#i am actually exceedingly ungrateful

[elpsycongruent]

me: hey, i never ever put my clothes in the dryer, so even if you see my clothes in the laundry room, just leave them alone. i'll do it myself and hang them to dry.

my clothes, folded neatly on the laundry room table: guess what! you're never getting us on over your tits again :)

[elfyourmother]

Combined with WIP Wednesday as usual since I didn’t do it this week because arghbarg. But I actually wrote a ton yesterday, on the Corsetfic. Here’s a bit with Haurche.

---

“I did not expect you to return quite so soon. How fares the relocation effort?”

“Quite well, in fact…my dear younger brother’s first mission as Lord Commander of Camp Dragonhead was quite the smashing success! My worldly possessions were rounded up and the caravan made for Mor Dhona in record time. Tataru took command of the operation once we arrived, with all the precision of a Lord Commander herself, and bid me go to eat whilst my belongings were unloaded into the Rising Stones,” Haurchefant replied.

“She told you to leave?” Gisele asked, raising her brows.

Haurchefant coughed lightly. “I suppose ‘chased me out’ is rather less dignified, though altogether far more accurate. I only meant to aid them, but that delightfully strapping fellow—Hoary Boulder, is he?—well, he simply laughed and said I was underfoot. As the newest member of the Scions, I rather suspect I’m being hazed.”

Gisele doubled over with laughter, clutching her flowers, then shook her head as she went searching for a vase. “Oh, Haurche. They’re only having a lark,” she said.

“Or do they think me incapable of manual labor? Is that it?” Haurchefant asked, a bit flatly.

There was a tall, crystalline vase upon the highest shelf in the furthest corner of her office, and Gisele stood on tiptoe to reach it; she carried it to her desk, and set the bouquet beside it. “If they did, they would not have agreed to extend you the invitation to join. Or did you believe it my decision, and mine alone?” she countered, while rummaging through her drawers one by one., until she found her botany shears.

Haurchefant coughed a second time. “I…well.”

Gisele sighed, and began to trim the stems one by one. “Haurche, this ground is well and thoroughly trod. I do not rule the Scions by fiat. My title of Antecedent is largely a ceremonial one, out of respect for Minfilia, and matters of recruitment are decided by consensus. While I love you dearly, tis not my love for you alone which made that invitation. You are a sublimely skilled and well-respected knight with a wealth of connections within the newest Alliance nation—one that, up until very recently, was the most isolationist in all Eorzea. And you are the designated heir to one of its great noble houses. Injury or no, you are a tremendously valuable asset to the Scions. Besides all of these qualities, you are an exceedingly kind and noble man, one without whom the Scions would have perished in the desert of Thanalan. For that alone, we are eternally grateful to you, and to House Fortemps. Tis only right and proper that you should join us, when you have been so staunch an ally, so true a friend. And if they do not wish you to carry your own things, tis merely an expression of the great respect and affection they bear for you—no more, and no less,” she explained, placing the roses within the vase all the while.

His answering sigh was rather sheepish. “Pray forgive me, my heart. Twas rather petulant of me, wasn’t it?”

“A little,” Gisele agreed, with a gentle smile. 

“And pray, do not think me ungrateful. I can scarce believe it, that I might aid the Scions in your grand design. Nay, I am humbled beyond measure to be presented with such an honor, and shall ever strive to remain worthy of such esteem. If I should bring honor to mine house in so doing, and aid the cause of my homeland, to do my small part to usher it into this new age of peace and cooperation, all the better,” Haurchefant declared, with that signature fire in his eyes she so adored.

Gisele inhaled deeply, and with a light rush of aether, conjured some few ilms of water within the vase, with a twirl and flick of her wrist. Nodding in satisfaction at her handiwork, she found the small key once more. “Good. And I meant what I said—you are already a Scion, and you need not prove your worth to any who swears by the wild rose. I would not have you needlessly fighting through bodily agony to do so, Haurche. If you must needs rest, then rest, please?”

“I shall,” he promised with a smile that was wholly sincere, despite his utter dissemblance. Gisele knew him altogether too well to think he meant that.

 Mayhap Hoary Boulder might sit on him. Of course, Haurchefant would likely enjoy that, she thought with a silent chuckle.

[just-a-writing-fan]

Y'all have been so supportive, generally speaking and for my writing and so patient and I love that, thankyou so much. I know I haven't been writing as much as I would like to, and when I have it honestly hasn't met my own standards, I mean I haven't been feeling it. What I have written as of late I felt has been rushed or half assed or genuinely just not too great, in my opinion, and when I've started what I wanted and intended to be series I get a little ways in like barely started and I stop because it isn't working. I have been writing fanfics since highschool so y'know, years, I have some on Wattpad and I've had several tumblrs throughout the years. On Wattpad some of my work has gotten a lot of feedback be it likes or votes over there and comments, but, I haven't written anything there in gracious at least I don't know 8 months? Longer I believe. Here on this Tumblr what I have written has gotten more likes than any other tumblr I've written on in the past.

I don't want to lie, why don't I write more? I'll have to say it's several reasons.

Even though writing is one of my several hobbies and favorite things to do, I don't do it often because I work so much and after work and on days off I'm either too tired or not feeling it

Why "not feeling it"? The best way I can describe it is well I have a lot on my mind, mentally, I don't know, that always seems to happen. Be it writing, or playing games, or reading, or singing, or crafting, or art, I love all those things but I always end up giving up after a while, especially the past several years. It's like I'll start and do it a while then I fall back into feeling depressed. So there is that

Another reason is because like I said, lately I haven't been pleased with my own work.

Then, this one sounds shallow and ungrateful and I am sorry, but, lack of motivation. Like I said my work on this Tumblr has gotten more likes than on any other one I've had and I'm so happy about that but it is hard to keep going, keep writing when noone is commenting or reblogging or anything except hitting like and moving on. I only have 64 followers, it's hard to keep writing when only 5 or 6 of them want to be tagged or give a crap. When even less respond when I try to get feedback like if I ask "hey want to be tagged" "hey anything you want to read?" Etc etc. Then I see all of these other blogs and writers where they have a plethora of followers sending asks, sending requests, reblogging, so on and so forth and the admins are so closed off; in their profile it will say Requests Closed or something similar. I start thinking, what am I doing wrong? It can't be a it takes time thing because I've been trying for years

Lately, I have had a lot on my mind, I won't rant too much into that but I've been dealing with a lot within myself and in my life, be it work or otherwise; lately it's been mostly stemming from work except for like one thing

Final reason is because this is a themed blog, Tom Holland/Arvin Russell/TDATT and I love that theme, thus why I made it, but,there is such limited content. The reason I made a themed account was because my random personal blogs were never successful. Maybe if I could expand just a little and maybe make it multifandom?

So yeah, I'm trying to write and stay on it and I'm trying to get back into my other pleasures as well as I need to start trying to get back to being better myself because I've felt depressed, like a failure,a lot of mixed emotions really, lonely, angry, bitter, anxious, honestly in some moments bipolar. Anxiety I know I have and have been diagnosed, and I can safely self diagnose depression but I'm not going to say I'm bipolar but one minute I can be fine then I can be pissed, yesterday was a rare perfectly nice day at work and I cried out of nowhere all day, if I think I get down, I haven't been able to listen to any kind of music in months without bursting to tears. I'm happy and stable in life and happy in my relationship, that has nothing to do with it; it's been feelings because of people at work and my mom and I've been comparing myself--I'm rambling and ranting, I'm sorry

So yeah, I will do my best, and be back at it when I can.....

Thankyou for the love, support, patience, interest, and time

Also, I know a ton of times I just hit like but I want to reblog so badly, I've just been trying so hard to stick to the theme; and if I enjoy someone's work I at least follow them

Quite honestly, I think I might feel just a smidge better if I got some sexual healing, physical attention like cuddling the way we used to but that won't happen lol (don't take that the wrong way, he truly loves me and has been super sweet and has done nothing but care for me the past five years; believe it or not I was worse before and don't take that wrong because y'know it's life and shit happens and everyone has ups and downs it is never perfect), and if I could stop comparing myself to others and I don't know why I do that. Maybe socializing and having more of a life would help as well but I am "introverted as fuck", his words, so really this is as good as I can do especially when I'm not able to actually go out like most people; being social online has not been easy for me either. I try to be outgoing online and otherwise and sometimes I succeed but after a while those relationships fail for one reason or another; yet some reason I keep trying? I'm at a point where I want to give up thinking/knowing I'll be better off shutting myself off completely from as much of the world as I can and not wanting to quit and hanging onto hope that there may be a way....with a lot of my issues coming from work now, I don't know what good it would do.....

Y'all have seen that I do try because I'm still putting myself out there on the line and talking to yall; I honestly think I am the one that eventually screws up things everytime not knowing how-----no, that's another topic Jess

So yeah

I try to be a people person and I guess I'm not???

So far y'all have been exceedingly wonderful to me, thankyou for that too. I only hope I don't mess up somehow

So yeah, I will work on some things and write when I can (I have made this post so many times on so many blogs but this is as detailed and open as I've been)

[stirringwinds]

i always like to imagine gilbert and arthur at waterloo being awkward with each other. like, yes, you’re helping me kick francis’ arse, but on the other hand... you helped my son kick my arse. it’s a bit of an issue.

Waterloo, Belgium. 1815.

‘I am not ungrateful for your help shooting the frog’s arse off—but I cannot help but remember how you lied to me that you were on a monastic retreat when you were actually secretly training that Wretched Son of mine,’ hisses Sir Lord Arthur Bloody Kirkland, covered in what appears to be grime and a touch of guts, his hair and uniform in a sorry state of disarray. The man could not look more unattractive if he tried. 

Gilbert rolls his eyes. ‘That was ages ago.’ Besides, all he did was give the poor boy some encouragement, grooming and essential self-help tips. Really, his father should be thanking him. Arthur’s ridiculous firstborn knew nothing about military drills, logistics, strategy or military hygiene—he was, in other words, a complete embarrassment. 

‘1778 is not ‘ages ago’ given that you and I are around a thousand. You’re lucky I’m exceedingly magnanimous about such treachery, Gilbert. I would of course, graciously accept your apologies, as overdue as they are.’ 

The bayonet at the end of his musket has an awfully tempting target right now but Gilbert restrains himself with impeccable self-control. ‘You took a dump on me after the Seven Years War, cutting off funds after all the heavy lifting I undertook—’

‘I did no such thing,’ Arthur sniffs indignantly, producing a handkerchief to blow his nose (which he does, loudly and noisily) ‘I sent you a great deal of cash. And I am not to blame just because you didn’t get as favourable territorial concessions as I did. Anyhow, you came off it quite alright. I thought it awfully cute how Ivan’s new tsar immediately agreed to a peace treaty just because he had such a hard-on for your king—’

A voice cuts in before Gilbert can respond. ‘This is all very pleasant to rehash—I too derived great satisfaction from helping your son to humiliate you, by the way—but can we get on with the whole ‘surrendering’ thing?’ 

It’s Francis, lying somewhere on the ground behind them. Francis knows he is looking worse for wear, but his head has at least, finally regenerated. 

[themadlostgirl]

Not Dead Yet (Part 36)

*A bit of a jumble not gonna lie. Realized I made some plot holes and needed to fix them as best I can.*

Pairing: Reader x Peter Pan

Warning: language

Ever since that day the new boy Rufio became my shadow. He was a interesting one to say the least. He was short for his age with naturally dark skin and a mane of red hair that made him easy to spot among the boys. Devin and the others thought it was funny that he was following me around like a lost pup. It seemed I now had two pets.

While my new follower amused the others it severely pissed off Peter. It was hard to find a moment alone with him tagging along everywhere I went. I liked Rufio just fine and a new face helped cut through some boredom but I would be lying if I wasn’t a little antsy for some alone time. Not just time for myself but ever since Rufio came to the island Peter and I hadn’t had any time together. When I usually got a moment alone Peter was gone or I was too tired to do anything.

I was walking through the jungle with Candace on my shoulder and Rufio at my side. I had just finished showing him Dead Man’s Peak and explaining the dreamshade poison. It was getting late though and I was very tired. Day by day more and more boys had been coming to the island. Some by Peter, most by his shadow. The camp grew so large we had to move it to a bigger clearing in the depths of the island that made coming to and from the coast a lengthy journey.

“There you two are,” Peter appeared on our path, “Rufio, beat it. I need to talk to Y/N alone for a minute.”

Rufio gave me a concerned look but I nodded for him to go on ahead. I handed Candace over to him and they disappeared into the jungle.

“Peter, I’m really tired and don’t feel like--”

“I’m not here about that.” he cut me off, “Well sort of. There’s something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you.”

“Can’t this wait till tomorrow when I’ve had some sleep?” I sat down and rested back against a tree.

“I know you’re tired but this is important.” He knelt across from me, “Recently with the new boys there’s been a rift.”

“I’d say. Half of them are crying their eyes out at night because they miss dear old mummy and daddy. They’re on an island where there are no rules, no responsibilities, no fear of growing older and you can create almost anything you want with a little belief. How could they not love it here?”

“That’s what I say! But again that’s not the problem, not exactly. The rift is something more internal. I’ve heard some rumors, whispers really, that they are planning an uprising against us.”

“An uprising? They do realize what you’re capable of? They’d never stand a chance.”

“I know that and you know that but they don’t know that. The fact that these ungrateful little shits are trying to turn against me has me mad but apparently they are looking to you as their leader.”

“Me?” the news perked me awake, “Peter I can assure you that I am not leading some rebellion.”

“Don’t be silly, pet, I know you wouldn’t betray me. They’ve only named you their leader because they think you’re the only one that can stand to fight against me.”

“Well…”

“Y/N,”

“Joking, only joking. Any idea why they think your second in command would turn against you?”

“Because you’re, ahem, queen.”

“Queen?”

“Oh yes.”

“Idiots.”

“You have to admit that you do command a lot of respect on the island second to only me.”

“But why would they look to me? Are they hoping I’ll be there misguided mother figure? If they’re hoping I’ll coddle them they are in for a surprise. But I suppose I understand them. They wanted time away from their mundane lives and they got it. But the adventure is over now. They’re not like us, Peter. They don’t need Neverland like we do. None of them are the boy we’re looking for. Why not just send the cry babies back?”

“You know why.”

“No one leaves Neverland without your permission. I’m just asking you grant them that. Most of them are weak, unmotivated whiners. Why would you even want to keep them?”

“Because the moment they set foot on the island they became Lost Boys and this is where they belong whether they like it or not. If they wanted to truly remain in their boring lives they wouldn’t have asked to be taken away.”

“If this leads to war between the boys--”

“It won’t!”

“Just know that it could have been avoided.” I adjusted myself more comfortably. “I’m gonna take a nap.”

“You sleep a lot lately.”

“Not much to do once you’ve done everything there is here.” I yawned. “I’ll see you back at camp, okay?”

“Sure you don’t want me to take us back to camp in a blink?”

“No. I need a night where I don’t have to listen to the new boys cry the night through.”

“Alright. Don’t get yourself into any trouble.”

“I’ll be asleep. How could I possibly cause trouble?”

“I’m sure you’d find a way.” he smirked at me. I stuck my tongue out at him and fell asleep.

~~~

Devin had to admit he thought Rufio was flipping hilarious. Any other time when a new kid came to the island and they challenged Y/N she would break them in so to say and go back to her normal friends. Rufio though, he adopted her as his mentor and they formed this weird friendship. Only problem was that Y/N was slowly starting to lose patience. The boys that know Y/N best can instantly tell when she’s annoyed and when she gets annoyed you get out of her way unless you want your arm broken (or in one case stabbed). Poor naive Rufio didn’t realize how close he was to making her snap. That’s why when Rufio showed up at camp late that night without Y/N it was a relief. Maybe he finally got some sense about him.

“Oy Devin?” Rufio walked up to him, “Is there something goin’ on between Pan and Y/N?”

“Are you serious?” Devin laughed.

“I know it’s nonsense but we were walkin’ and Pan showed up and told me to leave. He looked ticked for some reason. Do they not get along so well?”

“Oh…” This threw Devin, “Well um...Pan and Y/N get along great. Really great. When it goes south though it gets ugly fast, they have actually tried to kill each other in the past.”

“Holy mother of god,” Rufio looked horrified.

“Yeah, just be glad that you didn’t have to suffer through the endless downpour when Pan really pissed her off. He knows not to mess with her anymore.” He gestured for Rufio to come closer, “You didn’t hear this but Pan is wrapped around her little finger. Everyone knows it but if you mention it then that’s a sure fire way to get yourself maimed.”

“But why? I know she’s a good fighter and she gets along with most the others but how did she become so important?”

“Sheer force of will.” Ben muttered from his spot next to Devin. “I’m sure she could move mountains just by glaring at them hard enough.”

“Yeah,” Rufio toed the dirt with his boot, “She’s pretty amazin’ like that.”

Ben and Devin exchanged a nervous glance. “Ben, your turn.” Devin whispered as he scooted back from the daydreaming idiot before them.

“What?” Rufio looked at them.

“Rufio, are you asking all this about Y/N and Pan because you might be interested in her?” Rufio’s face flushed as brightly as his hair.

“N-No, of course not. I just think that she’s exceedingly skilled but I’m not interested in her...did she say something?”

“Rufio, do not go down this road.” Ben warned, “Y/N is not that kind of a girl. We are her brothers, she our sister. You do not get those kinds of thoughts for her. You especially do not try to act on them.”

“But--”

“No buts! Count yourself lucky that she welcomed you at all instead of dumping you after you had the insane idea to fight her your very first day.”

Rufio stared down at the ground disheartened. “I don’t get it.”

“Get what?” Ben asked but Rufio left without answering.

“Should we be worried?” Devin watched as Rufio disappeared back into the jungle.

“Nah, he’s not the first new boy to fancy Y/N. Once he realizes she won’t have him he’ll back off.” Ben shrugged, “I think what we need to worry about is these new kids Pan’s been bringing in.”

“The whiners?” Devin sneered, “Yeah, they need some sense beat into them.”

“That’s what I say. You know they actually talk like they’re going to escape. How thick can you get?”

“I suppose we’ll just have to rectify that.” Devin smirked and whistled for Nick and Felix. They had some planning to do.

~~~

For the first time since Rufio came to the island he hasn’t been stuck to my side all day. It was relaxing but also mildly concerning. What had happened that he finally backed off? I decided not to dwell on it and enjoy the respite from his company. I think I knew the best way to use my time off as well.

The boys were off at training for the morning. I searched for Peter but he wasn’t in his tent. He must be at training with the others. How was I gonna get him away from the others without arousing suspicion? I’ll deal with that mess when I get to it.

When I arrived at the grounds though it was a horror show. All the new boys that I had so generously dubbed the crybabies were were tied to trees with apples resting on their heads. The other boys were shooting arrows at them to varying results. Next to one boy I noticed the shaft of a spear stuck in a bush where it must have just missed their target. All the boys, including Rufio, looked terrified while the others laughed and kept firing.

Peter was standing back from the crowd with a wicked smile. I noticed Nick notch another arrow and pounced on him. “Ah! Y/N, what the hell?”

“You’re saying that to me?” I took the bow and snapped it over my knee. “What are you idiots doing?”

“Just a bit of target practice.” Peter strutted up to me, “Care to join?”

“I cannot believe you! They are Lost Boys, not targets!”

“This was not my idea. They already had this setup when I got here.” Peter raised his hands in defense. “I am merely an observer. They needed a lesson anyways, bloody traitors.”

“So who's brilliant idea was this then?” I marched up to the boys wielding my club dangerously. “Someone had better answer me!”

Devin stepped forward nervously. “There’s no reason to make a big deal out of this. They’re the ones that were spouting treason.”

“I understand that but shooting out their eyes is not the right way to punish them. Untie them now.”

“You can’t just order us around. You’re not the leader here, Pan is!” Devin snapped back at me.

“I suppose he is.” I walked back up to Peter, “You condone this?”

“You were the one that was worried they would start a civil war. This is nipping it in the bud.”

“You didn’t do anything! You only ensured their revolt!”

“And if they try then they know what will happen.”

“Fine, they know. Let them go.”

“If you wish it.” he nodded and the boys cut the others free of their bonds.

“Y/N, thank you! Thank you!” the boys rushed to me.

“Get off!” I shoved them away, “Beat it before they change their minds.”

The boys nodded and scampered off. Rufio was left standing with a bleeding shoulder. “Y/N--”

“Not now.” I stressed through clenched teeth. He stayed staring at me, more at the possessive arm of Peter slung over my shoulder, “Not now, Rufio.”

He glanced back at Peter before leaving in the direction of the others. “I am done with you idiots. I cannot take another moment stuck on this island with all you stupid boys!” I shoved Peter’s arm off me. “You do not follow me. You do not try to stop me. I will return because this is my home but I cannot stay here for another moment.”

I snagged Peter’s pouch of beans off his belt and withdrew a handful. He didn’t fight me to stay and shushed the others when they did. When I was far enough away I dropped a bean on the ground and jumped through imagining a place with no boys in sight. Someplace completely unlike Neverland.

I was spat back out someplace surrounded by dense forest and snow up to my ankles. Well this is different at least. The cold wind tore through my thin shirt. I continued struggling through the snow hoping my breathing problems wouldn’t come back to haunt me. There was a small shack up ahead exuding warm light. Better than nothing.

When I got to the shack and knocked on the door. The door swung open to an old woman with a large drooping lip. “This is a day for lost children isn’t it?” she spoke unnaturally clear for someone with a disfigured mouth should. “Come in before your lungs give out.”

“Thank you.” I stepped inside. There were two more women that looked much like the old woman who let me in sitting at a spinning wheel. Speaking of the shack it was much larger than it looked from the outside. Every corner was filled with books, jars of pickled miscellaneous, pots of herbs, withered flowers, and piles and piles of thread.

“You should have chosen somewhere warmer child.” the spinner woman with a broad foot said. The spinner next to her had a thumb as swollen as a plum.

“Excuse me?” the spinner with the drooping lip sat me down and shuffled off to the whistling kettle.

“Oh to be someplace warm would be a dream.” the first spinner came back with the kettle and poured me a cup of tea. “But you’ve had your fill, haven’t you? Even now the scent of sun follows you.”

“What’s going on?” I looked at the three strange woman. “Who are you?”

“Bain, Cibil, and Dabria, we are. And you are the lost child, Y/N.”

“How do you know me?”

“Just as you know us my child.” Bain said, “Dabria, the window.”

The heavy footed spinner clomped to the window and locked the shutters in place just as a gust of wind rattled the shack. Where was I? These spinster ladies were making me uneasy with every word that creaked out of their wrinkle lined mouths.

“Do not be scared child.” Dabria smiled at me, “We only hope to help you with the hardships you will face soon.”

“What are you talking about? What hardships? How do you know any of this?” I demanded. My outburst didn’t faze them one bit and sat down across from me. All I had wanted was to get away from the island.

“Tut tut,” they silenced me, “There is not much time and so much you need to know for your upcoming struggles.”

They urged me to keep drinking my tea and started shuffling around the shack checking small things and skimming through the dozens of dusty books. “Ah here,” Cibil handed me a leather bound book with Neverland written on the cover in emerald green paint. “This should help.”

“But what is this? What’s going on?”

“Tut tut, you will know soon enough.” They took my cup and peered inside. “Oh dear, oh dear. Poor child, such a curse to bear trapped in a land of unwilling residents. What pain there will be for your hearts.”

“Hearts?” perhaps I had misheard.

“Oh yes,” the spinsters sighed, “Do not fret, there will be joys to compensate the sorrows. Lilies, wings and a darling bird.”

Flowers and a bird? Well I suppose Candace was darling as they put it.

“Anything else?” I asked the three strange women.

“Yes, for our services we do require payment.”

“Payment? I came by here by accident, you helped me without my asking. Why should I pay you? You’ve barely done anything.”

The three pairs of eyes glaring back at me silenced me into submission. “You knew what you were looking for when you left. You knocked on our door for assistance. Now, your payment.”

“I don’t have any money.” I showed them my empty pockets, “I do have a magic bean.” I withdrew one of the glittering beans I had taken from Peter.

“We have no need for your portals.” they waved off the bean, “That little baubles will do.”

My hand came up to clutch the pearl necklace resting on my sternum. “My necklace? It’s just a pearl.”

“A special pearl, no? It has been there every moment since you touched the island’s soil. It is sentiment. Priceless compared to that of a bean or gold.”

They held out their weathered hands and it was with a heavy heart I tore the necklace from it’s long resting home on my neck and dropped it into their palms. They smiled at the worn pearl. “It’s time to go my child.”

Bewildered and wanting to get out of that shack and away from the three elderly I nodded and clutched the book they gave me tightly to my chest. They dropped my necklace in a little chest and gave me soft smiles as I backed out the door. I braced myself for the cold but when I stepped outside the snow was gone replaced with tall lush grass and the sweet smell of flowers on the breeze. I turned back to the shack but that was gone as well with a massive oak tree in its place.

This is too weird for even me. I looked back at the book in my hands and sighed. I was hoping to be gone longer but I needed some questions answered. I dropped the bean on the ground and headed back home.

When I landed back on Neverland I could tell instantly that something was incredibly wrong. First I had only been gone for an hour at most. How was it night here? Also, the island was cold and the sky was muddled by rumbling clouds. I climbed up a tree and looked over the island. Darkness. Nothing but inky darkness. I should at least be able to see the camp bonfire or the lights of the Jolly Roger on the sea.

“What have you idiots done now?” I muttered to myself and dropped out of the tree.

(First) (Previous) (Next)

[hundredbillionbottles]

100 Days Away

Send them home! Send them home! Send them home!

Truth be told, I have found the last few weeks rather tough. I am fast approaching my one hundredth day in Colombia, and I still have just under another hundred to go before I touch down back at Bristol airport. Most of the time, I am in a conflict between the person I want to be and the person my brain permits me to be. For long while the focus and productivity of my days has kept the latter at bay, but recently this daunting hundred-day statistic, and the homesickness that it has amplified, has distracted me while negative and anxious thoughts have snuck in. And so suddenly everything feels muddied and uncomfortable, like a long rickety train ride with limited leg-room, though the logical side of myself is perfectly aware that nothing has changed at all. Aware of my irrationality, I have tried to return myself to the positive, happy person I was under a month ago, but in doing so have felt more like an actor playing myself, and at that trying either too hard or not nearly hard enough.

I am disappointed with myself for allowing this gloomy infiltration to linger through our two weeks on Colombia’s northern Caribbean coast, which in every other way was truly incredible in the most unforgettable way. Touching down in the historic coastal city of Cartagena at 2am, 12 hours before we could check in at our hostel, I could have happily stood by the sea until dawn. Only upon hearing the waves against the rocks and the trickle and wobble of the water did I realise how long it had been since I’d seen the ocean, and for a while I just stood and looked out into the blackened sludge in the glow of the streetlight and let the wind whistle through the humid air. When morning broke I fell in love with what the town had to offer. For two days I carelessly ambled over the quaint cobbled streets, veiled with great bushes of flowers that spilled over from the rooftops. I drank amazing coffee in infinite establishments ranging from cutesy, neat library cafes to bars covered head to toe in soviet propaganda. With sleeves up to my shoulders, we strolled around the walls of the old city while the vultures danced in the sun. I knew that it was blissful, but I also knew that it wasn’t the gristly, pigeon-riddled precinct of Nailsea.

Costeño Beach, a surf hostel located a few minutes’ bus ride past Tayrona, was also almost too much like a dream to be real. We spent almost all our time there surfing off this small beach, which was effectively a strip of sand separating the riotous sea from the still Amazon-like river on the other side. One morning we hired stand-up boards and paddled down the river, shallow enough to walk down, taking in the beauty of the surrounding trees and wildlife as we drifted along lazily and I desecrated the ambience with my impeccable Louis Armstrong impression. As the sun began to set behind the silhouetted palm trees, the surfers congregated in the same spot in the water where catchable waves were the least sparse, and everyone sat about on their boards in a completely comfortable silence before all going for the same wave at once. After the delicious dinner the hostel provided each night we sat out on the beach and talked nonsense about Garfield 2 allegedly being set in Carlisle, the stars slowly peaking out above us like light through keyholes and the sea still raging against the shore. It was majestic, but it wasn’t Layde Bay in Clevedon with a burnt-out disposable barbecue on a rock.

Santa Marta was great for entirely different reasons. After three days of getting beaten up by Poseidon, I welcomed some time to vegetate by the hostel’s pool with a book, paddling in waters I could control. I also warmly greeted the opportunity to do some haggling in the markets and buy some exceedingly wavey shirts. Other than that there wasn’t really much to do in the city, but its ridiculously straightforward bus system made it a great base for making day trips to surrounding places, including Tayrona, the colossal national park which, neglecting the extortionate 25,000 peso bus ride across the park, we attempted to walk across. We didn’t get very far, in fact I’m not sure we actually made it into the park at any point, but we had the whole jungled road to ourselves, which led us to a stunning, deserted beach and also the unexpected sighting of a monkey. Another day, venturing in the other direction, we took a jeep to Minca, a small mountainous coffee town which we spent the day hiking around, seeing all kinds of bizarre insects and birds of outrageous colours before arriving at ‘poso azul’, a waterfall in which to cool our sweaty selves and frolic about in for so long that we had to pay some men to take us back to town on their motorbikes in order to make it back in time for the final batch of jeeps back to Santa Marta.

The best aspect of Santa Marta, though, was the night life. For Stephen’s 20th birthday, we ventured out on a pub/bar crawl around the happening district, and it was popping off. The streets were live with people; every bar was full and every alley buzzing with street performers. As the night went on, our cocktail-induced merriment faded to sleepiness in the corner of a highly-recommended bar entitled ‘La Puerta’ (The Door). Just as we were about to call the night quits, I caught a glimpse of the dancefloor and suggested “just a quick 3 or 4 minute dance”. We danced for about an hour and a half, such was the energy of the music and the people dancing to it. The DJ was slinging out the better side of Colombian music, shying away from the repetitive regaetton and indulging in rampant Latin percussion-based music which occasionally, out of nowhere, mixed into Grease or Usher. We then returned to the hostel rooftop for Stephen’s traditional birthday cigar. It was a night I definitely won’t forget any time soon, and I loved it, but it wasn’t the sticky floors, the filth of the Fleece or Thekla.

I suppose this all makes me sound ungrateful, but that’s not what I feel at all. I am thankful every day for the opportunities I have had here, the people I’ve met. What I feel is an inexplicable, simultaneous feeling of belonging and isolation, of knowing that I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be but feeling cut off from the places and people that got me here. However, I do know that this muddled feeling is only part of a phase. There is rationality in me yet. I know that I will stick this patch out and quickly rediscover the enthusiasm and excitement that enriched my first 80 or so days in this breath-taking country. Besides, I would not feel I had achieved anything if I came home in a hundred days and realised I didn’t leave my comfort zone once; one can only do really great things when out of their comfort zone. Staying above water is only an achievement if thrown in the deep end. So I’m just gonna keep swimming, carry on trying new things, build on the relationships I’ve formed, make more of an effort at work, better myself in any way I can.

Now, spread out on my bed, coming up to two-and-a-half-hours writing time, I reflect on the final lines of Swans’ ‘Song For A Warrior’, and how I can shift the power back towards my positive self and crush my negative self in the process.

Use your sword. Use your voice. And destroy. And destroy. Then begin again.