Let me first tell you one of the great things about Italy. There are water fountains scattered all around the country that pour the most amazing water. I now realize one of the reasons why Romans ruled so much of the Western World. They figured out how to move water and how to keep it flowing. Water is life. Hydrate or die.

We go to the Cafe and order a couple fruit juices and a big bottle of Ice Tea that Nick had to convince the guy to sell us. He usually sells it by the glass and never the whole bottle. I guess Nick's remedial Italian is charming because the guy sold us the bottle. Nick then mentions off handidly with his naïve-ish nature, “Do you know any Scavo's?” A very random question, but Nick can pulls stuff like that off. The Bar Guy says, “But of course, there are many Scavo’s in Corato.” We then sit and eat the sandwiches we bought in Bari and drink our refreshing drinks. The next thing you know, the Bar Guy brings me a phone book and looks up the last name Scavo. Italians always go out of their way to help, partially because they are curious, partially because they love to interact with people, but mostly because they are Italian. He tells me to write the names down, so I did. One of them listed was named Michele. He has to be family because Italians love to reuse family names. While I write the information down, the Bar Guy shows his true Italian nature and got curious. He started asking questions and talking. Nick proceeds to tell our story. He got better and better each time. Nick then mentions Via Vecchia di Trani. Unfortunately doesn't know of the street. As we eat and relax, another person walks into the bar. After the guy orders his drink, the two start talking. We could tell they were talking about us. We heard all the key words, Americans, Villa, Scavo, Via Vecchia di Trani. Was it good or bad? We had no idea. As it turns out, it was indeed good because the guy, Aldo, the egg seller, walked over and said, 'I know Michele Scavo (1, 2 or 3??) and I know Via Vecchia di Trani very well. The road is old and nobody goes there besides famers and dead people (there is a cemetery). He said it was about 2km past the train tracks, past Via Gioponne. He had to leave, but said to meet him at the cafe at 6:30 that night and he would introduce us to Michele Scavo (1,2 or 3???). He leaves and we go and sit outside to do some good old P & P2 (P & P2 = Posting and Pondering, P & P1 = On the Piss and Prowl). It was now 3pm and we still had a while to go. Hey, let's take a nice walk down Via Vecchia and find the villa. So we did. We set out with the empty bottle of water from the cafe which was subsequently filled in the fountain and our sense of adventure. If the long lost villa was going to be anywhere, this was it. We tried to hitch-hike, but no luck. These Italians are so nice in person, but you put them in a car or on a moped and they are some means sons of b______es.

The walk was sweet, nevertheless. Once we got past the tracks and out of town, we saw Via Vecchia di Trani. An old street sign signified the street, or more like old dirt road. The street was contained on both sides by olive groves, vineyards and old stone, steel and clay fences. Old run down villas and storage sheds scattered the acres of land. We were in the right place. We went onto some property and found an OLD OLD villa in front of a semi-cultivated olive grove. Could this be it? Maybe? Unlikley? The villa had no roof and had to be abandoned for more than 50 years. We continued to trek down the road. Olive groves left and right. Only two or three cars sped past us. Nobody comes down here, besides the farmers and a couple people heading to the entrance to the freeway just past the tracks. I felt like the kids in Stand By Me. Adventure was amongst us. We felt it. Somehow, in the middle of the olive grove infested land was a gas facility, used for storage and transportation, so it seemed. Could be a mafia front. Ok, maybe not. Nick went and spoke with the people working there and after a couple 'What are you looking for?' questions from the Gas Station people, and a couple 'I don't know's.' from Nick, he finally mentioned the name Scavo. What do you know. A Michele Scavo has some land just 200 meters past the facility on the right side. We start walking and we both are intensely curious, nervous and very shocked. We see the villa, the land, the olive groves and I sit there and think, 'Is this it?' We decided to not try to see if anyone was there because we were not prepared for this. I thought it was going to be some old abandoned villa on some very virgin land. If this was it, I was wrong. Would have been right about one thing though, it was still in the family. It was now 4pm and we wanted to make it back to Anagrafe to figure out which of Michele (1)'s brothers had a son named Michele. Also, how stupid would it be for two dumb Americans, armed with birth certificate copies of my great grandparents, saying 'Who's villa is this? Was it my great-grandfather's?' Not a good idea. Italians are nice people, but not stupid. Our walk back was ever more intense that the walk there. The hot Italian sun was beating on my bare back and the water was gone. The smell of the countryside wanted to make me sneeze, but instead made me realize where in the hell I was. I got Nick to whistle a song from the Godfather Part 2(the scene where Michael Corleone is in Sicily walking the countryside). I guess I felt like, or wanted to feel like Michael Corleone during that 1 hour walk. Call it grandeur, call it dream, just never call me late for dinner. At 5:20 we made it back to Anagrafe and Giovanni pulled out book after book from the old registry racks. He would start with Maria, the youngest sibling and find everything he could about her. His assistant, who was deaf, knew exactly which book to pull out next just by simply receiving a basic hand gesture from Giovanni. Ask me later about telling you about the Italian hand gesture thing. You can tell by how well Giovanni knew the books that he had done this job and worked with these very books and names his whole life. Some can only wish to ever use a computer with such furry and precision. After an hour of me writing name, birth date, etc in my journal we had the whole lineage of Giovanni Scavo. Wow. Corato was their home and only a couple ever left this small Italian village town. My family back home will love this info, finally a family tree. During the search, we got to Antonietta, one of Michele (1)'s older sisters and Giovanni stops, closes his eyes and does the cross as to symbolize prayer. He asks for our undivided attention. 'Giuseppe, Antonia's daughter, I know very well. Yesterday, her husband (Gino Anelli) passed away and just today I was at their house giving her my condolences.' When Nick and I arrived in Corato the day before, we went to the town center and the whole town was out. Many people lined the outside wall of the church as to pay regards to the person who recently passed away. Outside, in the piazza, we wondered, 'I wonder who passed away?' I never would have guessed it was a distant relative of mine and a cousin by marriage to my gramma. Giovanni continued and once we got to Rafaelle, Michele (1)'s brother, the name Michele (2) comes up. This time Giovanni says 'I gave him my condolences today and just last week, he was in this office. I know him well. He was a peasant (in a more respectable way than American English might refer - in Italy it is to call someone a farmer). Coincidence, I think not. We knew we were on the right trail. It was 6:50, we are late to me Aldo. We went to the cafe and Aldo either never showed up, or we just missed him. The Bar Guy didn't see him there. Nick and I headed outside and did some more P & P2 for while until we hear a 'Hey buddy!' Bar man signaled for us to go twoards him, where he stood with a man and a woman. Who is this we think to ourselves? We then meet Dominico and Tina. Dominico had a strong NY accent and also spoke Italain. He wore black slacks and a Dolce & Gabana shirt and some gator shoes. Mafia?? Who knows, but he wanted to help us. 'So what are you looking for?' he says in his thick NY accent. Without an answer from us, 'Come on, follow us, we'll take you there.' Where we were going, who the hell knows. We set off walking and we got to talking. It turns out his family was from Corato and he came to visit his parents and met Tina, a native of Corato, and has called this place his home ever since. Not a bad story. He has lived there for 12 years now. I asked him some more questions and he mentioned he recently started an Herbal business. I asked how hard it was to start a business and he said “Very”. You need to have connections around here.' I was telling him how much I fell in love with Southern Italy. Bari and Corato were stunning places. Rich with history and culture. The people were nice and unbelievably friendly, the food is unmatched and the women are intensely gorgeous. I didn't have to mention the women to him, because he knew that I knew that he knew, after all he married one and stayed. I also had to be careful because after seeing the size of the family tree, I was probably related to the whole town. And, of course when we mentioned the funeral yesterday and until an hour ago did not know I was a distant relative of the deceased. Dominico replied, 'Hey Gino Anelli was a relative of mine.' What do you know, we were cousins”.

Italians and Chamorus have family that runs so deep. After a 15 minute walk around, we figured out that they were taking us to meet Aldo, who was to take us to meet Michele (1, 2 or 3???). He wasn't there because we found out that just about everything in Corato closes on Thursday after 1:30. Just how it is, I suppose. We say our thanks to Dominico and Tina and we are sure to run across them again in the this small town. We also figured out how Aldo knows Via Vecchia di Trani so well, he sells eggs and probably has a chicken farm out there. After Anagrafe, we had a new address for Michele Scavo (2). Via Montevideo. We find the address at the police station and start walking, not knowing what to say once we get there. When we arrive, we find that a Michele Scavo (3) lives a couple doors down from Michele Scavo (2) but realize that (2) is the one we are looking for cause his wife, Maria's last name was Soldano. We ring the buzzer and Nick says something like, 'Hello, my name is Nick and we think we are your relatives from America.' She buzzes the door and she comes down to meet us. A woman slightly older than my gramma emerges through the big door and asks “who are you?” Nick tells the abridged version of our story while I pulled some papers from my backpack. We showed her the birth certificates and she was puzzled. She realized that they were not of HER Michele Scavo (2), but of her uncle (1) and aunt. It clicked. She told us to return tomorrow at the same time. She had no idea what to make of it. We had no idea what was in store for us tomorrow but we obviously found family.

July 14 - Bari, Italia

Nick and I are in love with Bari. The people of Southern Italia are truly amazing people. They love to talk, to help and to eat. The stupid space bar at this internet café doesn't work too well, so there mightbesomesentenceslikethisone here. Today, Nick and I went to the beach for a nice day of relaxation. The treasure hunt has been intense. Each day we've been in Bari, we woke up early to go to the many offices around town to do our investigative work. I just looked at my lastentryand realized that I have left you all hanging for a couple days now. It also helped that Kathryn sent me an email telling me toget my ass in gear and update the site. It seems I spend so much time hacking these public computers, installing the and maintaining the site, that I don't have good time to sit and type. Well, I'm taking the time now and will talk about what happen on Friday the 13th in Bari.

Nick and I woke up sometime around 1pm, got showered and went to Di Paulo for a serious lunch. What a life we have been living and to think that sometime really soon I need to go back to working. Ah, that sucks. Oh yeah, the story. We eat like Italians, a table full of antipastas (olives, bruschetta, fruti di mare), some serious pasta and a couple bottles of chilled white wine and mineral acgua. After each meal, I realize the importance of sleep. The town shuts down after lunch because they have to take naps and hang with the family. We didn't have family yet, so we just decided to nap. But before we nap, I needed to go to the local Net hook up and print some of the pictures that Josh and Zack sent to me. As always, these public computers SUCK and it took some serious patience and 20.000 Lire to print out 20 pictures. We decided at about 4pm that we needed to head out to Corato. Maria Scavo, with confusion and curiousity on her face told us to return around this time today. This train ride was different from the others because we actually had some answers from the previous days. We had more that a birthcertificate, we a huge family tree, a look at a potential villa and now a REAL LIFE family member, my gramma's cousin. When we arrived to Maria and Michele Scavo's house, we buzzed their apartment from downstairs and without hesitation, she let us up. When we got up, asked for the birth certificate before she let us in. After all, we are still just some crazy funny talkers claiming something this and that about her uncle who passed away in 1968 and her cousin Clara, who she hadn't seen ever or at least in a really long time. In addition to the birth cert, I handed over the black and white printed photos from my Biznoni's (great-grandparents) trip to Italy in 1962. She was amazed and immediately opened her house to us, being her new family members.

We sat around the table in the kitchen and spoke with Maria, Michele and their daughter Felicia. They looked at the pictures over and over, each time saying something with visible emotion each time. She pointed to one of the pics, of a wedding, and she said, "This is my wedding with Michele." Wow. She said something to the effect of “we have never seen pictures of our wedding before”. They continued to look at the pictures, pointing at all the people and without speaking Italian, I knew the importance to them. Most of the people in the pictures were them, their parents and their aunts and uncles. Most of whom are no longer with us. One picture that stands out is of 5 men wearing wife beaters standing in the middle of an olive grove. Of the 5, Michele was the only one still alive. Before we knew it, the room became filled with new faces. It seems in Corato, you don't even need to pick the phone up to make news travel. Somehow the word around the town got to each and every Scavo and Balducci that somecrazy Americans with photos and a birth certificate of Michele Scavo (1) and Vincenza Balducci in their hands. Some family from America has stumbled onto some family from Italia. It was the most amazing sensation to be sitting in the middle of a room with 20 people that you've never met, but somehow feel the comfort and serenity that can only come with family. Luckily for me, Nick spoke Italian. A couple other family members, Raffaele and Josephine spoke pretty good English. Everyone had to leave to go home to cook and eat dinner, but we had made arrangements to visit Josephine and Raffaele's villa in the countryside on Sunday. Hmmm, a villa in the countryside. Raffaele is the son of Francesco Scavo, my Biznono's older brother. Maria and Michele insisted that we stay for dinner that night. It was now about 7:30 pm and we had to be on a train to Bari at 9:30 in order to make it back that night. It was the last train. Maria quickly got to work and within 30 minutes, she made a serious Italian dinner. We drank homemade wine and used homemade olive oil that came from their villa. We were not at their villa, we were in their apartment in the town center, so another villa exists. Hmmmm. Felicia and also Cataldo Soldano get us to the trainstation with only 5 minutes to spare. Cataldo was very interesting to talk to. He just returned to Corato a month earlier after 30 years of living in Venezuala. He spoke Spanish so he and I were able to find a mutual ground to try to communicate. When I asked why he moved back to Corato, he mentioned that he came back to spend his last few remaining years with the family. Like so many Italians, they are born, raised and they die in their towns. Very different from our American culture. Wow, now we wait til Sunday to visit the mysterious villa.

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An email to my family:

Mom, Auntie Shell and Uncle Jim, Nick and I had the most amazing day yesterday. We went to talk to Michele Scavo and Maria (Soldano) Scava and what do you know, with a couple pictures that we printed out, she let us in the house and called the whole family over. They had never seen those pictures before and remembered Noni and Gramma well. They were glad to hear Gramma was still around. We had to have met 10 or her cousins. I'll get you the names later. There were about 20 people over at the house within 40 minutes of our arrival and they were so excited to see us. I found out there is some of our blood, the Balcucci and Soldano blood still around the family. I have enough info to do a nice family tree and will work on that soon. Let's just say, we now have a very extended family in Corato and that would love for the day that more than just me comes to visit. All of Gramma cousins are getting pretty old, but they are still around and asked about her. It was such an amazing 3 hours. They made a spur of the moment feast for us and we had some of the Scavo made olive oil and wine from one of their farms/villas. It was amazing stuff and I am going to see if we can't work out some kind of way to trade wine and olive oil for some nice pictures that Noni took in 1962. They loved them. On Sunday, we are going to one of Gramma's cousin's villas in the countryside to have a feast with the whole remaining Scavo family and they said we can stay for as long as we like to learn how to make wine and olive oil. Amazing like I said. Ok, today will be our first day in Bari to relax and go to the beach. So far, we have met at least 10 local young people from Bari and we almost have ourselves a group of friends out here already. I am thinking of living here someday...who knows. I need to get Josh to move out here with me and we can learn to carry on the Scavo tradition of Olive Oil and Wine. Dreams. You guys need to put in some serious work this weekend, on Saturday if possible. I told them I would get more pictures to them, print outs for now, on Sunday. I have names for almost everyone in the pictures that you sent over. Finally. One of the pictures, the wedding pic where they are walking down the stairs, was of Michele and Maria. They were so shocked to see that picture because they hadn't seen their wedding picture in over 30 years. Talk to you guys later and I wish you all could be here doing this with me. Finding the Villa now is a side note because we found a huge family in Corato that was pleasantly surprised to see the likes of me, who they say reminds them of Grandpa Mike. I know the villa is out there, but I would have to say, it was never abandoned, but might be in the family still and might be the home of their Corato famous wine and olive oil. Love you guys.... Jeremy the Scavo Family Treasure Hunter

July 15 - Bari, Italia

Well, today's lunch and dinner with the Scavo's was unfortunately canceled because Raffaele woke up with a fever and when you are in your 60's, you take it easy when that happens. We brought a bit too much excitement on Friday. Now we are set to meet them on Tuesday, the 17th. Today, we hung out at the beach and enjoyed another day on vacation. No plans, just routine now. We wake up, eat, do something, sleep, then we pasajiamo(means to stroll around the town). After almost a week in Bari, we were beginning to fit right in. Each night, we would eat a HUGE meal and then head for the old town piazza. We now had a group of friends that we would look for each night, stop off and talk for a bit before pasajare-ing a little more. There are thousands of people doing that each and every night in Bari. Not too much drinking, just plain old socializing. Kicking it Southern Italian style. On this Sunday night, we witnessed something very very interesting in the piazza. I think on Friday night, there was a murder just blocks away from the center of the piazza in Old Town Bari. Our friends Daniella, Francesca and "Lara Croft" mentioned it to us on Saturday. It was news and it wasn't something that happened often here. They said it was the mafia. Well, after pasajare-ing for a bit, we walk into the center and right into the start of a public gathering of a different nature. Just as we approached the huge banner saying 'Bari remembers Michele.' The guys name was Michele. People started clapping, meanwhile some guy in his mid 20's started yelling, screaming and crying in the middle of 200 people... "Michele....NO, Michele....NO" as tears ran down his cheeks. About 30 seconds after the clapping started, the family of Michele walked by us, a family in mourning. A couple young kids, probably brothers and sisters and mother and father embracing each other and their children. None of them with a tear on their faces. They walked next to the building, under the banner and with a megaphone, the mother started to talk about the murder. She was speaking to the people of Bari about the danger of the mafia and she asked all the businesses in the piazza to close in observance of Michele's memory from 10:30pm to 11:30pm. She also read some poetry, but with my non-Italian skills, I could only pick up pieces at a time. It was highly emotional for several reasons. First off and most obvious, was the murder of a young man. The less obvious was the manner in which the town, the family and the people of Bari observed and gathered to deal with it. It gave me a sense of community that you don't get in too many places in the US. There are a couple of interesting things to mention. Out of all of the 20 businesses still open in the piazza, all but one of them closed just as the mother asked. I wonder the significance of that. Was it owned and controlled by the mafia?

The next thing to mention is about the funeral that Nick and I ran into during our first hour in Corato a week prior. After speaking with some of the Scavo's, I learned about how they pay their respects to the recently departed. It sounds like everyone that knew the person would gather at the church and then in a big group, they would walk the town to the person's home to give their regards to the family and then, if they owned a business or worked somewhere, they would then walk there and do the same. Community means something in Southern Italy. I feel fortunate because with my family and with a town like Alameda to call home, I have always had a taste of community, but never as intense and real as this. Here a random poem I wrote on the beach that day... it is a broken hearted cheesy one, but what can my sappy ass say?

"Not Thee"

Waves crash into the rocks

I fall into the sand

Face down, I feel down

Crumbling inside, cannot talk

Afraid to rejoin the dust and the land

Happiness to find, for happiness I am bound

Injustice done to one

Is great fortune for another

My love lost, is his love gained

My depression is their fun

Feelings they build, mine to smother

Of those, many still remained

Desire to find a substitute for love

Is very prominent in my mind

The search continues to haunt me

Stay true, even when push comes to shove

Stop the search for HER, for it is 'I'

I need to find Me, I, Me, Not thee.

July 16 - Bari, Italia

This is going to be short. I had a dream last night that made me feel homesick in a weird way. Not the kind where I say to myself "I want to go home now!!!!" but more like a long-term homesickness. In this dream, there was some news in my family, some really big news that I learned about a couple months late. Everybody in the family 'kinda forgot' to tell me what was happening. The symbolism being that I have not lived close to my family in over 6 years. I am out of the daily loop. Is it time to move back to Alameda????? Something on my mind as of late. Anyone reading this have a job opening for a creative, enthusiastic (sp?), experienced project manager, web-hand, business development or sales kinda guy in the Bay Area????

July 18 - Bari, Italia

An email sent to my mom: Hey, I just left Bari and Corato yesterday and now am in South Eastern Spain in Alicante visiting some friends from Oxy that are studying Spanish here. I left Nick and traveled solo for the first time during this trip. A long day of travel yesterday, but I still have mucho life in me, especially after Corato. I have ton to say about the experience but will do it when I have more time. I guess the bottom line is that the villa I ate dinner at on Tuesday, was the same villa we have heard about for so many years. I has been the family villa for a LONG time. After Grandpa Mike died, his brither Francesco lived in it until he died and now his son, Raffaele lives there with his family and he will live there until he dies. They farm olives and are also investing in some grapes, but they take 3 years to harvest and they just planted them last year. Olives aren't too profitable anymore. In 1978 Raffaele tore down the old villa and it's wooded roof and old walls to build the new villa that he, his wife Josephine and their son live in. Ok, I don't have time to go into all the details like I'd like to so until next time. Love you guys.

July 15 – Bari (written by Nick)

I am going to recall what it is that exactly happened to me roughly two months ago (has it really been that long?) Jeremy and I were in the countryside of southern italy-Puglia to be exact. We were there for one main reason and that was the "find the villa" mission. This mission had some significant importance. I think that it was the first and main mission we had that made us come up with the idea of missions in europe and therefore the idea for WeAreOnAMission.com. We settled in this beautiful port town called Bari. The greatest part about this place was the people. I met some incredible friends there and if I hadn't dropped my damn palm pilot, I'd still be in touch with a few of them. People like Daniela and Allesandra, Sandro, Renalto, and Mariagrazie (if any of you read this, send me an email cause I have nobody's info). We stayed in this retirement home of some sort. It wasn't expensive, but now that I've been bumming my way around northern italy in hostels, I realize that it wasn't cheap either. It was run by an old lady who just screamed in the nicest voice all the time. It was a good thing she screamed because it helped me to understand her. We went to Bari with the mission in mind without having any idea how we were going to go about accomplishing it or what to expect if we did accompish it. So what's the best thing to do when you don't know what to do? Ask somebody! The great thing about italians is that they all seem to know something about what you are trying to find out even if they'll all tell you something different. Like getting directions, for example. I think that italians, even if they have no clue about where you are trying to go, will pretend to know where it is and make something up. Anyway we got some very useful advice and ended up in an office in Bari in which we miraculously discovered some record of some sort about Castro's great grandpa. I can't tell you exactly what the record was about because the man in the office made me promise, and besides, I had no idea what the record was about anyway. But what do you know, the record had an address in Corato on it. This was a good lead. So we began our journeys to this fabled, mythical place called Corato where Jeremy's ancestors are from and supposedly there is this family villa that exists somewhere near it. The regional train ride from Bari to Corato took about 50 minutes. I think that we probably took that train between Bari and Corato maybe 10 or 20 times. They were some very interesting trips. Times of reflection about what we had learned on that particular trip, what our next plan of attack should be, what we hoped to find out during our next trip to Corato, and also how what we were actually discovering resolved what we had hoped to find. It was on one of these train rides that Jeremy and I came up with and put the building blocks down on paper for what WAOAM is right now (and what we hope it to eventually be). I have to admit that we were hoping to find this abandoned country villa with olive groves and grape vines on the countryside surrounding it. In the end, what we found was a whole lot more. We did find "the villa", but what we discovered was an authentic, traditional italian family who lived their lives very much like the family of Jeremy's great grandpa did 100 years before. When I studied here 3 years ago, I learned that the 2 most important entities in italian culture are food and family. These people in Corato were about as italian as you can get. We had no idea that we were going to meet so many distant relatives of Jeremy and after an initial slightly hostile response to us foreign invaders of their tranquil reality, and with the help of several printouts of what seemed like ancient family photos that had been scanned and emailed to Jeremy from his California family from the last time that Jeremy's great grandpa made his journey back to the homefront in Corato, we were welcomed into their home and treated as family. Those journeys we made to Corato from Bari all together were an incredible, unexpected and wonderful experience. We went searching for a villa and we found a home.

July 20 – Bari (written by Nick)

Well after coming to a very satisfying conclusion on the "find the villa" mission in Corato, Jeremy and I split up with him leaving on an airplane for Spain (Madrid to be exact). It had all happened so quickly. I was still digesting what had happened to us the day before when we finally made it out to "the villa" and had a heart-warming afternoon with Jeremy's distant relatives. Before I knew it, the adventure of WAOAM was moving on. The next morning, I had stayed in the hotel a little late to try and figure out what I was going to do next (and also how to go about getting the cutest girl in Italy to go out with me on a date), while Jeremy had gone into town to do email and figure out the situation about his ticket to Spain. As I was walking to the email spot to meet him, and really having no idea if I would find him there, we randomly ran into eachother on the street. He was in a hurry because he found out he couldn't change his flight from Rome to Madrid and the last train he could catch in order to make the flight was in less than an hour. So we did some quick packing of his stuff, made some basic arrangements of how and when we were going to meet up again, and then before I knew it he was off, and I was alone again. The 10 days since Chad had left for Spain had been a pretty amazing experience for us, but now Jeremy had left too and the 3 of us were completely split up. After I realized that taking the train all the way up and over to Spain would be more difficult than I had previously imagined, I did some more research and managed to get a fairly inexpensive flight from Bari to Barcelona in time to meet everyone there for the weekend. It is intersting how that decision made such a significant impact on what the next month would hold for me (even though at that point, I had no idea). But I will explain later. I spent another 2 days in Bari by myself, but I managed to make the most of it. I hung out with the several friends that Jeremy and I had made during the nightly ritual of the passagiare in Bari's piazza. I also put in my fair amount of work in trying to catch the cute girl, Mariagrazie. But after some confusing phone conversations and a couple of hours of advice-giving from Daniela and Allesandra, I realized that forming a "fidanzamento" (relationship) with a beautiful italian women was going to be a lot harder than I had thought. So, I vowed to put off the challenge for another time. WAOAM must go on. So, after wrapping things up and making my farewells with the good friends I had quickly made in the 10 days I had spent there (something that I was going to have to get used to doing), I got on an airplane for Rome where I would catch another flight to Spain.

#corato #villa #italy #family history #bari

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