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cherryblossomtease · 3 years

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In The Fairest Season ~ Part 2

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~JUNE~

The first time you sing for the Baron you haven’t even met him yet. In fact, you have no idea that he is in the audience.

Your solo, the lone aria not sung by Serena, the lead vocalist who will never let anyone forget it, opens the second act and it is your chance to show the world, or at least the city, that you are meant for greater things.

You give the song everything you have. Living it, breathing it, exhaling it out across that stage until the audience is moved to tears. You can’t see them for the lights, but you can feel it.

Follow that, you think as you glide offstage, passing the undeserving diva who strong armed her way to top billing. You don’t like to fight amongst your own kind, but if she suddenly lost her ability to speak you wouldn’t be sad about it.

Curtain call confirms your intuition. You are pulled front and center by your cast-mates and their own applause is drown out by the roar of the crowd.

The people love you.

Accepting your praise with a truly humble heart, you curtsy under a wave of roses. All the while, one man sits watching from a private box.

He is the last to stand. Not because he disagrees with the ovation, but because he’s been rendered immobile since the moment you opened your mouth.

You didn’t know it then and neither of you would be certain right away, but it is clear to any who see the way he looks at the aspiring songbird dipping low as she thanks the audience with tears in her eyes— Baron Helmut Zemo is already falling in love with you.

While finding out as much as he can about you is easy for a man like the Baron, your only knowledge of him is gained the same way as most outside of the elite circles— through rumors and whispers— and those tell the tale of a powerful man who has gained the love and devotion of his fellow soldiers and countrymen while at war with an enemy state. Though some say his tactics were less than honorable…

Either way their war was too distant, both in time and setting to matter to anyone here, but it changed the Sokovian people forever, reshaping the land and claiming so many lives.

Zemo’s wife and child among them.

You’d heard the story in passing and found it heartbreaking but hadn’t felt the need to think of it again until today, thanks in large part to the kindness of Colonel Nicholas Fury and his wife, the Lady Valentina a former Countess through marriage with a taste for danger. It comes as little surprise to those in the know that the Colonel, or his Lady wife would know someone like the Baron, who happens to be a former Colonel himself, though there are many secrets kept about their history and just how such a friendship was made.

Today however, none of it matters as the Colonel and Lady Valentina are holding a lovely benefit for the local children’s home, and while it is a reason to show off their mysterious guest, as the Baron will be staying with the pair for the season, you’d agreed to entertain long before rumors of this Baron began to make the rounds. The Colonel pays prices most girls won’t see after a month of work, and with nothing expected from you but your voice at its best and your personality front and center to charm the upper class, this is the sort of performance you look forward to.

Accompanied by piano in the grand solarium, the performance is by your own standards a very good one; Understated, gentle on the ear, but, as is evidence by the looks on the faces of the Lords and Ladies in attendance, no less impactful.

“Haunting” Is what you’re told by those who greet you afterwards and you wear that word like a badge of honor over your heart as you mingle.

It is between sets while standing at the piano that you feel the lightest touch on your shoulder.

Fingertips, brushing your bare skin with a hesitancy but such longing that your attention is grabbed instantly.

You’ve been touched like this before, but this is different—you turn around feeling curiosity instead of dread.

You aren’t quite sure how long it takes you to speak. Maybe it’s seconds, perhaps some minutes or more before you find your words, the point is, time feels irrelevant.

His gaze is as bold as the sun and you are held there, left to feel the trails of heat along your skin in the wake of it—up your arms, across your shoulders and neck, your lips— you’ve never had a man look at you this way before and not felt the urgent need to run. Instead, you take a step forward.

“Madame. Allow me to introduce his Lordship, Baron Helmut Zemo.” The Colonel announces.

With a slow bow of your head you lower into a small curtsey to show respect for the man above your station. Your eyes lift to meet his as you rise up and watch his mouth curl into a hint of a smile.

“Madame y/n” He exhales when he says your name as though he is relieved to know it and you feel the little hairs on the back of your neck rise as if he’s whispered in your ear. “It is an honor.”

You smile and thank him “The honor is of course mine, my Lord Baron.”

“After today I’ve had the privilege of watching you perform twice now. But I was beginning to fear I might never meet you in the flesh.”

Something about his choice of words makes you feel warm all over. “It seems the stars have aligned and brought us together after all.” You say with a genuine smile.

He gives a hint of a laugh and glances at Fury. “Yes a, Man shaped constellation” He teases making the Colonel grin.

“Forgive me Barron Zemo,” You say a little timid. “I hope I don’t embarrass you or myself by speaking freely, but… your accent? Please, tell me the name of your country. I’ve heard it said before but can quite recall.” You’re unable to hold back your curiosity and the way he forms words has you eager to know more.

“Ah.” He flashes a quick smile. “Well, you see I am only here to visit my friend as you know.” He says glancing at Fury. “A summer abroad. A summer away…” You catch a hint of sadness but he presses on. “I am from Sokovia. A small country but there is none that can compare to its beauty.”

“Sokovia?” You say it slowly “Yes, in passing I’ve heard it said but I am ashamed to say I could not point to it on a map. Though I’m sure it’s as beautiful as the tone you take when speaking of it.” You pause to look him in the eye. “I can hear the love you hold for your homeland in your voice Baron.” You are being polite but the truth is, you are struck by it. He has a sort of rasping tenor that comes out in a hesitant whisper, as though he wants to say more but fears saying too much.

I can take it, you think and find yourself drawing your bottom lip between your teeth as you study his. He has a wonderfully wide mouth and the way his lips move when he speaks is hypnotic.

“I will never hide my love for my country. Not after everything we have been through.” He says.

You smile reading between the lines. “I see that. And while I’m only a singer who has had her travel limited.” You admit. “I hope to perform across the world. Tell me the best Sokovian stage Baron and perhaps I will stand on it one day.” You say, aware of how eager you sound but know that it’s the truth.

The Colonel laughs like all wealthy men do when they hear the dreams of women, but the Baron does not. No, he looks at you as though you’ve just spoken your deepest desires aloud and he feels blessed to have heard them.

“One day, yes. Perhaps you will.” He says and you hope he doesn’t notice how your breath catches in your throat, but the way his eyes fix on yours makes you feel seen.

The three of you fall silent and you’re very aware of Colonel Fury watching the two of you. You see his coy smile from the corner of your eye and its clear that he thinks the Baron will have you down to your stockings by the days end, but nothing is further from the truth.

Baron Zemo doesn’t try to take your dress off, not even when you wander inside and into the library alone with him. Instead he listens to you tell stories about the parts of your life that are easy to share and with what seems to be genuine interest.

You tell him about your mother who was a singer before you, though she never made it to the big stage. You still send money home to her and your sweet father who is too sick to work but still manages to paint when he’s feeling up to it.

“So you are the product of true love.” He says and while there is an edge to his voice, he is not trying to tease. You feel him watching you touch the spines of the many books along the shelves in the dimly lit room.

“Why do you say that?” You ask, your back still to him.

“A singer and an artist who marry do it for no other reason.” He says, confident in his statement. You can hear the smile in his voice and your own grows across your face. Coming from anyone else this would be an insult. Coming from him, it turns your ordinary origins into something romantic.

“Love, with the hope of fame and money.” You correct with a smirk and find him over your shoulder.

He is standing in the light of the large south facing window and you have no choice but to turn and face him. It’s nearly unfair that any man should be so beautiful.

You’d noticed the way the other women in attendance looked at him in his exquisite jacket and vest, looking the very picture of fashionable victorian masculinity; and done without effort it would seem. Just his natural air of confidence. Honestly you’re convinced Zemo could make a workhouse uniform look like the kings cape.

What would those women do now, you wonder. With his brown hair looking almost black in the library shadows, so thick and pretty as it falls in his eyes in lovely contrast to his fair skin.

As the clouds part and a strong band of light breaks through the windows casting a warm glow over the man, you smile imagining the socialites batting their lashes and dipping into quaint curtsies to attract him, but it seems none can manage to take his eyes from you…

They would all say it’s because you’re a stage whore, a woman of ill repute with the gift of song. But they are wrong. They always are.

“Tell me Baron Zemo, how long did you say you’ll be staying” You ask crossing the room to step into the sun with him.

He looks down at you and you notice for the first time the flecks of gold in his eyes. “I must return at the end of August.”

“Oh.” You look away. It’s already June.

His body language changes a bit, like someone has splashed cold water over him and he goes stiff. Quickly as if desperate to do so, he takes hold of your hand which startles you as much as it excites you. You try not to let him see the way he’s made your own body respond but your heart threatens to leap from your chest.

“Would it be forward of me to ask you to join our small party for dinner this coming Saturday?”

Your eyes dart up finding such hope in his. “Not at all. So long as you understand what it is you’re asking?” You hate to turn the mood, it was so nice, but this needs to be said.

“What do you mean?”

“Well dinner with a performer of course. I suppose it could be seen as the Colonel’s kindness… but Baron please don’t tell me you’re so naive to the ways of the country you summer in.”

He gives you a curious frown “I forget where I am often. Your ways here will always be a little strange. You see in Sokovia, to possess a gift such as yours would see you walk among the people who look down on you here. We lift those better than ourselves up in my country.”

You feel light headed at the idea. Imagine being seen as important for what you are born with, and not for what you are born into. “It sounds wonderful.” You say, fully aware of how soft your voice is when you’re standing so close to him.

Him, this man you do not know. You pull your hand free from his.

Taking a step back you give a small curtsy. “I must go back, we have a few more songs to perform, but thank you for the walk, and for the invitation. I look forward to it!”

He smiles politely and offers to escort you, but you know better. No need ruining his reputation or starting rumors about your own.

You go back to the solarium and take up your place next to the piano and proceed to sing the heartbreaking aria that can decimate even the strongest of defenses.

Your eyes scan the room as you sing, finding hapless victims to serenade until finally you land on the Barron standing behind the rows of chairs.

The man is stricken by your words of love and loss and you think perhaps you could have warned him about your song.

When you find him again, it is an accident.

You’d gone off looking for your pianist when you find the Baron standing alone in the garden just off the parlor.

You almost speak but notice the way he stands there without moving. He is looking down at a bush of flowers; large white Lillies.

You brace against the doorframe and lean in to watch him for a moment before you realize… he raises his hand and wipes a tear before slipping it back into his pocket.

Tears over flowers? No. Not flowers, and then you understand. The war you know nothing of, took everything from him.

You feel guilty. Of all the songs you had to sing you chose the one that could break a healthy heart, what had it done to this shattered thing probably held together by nothing more than string and sheer determination.

Your own ached for him and you’d never longed to hold anything or anyone so much in your life, but you did not know him yet and quietly slipped back inside.

Your last interaction with the Baron that afternoon had been no more than a sweet goodbye, but your thoughts are preoccupied with him over the week.

You find your self thinking of the way he’d touched your shoulder while you dress for your performances, and onstage when you shut your eyes you see his looking back at you, golden in the sun.

When Saturday comes around, you ignore the teasing of your best friend Brigitte who watches the way you’re fussing over your hair and pinching your cheeks after dressing in the small apartment you share with her over the theatre. Thankfully no one keeps watch over the costumes and so you wear the pale yellow dress from last years production that you think looks best against your skin.

Brigitte asks if he’s proposed yet just to set you off, but only because she’s never seen you nervous, but then she’s never seen you so excited over a man. Presumably because none has ever managed to hold your attention for so long.

The carriage arrives to pick you up and you try desperately not to be won over by the fact that he’s sent his own.

You know that it is his.

You run your hand along the silk lined walls, inhaling deeply, picking up the faintest scent of his cologne as you sink into the seat. Your smile grows wide with no one there to see as the driver sitting high above steers the horses through the city streets, the light jostle inside keeping you alert as you imagine the Baron standing at the threshold of the estate waiting for you. It begins to feel wonderfully indecent to be surrounded by him so intimately.

And what would it feel like if he really did hold you close? Would it feel this warm and safe? Would you rest in his arms as you do his carriage, rushing past the world feeling untouchable?

Your eyes close for a moment; you are lost in a sea of daydreams until a wheel hits a large hole that jolts you back to reality. Eyes going wide, you quickly blow out the tension built up in your chest through your lips and shake you head trying not to smile. The man has held your hand one time old girl. Calm down!

You are still flushed and breathing hard when you arrive. When you see Baron Zemo waiting for you in the hall of the estate, in his dinner jacket and tie, you feel as though he knows every indecent thought you had on that incredible ride through town. If he does however, the Baron does not humiliate you, only showers you with complements on your appearance tonight.

And though the night is perfection, dinner in the city would not be dinner without a scandal. And so it goes that yours is candlelit and ripe for the pamphlets.

Colonel and Lady treat you as their guest of honor, though it is the Baron who attracts the attention of the others in attendance.

As he escorts you to the dining room, Baron Zemo dares to whisper in your ear. “If I could have entertained you and you alone, I would have made it so. But this is —not allowed —on these foreign shores.” He says and you see the way his dark gaze fixes ahead. You aren’t sure if it is Lord or Lady who earns his contempt but all you can do is hold back your laughter.

“It’s perfectly fine. The rules are there for them, so long as I am in their world I will play along. To be perfectly honest Baron… ” You look up at him in the door way and he lays his hand over yours, resting in the crook of his elbow. “This is exquisite.” You say. He smiles looking a little relieved and you notice that he’s been watching your lips as you speak and you feel yourself blush.

That however is not the moment to cause the scandal. Nor does it come from the Baron expressing his rather progressive views which he offers up like a complement to the soup course. It comes when he asks your opinion and you, shock of all shocks, give it.

The Lady Hawthorn who is also in attendance tries to cut you off, but the Baron hushes her and urges you to go on.

With him backing you, you find yourself feeling quite free to express your desire to see all people treated equally, and end your monologue by announcing that you know such a utopia could never exist so long as the wealthy are pleased and the poor too overworked to notice. This sends the Lady over the edge and Fury into a fit of laughter.

Only Baron Zemo hears the truth and he looks at you through the deep yellow glow of candlelight with pride.

Unfortunately that, is not what they print.

Rising star flies too close to the sun

“What a ridiculous thing to say” You huff carrying an armful of gowns over to the mirror in the little dressing area of your apartment.

“Maybe, but you’ll sing to a packed house tonight” Brigitte grins as she lounges on the settee in the middle of the small but colorfully decorated room. “The audience loves a spectacle.” Her French accent makes everything sound cute but it is nothing short of annoying in the moment.

“It’s hardly a spectacle Brigitte. Just bored, sad, empty headed people with nothing better to do than twist your well thought out words and opinions. My, well thought out words and opinions.” You speak with conviction while trying to ignore the sinking sense of embarrassment as you hold each dress up over your underclothes, one at a time. You are angry of course, those damned pamphlets are nothing more than a way for them to openly indulge in gossip and cruelty about you and your kind. Granted you’re not above reading them from time to time and this isn’t the first experience you’ve had with being a feature (poor Lord Quinn. He did fall in love so easily) but this is the first time that you care.

“You’re quite the radical aren’t you.” Brigitte says sitting up and sipping her tonic.

“Yes, a woman with an opinion, how will the world move on.” You roll your eyes and sling the yellow dress aside.

“Those aren’t costumes.” Brigitte says suspiciously and sits up on her knees, her arms hanging over the back of the sofa.

You look at her in the mirror and sigh. “No. I can’t keep borrowing them and besides, these aren’t for the stage.”

She’s waiting but you hesitate. “Tell me! Who are they for? It’s him right? Your Baron.”

“He isn’t mine.” You scold. “But yes, Baron Zemo has asked me to accompany him to the festival tomorrow night, and…” You pause glancing at yourself in the mirror. “I’ve said yes.”

“Of course you have, silly girl.” Brigitte giggles and gets up, coming over to you. She stands at your back, her long elegant fingers resting on your shoulders. She presses her cheek to yours and you feel the swell of love for your oldest friend rise.

The two of you have been through so much together. From escaping the cruel and often times corporal punishment of St. Augustine’s school for girls, to the deadly grasp of the streets. You’d been fighting along side one another until you both managed to sing your way onto the stage.

While Brigitte is technically better, you’re the one who sings with heart and that small edge is why your likeness will hang from the posts and not hers, but she is your friend in all things and as you gain notoriety, you have every intention of bringing her right along with you.

“I don’t know why I think anything will come of it. He’s a Baron for goodness sake.” You say scrunching your nose up at the lavender dress.

Brigitte is waiting, knowing you’ll answer your own suspicions.

“But, he looks at me and it’s as though these barriers don’t exist. I might as well be the daughter of a Duke when he smiles.”

“In his eyes, perhaps you are.” She says kindly. “Now, put those dresses away, you’ll wear my white one and look nothing less than angelic tomorrow. Tonight, you’ll sing like one and win your place in the Barons heart for good.”

As fate would have it, Baron Zemo was not at the performance last night. It means nothing though, that much is clear. He is as taken with you as you almost allow yourself to be with him. It is a dangerous game you play, one that could see you broken by the end of summer, but it is so hard to stay away…

You stroll causally behind The Colonel and Lady Fury through the park grounds along the pea gravel paths lit by paper lanterns with sparks flying from swirling machines and flames that shoot up from small bonfires.

Brigitte and your friend Eloise are bringing up the rear, but it feels as though there isn’t another soul alive. Just you and him and the beautiful menagerie that surrounds you.

The festival is one you’ve heard of but never attended and you’re almost happy you never have because as far as firsts go this one is magic.

A show of sight and sound engages every sense. There are acrobats, jugglers, stilt walkers and sword swallowers. You smell the food being sold from small carts and hear the music of the far off bandstand. You have a hard time not running around like a child as you point and shriek at the shocking, and squeal with delight at the fun. Each beautiful display of oddities and wonder that seem to never phase the Baron amaze you, though he does take great joy in watching your reaction.

When a fire breather spits yellow flames in your path, you jump back with a scream grabbing Zemo’s arm which makes him laugh.

You’re suddenly aware of how jovial his voice can be and when you look up, he smiles like you’ve never seen before and closes his hand over yours.

You think he might let go, but instead he begins to walk again, happy to keep you close.

You take in the sights on either side of the lawn, until it all begins to feel like a dream. Perhaps it was the champagne you had on arrival…

“Thank you my Lord, I’ll never forget this night.” You say under the cover of a trellis dripping with wisteria just outside of the wonderful chaos.

“It has been quite the show” He says looking back at the distant festivities before settling on you again. He quickly takes off his black topper, his hair falling into his eyes. “Unlike anything I’ve ever seen” He says looking at you with such an intensity that you can not hold the eye contact. You smile and look away spotting a servant with a large tray of champagne stacked like a pyramid of glowing gold.

Baron Zemo sees how you look at it and waves him over, taking two glasses from the top giving one to you, and raising his glass in salute.

“What do we drink to?” You ask.

Zemo thinks while looking into your eyes. Finally he raises the glass a little higher. “To the continuation of our friendship.”

You feel your cheeks flush and your mouth go a little dry. To declare a friendship between you is something you almost wish he wouldn’t say, but, it’s already been done. Still, what future can there truly be, you wonder looking up at this man who, had you been born into a wealthy family would have been yours weeks ago. But then, something about the Baron tells you not to fixate on what could have been, and to always expect the unexpected.

The sound of your glasses clinking is drown out by the boom of fireworks in the distance.

You tip your glass and drink. The champagne is sweet and cold and bubbly. You swallow with a smile only to shut your eyes when he strokes your cheek with the back of his hand, his thumb daring to glide across your bottom lip.

You inhale the moment and open your eyes to find his wanting, but not here. Not yet.

“To our future.” You say, needing him to know that you wish to push forward.

The Baron nods and takes another drink, watching you do the same over his glass. “I must insist on seeing you again, you understand?” He asks as he finishes.

“Yes of course.” You say. “I have one week, and then the show continues.” You tell him feeling sorry for it. It’s not easy to balance a life on and off the stage, in fact you’ve never really had too before, but for him you will try.

“A week.” He says it with finality. “Then let us have this week as our own.”

The next few days are a whirlwind of unforgettable moments. You are convinced any other man would be trying to impress you with his knowledge and access to things privy only to someone of his status, but with the Baron it feels as though he simply enjoys sharing his world.

From a private showing of the Kings’ collection of antiquities, to a small garden reading by one of your favorite authors who Baron Zemo happens to know personally, you spend your time together as near equals, exchanging ideas and thoughts as easily as you would with your oldest friends. It surprises you to find it so easy to speak to a man you’re only just starting to know.

Perhaps that is because he never once reminds you of the gap between your status. You are cautious to believe anything a man of such wealth says, but when the Baron speaks he seems to do so truthfully, and when he listens, he does so without judgement.

“How is it my Lord, that you seem to rise above the constraints of society while moving through it so elegantly?” You ask as he escorts you home to the theatre one evening.

You are arm in arm, the lamps are lit and the air has a certain joie de vivre that radiates from the passersby. You smile and nod hello to a couple before looking up at the Baron’s handsome profile. He walks in silence for a while and you know him well enough by now to understand that he is just thinking before speaking, which is something you greatly admire.

“I hope my manner is not offensive.” He says with a deep frown. “I simply wish to be as honest with you as possible. To pretend that I see you as someone unworthy of my attention would be a lie.”

You turn your face to hide your giddy smile but he stops walking, your hand slipping from his coat.

Confused, you spin to face him. “Baron? What is it?”

“Do not hide.” He says in all seriousness. “Your face, it’s so expressive. There is such an openness in the way you show your emotion and I fear someone has told you to keep it hidden?” He asks and you avert your eyes instinctively but quickly look back up at him.

Feeling sure, you confess. “When my parents were too poor to keep me, I was sent to Augustines as I’ve mentioned. It was there I was taught that to show joy is a sin. To cry is a sin, to be angry is a sin. Frustration, even a simple smile, all sins. Everything beautiful about who we are as living creatures must be suppressed” You say, still bitter.

The Baron scoffs shaking his head. “Nothing is a sin when you stop believing that there is someone to sin against. Your smile is a gift mala ptica, a glimpse at your pure heart, just as your tears are an expression of the pain you feel inside. People can be very cruel, and I am sorry you were ever told such lies.” He says and you see that it truly hurts him to picture you as a child, scolded for what comes naturally. “Please, do not feel as though you ever need to hide either from me. If I am the reason you smile, then I consider myself to be a fortunate man.” He pauses, looking at you as people pass by. “Conversely If I ever make you cry, well, the pain of hurting you will be my deserved punishment.” He says and though you stand apart on the dark sidewalk, you feel the warmth of his affection reach out and close its arms around you, holding you close enough that you can hear the drumming of his heart.

The week ends with a picnic, just a small luncheon taken outside with all the delightful indulgence of the spoiled upperclass.

You sit at the edge of a large blanket, covered by a spread of fruit and cheese and bread. There are biscuits and cakes, small sandwiches and of course tea— and what looks to be chopped pheasant being carried out by a young servant all the way from the house. You are thankful for the shade of the ancient tree you sit under with the women; Lady Valentina, her neighbor, who has brought her daughter-in-law, and their two cousins, all of you laughing as the men play a lazy but entertaining game of rugby in their shirts, their jackets thrown down in the grass.

You applaud for the Baron and Lord Wessex the neighbor’s son who has come home for a quick visit with his wife. They make a great team, and though the Baron insists he’s too old for sport—which he is most certainly not— he is fast and strong and shows just a glimpse of the man he must have been during the war.

“He cuts quite the figure.” One of the cousins says to the other with a wicked little grin.

You eye her prim face, almost jealous but the energy would be wasted. You know who he smiles at as he crosses the lawn.

“Yes, but I hear he’s engaged.” Says the other

“Oh? To who? Certainly not to anyone here.” Lady Valentina says sipping from her cup.

You are silent as you watch these women who you know in name only. You don’t know their hearts, but you guess them to be as cold as the pheasant.

“No. A Sokovian Duchess I believe.” The cousin says and you stare at her.

“Then why on earth is he here?” The daughter-in-law asks.

“Must not be a very happy engagement.” The cousin says, her tittering laughter joined by the others.

You smile but set your tea down and look over, watching Baron Zemo toss the large ball across the lawn to his partner. He trots backwards and calls something out, clapping a few times before stopping and resting his hands on his knees. As though he can sense your eyes on him, he looks over from his bent position, that lock of hair fallen out of place.

He told you just a day or so ago to never hide your feelings from him, and so you don’t. Honestly, given what you’ve just heard, you couldn’t if you tried.

You can only imagine how you must look because he stands upright, rakes his hair back with his fingers and stares at you, his own face long, his jaw tight.

He knows something has happened. Immediately the Baron calls for a break in the game.

You look away eyeing the women. “Please, excuse me. I believe my legs are going a little numb.” You shrug, feigning a smile at the ladies and quickly get up, brushing your skirts and walking off.

“Poor circulation from all that time standing onstage.” You hear one of them say.

“And lying on her back” Another whispers loudly to the shocked laughter of the others.

The insult stings, more so than it normally would, and you shut your eyes as you march off towards the house ready to leave.

Of course they think you’re just here playing the whore to the rakish Baron. Why you ever thought they would accept you as their own or that he would be better than the rest is beyond you.

But what truly shames you, is that you believe their gossip, even after spending time with him. And why shouldn’t you? Isn’t this what men do? Lie? Especially to women of your profession.

It’s when you’ve reached the manicured part of the lawn that you realize you’re hardly breathing and that your heart feels like it’s been run through with one of the picnic bread knives. You clutch your chest, angry at the pain as the tears that well in your eyes burn, and you curse yourself for letting him have such an effect on you at all.

“Wait.”

You gasp, startled by his voice vibrating deep in your own chest as he has come up on you by surprise; his body so close to yours you feel his breath along your neck as he takes you by the arms and pulls you into the shaded privacy of the garden trees before you can protest.

He turns you around and the look on his face is a mix of curiosity and worry, to which you find yourself surprisingly angry. “What’s happened? What have they said to you?” He asks.

“What’s wrong Baron? Are you worried that I’ve found out?” You ask and move to wipe your eyes, but you let him see, just as he’s insisted.

“Found out? mala ptica, I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t you?”

He just stares down and you realize you’ve never seen him confused before. “Baron? What do you think they said?”

“Some insult? A way to make you feel inferior as seems to be their casual form of amusement.” He says clearly very angry and possibly ready to march back and defend you.

You feel your anger falter. This is unexpected and you shake your head. Now you’re the one confused. “No. Baron… I—I’m afraid I’ve made something of a fool of myself if you truly have no fear of any secret being found out?” Your voice rises as you question it.

“You are not a fool y/n” He says with a hint of irritation in his voice.

You look down, steadying yourself before looking back up into his eyes. “I never expected anything from you, you know? Your friendship has been nothing short of wonderful, but I fear that in getting to know you, I’ve found it impossible not to let my romantic heart lead the way. But what can we expect from a product of love.” You toss your hands up flashing a sardonic smile.

The Baron steps forward and your eyes close reflexively when he lays his palm to your cheek. “What have you heard? Tell me.”

“That you are engaged.” You answer not wanting to prolong it. “To a Sokovian Duchess no less.”

He smiles, looks off then back down at you and you hope he never stops the gentle, rhythmic stroking of your face. “I was, and it was a mistake. I broke it off before I doomed us both to a loveless marriage.”

“I was under the assumption that people of your wealth marry to acquire more of it.”

“You assume wrong.” He says even closer “It is beneficial, but, should I ever marry again, it will be for nothing less than a love to repair what is left of my heart.”

You’re breathing faster. He is so close. It seems to happen so quickly. One moment you’re ready to leave, angry and hating that you’ve even come, embarrassed that you’ve been swayed by a Lords influence. And the next you’re standing in his shadow gazing up into his eyes…

“May I kiss you?” He asks in a way that would be very hard to refuse.

“You may” You whisper. His fingers inch along to the back of your head, his other hand pulls you in by the waist until his hips are pressed against you and his lips part; the heat of his skin so warm from running touching you before his mouth does.

It is the force and passion of his kiss that surprises you. Not overly aggressive or unwanted, it is unexpected, as though he has been longing to do this as badly as you have and now, he can not let another second pass without tasting more of you.

His tongue on your own is warm and soft as he gently enters your mouth and it is not the demure touch of society but of two people who feel a great many things, not the least of which is an urgency to do more.

The Baron pulls away, your lips leaving his slowly. You look at your hands resting on his chest over his white shirt. His cravat is a little askew letting you see a hint of skin and the shimmer of a very thin necklace that makes your stomach flutter. Your eyes flit up to meet his as he exhales very slowly.

“Thank you mala ptica” He says and kisses your forehead and you think there are many reasons for him to say this, but for now you let it be, though something else has always made you wonder…

“What does that mean?” You ask curious, eyes closed

He leans back to see your face. “What?”

“Mala… mala ti..”

“Mala ptica” He says with an amused smile. “It means—little bird actually.”

You scrunch your nose wondering why this is what he’s taken too calling you and he chuckles a little with a sigh. “Your voice is like the song of a bird, a thing of natural beauty. Forgive me for having been so familiar. It—slipped out.” He says simply.

You grin, you can’t help it and close your hands to fists in his shirt and pull him down kissing him again.

It is hard and fast but he is a most willing partner.

When you let the Baron go, you bite at the corner of your lip feeling such an urge to go down to the cool grass with him here and now, understanding why everyone seems so preoccupied by it, but the truth is no man has had you and you refuse to be the woman they expect you to be. You will not succumb, not even for a Baron, not even for this one. But he will challenge you to no end.

He smooths his hands over your face and sighs. “What now hmm?”

You mimic his movements smoothing the wrinkles you’ve caused in his shirt. “I can not go back. I don’t belong here.” You tell him.

He takes hold of your hand on his chest and holds it there. “No, I don’t believe I do either. Not today.”

“My next run begins in two days, I won’t have time to go on so many adventures with you.” You smile.

Zemo pulls your hand down but does not let go. “Then I will wait until you are free to enjoy the rest of the season with me.”

“Will you?”

“Of course.”

“It’s almost over my Lord, you’re going home at the end of summer.”

“Yes,” He says and tilts his head to find your eyes. You look at him and smile wide. “But perhaps I might persuade you to come with me.”

#baron zemo x you #zemo x reader #zemo x y/n #zemo au #baron zemo fanfiction #victorian au #victorian era #mcu au #baron helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo #zemo fanfic #zemo x you #zemo in love #Baron Zemo romance because thats what we want

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baoshan-sanren · 4 years

Text

Chapter 19

of the wwx emperor au that still doesn’t have a damn title

XiChen not only readily accepts responsibility for WangJi’s meeting with the Emperor, but he has a list of reasons why he has done so, each one rooted in undeniable logic.

The Emperor seems to be fond of WangJi; in the view of the recent assassination attempt, this fondness could be beneficial. The Emperor has also revealed to WangJi (and by extension, to the Lan Sect), his competition plans, which implies a certain amount of trust. (Competition plans, XiChen says firmly, although uncle will go on to grumble about immature antics all the way to the Jade Sword Palace courtyard).

In addition, the Emperor believes WangJi to be a worthy opponent, and is specifically interested in crossing swords with him, out of all the young masters who are competing. This is a compliment, and should be taken as such.

Also, the Emperor might have been sitting on their roof, which is not exactly dignified behavior, but the alternative would have been rudely invading their living space at an unseemly hour. Something Nie HuaiSang had readily done, but the Emperor did not seem willing to do. Which, at the very least, implies some consideration, if not outright respect.

XiChen reminds uncle that the Emperor had done a proper investigation when XiChen was unjustly accused.

He reminds uncle that the Emperor has posted guards outside their residence to protect them.

He reminds uncle that Jiang YanLi had insisted on escorting WangJi to the Jade Sword Palace, and had spoken up against her future father-in-law in Lan Sect’s defense.

He reminds uncle that the Emperor is sending assistance to Gusu, which they desperately need.

XiChen talks until uncle is tired of hearing it, and stops offering rebuttals.

WangJi has never been more convinced that his brother will make an exceptional Sect Leader. He is also very much relieved to have that particular discussion concluded, or at the very least, shelved for later, by the time they arrive at the Jade Sword Palace.

Despite dozens of awnings set up all around the main platform, each one occupied by a clan or a sect, the courtyard somehow seems larger, the iron shields and dragon statues more intimidating. The Lan Sect’s designated place is so far from the platform that they are unlikely to see much of the actual competition. Still, their small, south-west corner is peaceful, attracting no attention.

WangJi cannot see the groups of disciples arriving from the West and East courtyards, and has no way of knowing if Wei WuXian is among them. But he hears the roar of approval coming from the Nie Sect, and has to assume that the majority of the top five winners must be wearing the Nie Sect uniforms.

The Emperor’s seat has been built at the top of the staircase leading to the Jade Sword Palace. Its canopy is made of layers upon layers of blue silk, hiding the person within. Once in a while, a vague shape can be seen. Twice, a pale hand extends through the folds of silk in order to issue some instructions. A row of Emperor’s personal guard is lined up behind the seat, and one level down, the High Councilor shares a table with his wife and daughter.

WangJi wonders if Jiang WanYin is competing as well. For the first time, he feels slightly disappointed that the Lan Sect is situated in such an inconvenient place. The Jiang Sect has a unique sword technique, one that WangJi would very much like to see.

There is another hour, at least, before the competition is to begin. In the meantime, tea and snacks are served. The Sect Leaders use that time to wander around, gossiping with their friends, and smiling with fake politeness at their enemies. The Lan Sect is a subject of many false smiles, but neither XiChen nor WangJi are bothered by it. Uncle just seems relieved that no one has had their tea poisoned this time around.

They do not expect to be approached by anyone, but when Nie MingJue does just that, WangJi is not surprised. He does not think that a single day has passed since they arrived, where Nie MingJue has not sought out his brother, or made it a point to speak to him. Although uncle has yet to address this, WangJi thinks it must be obvious to him as well.

Cornering the man and demanding to know his intentions is something that WangJi is actively trying not to do every moment of every day; XiChen would not thank him for interfering, and a wrong answer from Nie MingJue would probably end with an actual murder.

The Nie Sect Leader bows, and addresses uncle, “Sect Leader, the Emperor is concerned that your location will prevent the Second Young Master from properly observing his opponents. He asks that the Lan Sect suffer a small inconvenience of moving to the Nie Sect table for the duration of the competition.”

WangJi is certain that the Emperor has made no such request. Wei WuXian should be somewhere among the other Nie Sect disciples, trying not to reveal his identity. The idea that this consideration comes from Nie HuaiSang sours his stomach, despite the fact that only moments ago, he had been wishing for a better view of the platform.

Uncle glances at XiChen, then at WangJi. He is wearing the long-suffering expression of a man who has lost control of the situation, and can find no way to gain it back. He cannot refuse a request from the Emperor, and he cannot find a fault with being seated at the Nie Sect table.

The Nie Sect is directly below the Jiang Sect in placement. The gesture is a blatant sign of favor. But more importantly, if there are to be any other underhanded attempts on WangJi’s life today, the Nie Sect table may be the safest place in the courtyard.

In a cool tone of voice, uncle asks Nie MingJue to relay their gratitude to the Emperor.

The space reserved for the Nie Sect is comically large compared to the number of people seated behind the long table. Nie MingJue introduces his sister, an uncle, and two of the Sect Elders. Even with the Lan Sect present, the table could easily hold another dozen people.

They have only just settled down, when Nie MingJue turns to XiChen, “Young Master Lan, if you are willing, I had hoped we may have our match before the competition officially begins.”

Although XiChen nods and immediately gets to his feet, WangJi can easily tell the state of his nerves from the way he clutches his sword.

The platform is large, set slightly above the courtyard cobblestones. Even half of a step past its edge is considered a forfeit.

WangJi’s own nerves are just as tightly strung as XiChen’s. Neither one of them had ever faced an opponent with a different sword technique than that of the Lan Sect. Uncle had always seemed pleased with their progress, but this is the first true test of their ability.

“There is no reason to worry, Second Young Master,” Lady Nie says, leaning closer so her words would not carry, “I believe A-Jue means to go easy on your brother.”

Lady Nie bears little resemblance to Nie MingJue, but a great deal of resemblance to Nie HuaiSang, despite being nearly twice the boy’s age. There is nothing about her manners that would cause WangJi to dislike her. And yet, that resemblance is difficult to ignore.

“I hope he does no such thing,” WangJi says, “unless his intention is to lose quickly.”

True to his words, the moment their bows are complete, XiChen moves like lightening.

In a single breath, he has forced Nie MingJue into an offensive. In three breaths, he has pushed the man to the very edge of the platform. He backs away then, allowing Nie MingJue some space to regain his composure, and to rethink his strategy.

XiChen may hold Nie MingJue in high esteem, but there is more at stake today than only XiChen’s reputation. No matter his feelings, WangJi knows that his brother will not lose by choice.

When they fly at each other again, blades clashing, it is clear that Nie MingJue has decided not to hold back. Still, WangJi can see from his technique that the Nie Sect values strength over agility. His brother is not weak by any means, but he cannot take many direct hits, and still keep his leverage. Instead, XiChen shifts fluidly, invading Nie MingJue’s space, allowing him no room to use the saber to his full advantage. In an actual fight, this is a dangerous method to employ; after all, the greatest benefit of the sword is its reach. WangJi and XiChen have been taught that this strategy is only to be used when they are certain that their opponent is physically stronger.

The blades scrape along each other more than once. Their robes are now a swirl of green and white, and it is difficult to tell where one ends and the other begins. XiChen is light on his feet, never pushing straight on, but always shifting just enough so MingJue must meet him with speed instead of force. Still, he is pushing, and gaining ground. He does not allow enough distance for the tip of his sword to be of any use; had they been using short blades, WangJi is convinced that MingJue would have already found one sticking out of his flesh. As it is, MingJue can do little else but use his saber as a shield. Each time he tries to step back to give himself room, XiChen steps in closer, the edge of his blade always a hairsbreadth away from MingJue’s ribs, his thigh, the unprotected flesh under his arm.

It is beautiful to watch, WangJi thinks. MingJue is taller and wider, the stiff shoulders of the Nie Sect robes only contributing to his towering presence. In contrast, XiChen had chosen the simplest set of white robes he possesses, mindful of the fact that they may be ruined by blood today. His brother is not small, and he is not short, but next to Nie MingJue, he looks to be both. And yet, he is clearly winning, moving with quickness and fury that MingJue cannot match.

WangJi knows XiChen cannot keep this up for long, and XiChen knows it as well. The moment he has managed to push MingJue close to the edge of the platform, he shifts the grip on his sword. ShuoYue swings in an arc, away from MingJue, the flat of the blade horizontal with XiChen’s arm. The move takes MingJue by surprise; WangJi hears uncle grunt in approval. The hilt of XiChen’s blade slams into MingJue’s unprotected side, throwing him off balance. Sliding deftly under the saber, XiChen delivers a quick kick to the back of MingJue’s knee, an elbow to his ribs, and a second thrust to his chin. The chin strike can easily shatter the jaw, but WangJi can tell that XiChen uses very little force, just enough to knock Nie MingJue down to the ground.

To WangJi’s surprise, Lady Nie is the first to stand up and cheer. The Jiang Sect follows her example, and once they do, most of the smaller sects join in as well. XiChen looks flushed and disheveled, but he is smiling brightly, tentatively offering his hand to help Nie MingJue back to his feet. Nie MingJue accepts, looking far too cheerful for someone who had lost a match, and got an elbow to his face in the process.

The joy on XiChen’s face is so genuine, so unrestrained, that WangJi’s chest tightens painfully in response. How often has he seen his brother look this happy? How many of these moments is XiChen likely to have in his lifetime?

The future leader of the Lan Sect winning against the General of the Emperor’s army will probably be talked about for years. And yet, WangJi does not think that this will stop the next innkeeper from spitting at XiChen’s feet.

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authenticparanoidghosts · 6 years

Text

here’s a very long d&d story about the time my party used volleyball skills to become a god. for @komodoclassic, because she asked

this is a story in three parts

part i - a brief introduction of major characters and setting

okay so this was our big sophomore year campaign that lasted from first semester on over into part of second semester

really good campaign, our DM put a lot of work into it and we love him, but we had so many players that we had to split into two groups who both played the same world on the same timeline which was a huge fantastic mess

it ended bc the group I was in got a total party kill fighting a lizard with a magic eyeball (a totally different story - I was playing a hot tree and I might have killed him on my own after the rest of the party died if he hadn’t had that fucking entourage) and the other group killed the interdimensional asshole/refugee guy my party was actually trying to help

anyways, important characters in this story:

our DM, who I will not refer to by name even though I do tag him by name sometimes. I love to be inconsistent

me, playing my first character for this campaign (who did survive! she had to be retired before the lizard TPK for other nonsense reasons), a dwarf paladin named Taxes

Taxes (real name: Ataxite Tellus) was from a family of swindlers and petty criminals and was forced to leave her life of burglary and scamming when her parents got paid off to have someone take the fall for murdering The Very Important Mayor Of The Big Island Of This Archipelago Country and decided to frame her for it

instead of going to jail like she was supposed to, she was like “fuck this” and fled to a different island where she dyed her hair and put on a bandana like an old west outlaw and spitefully decided to dedicate her life to Not Being A Huge Asshole

obviously the way to do this is by taking some (k)night classes and becoming a paladin

Taxes is not a very good paladin

her god is Deimos, who does fire and war and justice and out of all the gods we met during the campaign (which was honestly a shocking amount) he was the nicest to us

our DM said he (Deimos) got briefly famous on the d&d reddit - partially because of this story and partially because of the stunts we were pulling immediately before it

anyways it’s important that you know that Taxes is from a family of criminals and just genuinely not very good at her job

one of my roommates, playing an elven wizard/lich whose name was Faenor but went exclusively by Gregg

good things to know about Gregg: she and Taxes had a classic straight man/banana man dynamic where she would try to do terrible ridiculous criminal things and Taxes would loudly protest but do very little to stop her

a friend, playing a dwarf paladin/cleric named Yule Marbles

Yule also followed Deimos and she and Taxes had an elaborate prayer handshake that they’d made up that gave them DM-sanctioned bonuses to religion checks

our party prayed basically exclusively to Deimos and eventually gained new player characters who ALSO followed him so after a point we just kind of paraded around the world as Deimos’ Favorite Idiots

part ii - volleyball

alright those are the people you need to know, let’s set the scene

our party needs to flee Dinosaur Hell Island where we have just solved the mystery we were summoned to help investigate and also accidentally started a war

quick trivia: Taxes (me) got mocked CONSTANTLY through the campaign bc she kept ACCIDENTALLY STARTING WARS

BAD PALADIN BEHAVIOR

but I did get a joke proficiency in starting wars which I later convinced the DM to let me use to benefit the party, so who’s laughing now, motherfucker

(the final count was that at LEAST three (3) legitimate, real-ass wars could be traced directly back to my actions as Taxes, as well as a couple other events that I would prefer to call “skirmishes” or “battles” that happened more indirectly. I refuse to count Malcolm’s not-so-legal battle for the deed to hell because 1) I did NOT help that guy, I just said I would, and 2) that was his problem and he started it)

we are leaving without telling anyone what we’ve found out

because they’re going to kill us, probably

you know. because of the war. that we started. on their already incredibly politically fraught island

the point is that we solved the goddamn mystery despite being absolutely terrible detectives and we FINALLY get to leave

we’ve been playing this part of the campaign for weeks and we’re all very tired of it

also the player who was intended to take point on the investigation (her hot mentor/maybe boyfriend? was the one who had called us there) had died pretty early on doing a pretty risky stunt involving a shark and an underwater cave, so we were just muddling through it

and we kept “”accidentally”” insulting people by stealing things (dinosaurs) and getting caught trying to break into things (sacred temples) and just generally being rude (Yule REALLY didn’t like the fey and I was briefly cursed by a swamp hag)

and, again, we started that war

we really need to skip town

a very unfortunate ship had crashed on the island a couple days previously and some of the people on it are very powerful sorcerers who we (really just Xenon, the half-orc fighter and everyone’s very best friend) have convinced to teleport us off the island

we just need to hide out on their beach and kill some time until the teleportation circle is ready

“do you want to take a rest?” the DM asks

“we should play beach volleyball,” someone else says, at the exact same time

resting is for suckers who are afraid of the very angry lizard people who want to kill us

we vote unanimously to play beach volleyball

the DM graciously decides that, in the interest of comedy, we have all the materials we need and won’t have to, like, sit down and weave a net

we break into two teams of four. team names are quickly decided to be The Hotdogs vs. The Hamburglars

after the party split our group retained “hamburglars” as our group chat name because our threshold for what entertains us is embarrassingly low

there are eight of us, so we’re playing four-on-four

the makeup of the teams isn’t important (and I can’t remember them), but know that we’re a half-orc, a tiefling, a middle-school-age human girl, an adult human man, two dwarves, an undead elf, and a fishperson

we spend a decent amount of time coming up with rules necessary to let us play volleyball

it’s mostly dexterity checks and rolling a d4 to see what quadrant of the court the ball lands in

some of our group doesn’t know the rules to actual volleyball and they have to be explained

listen. this is possibly the nerdiest thing I’ve ever done. I’m willing to acknowledge that, you don’t need to tell me.

anyways, ultimately the outcome of the game doesn’t matter (the Hamburglars won) and neither does how good or bad anyone was at rolling for imaginary volleyball (we fucking crushed the Hotdogs)

the point is that we played it and were so charmed by it that we would not forget about our new skills. we would remember them in our hour of need.

part iii - now I am (accidentally) become (NOT ACTUALLY A) god, destroyer of pirates

imagine there’s a timeskip

like, uh, two weeks later in game time at MOST

the group has split in real life, so my group is now Taxes, Yule, Gregg, Roswell (delightful fishperson), and another guy who stopped coming regularly and then was later replaced by another guy who doesn’t really become important until later, when we try to help a dimension-hopping dicklick by killing a lizard and stealing his eyeball

his character’s name was Yashirou and he’s not in this at all but it’s important that you know that by the time he died he had been partially transformed into so many different things that he was achingly close to being classified as an abomination and also was probably going to be fired from his job as a space cop

anyways, it’s a new day and a new session

actually, it’s probably like 11 pm. this will be relevant later

Taxes, Gregg, and Yule are the only player characters present because Roswell was busy or something

we’re on a new continent, hanging out with Taxes’ younger sister, Olivine

Olivine has also split from their parents and now runs an all-female gang of pirates who steal from the two much BIGGER gangs of pirates and also the trading federation and then sells whatever they’ve captured to the anti-government faction of the civil war that’s currently happening on the continent

this civil war is the only war currently going on/about to start where the root causes are NOT my fault in any way because when the thing that caused the circumstances that are creating unrest happened, Taxes had her hands over her ears and was humming loudly bc she knew she’d be morally obligated to do something if someone told her what was going on

right now, both major gangs of pirates and the trading federation are also all currently at war with each other

this is my fault

nobody but Gregg and Yule know it’s my fault, though, so I’m only in danger of being mocked for it

anyways we’re hanging out with my sister

doing crime

well, Gregg is doing crime. Taxes and Yule are paladins so they’re just protecting their good friend Gregg from people who might try to do her harm. it’s an airtight excuse, thank you

we’re actually on the continent because we’re traveling to visit Yule’s wife and son

so my sister and her gang (and us) have recently stolen a bunch of supplies from a guy named Scipio who is, we’ve been told, a Huge Asshole

Olivine’s gang is going to pay some local sailors to run the supplies up to the northern part of the continent which is both where the rebels are based and where Yule’s family lives

so ofc we’re on one boat (chock full of magical items we have recently lit a perfectly nice wizard on fire to steal) and two of the girl gang members are on the other (full of, like, food I think) providing security and acting as Olivine’s representatives for the deal they’re trying to make with the rebel camp

things are going well

we’re just sailing, no big deal

except, you know, like the first rule of d&d is Never Get On A Boat

and we are definitely on a boat

undeniably on a boat

on a boat full of MANY stolen goods

so ofc a couple hours into our trip, a bigger, faster ship sails up behind us. a bigger, faster ship with very official looking flags

it’s a gang of pirate enforcers (from one of the big two gangs) and they are presumably here to rob the shit out of us

“oh shit” we say, and look over at the other boat where the only NPCs who can help us also appear to be mouthing oh shit

“well,” someone says (me), “I think we can talk our way out of this”

I like to think I’m optimistic (and sometimes I find combat boring)

I prefer to try to lie my ass off to get us out of bad situations

we let the pirates board

things to know:

previous to this adventure on this continent, Taxes had gained the ability to see the names of everyone she meets, Death Note style

also she has a new helmet

more on the helmet later

Yule, who had been wearing Custom Order Rose Gold Plate Armor with the symbol of Deimos (god of LAW and JUSTICE) inscribed in the front and a cake recipe on the back, had been persuaded to take it off and hide it below decks so she looks less like the paladin/cleric she is

Gregg and Taxes look sketchy as hell all the time so they’re not worried

“hey, uh, what’s the plan?” someone asks, moments before the pirates climb onto our ship

“we are also pirates now,” Taxes says

“what”

“we are specifically the same sort of pirates they are because they’re not going to rob one of their own boats,” Taxes says, because she has the actor feat and is willing to use it

“alright, sounds good,” Gregg says, because she loves deception and can just blast the shit out of anyone with her wizard powers if things go south

so we let the pirates board

guy #1 (the only important pirate in this story) is obviously in charge and probably wearing an outfit that makes him look like a douche

he’s a huge douche which we find out immediately and also again later

you’ll see

he starts in on us, threatening everyone, asking our business and clearly winding up to start demanding that we put our hands on our heads and show him where our gold is

“Harrison,” Taxes says

she can see that his name is Harrison with her magic eyes

“Harrison, please, you’ve got the wrong boat”

Harrison - and everyone with him - about swallows his tongue in surprise that she’s addressing him by name

later we find out from the DM that at work he goes by something incredibly silly like Inflammis or Incindior or Combustus or something

none of the other pirates know his name is really Harrison

“who the fuck are you” the pirates, rather reasonably, want to know

“representatives of Lady Blackwing herself,” Gregg says, because we have a hold full of treasure we’ve literally just stolen from this exact group of pirates the day before and nothing to lose

Gregg is basically impossible to kill and should not be allowed to make decisions for the party, but we never learned

we attempt to convince Harrison that we are, in fact, pirates and that we do, actually, work for his boss (Lady Blackwing)

our story is that we’re secret profiteers who are selling things on the black market to both armies in order to fill Lady Blackwing’s pockets with gold

I’m sure you remember there’s a civil war about to get started

“what the fuck is a secret profiteer?” Harrison wants to know

“well,” we say, “we’d tell you, but how do we know you’re high enough up in the organization to have clearance for that information?” heavily implying that he’s a chump for not recognizing us

oooo, burn

Harrison is, of course, not fooled by this

so we send Yule down to the hold to get something to prove that we have our own cargo (that we definitely didn’t steal from them)

Yule comes back, arms full of Custom Order Rose Gold Plate Armor with the symbol of Deimos (god of LAW and JUSTICE) inscribed in the front and a cake recipe on the back, and we roll JUST barely high enough to convince him that we have our own goods and we might, in fact, be pirates who are on his team and he probably should try not to rob us

so Harrison, a little dazed and definitely pissed off (we were not very polite to him), goes back to his ship

the pirates who have boarded the other vessel also go back to their ship

we start trying to sail the hell out of there as fast as possible

the other boat we’re traveling with sails up next to us and our NPC friends wave us over

“what the FUCK did you tell them?” hot girl gang member who can, like, literally smite things (she was clearly the muscle of the group) asks us

“we convinced them we were also pirates,” we say

“oh shit” she says

their boat has convinced the pirates that they’re just merchants

turns out the pirates really are looking for the people who robbed them yesterday

for revenge

that’s us. they want revenge on us.

we decide to sail faster

it’s too late, though, because the pirate ship is sailing after us again and we already know they’re capable of catching us

“should we fire the canons?” someone asks, unsure if our boats even HAVE canons

“you should roll initiative,” the DM says, not at all like it’s a suggestion

we’re in combat

on Harrison’s first turn, he hits us with a level 7 fireball

turns out he’s a wizard and he’s very mad at us

Infernus, his work name was probably Infernus

we’re understandably furious about being on fire

there is some shouting that he probably cannot hear

now we get turns

two of us are paladins who don’t really have ranged attacks, and the other one of us is Gregg

the NPCs can do some cool shit but this has dragged on long enough so I will not mention them

“hm,” Gregg says, and tries to light them on fire back (it doesn’t work)

“oh dear,” Yule says, and attempts to fire a canon at them (turns out we do have them)

“I’d like to use my magic hat,” Taxes says, because she REALLY doesn’t want anymore 7th level spells being thrown around and now seems like a good a time as any to figure out what the hat does

“oh my god,” says the DM

“oh my god, really?” he looks delighted

this is the first inkling we get that Taxes’ magic hat is maybe more powerful than any item we ever should have been given

ABOUT THE HAT

previous to this adventure (after Dinosaur Hell Island), Gregg went house shopping and we ended up stealing a fortress carved into a meteor (located in a plane I think our DM might have made up that was basically space) from a Beholder

after clearing the Beholder and most of its minions out from our future home, we went through it and found a whole bunch of loot. most notably a rock with a weird marking on it, a shield, and a helmet

the rock went to Gregg who owned the house and when she picked it up the markings moved to her arm and gave her sort of a sick sleeve tattoo that I think boosted all her necrotic spells or something

goth as FUCK

Xenon, the fighter and our very good friend, got the shield and I honestly don’t think we ever figured out what it did

Taxes got the Helmet of War

she’s a paladin of the god of war (and justice and fire), so why not

it’s just a normal-looking helmet and it gave +1 to armor class and our DM had me roll a d4 to see how many charges it had

the helmet had 4 charges, and we did an arcana check but all we learned was that it would summon “an avatar of war”

cool, I thought, like a spirit or something that can fight with me in battle

well

we didn’t bother to investigate any further

“I’d like to use my magic hat,” Taxes says, thinking that an avatar of war might be able to fly and go attack Harrison from a distance

“oh my god,” says the DM, and from the light in his eyes you’d think one of us had just gotten down on one knee for him

“are you sure,” he asks in the DM Voice, and Taxes just shrugs because even if it doesn’t work, at least they’ll know what the hat does, right?

“yeah,” Taxes says, “I activate my magic hat”

“oh my god,” the DM says, and starts furiously writing something down

we wait with interest because we’re starting to get the feeling that the hat does something cool

who’d have thought

“okay,” he says, after a minute

“Taxes starts to glow and she steps off the ship,” he says

“what,” I say, because I’m wearing plate armor and don’t trust myself to roll high enough not to drown because of it

“a giant, 50 foot tall, glowing Taxes forms around her”

“what,” I say

“you’re standing on top of the water, piloting this giant spectral form from the inside”

“what,” I say

“your strength and dex are both 30 and you have 100 additional health,” he says. “it’ll last for 10 minutes or until the 100 health are depleted”

“what,” we all say

“what would you like to do, avatar of war?” he asks

oh, I’M the avatar of war

THAT’S what the hat does

Taxes raises her arm and points at the pirate ship

HARRISON, she yells, in a voice that’s 50 feet tall and also glowing

the intimidation roll is a nat 20

Gregg does a perception check and the DM assures us that Harrison has peed himself

we all feel very smug

“I want that ship,” I say to the DM

“you- what?” he asks

“I want to have that ship. I’m going to pick up it up,” I say

“oh my god,” he says

“roll strength for it,” he says

Taxes rolls a nat 20 to pick up the ship

the second nat 20 in a row

all four of us are literally shaking with excitement

she scoops up the ship with one huge, glowing hand, and heaves it up to eye level

down on our boat, Gregg and Yule are going absolutely ape

Gregg is screaming encouragement, Yule is on the verge of ecstatic tears

this is also exactly how we feel in real life

“what do you want to do with the boat?” the DM says

“uhh,” I say, because I hadn’t thought that far ahead

we all contemplate the situation

“you could dropkick it,” someone says

“oh my god,” I say

we look at the DM

“roll something,” he says, because no one wants to see what’s about to happen more than he does

natural 20

the third one

in a row

this will probably never happen to me again, ever, in my life

all four of us are shouting at once, we’re on the verge of hysteria

I’m in tears

it’s nearly 1 am and we’re acting like we’ve won the superbowl

this is the best possible outcome the magic hat could have had

“how do you want to do this?” the DM asks, which is his special ‘I’m going to give you gays everything you want’ phrase that usually means we get to decide the finishing blow for an enemy

“actually,” I say, “can I jump serve it?”

“oh my god,” someone says

that’s right. beach volleyball, motherfuckers

“yes,” he says

50 foot Taxes tosses the boat into the air

takes a beautiful run-up

and spikes a boat full of pirates so hard that it soars over the coastline and crashes well inland

“wow,” the DM says. “I’m gonna need some time to figure out how much experience this get you”

later, once he’s got it figured out, it will be enough to give Taxes two levels instantaneously as well as giving Gregg and Yule one each

Taxes goes back to the boats she’s been traveling with

EVERYONE on board is losing their goddamn minds

Yule and Taxes decide to ride the high and take a moment to make an extra big prayer to their god to thank him for the magic hat because it’s so incredibly baller

the roll is not a nat 20, but a holy fire descends upon Mega Taxes and the symbol of Deimos appears over her huge, spectral breastplate

Attack of the Fifty Foot Taxes decides to just pick up the ships she’s traveling with and carry them as far as her remaining 9 minutes of avatar time will get her

“what day is it,” I ask the DM as we’re doing this, because we’re tracking exactly what day it is in-game and it’s fun to know

“june 21st,” he says, after flipping through his notes

“huh,” someone says, “that’s the summer solstice”

“oh my god,” he says

you’ll never guess which patron deity’s major holiday is celebrated on the summer solstice

that’s a lie, you get one guess

it’s Deimos, god of fire and justice and war and being AWESOME as HELL

a giant, glowing figure of a dwarf in battered armor with the symbol of Deimos blazing on their chest was seen walking across the ocean just offshore of a major continent that is currently on the cusp of all-out civil war on the morning of Demios’ holy day

it’s just Taxes, who really only does these things on accident or on impulse in the heat of the moment

but the people of the continent don’t know that

soon, after reaching our destination and starting off on foot towards the village where Yule’s wife lives, we start hearing rumors about the return of Deimos, the Real Ass God

this is what makes the third war my fault

the rumors are never disproven and people continue to believe that Deimos Really Did That until the day we called it quits

“oh my god,” Taxes, a very grudging paladin, says in horror, adjusting her bandana more firmly over her face

“oh my god,” says Gregg, who knows exactly how she’s going to be introducing her friend to the next person they meet

#this is the world's longest post #I'm so sorry #posts #also kinda #my writing #and I'd better tag this for #Taxes

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reactingtosomething · 7 years

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An Exploration into Black Female Culture, Part 1: “The Girl With All the Gifts”

by Marchae Miller

The Setup: I realized that there is not enough exploration into films that celebrate black females in all their glory. But let’s be serious, there aren’t enough films that explore black females as a complex and diverse group period. I wanted to gift the internet with yet another list of must-watch films. To be clear, the films that made my list aren’t necessarily the greatest films of all times. The films I’ve chosen span time, have varying degrees of acclaim, and their subject matter ranges from the concept of black love to a blurring of the color lines, to the importance of female friendships. Some are comedies, some drama, while others are dramedies. However, what they all have in common is that the protagonist is a black female and the story is told through her lens and, most importantly, she is neither a caricature of black female culture, nor a tired stereotypes. This is not a review of films and you shouldn’t expect a retelling of the films I choose. Instead, I unapologetically explore themes as they relate to black culture and the African American female with the aim of imparting self-love and reflection.

Disclosure: The Girl with all the Gifts is a film adaptation of a book by the same name written by M.R. Carey and, while I do love a good adaptation, this is one book I have not read. I have heard rumors that there were some drastic changes to the screen adaptation. These creative liberties have been rumored to give the film a richer, more impactful meaning. The most notable change is that the film’s protagonist Melanie, unlike her character in the book, is portrayed by a black actress. Moreover, Ms. Justineau in the primary source is black while her character in the film is a white woman. As a result of this racebending, the film’s depicted dynamic between these two characters diverges dramatically from that in the text.

At first blush, The Girl with all the Gifts is a horror film that is set sometime in the future just after a fungus has turned nearly everyone into Hungries (flesh-eating zombies). However, in this world Melanie (Sennia Nanua), a painfully smart, utterly adorable little girl, is stuck somewhere between a Hungry and a human. Having been one of several second-generation Hungries, Melanie and a few others like her ate their way out of their mother’s wombs. Instead of being vicious flesh-eating zombies incapable of doing much more than sniff out people and eat them, Melanie and her cohort are sophisticated, smart and adept at mimicking human behavior. Melanie is incredibly clever and as a result, Dr. Caroline Caldwell (Glenn Close) sees something special in Melanie and it’s not just the girl’s wit. It’s the fact that Melanie is immune to the fungus that eats the brain and renders them zombies. Melanie holds in her brain and spine the key to stopping the spread of the disease and finally save humanity. Ultimately, the film is sobering and depicts the pain of loneliness, loss, isolation, fetishization, and more importantly, the power of realizing your strength and ability to triumph despite oppression.

I know you’re probably wondering why a film that debuted in America in January 2017 is number one on my list. First, and most importantly, because it turns some of the stereotypes we’re used to seeing about black girls and women on its head in the guise of a horror film. In this film an adolescent girl is not only portrayed as strong and smart, she also gains tremendous agency over her own life as the film progresses. She desires to be bigger and better than anyone ever imagined and does so graciously. Furthermore, I couldn’t seem to shake this film. I like horror movies. I own many and not only American or mainstream ones either. But there was something about what was underneath the “horror” of this particular film. The things that should have been horrifying to me weren’t (zombies eating faces). The ideas of assimilation, wanting to take someone’s mind and strength for the benefit of others, and the notion of someone being forced to die for the benefit of oppressors while being fetishized are all reasons why the film stuck with me. I turned these ideas over and over in my head. I replayed the movie in my mind but waited to watch it for a second time, mostly because I hurt for Melanie and cringed at Ms. Justineau (Gemma Arterton), Melanie’s beloved teacher, who like so many people in positions of power, wait until it’s too late to act. The film is unshakable and resonates with our cultural landscape.

SHE HAS EXQUISITE MIMICRY OF LEARNED BEHAVIOR

Good, but not good enough. Pretty, but not pretty enough, black but not black enough, too black, too white, your hair is too straight, your hair is too kinky, your skin is too dark, your skin is too light, you think you’re better, you think you’re white. These are all things that black girls hear repeatedly in their daily lives. Constantly thought of as less than important, less than perfect the way they were born. It becomes evident from the moment you leave the comforting cocoon of the familiar and enter preschool. Or perhaps earlier still, the moment you turn on the television and see that there are so few positive examples of people who look like you on the screen and it’s painful and damaging because, as we have come to know, affirmative images and representation open your mind to hope and possibility. Melanie, just like many real girls, was labeled as not enough. She wasn’t human enough. It didn’t matter that this little girl longed for things like kittens, or that she spoke politely and knew all the right answers. She wasn’t enough for her captors. More importantly, she wasn’t enough for Dr. Caldwell who was holding her captive and threatening to take her brain and her spine to save everyone but her. Melanie was vilified (no lie though she was kind of scary) and because she chose to buck the system and challenge the authority of her captors she was tied up and left alone in her room. This likely sounds familiar and I could surely cite any number of current news stories or images of POC where, because they are exercising their voices and challenging the system, they are imprisoned in some way either in this life or in death. Yet still, she rises. Melanie doesn’t let her oppressors steal her happiness, nor does she let them take from her who she is inherently a good person with a lot to offer.

When we tell people to sit down and be humble (to tap into a pop cultural reference), we are essentially telling them to be glad they have what they’ve been given no matter how little it is. This is constantly reiterated through the first act of the film until the tables turn and Melanie’s captors need her to survive. The idea of this assimilation, if you will (and you will), is blatantly stated by Dr. Caldwell who comments on Melanie’s ability to mimic behavior and essential do as she’s told. But let’s define Assimilation. Assimilation is the process of becoming similar to something. Among the others like Melanie, she was the only black female and only one of two blacks in her class. She was the brightest, the most human-like, and this is what makes her desirable. She was becoming more like everyone else around her. To take this to a more realistic concept and to reiterate my first point, black girls are often forced to become so much like someone else around them that it is often forgotten that they are uniquely themselves (I’m looking at you Dove). It is never appropriate for someone to feel as if they are required to sacrifice themselves for the pleasure or betterment of someone else. Melanie was enough for herself and too much for everyone around her.

I’M PRODUCING A TEST BATCH AND SHE’S THE MAIN INGREDIENT

For Dr. Caldwell, Melanie was the main ingredient to ensuring that the world would not perish at the hands of a fungus that would ravage the brain cells of anyone nearby. What is disturbing about this is that Dr. Park knew that Melanie was superb in her intellect and wit, she knew Melanie was stronger and she knew that Melanie was everything she could not be. Essentially, Melanie was black girl magic in one neat little package that she’d helped to develop. For me, this was a brilliant parallel to the idea of cultural appropriation and the fetishism that we see so often in the media. In my biased opinion, black culture is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever been part of. From the variety of dialect, the styling of our clothes, the artistry in every single strand of hair we possess, to the polish we put on our toes. Our beauty is seen from head to literal toe. And do NOT get me started on the brain trust and contributions we have made to our modern culture (that flat iron you use would not be possible without the likes of Madam CJ Walker. The stop light. Peanut butter. Penicillin. 3D television technology. Polio vaccine and countless other vaccines at the hands of so many faceless, nameless test subjects, blood banks). I am proud of this. And at a glance, people would assume that I don’t want all of these inventions to be replicated. Sure I do, none of us would be here without them. However, when no one wants to support or give credit to the individuals who are the creators of the brilliance, or our lives are indeed negated, we do become the test batch for culture. Like Melanie, we become the main ingredient in a meal devoured like a holiday feast without a single thanks to the chef. Like Melanie, who thought she couldn’t persist without Ms. Justineau, we question if we are good enough and see our intrinsic brilliance as emanating from those around us. She needed validation…until she didn’t.

I NEED HER BRAIN AND HER SPINE

Dr. Park tells Ms. Justineau that she needs Melanie’s brain and her spine. Let me translate for you. I need your power and your strength. Uh, nah brah. We all know that one cannot stand tall without a spine and that one cannot live without a brain, as did Dr. Caldwell. She knew that for her legacy to survive she had to take from someone else their power (I mean does this sound familiar…no seriously… this sounds a lot like slav…nevermind). This becomes an incredibly important statement in the film and not only because it provides insight into Caldwell (we learn that she is willing to kill anyone and at any cost to further her agenda) but also because Caldwell believed that Melanie’s brain and her spine are the very things that save humanity in the end. For a real-world perspective, the brain and spine of many-a-woman is the thing that’s saved many people’s lives in the end. We all know that if you educate someone about who they are and where they come from they will indeed rise above their oppressor. No, thank you, ma’am, you may not have my brain, my spine, my grit, or my resilience, Dr. Caldwell.

WHY SHOULD IT BE US WHO DIES FOR YOU?

This is one of the last lines delivered in the film and easily the most prolific. Here we have one of four African American characters in a film to survive to the end (the other three were killed off of course…it’s a horror movie).She’s likely the youngest and the only female left by the end. She is being used as an experiment and is seen as nothing more than something to be used as parts for the benefit of her captors who want to save their world order. She has essentially been commodified and now identified as a thing. If we were to examine this statement alone from a historical perspective there is much to unpack, but I won’t dig into it because this is a blog and not a historical analysis or a thesis. But, if we take a look at how African American women have been treated through history we would see that there is much to be said for this statement. We can even consider Henrietta Lacks (if you don’t know who she is, shame on you!!!) or even the African American women held captive and experimented upon by gynecologist J. Marion Sims to develop new techniques to be used to prevent fistulas. He performed his experiments on these women without anesthesia (because blacks did not feel pain) or consent from the women. We could also examine those individuals who were experimented upon in the development of a cure for syphilis and who took those diseases home to their wives and girlfriends. In each of the instances mentioned, individuals were dying for the benefit of those who held them captive in some way be it economically, through racial oppression or otherwise. This entire film could also be a commentary on biomedical ethics, but I won’t go there either. In this film Melanie takes a stand against her oppressors. She takes matters into her own hands and puts an end to those who have kept her and those like her under their thumb for the betterment of their own group with little attention paid to the very individuals they are sacrificing to “make the world better”. Neither the experiments conducted on her nor the education that Melanie received was ever about her. Rather, it was always about dying for someone else, giving someone else a fighting chance. Melanie wanted a fighting chance to see a better tomorrow for herself and those like her and in the end, the captor became the captured because she asks the question: “Why should it be us who dies for you?” When indeed no one should be dying for anyone we should all be lifting one another up.

So let’s revisit why this is the first film I chose to discuss. Melanie is a badass. While I’ve selected a variety of films, I want you to look at all through the lens of Melanie. As African American women, we deserve to have our voices heard, we are brilliant and shining and have much to offer. We deserve to have our culture celebrated rather than commodified. We must also see this character as ourselves, we can all be Melanie. I hope to explore those dynamics along with romance and friendship as I persist through the next 10 or 14 films (there are way too many to choose from). I will not be visiting any films that perpetuate stereotypes of the “angry black woman”, of the “black woman with so many kids” or of the “black woman who is such an emotional wreck, but gee isn’t she sassy and have her work life together”. There will be none of that here. I will challenge you to look at films featuring women and girls of color much more critically and celebrate not just movie magic but badass black girl and woman magic.

#the girl with all the gifts #colm mccarthy #m. r. carey #black girl magic #marchae #essay #reaction #glenn close #sennia nanau #gemma arterton #zombies #bad ass black girl #horror #drama #movies

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christinegphillips · 4 years

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Believe In Yourself And Find Your Purpose In Life

You have to “believe in yourself” if you want to learn to be more successful life. Life is about a number of steps to changing your mindset and your approach to how you deal with things. Living for yourself is paramount in the first instance and you must realize that when you look after yourself everything else around you will just unfold.

It is easy to say in this post about what it takes to believe in yourself but you have to take the first step in wanting to learn how to be happier in life and achieve all your dreams. I have been through some crap in my life but one of the major lessons learned I have taken away, is that you really do have to believe in yourself otherwise you will just fail at things. Failure is acceptable and appropriate in life and learning how to deal with this emotion will stand you in great stead in life.

Believe in yourself – Photo by Prateek Katyal from Pexels

I have hit it big loads of times in life personally and professionally and lost it all again several times, so I have walked the talk and the tips below will really help you gain a better understanding on why finding your meaning in life and living a purpose driven life should be priorities that you need to achieve. It doesn’t matter what job you have or how your life is today, the importance is to feel valued in life no matter what you do.

My Tops On How To Believe In Yourself

Confidence is grown – Unless you have a natural talent for something and you can just have a go and be great at it straight out of the gate. Then it is likely that you will have to do things over and over to get to a position where you are good at something. When you are good at something in life then your confidence tends to grow too. That is why grandmas roast dinners are the best in the World because they have made them so much and mastered them. So build your confidence by doing things that you are good at.

You need to be valued in life – Everyday you need to feel valued for what you do if you want to really believe in yourself. This starts with you also giving it to others too as the law of reciprocation will come into play and you will get what you give back to you. What I mean by this is that if you have cleaned the house or done something for someone or the family, make sure they thank you for it and realize just how much work has gone into doing this. If you don’t feel like you are adding value to your day it will be without purpose and you will feel unfulfilled.

Look after yourself first and foremost – Your own emotions are the one’s that only can control. You cannot control other people’s emotions, so if you are generous and kind to others always and polite and have great manners, then if other people are rude you can just brush things off. Because you know you have not done anything wrong in the first place.

Lower your expectation of others . When you do something great as above you want to be rewarded for your actions. But it might be that you go and show someone the great thing that you have done only to be presented with a – yeah it’s okay, it’s oriet, you could do better, what do you want me to be grateful. So never take what other people say to as gospel or let it put you off doing something. If you feel that you have put everything into something then give yourself a pat on the back and reward yourself for your activities.

Live in the dream – This is your life and you are should live a happy and fulfilled life no matter what anyone says to you. So dream big in your head of what you want, dream of what a great future would look like, dream of what you want and don’t let anyone stop you from getting where you want to be.

Take action on those dreams – Believing in yourself means doing something. We can all sit at home sometimes wishing the world away and thinking it should be a better place. But the only person that can change in anything in your life is you. So take action on what you want, if you want something go out there and get it, if you need to change something do it and do it now.

Stop making excuses – If you make excuses for everything you want to do and put barriers in the way you will never get to where you want to be. Everyone is capable of doing this and just monitor in your own mind how often you do it. I bet you will say “i’ll do it when” – “I can’t do that until this happens”-“yeah I’ll do it later and later never comes”.

Do it now – I learnt this at any early age in my teenage years when I was wondering what does life mean for me? I came across Brian Tracy who became my mentor in life for a while and then I navigated onto the law of attraction too. But basically if you take a viewpoint if life of not putting things off you will achieve three things – 1 – You will stop the anxiety in your life that exists when you put stuff off 2 – You will feel a sense of achievement for getting it out of the way – 3 – Your belief in yourself will build confidence and consequently stand you in better stead in life.

Work hard – We don’t get anything in this for free as they say apart from information. We are surrounded by an abundance of information in this day and age and you can find out about anything you want to in minutes. Which means if you don’t know about something find out. There are 12 year olds making 22 millionaire pounds a year reviewing products, so being successful does not come with age it is down to the following the things

Find something you enjoy doing

Keep doing it, build your confidence and believe that you can do it

Have a plan of what you want in life and follow it

Work hard for yourself or others

Have great manners and give love and kindness to others

Reap the rewards

Rinse and repeat

Don’t live of other people’s emotions – If you are not getting what you need from your employer, partner, family etc. Then do not take what they do to heart. We can make generalizations on people sometimes that stops us from giving them a chance in the future. They could have just been having a really bad day, week, month or something when you approached them about something. So do not judge a situation immediately give it time.

Give your mind clarity – Move your mind from being in a reactive state to a positive state. Don’t react to any question, situation without giving it some thought first. We can and all do make mistakes when you react too quickly to a situation we might not have been bothered about if we were in a better frame of mind. The solution to most problems will walk through the door if you give them a little time and don’t stress or react in the first instance. This will lead to you believing in yourself and your decisions more regularly.

Realize timing is everything – There is a time and a place for some discussion and learning how to deal with others in this manner really is important. What might be important to you to get something of your chest might be the worse possible thing for the person receiving the information. So when you need to talk about important topics, take time out and the right time for everyone to have the time to listen in the first place and make right decisions with clarity.

Life should be fun enjoy it – Darn it I have been in some dark places in my life and lost my belief system and who I am plenty of times. The important thing to remember though is that when you have a plan in life, goals to achieve and somewhere you want to get too. You don’t get drawn into all the depressing thoughts and what if’s in life. You just get on with your purpose in life and always drive towards your goals, improving as you go until you get there. Then when you get there you have the realization that this has all worked and that believing in yourself was the right thing to do.

Record your results – If we have a plan we are following, then we record the results of our actions what do you think the outcome would be of that? Yep you have a roadmap to follow and a way of seeing whether you have achieved it or not. That is why most people are unsuccessful in life, they just throw themselves at the gym with no idea of what they are doing, it’s hard work, they see no results, so they pack it in and say blimey that wasn’t worth it. However if you went to a weight loss coach and he gave you a plan of workouts, you stuck with it, he recorded your results, you would get there and twice as quickly. Life is all about following a path in life and recording your actions.

Stay consistent – Consistency is really key in everything that we do. You have to build consistency to also realize the benefits of believing in yourself too. Yes there will road blocks, you will make mistakes but you will get there. Keep up your motivation with your goal clearly manifesting in your mind until you get it.

Never give up – This is always the easy option and to come down the mountain is even harder. But if you come down before you get to the top you aren’t going to feel great are you. If you come down after a hard slog with your muscles aching, you will think blimey I did it, look at what I achieved. Then you wail want to do it again,

Some frequently asked questions about believing in yourself

How do you make yourself believe in yourself? – You have to believe that what you are doing in life is valuable, measurable, rewarding and stay consistent on your path. It is a mindset that once you know you are putting your all into everything that you will reap the rewards. Life is what you make of it and if you don’t put in the effort don’t expect to get anything back. Belief is built on confidence you just have to not let the negative people and critics put you down or put you off. Their value in your life means nothing and neither should their opinion of something either. Work with people who value what you do and will critique you in a positive and correct way. If someone continually critiques you badly that there is there problem and they are probably a perfectionist. Sometimes in life perfection comes later, getting started on your path comes first and foremost.

Why is believing in yourself important? – When you believe in yourself you become capable of achieving anything in your life. The subconscious mind is very powerful and when you tell yourself something over and over in your mind, whether that is good or bad, your mind will believe it. Why shouldn’t it because that is what you are telling it. So if you tell yourself over and over, you are not worthy, you are anxious, you can’t do it, then your mind will believe this. If you tell yourself, I am going to be the best, I can do this, it’s going to be great, I maybe anxious but that is not going to stop me. Then your mind will believe that instead

What happens when you believe in yourself? – Magical things happen. Have you ever seen someone walk into a room and light the whole room up. Have you ever seen someone and thought darn it they are amazing? Of course you have and there are people out there that will think the same of you, when you find a passion in life, stop the negative silly thoughts and just get out there and work hard and play hard. You have to believe until you get to a point where others start to believe in you too and not the other way round.

So there are my thoughts on believing in yourself in life. Sometimes we don’t help ourselves because we do a half arsed attempt at something and expect to get rewarded for it. That is why kids hat exams, because when you put in the work you get great grades and you are rewarded for it, only revise one hour a day, get crap grades and still expect to be rewarded for it. This is not believing in yourself, this is trying to get by with minimal effort.

When you stay consistent with a goal in life and see that putting in the work will pay off your believe system will grow through the roof and you will get the rewards you deserve. But you have to think of what you want, see it, smell it and then get out there and get it.

If you would like help to look at your life differently then do check out my transformation program at https://changeyourlifeforever.co.uk where I put together a video series when everything fell apart in my life. Two years later following everything I show in these videos, I have everything I want in life and am truly blessed to have found happiness and you can too.

So in the meantime I wish you all the very best in the future and good luck Scott

Believe In Yourself And Find Your Purpose In Life published first on https://changeurlifeforever.blogspot.com/

#personal development #positivity #self help #confidence #law of attraction

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sumukhcomedy · 7 years

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Facebook: The Millennial Mental Illness

In the fall of 2004, I was a junior at Miami University. By this point, other students had already begun talking about The Facebook. It was a website that had reached our campus, and relying on .edu email domains, became a way to connect with other students at your college and at other colleges. I knew it was created at Harvard. I knew its creator was some guy whose silhouette was the logo for the website. I knew that I had no interest in joining it.

By my final semester at Miami (spring 2006), Facebook had simply become a norm. Every party that I attended was documented on Facebook. Any photo people took that I was in they would tell me “it’s on Facebook.” So I caved mostly just to see hilarious photos. In a certain way, it seemed relatively pointless to join a website aimed at college students just as I was leaving college but I did it anyway.

As I graduated, Facebook proved a nice way to keep in touch with those individuals I met in college especially since I had now moved to Columbus and didn’t particularly know anyone. At the time, Facebook was the perfect level of innocence and immaturity. Everyone could be themselves without any consideration of the impact of having such social interaction on the Internet nor with any anticipation of what Facebook would become.

That same year, I began to do stand-up comedy. At the time, mySpace was the website to be on if you were a performer of any kind. There were plenty of comedians I knew that hadn’t even joined Facebook yet likely because it still was being targeted to college students and they saw no value in the site for their comedy career and promotion. At the time, Facebook always seemed like it would be something specific to being in college. It never seemed like something beyond that. It just seemed like Mark Zuckerberg wanted to create a website, not that he wanted to ascend to being one of the most powerful businessmen in the world.

The shift came when Facebook opened itself up to everyone. I recall thinking that was stupid. Here was this kind of exclusive website to college students and now our parents or other members of our family were joining. This always seemed like a website for our generation and now every generation was getting involved. It also pretty much opened itself up to every jackass with an email address which, as we’d find out, would lead to plenty of faces, fake accounts, and the rise of terms like “trolling” and “catfishing.”

Here’s one of my early Facebook profile photos and now my reaction to almost everything happening on Facebook.

Due to the now mass of people joining Facebook and mySpace’s inability to advance themselves to the quality of Facebook or handle major issues with spam, it started to turn where, as a comedian or anyone with any need for marketing a business, it was essential to be on Facebook. However, unlike mySpace, Facebook was never created to care about artists or small businesses. It’s why it has now smartly suffocated its reach for Pages and pushed boosting posts and sponsorship to gain attention. The revenue helps Facebook and puts the small business in need of raising awareness on social media into a corner: have your page remain relatively unknown or pay up and reap some benefits for everyone’s eyeballs being on Facebook.

This proliferation of information and emotions has totally changed how our minds interact with each other. Everything that we want or could be interested in is now focused into one central area called a “News Feed.” It’s led a majority of people to read and react more than to think and investigate. We’ve been granted a News Feed that is neither particularly news nor particularly healthy to be consuming. “Feed” seems an appropriate description. We seem no better than farm animals feeding, consuming, and accepting what is blasted into our eyes as we scroll through a website. It feels no different than eating McDonald’s all day long and thinking that is a healthy approach for our bodies.

In comedy, I became aware of Facebook’s uselessness fairly early on. I only looked at the website as a place for fun and as I began to see how people were getting emotionally affected in a variety of ways I preferred to satirize it. I “turned heel” in early 2012 and began to post as a pro wrestling heel character mocking the nature of people’s Facebook posts. It was enjoyable at the time and served whatever purpose it may have served both for me and for those who were my friends and found it entertaining. But, as I revealed before, it actually proved to be a more problematic revelation of what was to come for how we interact with social media. I’m not patting myself on the back saying “I told you so” about Facebook by being a Heel. I actually had anticipated and hoped that we would be better and that Facebook wouldn’t be as relevant at this point and that society would have moved on to the next advancement in Internet communication.

Instead, the advancements came within Facebook and they in fact advanced us in going backwards. Facebook now became the focal point as to how adults gained information whether it be news or events or the dumb jokes myself or other comedians may post. These posts now all still follow an algorithm—an algorithm that of course will succeed based off the most interaction to a post and the most interaction to a post no doubt comes from the most controversial or most emotional or most paid for posts.

Facebook has brought out how much we can be assholes. That’s certainly been the case within the comedy community but probably the case with every community that exists on the site. Arguments exist regularly and unlike Twitter where it at least involves opening up a tweet to see random commentary, the comments of other individuals are right there for everyone else to see. It opens the possibility of more arguing.

Public posting is even more irritating for general users. For general users who do click on the trending topics and most popular news stories, beyond the links to certain website articles, the News Feed on Facebook delivers public posts by the most divisive and random Facebook accounts. The most interacted comments even on the most popular articles clearly seem like stock commentary by fake accounts. Facebook has done nothing with their algorithm to address this issue and it only divides our perspectives on the news as badly as 24-hour cable television does.

Public posting by comedians is similarly ineffective. I don’t personally do it but I have friends who do and it only seems to open the door to the most random people choosing to comment on jokes or on opinions. Then, all of a sudden, the comedian gets into an argument with this random person/possible fake account. I’m not sure how this helps to advance the comedian’s career but it points to a serious problem both in how the comedian interacts with social media and with what social media is really doing for comedy. Very few comedians have become famous thanks to Facebook and, if they have, it's usually because they created videos that went viral. People may have had jokes or points shared a lot but it didn’t necessarily prompt a bunch of people to be interested in their comedy or go see live shows. Facebook has never proven to be as effective as Twitter was in that and, as I mentioned, that is because Facebook never pushed itself as being beneficial to artists.

Now over 10 years later, it’s unbelievable to me that some random thing I joined in college for fun is now the source of how people get their information, voice their opinions, and have clearly affected their personalities and emotions so much so that an attorney for this website had to speak in front of the Senate Judiciary Committee on how our Presidential election could have been interfered via this website.

Part of this amazing but absurd experience that has been Facebook is that Mark Zuckerberg is my age. It’s hilarious and strange to follow along on the same path as the man who was responsible for this site. My generation and I progressed with Facebook’s birth to the point that we are at now. I watched myself be in photos drunk at the age of 21 to now watch those same friends I was drunk with have children and be arguing over something political on this same website.

Nothing may have represented the absurdity of Facebook quite like the aftermath of the white supremacist stupidity in Charlottesville. My best friend, who rarely even posts on Facebook, all of a sudden was in an argument with one of my former roommates about this incident in the comments field of a post. What is happening here? Why are two people who ten years ago probably just had a drink together pleasantly are now interacting in this way? And why am I sitting here being the glue between them just observing and reading it? It’s fascinating in one sense but ultimately weird in another.

Over the past couple months, some of the individuals who once were at the forefront of Facebook but have since left the company have made comments about the effect the website has had on society and psychology. Personally, I don't find it far off. I've felt Facebook affect me over the years (again, I turned heel on it) but I've seen it far worse in some of my friends, particularly ones in comedy, who are otherwise kind people in person but who seem to take on completely different personas in social media. That's fine if that is what they want but my bigger concern is if the already present misery that comes with comedy isn't pouring itself out to an even greater and more troubling extent via Facebook.

While I was in college, Facebook seemed so innocent. It was just a fun place to party and say stupid stuff with your college friends. But, as it progressed and opened itself up to more people, it also wanted us to share more. And what we've discovered over 10 years is that what we want to share has been insane.

#facebook #comedy #stand up comedy #psychology #social media #charlottesville #mark zuckerberg #miami university

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garudabluffs · 8 years

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The Mark Zuckerberg Manifesto Is a Blueprint for Destroying Journalism Lip service to the crucial function of the 4th Estate is not enough to sustain it. READ MORE https://www.theatlantic.com/technology/archive/2017/02/the-mark-zuckerberg-manifesto-is-a-blueprint-for-destroying-journalism/517113/?utm_source=pocket&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=pockethits

Feb 17, 2017 460 comments

“ newsblok.net is a great place to look for news from a variety of sources. “

longform.org

“ America already gives unearned income (from capital) a huge advantage over earned income (from labor). Capital gains are taxed at a lower rate than ordinary income, yet the richest 1 percent of Americans take in 75 percent of all capital gains. Only the wealthiest 0.04 percent of families owe any estate tax upon death. And Social Security taxes aren't levied on income from capital – interest and dividends.Yet Trump and the Republicans are aiming to go even further. They want to eliminate the estate tax, eliminate all taxes on capital gains, and eliminate all taxes on interest and dividends. It will be the biggest tax giveaway to the rich in history.Leaving Social Security and Medicare sitting ducks for benefit cuts.Trump isn’t helping American workers. He’s shafting them, bigly.”

“ One obvious step would be for Facebook, who rakes in advertising dollars, to pay their content providers, also known as journalists. A system could be devised, for instance, based on the number of shares an article receives (consumers replace the editors, but at least the journalists get paid). But, of course, Facebook has no incentive to pay for something they can get for free any more than the consumer wants to pay for what they now get for free. As previously noted, it is yet another failure of the capitalist system.”

“I'm sorry, but I don't need a bunch of amateur pretend journalists being paid on the basis of their 'shares.' I know it's become unfashionable to defend Journalism- but it is an art and a skill that involves research, field work, writing, fact-checking and editorial oversight. All media have bias because all humans have bias. The best Journalism does its best to 'walk the line,' but will inevitably have failures. Journalists also develop sources and connections... that's why the citizens of this country learn as much as they do about what is happening at the local, state and national levels within their governments. Good Journalism is, ultimately, the only thing standing between any nation and dictatorship. Yes, it's an adjustment to have to pay for something that used to be 'free,' but there really are sources of legit Journalism that are free- and for good reason. Too many people are confusing news aggregators with Journalism. “

“ I disagree with your assertion that a subscription service is the only way of paying for it. For many years now, advertising has paid for much of the news you're exposed to. The problem isn't that that revenue stream has disappeared. The problem is that the revenue isn't flowing through aggregators like Facebook to those who produce the content.”

“CNN is mentioned as getting 3m viewers.BBC News gets 350m, making it bigger than all US news stations combined, but is not mentioned. News journalism is fine.http://www.bbc.co.uk/mediacent...“

“If you think that things are getting worse, this is why..."Everybody complains about politicians. Everybody says they suck. Well, where do people think these politicians come from? They don't fall out of the sky. They don't pass through a membrane from another reality. They come from American parents and American families, American homes, American schools, American churches, American businesses and American universities, and they are elected by American citizens. This is the best we can do folks. This is what we have to offer. It's what our system produces: Garbage in, garbage out. If you have selfish, ignorant citizens, you're going to get selfish, ignorant leaders. Term limits ain't going to do any good; you're just going to end up with a brand new bunch of selfish, ignorant Americans. So, maybe, maybe, maybe, it's not the politicians who suck. Maybe something else sucks around here... like, the public. Yeah, the public sucks. There's a nice campaign slogan for somebody: 'The Public Sucks. F*ck Hope.” -- George Carlin

““For keeping us safe, for informing us, for civic engagement, and for inclusion of all.”Righteo.. Well first up, Facebook does not, in my opinion, provide that now, it has never provided that mission statement and I could not be more doubtful about its ability to provide it in the future. Facebook doesn't keep us safe. Facebook provides a medium wherein random people from all over the world post hysterical rumours, opinions, outright lies and third hand information that gets eagerly forwarded on by other random people. Facebook does not inform us. Facebook provides a medium as to which is utilized by random people from all over the world who post rants, comments and panicked fears based on information they have seen, from an unreliable Mainstream Media and an unreliable Alternative Media and from clickbait sites, and other sites online that post more information that feeds whatever agenda they are promoting. Facebook does not provide civic engagement. For Pete's sake. If your idea of civic engagement is liking a picture of a baby posted by your friend you never see anymore, or commenting on a political rant posted by someone in your friends list who you would never spend 5 minutes of real time with etc etc - then sure, Facebook is all about 'providing' civic engagement. The reality is, all it does and all it has ever done, is provide a medium for people to flaunt their narcissism, shriek their fears and bit ch and gossip about other people. None of that is civic engagement in my opinion.

+ Facebook does not provide inclusion for all. When there are apparently 1.9 billion users on a planet with well over 7 billion inhabitants, Facebook users suddenly become an endangered species. And while its fine to count memberships - perhaps its smarter to count ACTIVE users, because from dummy accounts to fake accounts to dead accounts etc etc, the number of active users will be significantly lower than that, I would think.

Plus, this so-called inclusion in the context that this nutcase is actually referring to, only means people who follow the specific political and ideological agenda that one Mark Zuckerberg has. He has no intention of being inclusive to anyone outside of his set of opinions, as he has proven, such as with the Merkel conversation. So, inclusion is fine - as long as you agree and fall in line with the cult of Zuckerberg. No thanks, I will pass on that, myself.

The Media also, only has itself to blame. I have almost zero sympathy for journalism when journalism stopped even paying lip service to the notion of journalistic integrity and objectivity. Media, whether Mainstream or Alternative became nothing more than Opinion, quite a long time ago. If I want to read Opinion, there are a trillion places to go for it. I would pay top dollar - and I would be happy to break the 24 hour news cycle and wait for actual news - even if it meant waiting til the newspaper delivered in the morning, if I could trust that the news printed there, was accurate, honest, objective and without bias. And I think the Media would find that a lot of people would do the same. There's a niche to be filled.

The very idea of a President Zuckerberg scares me as badly as the thought of a President Trump to the most fervent Clinton supporter. This nutcase should not ever be anywhere near the POTUS seat, for all our sakes, irrespective of which side of the political coin you sit on.”

“Begin rant The reason journalism is dying and will die eventually is that the news business is fundamentally fragmented, with news organizations duplicating their workforce chasing the same customers, entrenched in a destructive competition against each other.The net result is a multitude of news *boutiques*, way too small to make investigative journalism economically viable, entangled in a 'lowest bidder rush', not holding accountable the political parties they support in the hope to benefit from their favors when their candidate come to power.In fine, international (and probably domestic) news articles are subcontracted to some remote agencies, with freelancers payed a dime, and a kick in the ass, who have little choice other than recycling the same music on a different tone just to pay their bills. On the left, everyone plays the same instrument. And it's boring, out of touch, predictable.It's a shame that liberal journalists got ran over by the Trump train, while every indicator would have told them something was going on, had they paid attention. But no, they were too busy holding hands, singing kumbaya for the candidate their party told them to.There's a lot to say about Breitbart news, but at least, they figured out the right approach: "F****k Zuck, I'm taking the contrarian route" .End rant.”

“ At the grassroots level, what Zuckerberg is talking about is already happening. The Marin Post, founded in June of 2015, is the first all citizen journalist news magazine in California. Build by two people and without a dollar of marketing funds, it has reached 29,000 readers in its short existence and has 84 active citizen journalists. However what has been learned is that without moderation (which is editing stories - is needed - after they are published rather than before), any online community quickly tends to devolve into eight graders yelling insults at each other.... this comment engine, DISQUS, is a case in point. In fact, one of the reasons the Marin Post was created was because neither Facebook nor Nextdoor or other forums led by the so-called wisdom of the crowds provided any place for someone wanting to contribute substantive work. And traditional newspapers, which in many ways deserve the fate they are experiencing, refused to print facts that were politically incorrect or inconvenient. Journalism and investigate reporting may be able to be done by citizen journalists, but it needs to be nurtured and encouraged, and I'm not sure unmoderated content can ever achieve that because the truth is not always the loudest voice in the room.”

“When the Internet was first commercialized, every ISP paid for a connection to "the backbone" which provided connectivity to other ISP's. However, content providers were eager to improve connectivity more rapidly than consumers, so they invested in new networks to bypass the backbones and deliver data directly to the consumer ISP's, in many cases paying the consumer ISP's to accept this additional data volume. This gave them an advantage over competing content providers routing traffic over the general purpose backbones. If we had "network neutrality" regulations in effect at that time, this would not have been allowed. Content provider ISP's would not have been able to increase the capacity of their connections to the backbone until consumer ISP's were willing to spend the money to increase the capacity of theirs, and the Internet would still be running at dial-up speeds.The network neutrality crowd seem to view "The Internet" as a place, like a library or like AOL. It is not. It is a transportation service that should work like any other transportation service. A shipper pays to have a parcel delivered, and then recovers that cost however they choose. Nothing should block a shipping company from offering higher quality service for a higher price. That is how service improves.The Net Neutrality concept says that only the residential consumer should be allowed to pay for the cost of the last mile network. It is amazing that the content industry has convinced consumers to support this idea. Or, really, I guess it is not amazing at all, since they are generating all the content that shapes consumer opinion.“ << I suspect your post is going to go over the heads of most everyone who reads it, but this is a really good idea.>>

#Facebook news

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nautoswansea-blog · 7 years

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Thoughts on my return

Now that I have been home for a few days I am finally readjusted to the time, and I feel like I am no longer jet lagged. Coming back home has not been as hard of an adjustment as I thought it was going to be. The best part about being how is seeing my family and having home cooked meals, nothing really beats a good home cooked meal. While I am happy to be home, the hardest part of being back is not having my friends group around, as well as the heat of Tucson. I want to send a message to my friends and ask if they want to do something, but then I remember that they are not here. The heat is the other thing I am really struggling with. It was bad enough coming back to Tucson from NAU but this is even worse. It is so dry and it is about 50-60 degrees hotter here than in Swansea. My skin does not know how to handle it; I have to apply so much lotion and sunscreen just to keep my skin healthy.

I did not have many expectations on what my experience was going to be like before I left, so I mostly noticed how things were different that what I thought it would be. I did not have anything that sticks out as being similar. But as far as my experience abroad, it was different than I expected in respect to how much I did on my own. Before I left I had planned on at least trying to explore and travel on mu own, but I never expected to do as much as I did. I went to Mumbles on my own, flew out to Amsterdam on my own, and arranged and spent a day and a half in London by myself. It was also different in the fact that I never expected to connect to the city and the culture/people as much as I did. I figured I was going to love it there, but I did not expect to think of it as my home. By the time I left I truly felt like I was leaving home for a second time, it was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. So my strong connection to Swansea caught me very off guard and I had net expected that to happen.

As far as stereotypes for Wales I did not have many going into this. I had heard that the people were friendly and enjoy talking. This stereotype was confirmed while I was there. I think I only met one person that was rude in my entire time in Swansea. Most people would strike up a conversation with me once they heard my American accent, and some of my best interactions with local people came from these types of conversations.

If there is one thing I could have done differently in my time abroad, I would have taken more trips around Swansea on my own. While I did go to places like Mumbles and explored the beach on my own, I wish I had gone around to places like Rhossili first on my own. It was fun to go around to some places around Swansea with my family, but I feel like if I had gone on my own first I feel like it would have both improved my experiences, and I would have known more of what to do when I took them there. Even though I wish I had done that, I do not think I would have changed anything else. I am very happy with the amount of traveling I did, and how I spent my time in Swansea. I cannot think of anything else I would want to change.

I think that my time abroad has greatly impacted my future. It has given me confidence in myself that I have never had before, and it has made me realize that I am capable of moving somewhere and living on my own. It has also given me experience with a new form of education system. I think going through a difference school semester than what I got at NAU with greatly benefit me on graduate school because I have experience with a new class setup. I have heard that graduate school is very different from undergrad so I think my experience at Swansea will help me later.

As far as how I live my life, my time abroad did change that. I now find myself searching for places I can go on my own, and I am looking for new places to travel that are close to me. I never used to want to travel around Tucson/Arizona on my own but since I came back, I find myself wanting to go places solo. Just simple things like coffee shops and shopping, but it is still something I never wanted to do before. I also find myself being even friendlier to people I pass by or interact with in day-to-day life, because of the influence the Welsh culture had on me while I was there. While neither of these are major changes to myself, I think they are significant for me because these changes push me to do things I would have never done if I had not gone abroad.

Another thing my time abroad has taught me about myself is that I fit very well into the British culture. I used to think that I fit well with the American culture and how we conduct ourselves, but after living in Britain and interacting with my British friends, I realized that I fit in much better there than I do here. They are such a polite, friendly and helpful society, and that is how I think I act as well. Everyone, even children say thank you to bus drivers, and anyone who holds a door open for them. They are very welcoming to tourists and immigrants as well, I never had a hard time asking someone for help because they were always so willing to help. All of my British friends also said they thought I fit well with their culture, and they were happy that I understood their sarcastic and sometimes dark sense of humor. So my time abroad made me realize that I do not perfectly fit in with the American culture, what that means for me I am not sure, but it was an interesting discovery.

My time abroad also taught me a lot about myself. It taught me that I can fully capable of traveling, navigating a new city, and flying on my own. Before I went to Swansea I had never flown by myself, and the last time I had even been on an airplane was six years earlier. However, I successfully got myself to Swansea on my own. I also flew to and from Amsterdam on my own, and I got back on my own. I never knew how empowering it would be to be able to navigate and fly on my own. I also had never traveled on my own before I left. Knowing I am capable of traveling and exploring on my own was an amazing experience and feeling. I had always been scared/nervous to do things on my own, so going through all of my travels and adventures on my own was very liberating. All od these filled me with confidence and a knowledge that I can go live in a new city/state/country for graduate school.

The thing I miss the most about being abroad is how close to other countries/places. IN Swansea I was just a short three-hour train ride from London, or an hour and a half flight from Dublin. In the time it would take me to fly to California I could be in another country. I greatly miss all of those traveling options and the sense of freedom that came with that. I also miss the green environment, being from the desert I am used to dry, and brown scenery. SO being surrounded by green and trees was amazing for me, and I truly miss that. However, the thing I miss the most is being so close to the beach. I used to hate the beach, I always got board easy and I never really enjoyed it. However, I loved the beach in Swansea and I miss it so much. Along with all of those, I miss the friends I made over there. I had a great mix of American, British and eastern European friends and I miss them all.

Something I was warned about before I left was reverse culture shock. I was scared about this my whole journey back home, however, I have not run into anything serious yet. I have struggled to get used to money here, and sometimes when I am driving around I panic because I think a car coming the other way is on the wrong side of the road. It the fact that shops are open past 5 pm had also taken some getting used to. So far, for me, reverse culture shock means missing the place I was, and not feeling the same connection to where you grew up that you had before you left. I still love my hometown, but I simply miss the strong connection I developed to Swansea.

Something that studying broad made me realize about the United States is how negatively the rest of the world views us right now. One of the first things I was asked about when I got to Swansea was the recent election and my thoughts on Trump. My taxi driver then went on to rant about Trump and say how he does not understand how it happened. A lot of other interactions I had with people would turn into them poking fun at Americans and our culture, never being mean but just pointing out how odd our culture is. Another thing I realized was how unhealthy the rest of the world views us. Anything in a restaurant that was labeled “American” usually had macaroni and cheese, bacon, or onion rings on it. Now that I have been back I can see the accuracy in both of those things, and realize how different we are to the rest of the world.

Now that I am back I truly want to go back to both Swansea, and all over the world. I know there are many volunteer organizations that pay for accommodation and food while you are there, all you have to do is pay for your ticket over. My uncle also runs an organization to help deliver to polio vaccine to children in Africa, as well as helping those rehabilitate when they have develop polio. He has offered for me to travel over there with him and help in his organization, I am working on figuring out the details and saving money because I think that would be an amazing and unique experience. Outside of actual traveling I also plan on going to my high school and talking to the senior class to tell them about studying abroad and how amazing it is. I want to tell them how the process is, what they can gain from it, and how if they plan it will not add any time to their degree. I feel like there are a lot of misconceptions that studying abroad that it is expensive, and will add more time to your program. I want to show them that these thoughts are false, and I want to show them how amazing this experience can be.

My advise to anyone looking to go abroad would be take chances, go out on your own and talk to the locals. My time abroad would have been less meaningful if I had not gone out on my own or talked to the locals. Also, pack less clothing. There is an amazing store called Primark where you can get clothing for cheap, and then you can donate it when you leave that way you do not have to lug around an entire wardrobe of clothing. Also, if you are in a new country/city, go to the museums there, that way you can learn about the history of that area and it is usually a cheap or free activity! My advise for anyone going to Swansea would be go to Monnis fish bar and get chips with Chinese curry then go across the street for Joes Ice Cream, both of these foods changed my life and I miss them so much. Other advice would be go to Mumbles, Rhossili, and Brecon beacons, I personally think that these trips should be made on your own but going with friends is also a great way to see them. Overall, take risks, push your boundaries and comfort zone, and make the most of your time abroad. Studying abroad is a once in a lifetime experience so you need to make the most of it while you can. Soak in the culture and fully embrace it, it is not often that you get to live in a new culture and be completely immersed in a culture.

#study abroad #back home #missing it #swansea

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