#and then i was like FUCK who could forget oisin

[bloodyshadow1]

I get people being sympathetic to the Rat grinders, I really do, but the way people will out right lie about canon to make the Bad Kids the villains. The Rat Grinders are kids, they're being groomed by charismatic and dangerous teachers who they trusted, they're corrupted by rage so they're not thinking straight. At the end of the day, that makes them cultists, pitiable and sympathetic, but still villains who are perfectly willing to create a hell on earth for the plan.

I've seen posts condemning the bad kids for killing the rat grinders, I've seen posts calling the Bad Kids bullies this season, I've seen posts that blame the Bad Kids for the whole thing saying the rat grinders are just kids who are being tricked. It's all bullshit, whatever your headcanons, whatever your feelings on the Rat Grinders, they're not the good guys here and are very much the villains this season.

The bad kids killed the 3 of the rat grinders this fight, Ivy, Oisin, and Ruben. No, they didn't stop to try and reach out to them, to try and make them see the light. The Rat Grinders are trying to condemn a whole town to become the domain of a the new god of rage and murder a goddess to usurp her domain. They are high level with the capacity to cast 9th level spells regardless of their hp, with two epic level pc's with super abilities that normal class features don't cover. If the Bad Kids hesitated they would be dead, they knew that, the Rat grinders tried to murder them little over an hour ago. They've hated the bad kids for years and now decided to make their vendetta known, they fucked around and found out.

Which leads me to my second point, the Bad Kids are not bullying the Rat grinders. They're not pleasant to the rat grinders, but you don't have to be nice to the people who hate you. Other than Fig, who I will admit was messed up with how she treated Ruben this year, but also the Rat Grinders did something similar, they were just bad at it, the Bad Kids mostly ignored the Rat grinders. The worst thing the other bad Kids do to the Rat Grinders is make fun of Kipperlily's name, that's it. They don't even do it in front of other students, unless they legitimately forget her name, other than that it's only in front of each other or not other students like Alewyn or Jawbone. It's not great, but that is literally all they have done.

The Rat grinders however, have done all they could to make themselves enemies of the Bad Kids. Ivy was a mean racist bitch who helped steal the cloudrider engine and place pingpong balls all over seacaster manor for the plan. Ruben tried to get the bad kids to take drugs knowing it would get them in trouble. He intentionally had frosty fair held at Gorgug's home to corrupt it, putting not only Gorgug's family in danger but countless other people. Sure Jace had a hand in that, but at best Ruben was an accomplice. Buddy was a smug creep who vandalized Kristen's locker, threatened her brother, and demeaned her and her goddess, without being corrupted by rage. Mary Ann legitimately didn't do anything wrong this season she was just there and did her best on the field as she was supposed to (not even saying this as a joke, she has literally done nothing bad on screen so it's hard to judge her like the rest). But Oisin tried to honey pot Adaine the first week of school, stole the cloudrider engine and the pingpong ball trap, and sent a whole pack of dragons on them to murder them and hundreds of other kids. Kipperlily has been goading the bad kids since the first day of school, she has tried every dirty trick to try and win. She has murdered people, not even people affiliated with the bad kids, but people like Buddy who was on her side, she's tried to murder the bad kids or at least make sure it's harder for them to come back to life if they die, she's stolen from them, she's tried to kill them, she's done everything bad the fans have accused the bad kids of but worse.

And that's just the Rat Grinder's individually. Why are the Bad Kids monsters for killing dangerous people who have tried to kill them, but the Rat Grinders aren't? The Rat Grinders literally tried to commit mass murder of their school a little more than an hour. 500 students of the Aguefort adventuring academy were in Seacaster manor when it was brought into the sky and beset by dragons. 500 innocent bystanders, almost all children, half of them younger than both parties.

I'll get to the rage stars in another post, but I just want to finish this off with, the Rat Grinders are kids, kids who are being groomed by evil men and corrupted by magic. But the Bad Kids are just kids too. They're kids who have been specifically targeted by the rat grinders. The rat grinders started this feud, the Bad Kids retaliated and were better at it. If you're going to take a shot at the king you better not miss, and the rat grinders have been missing their shots this whole season. I don't get why people are blaming the bad kids for trying to save the world but it pisses me off. I apologize for the rant but the tag is for everyone

[ominous-horse-noises]

not done talking ab fhjy actually so i'll just say some of you guys who go on about how you could've done better themes and narrative arcs can't even think critically about the one in front of you.

i do wish that the other bad kids had interacted with their foils more this season because it was fun seeing them trade insults, but i also dont think it would've done much for them. i mean, people forget the tbks did try to turn reuben early on (they literally saved him from grix even though it was his fault he showed up trying to kill people). adaine thought oisin was cool and tbks were onboard with thinking maybe he wasn't that bad, and then he sent his grandma to murder them and their entire school. fabian tried to get an 'in' with ivy and it nearly cost him a genuine relationship with a character who had a way better chance of helping them figure things out without the risk of being betrayed. kipperlilly had an ego-driven hateboner for riz since BEFORE the rage stars and killed her own party member in cold blood just to stick it to kristen, and you're telling me that she could've been my little ponyied into giving up her chance to squash the symbol of all her inadequacy? buddy and maryann are the only rat grinders who havent fucked them over meaningfully and guess what? they're not thrilled about having to kill them- they're actively avoiding targeting them! almost like theyre capable of distinguishing between someone not on their side and someone who's proved to be a threat!

brennan made it pretty clear that trying to befriend trgs in their rage forms was futile and actively punished it ingame. you can have your opinions of that, but it definitely had a narrative point: if you get rage starred, you cant be 'this isnt youuuu'd out of it. you think ONLY of rage, and rage can't be reasoned with. it's arguably worse than death, bc at least someone can revivify you and there's no lasting consequences. think about how hard brennan was trying to push the ihs into taking rage tokens. he knew exactly how dire he'd made the consequences and that was on purpose. the season has no stakes if you can just talk your way out of being rage starred bc tbks could save each other easily. the whole climax literally can't happen if trgs arent being evil bc porter can't be a living god of rage without followers. tbks hating trgs isnt a flaw in the story: it IS the story.

[stagkingswife]

hey, it's the "nice encouraging things" anon from December. I came to the conclusion that I wasn't making the spirit contact up because I do not have the brain of someone who would say "stop worrying about your to-do list and do things in this order" and "you need to take your heart medicine" and "stop worrying about what other people think" and "don't worry about the future, your job is just to do what's in front of you." (1/2)

however, I made the mistake of telling my older more experienced witchy friends about the spirit and they were like "that's not a cute look" "no one should act like they have power over you or like you can't take care of yourself" "you're a person with agency and it feels sus that you're 'not allowed to hurt yourself'" and now I just feel embarrassed for being taken in and feeling like I could be special or cared for or valued.

and i honestly feel even more embarrassed for telling someone who's 40 years old and teaches workshops and works full-time and can walk and has astral projected to Hell that my access needs- what I need to stay safe- really do involve someone (could be a spirit who knew me from a past life, could be Joe from next door) sitting with me and telling me what to do and making sure I eat and sleep and don't hurt myself. i don't feel confident arguing with them.

sorry for the three-part rant- you're under no obligation to reply- it's just that i've never met anyone else who has something going on that involves being very close with an unrecorded entity AND is disabled? and it's been tough going from "they tell me to fix my posture so my back pain doesn't get worse, I give them the last segment of my orange, I feel like I'm getting the hang of this witch thing" to "I HAVE FUCKED UP"

To begin with I don’t think you’ve fucked up, in the least. It sounds like you need, or at least benefit from, having someone help you manage your care.  This is a normal thing that many disabled people need/want, it just so happens that you are getting it from an incorporeal entity right now.  It sounds like this friend of yours is very independent, good for them, but their independence doesn’t get to be a factor of consideration in your spiritual relationships.  Only your needs and desires get to be a factor. And if you need or want a caretaker, then you can have that.  You should of course be careful that it’s always a healthy caretaker relationship, and that you retain your desired level of autonomy within it, but what level you desire is up to you.

Much like your friend I’m on the older side for the witchcraft community these days (over 30), I lead workshops, I’ve Traveled the Otherworlds extensively, and I’m incredibly independent, and I pride myself on that, but I freely acknowledge that I wasn’t always this way.  I didn’t spring fully formed from my father’s head with all of this confidence and all of this experience.  And sometimes I think older, more experienced, more confident practitioners forget that we weren’t always like what we are now. For instance: When I was 19 I had terrible self esteem, and only defined my worth in terms of what I could do to benefit others.  What changed that for me was my relationship with Oisin.  When He started courting me he started gently correcting me whenever I thought or spoke about myself like that, He encouraged me to eat better when I was recovering from my eating disorder, not to hurt myself when my medications made me suicidal.  All things that a caring partner or friend would do for someone going through what I was going through, he just happened to be incorporeal. It is not a weakness to need help, and it is not suspect for someone to provide it. 

Now, more than ten years down the line, Oisin doesn’t do those things for me anymore, and he hasn’t in a long time.  He helped me when I was having a rough time in my life, he helped me build better habits for myself, healthier ways of thinking about myself, and now I am this hyper competent independent practitioner, I just needed the right support at rough patches along the way.  Who’s to say you won’t see similar growth in your relationship given time.

[derryctor-who]

DERRY GIRLS (2018–)

[ladycapuletwrites]

Swing

“Excuse me?”.

I turn to see a small blonde English girl wandering up the street towards me. Her backpack looks like it’s about to topple her.

“Uh.. this might sound strange, but I’m just wondering if you know of any good hostels around here? It’s just, I.. I’ve never traveled by myself before and I’ve just been working in this little village where I’ve been teaching and I haven’t really been alone and I just got off the bus and I don’t know what I’m doing”. She says all this in rapid fire quick succession, and I can see that she’s terribly embarrassed.

“I’m Sarah, you’ve come to the right place” I smile broadly, and hold my hand out to her. Her name is Izzy.

I take her back to the hostel I’m staying at and buy a glass of red wine. We check her into a room and I tell her about all the impending mates that are traveling here to meet me.

She’s worried about making friends, so I invite her out to Shays birthday celebrations and our white water rafting the next day.

Shay arrives with her best friend Maya and a guy called Jude, who makes fast friends with Izzy. He wants to shave for tonight so I lend him my lady clipper. He accepts graciously after I clean it extensively.

James arrives in the afternoon, and I go to meet him at his hotel room. I’m a little drunk at this point and let him film a slo-mo of me in a very compromising position. It feels good to have his hands on me again. We fuck a couple of times and then decide to head back to the Great, where I do Shays make up and Angel appears right as I finish her lipstick.

He stares at her. “What have you done to your face?” Later, he tells me he thinks she looks like a hooker. He doesn’t like make up on women. I ask him what he thinks when I wear it. He says the same thing: “you look stupid, it’s weird. Why you are putting all these colours on your face. It’s weird man, so weird” and then he laughs that same stoned laugh I missed so much. I give him a hug.

“How was Galapagos?”

“Oh man, it was so cool. I went diving every day and I saw sharks and turtles and all sorts of epic shit! I spent like a grand getting there but it was worth it man! Yeah!” He goes on to show me photos and videos of murky wildlife.

We head to a karaoke bar and get absolutely shit faced and sing songs. Drinking weird blue overpriced cocktails, sitting around smoking cigarettes. We yell at each other over the music until somehow James and I end up on the street arguing. Angel is looking over at me, I head back to the alley of bars we switched to. I suddenly realise I don’t have my phone. I’m so drunk i have no idea where we’ve been, and James goes on a mission with me to find it, although by this point I’m being a total drunk bitch to him.

I wake up in bed next to him and immediately start apologising, starting with my mouth moving slowly down to his cock.

After he finishes and I offer to run down and grab coffee, he stops me and asks, “are you a little bit bipolar or something?”. The question smacks me in the face.

“No, I’m not, I just realise that I was a total cunt to you last night and I’m trying to apologise for it”

“Oh, so you remember insulting me and storming off into a dangerous street where I followed you because I couldn’t leave you to possibly get hurt and then you said that I wouldn’t understand anything because I wasn’t as smart as you?”

My insides clench.

“Something like that”, I say, shame rising up to meet me as I swing my feet over the bed.

“Nah, I’m good. But thanks”, he says, and we lie in silence for a while until I get up to leave.

“I’m going to go back to my room for a bit, have a shower and maybe a nap. Then I’m going to look for my phone.”, I say, and kiss him quickly before I slink out. At this point I’m enveloped in a cold sweat and feeling completely shit about myself.

I head back to The Great, and have a huge argument with the girl at the front counter. I forget immediately what it was about, and go to have a nap.

On the way, Angel sees me. “Hey man, you were such a fucking bitch to James last night man, wow. I’ve never seen you like that. I can’t believe he followed you to make sure you were okay. I would have left you to get fucked over” he says.

“You totally wouldn’t.”

“No, of course I wouldn’t. But you should say sorry. He was a good dude last night.”

I think about James in a different light on the way up the stairs. I think the arrogance I saw in him when we first met was merely a mirror of my own shortcomings.

When I wake up later, I feel terrible about what I said to the girl at the counter, and go down to apologise to her. She isn’t working, but I write a note and the guy at the counter cheekily tells me that she thought I was a massive bitch and he’d pass the message on.

I deserved that, to be fair. I look out the window and James is wandering down the lane. “Let’s get your phone then?”

As we walk out, he hops into a little 4x4 roadster that he’s hired.

“Surprise”, he says. I am Jacks roiling unworthiness.

We get in and scale all the bars from the night before, and then James realises that we stopped at a chicken shop when we were fuck eyed, and were too drunk to eat properly.

In a strange twist of fate, the owner has hidden the phone so that no one else on the staff can steal it, and I gladly give him all the money in my wallet upon its return. The fact that I found my phone after losing in Ecuador is astronomically rare. So rare in fact, that I’ve never heard a story like it since.

I kiss James and thank him, apologising profusely about my shitty behaviour, and we hop in the car to drive into the Jurassic mountains.

The car has no top, other than some black bars, so I feel a rush when he puts his hand down the front of my pants. I have again worn tights, so he works his way down with one hand on the wheel, and the scenery of the mountains rushing by us. The sun is just in the right spot in the sky; behind us, illuminating the ashphalt. I’m just about to cum when we swerve left to miss a truck. I busy myself with the cords and Velcro on the shorts he’s wearing, but I’m in the wrong position to do anything once I get them undone except limply jerk him off.

We head into the mist, higher and higher, until we reach the place where The Swing at the Edge of the World is. The inspiration, I realise, for the entire trip. I pull my hand out of james’ pants as another car drives by. Look up towards the sign saying to turn left for La Casa Del Arbor.

Oisin.

As the clouds start to make the car cold and we head farther into foggy territory, I think back on what lead me to this place, to this continent.

I think of his hands and his insatiable mouth. I think of the way he would disappear, even when we were in the same room. The way he changed the colour of the lights in his room for a month to see what hue made him feel different things. He wouldn’t call me for three days and I’d worry, uber to his house and find him painting a sculpture he’d made, completely manic. “Look, I’m painting the monkey from Monkey Magic. I sculpted him first out of wood I found at a scrap yard”, he would say. Time didn’t really have a meaning to him. I was dangerously in love with him from about two weeks in.

Red wine soaked mouth, I was just back from a festival. He came to my house, an apartment in the city. Showed me a ted talk by Esther Perel, a Belgian psychotherapist exploring the relationship between desire and comfort.

I got pretty drunk and in the morning I took a photo of him through the vacant space in my bookshelf. It shot in black and white, and when I looked at it, I think that was when I started falling in love with him, but I had no idea until months later. I hadn’t listened when he said that another woman had been the love of his life, that he wasn’t ready for someone else, that he could never be in love with me. I didn’t listen to any of it. I just stared at him whilst he was sleeping and I was drunk on tequila and little bit stoned and wondered how I got so lucky to be next to him.

He was my first foray into polyamory. It didn’t go well. Not for the reasons you might think. He was a very bad communicator. He would forget to text for a week when he got caught up in an experimental project or disappeared on a road trip with some person he’d met at a bar. I never knew what security in that relationship was. Esther Perel says that desire happens from a distance, and I know exactly what she means. I projected all my love onto him and he wasn’t there to reject it so it stayed and deluded me until I opened my laptop, a couple of weeks after he’d called it off and I’d arrived at his house wasted while his friends were over. He sent me home in the morning and told me not to call him again. He’d left his email open on my computer, I couldn’t help myself. The first one was from a girl who had recorded them fucking, and sent it to him as a sound bite. I won’t go into the rest.

I think about how fascinated I was by him and how many pieces of writing I’d written about him so far. How many times I’d drank at him, about him, to him.

I’d stared at the painting he’d given me for my birthday. He strapped it to the back of his motorbike with me on it, and we’d ambled back to my house.

It had a piece of paper attached to the back, explaining that it was. “The Swing at the Edge of the World”, in Ecuador. I looked at the painting for a year and had many more relationships and fuck buddies and pretty girls and pretty boys in my bed. I still thought of him every time I looked at it before I got sick of myself. And one day, when I was stoned, Allan called me.

“I’m going to South America with Lucy”.

He explained further that he was leaving in a few months to join her there.

I had been reading The Celestine Prophecy, based in Peru. It had been given to me by a work mate named Darko. I’d bought it in Thailand after I had experienced such intense synchronicity that a new friend had told me to buy it, and I’d promptly walked into a second hand bookstore in Khao San and declared that I would find it within five minutes. I did, but I discovered that when I got home, it was the complimentary edition, to the original. Darko had given me the correct copy a year later, after I’d forgotten about it. Inscribed on the first page, was a simple note. “Follow the signs.” It said.

It was lying on my bed, and I opened the book, reading the words.

I looked up at the painting on the wall.

“Are you going to Ecuador by any chance? Or Peru?” I asked.

“Yeah, both.” Allan replied.

“What month?”

“August”

“Do you mind if I meet you there?”

And that’s how it had started, with a book and a painting and an exhaustion borne from the unhealed parts of my heart. I had dreamed about this moment and then forgotten about it in the last couple of months, my heart had mended and broken in many different ways by now, it was another piece in the puzzle. A finality of sorts.

It makes sense that it’s foggy on the way up, the chills up my spine seem like they have a place, regardless of the weather.

James puts his hand on my knee.

“Let’s get this fucking photo then, hey?” He says.