#it's so healing to me personally as a bitch and deeply fucked up individual

[knivesandteeth]

I love Garak and Kira because their characters are like... Yeah, trauma doesn't make you a better person. Sometimes trauma just makes you a bitter, caustic individual filled with regret and self loathing. That doesn't make you any less worthy of care or healing or community. It's not the trauma that saves you, it's community and being given the love we were denied. Pain isn't virtue.

[long-suffering-little-spoon]

I JUST REALIZED THAT YOU WATCHED THE OFMD FINALE

H-

How are you feeling 🥲🥲🥲

Pahaha not swimmingly, I'll just say. First I have been doing a bit of the ol' menstruating which means everything is immediately more extreme lol. I've been very conflicted and I'm still not 100% sure how I feel about *THE THING* especially, but this is where I stand right here right now at like 11PM lmao

Under the cut cos this ended up being exponentially longer than I thought it could ever be sorry

Overall I've loved season 2!! It has been so much fun to interact with the community and convert everyone to the Izzy hands cult engage with the fandom week by week. We've had some incredibly beautiful high moments and some lovely refreshing queer joy. I adore the new characters and the developments of our existing ones. I know my negative thoughts here are much more substantial than my positives but this doesn't mean I didn't like it!! I just don't feel the need to describe the positives because I feel like they're pretty obvious and universally recognised, agreed upon and beloved, y'know? (if you want a purely positive thoughts autistic happy flappy hands rant™, i can oblige dw)

Izzy's death is not the only reason I have mixed feelings on the finale. Obviously the episode cuts were a result of HBO'S meddling and isn't the fault of the crew, but the pacing still felt off and everything that happened just kinda washed over me like white noise (haha will wo-). The loose ends were tied up in wholesome ways and if we don't get a season 3 this would be a mostly decent way to end our characters' journeys, if a bit rushed. But then...

Izzy's death. A lot of people feel very very betrayed and hurt by Izzy being killed off, some people don't feel the comfort they used to from this show because of it and no longer want to engage. I don't wanna discount these people's views, more power to them; I cannot stop them from feeling what they feel and doing what they choose. I haven't given up hope on this show but Izzy's death just felt pretty unsatisfying to me?? Putting my bias towards him aside, I get the "killing off mentor at end of second act" trope but I just feel and wish way more could've been done with Izzy. I wanted to see more of him being happy and secure in himself and his found family and his queerness and his disability!! But now I don't get that and it very much stings. I think I could've come to terms more with his death if there had been more time to dwell on it all and get to see the individual characters mourn, but again episode cuts, thanks HBO!! /s. And I know they had the funeral but it still feels like we didn't really get a chance to mourn or treat Izzy's death with the weight it warranted. And I am far too tired especially right now to engage in "is this/is this not bury your gays/disabled character" but I will say I've seen pretty compelling arguments on both sides. As an able-bodied disabled person I don't feel it's fully my place to dictate, but I am upset Izzy was killed right after some big moments in his healing process and being a disabled person and in general just enjoying his life.

Personally I'm not giving up on the show as a whole because the finale left a sour taste in my mouth. I still very much like this show and I'm willing to stick around for a potential season 3 and on future rewatches I'll be able to see the stuff I loved separate from the stuff I didn't. But since looking back now, the latter is most recent, it kind of casts an unpleasant shadow on a very enjoyable season of television.

RIP Izzy Hands you deserved better sweetie, you would've loved Drag Race. And also shoutout to Con O'Neill for a fucking phenomenal performance last season, but especially this one. Izzy was absolutely iconic and a fan favourite for a very good reason, even if imo the writers did him dirty. He was hilarious and a petty little bitch man but then deeply broken and compelling and a genuinely beautiful character with a beautiful journey despite an unfortunate and unjust end?? He slayed.

Wow this was a lot!! Sorry if you were expecting silly goofiness lmfao I got very analysi-ish and a bit melancholic. Thank you so much for the ask JJ, it was a good opportunity to try and express all my thoughts and squish them into something cohesive for both you and me. (And thanks to my friend who I was discussing this with earlier; they helped me get a new perspective by sharing some of his thoughts. Dude, if you're reading this you know who you are, thanks a bunch!!!!)

[taechaos]

Silent Treatment

from Textbook Love drabble series

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble, smut, college au

synopsis: Why did you reject him? He’s consumed by his thoughts and theories of your behavior because you didn’t say a single word to him. If your actions were anything to go by, which apparently speak louder than words, you didn’t even want him to touch you.

warnings: slight angst, drugs, arguing, dubcon, cunnilingus, mild degredation

word count: 4.2k

tags: @mwitsmejk @1-in-abillion @kooookie

a/n: the request (contains some spoilers). i'm gonna take a very short break from this couple to write other requests!! hope u enjoy 💗

The shift in the Spring weather is unpredictable. One moment it’s chilly, and the other sunny. Humans can only adapt so much, and it causes an outbreak of common colds. Most people recover easily, handy medicine soothing their sore throats, syrups suppressing coughs, and nose sprays ridding the blockage. You, on the other hand, are not that lucky. With a weak immune system, you’re very careful to not get sick, but there must have been a slip-up because you’ve somehow lost your voice after catching a cold.

You sniffle and cough, but you can’t speak. It’s advised to not exert your vocal cords in cases like these, and that is just so unfortunate for you. The last thing you’d ever want to do is spread your sickness to Jungkook, and that meant not getting too close to him; it meant no kissing. 

A very large white placard is spread out in front of you on the wooden table, and you’re plastering printed images of a specific global issue on it. You’re sitting on a bench with two of your friends as they chatter mindlessly while you work. Jungkook has a project about climate change due in a few days, and it’s supposed to be very important for his final grade. You’ve already written him a script for his presentation along with a stick prop to point at specific pictures. It’s fun, glittery and he’s going to love it. 

“Hey,” Minnie, your friend, calls for you, “we’re going to get some coffee from Starbucks. Want us to get you green tea?”

Soyeon laughs when your eyes light up; it’s your favorite beverage, and it’s supposed to help with your sore throat. They leave with a smile after you give them a hyper nod and you’re alone as you adjust your woolen scarf around your neck. You need to heal as fast as you can so you’re no longer missing your beloved’s affection.

Jungkook has been feeling more inclined to approach you without reason lately, but that doesn’t mean it’s a common occurrence. Getting teased by his friend, specifically Taehyung, about having a sissy crush on a girl like yourself angered him to no end. A hit always got him to shut up, but not for long. He’s walking your way today because there’s no one around to judge him for talking to you. 

You’re tearing a double-sided tape when he sits on your table, carefully avoiding your materials. Your breath hitches as his eyes gloss over your work in progress. “Working hard, I see,” he comments with disinterest. He doesn’t say anything about your efforts, but he’s impressed. The corner of his lip tugs upwards before he leans in for a kiss. You have enough self-control and concern for his well-being over your desires to lean back before your lips make contact. His face is close to yours as he pauses and slightly frowns before trying again. He receives the same results and finally pulls back. 

“You did well,” he frowns at you and speaks as if you’re a child, “I’m praising you.” Your eyes are darting back and forth awkwardly and you don’t know what to do other than sit in silence. You put your hands on his knees as a resort and his frown deepens as he watches you. “I can take a hint, you know. You don’t have to fucking ignore me.” He roughly shoves your hands and stands up before storming off with a scoff. You’re torn between following him and being responsible over your belongings. You can’t let his grades go to waste because of a small misunderstanding, so you decide to text him instead. There’s always a possibility someone might steal his project. Or maybe after he’s cooled off? You delay the message, but somewhere in your heart, you’re satisfied by his reaction because it’s clear that he wanted to kiss you.

Heavy footsteps clomp against the sidewalk before Jungkook slumps on the seat next to Taehyung. It’s an isolated area for smoking students at the back of the campus, and his friend group is no exception to this role. They’re taking drags of cigarettes individually as Jungkook glares at his boots. They’re chunky and a bold black, and his dark outfit paints him as the big bad wolf. It fits, because he’s ready to attack when he’s filled with so much resentment. Why did you reject him? He’s consumed by his thoughts and theories of your behavior because you didn’t say a single word to him. If your actions were anything to go by, which apparently speak louder than words, you didn’t even want him to touch you. It doesn’t make sense, but you also grimaced at him, but then why were you doing his homework? He’s feeling frustrated, and upset all the same.

“Someone’s troubled,” Seokjin points out with a mouthful of smoke. “Kookie?”

Said boy only grunts in response.

“Did the lousy girl finally see you for who you really are and leave you?” Taehyung doesn’t hesitate to mock him with a pout. “Tragic.”

“Shut the fuck up, Tae,” Jungkook spits and sends him a death glare, fire flaming in his fierce eyes. “Go actually talk to a girl or something, and leave me alone. I can’t take your shit right now.”

The low blow doesn’t affect Taehyung in the slightest as he holds up his hands in defence with comically wide eyes. “Relax, tiger.”

“Moving on from Tae’s inability to talk to girls in broad daylight, what’s up with you Kook?” Namjoon butts in, earning a fake cough from the receiving end of the insult.

He pauses for a moment before babbling, “I hate those bitches. My mother for one, couldn’t stand wearing clothes whenever she saw a dude. Moving on from guy to guy, unless they’re a fucking asshole. What do they want? Why are they never fucking satisfied?!”

A moment of silence passes among the huddled friends before Yoongi breaks it with a joke, “Who’s the lucky girl?” It doesn’t land as Jungkook deeply sighs in response. “Did she cheat on you?” he tries again.

“No,” he murmurs.

“Then…?”

“She… I don’t fucking know, she gave me the silent treatment. She leaned away from me too,” he shakes his head with a quiet groan, “it just doesn’t add up. I got mad and left.”

“No way that could’ve ended up badly,” Taehyung chuckles but purses his lips when he’s sent another dirty look.  “How long was the interaction anyway?” 

“Like 30 seconds.”

“Are you coming out tonight?” Yoongi asks and puts out the burning tip of his stick. “Could help you feel better.”

“And we’ve got molly,” Namjoon adds.

“Yeah, fine, whatever.”

Alcohol’s effect on a person differs in moods, and Jungkook is usually a horny drunk. Being a sad drunk is a first for him tonight, but he’s just so confused. It made his heart drop when you outwardly refused his advances and anxiety blossomed in his chest, which he has no idea how to deal with. It kicked in fight or flight instincts, and he just… hated the idea of you not loving him, even if it’s momentary. He can’t bear staying in a situation that makes him feel so insecure, and that feeling is supposed to be left in his childhood. You just about brought out the worst in him without doing anything. 

You didn’t do anything.

It’s 10PM and he’s waiting on your usual good night text that he never responds to. It’s so pathetic, and he hates himself for being so used to your affection that it worries him when he’s deprived of it. He’s never doubted your love for him, but his insecurities are churning his gut. It’s an overflow of all of his pent-up emotions, and he can’t handle it.

“Here,” Taehyung pops in out of nowhere, clutching a pill in his hand. There’s a bottle of water in the other as he holds them out for Jungkook to take. “Stop moping and get laid.”

“I’d say the same to you, but you’d probably start crying during sex,” he mumbles and uncaps the bottle before throwing in the pill and washing it down with the water. “Thanks.”

“See that girl over there?” he ignores him and steps behind his miserable friend to point at the owner of the sultry gaze directed at Jungkook from the bar. “She wants to fuck you. Or maybe me, but I’m passing her onto you.”

“How kind of you,” he sarcastically replies.

“Uh-uh, so you’re gonna be in ecstasy in about 10 minutes. Don’t fuck this up.” He slaps his shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen. It’s a lonesome party because not a lot of people are allowed in when drugs are involved. Causing a ruckus, receiving a noise complaint and then getting arrested is out of the question. 

He isn’t interested in sex with a stranger - not today at least -, but he hopes for it to change as he waits to approach her. Maybe drugs will rile him up enough to have fun with someone else and rid his mind of you. It’s an annoying itch on his brain, so he rests his head against the couch to comfort himself with the soft fabric. He’s sleepy from the beer he drank earlier, and he doesn’t know how time goes by so fast when he closes his eyes.

A few minutes must have passed, because he’s starting to feel dizzy in his seat. A smile carves on his face as his mind grows slightly fogged, and he opens his eyes to find the girl quietly chatting with a friend. When she glances at him, he beckons her to come over. She mouths a “be right back” to her friend before strutting in his direction.

“Hey,” she smiles down at him before sitting on the couch. She’s aristocratic, chic and pretty. “Sorry if I weirded you out earlier.” Her voice is sweet like honey, and her words flow out of her tongue so naturally. A dream girl, really, and Jungkook is starting to get horny.

“I don’t mind,” he reassures with a subtle seductive tone, “what’s a girl like you doing with this crowd? You look too innocent.” He wraps a finger around a strand of her hair and twirls it. It feels strange.

“My friend sent me here, told me to watch over someone,” she lowly speaks. “I’m Soyeon.”

“Nice to meet you, Soyeon,” he breathes before crashing her lips with his. His hand reaches down to grip her thigh, tongue poking out to swipe the sticky gloss. It’s flavored, and it tastes of strawberry. When she kisses him back so slowly, innocently, it turns him on so much. His pants feel tight around his crotch as he runs another hand through her soft hair. Compared to him, she’s passionate whereas he’s sloppy. He’s starting to get dizzier, and it feels so fucking good, but he hates it.

There is not a single reason for him to not enjoy this, not when his mood is lifting so high. The hand on her thigh lands on her cleavage instead and she’s so submissive and shy, but something’s off. He groans into her mouth before biting her lip, ripping a whine out of her. Why does she sound so sexy and annoying?  

He pulls away from her before sighing in irritation. “Fuck, I can’t do this.” 

“Did I do something wrong?” she asks worriedly.

“No, just, fuck.” He starts laughing before rubbing his palms on his eyes, “I really want to fuck, but I just can’t.”

“We can just chat,” she softly suggests. “What’s your name?”

“Jungkook.”

He removes his hands from his face when she goes silent. Her eyes are wide and she’s gaping at him… guiltily? “Crap,” she hisses quietly, “I was supposed to make sure you were okay. My roommate is like, super in love with you and asked me to come here.”

He says your name in a question, wondering if it’s you. When she nods, he asks for your dorm instantly.

“She’s in room 124… Why?”

When he stands up, there’s a sway in his posture but he recovers quickly. There’s an involuntary grin on his face as he thanks her ignorantly. He’s out of the villa in a rush, and he has the overwhelming urge to just run. The campus is a bit far away from the house, but he doesn’t care as his footfalls echo in the dark streets. He has so much energy to waste, and with his current stamina, he’s confident he’ll find you before dawn. It’s stupid but it’s fun, and he doesn’t care for catching his breath as the corner stores pass by him in a blur. 

Throughout the two hours of his reckless jog, where he mixed up directions multiple times, his mind is starting to clear up little by little. He’s happy because of what Soyeon told him, and he feels relieved upon seeing the familiar college building. He’s not allowed in dorms at this time, but he’s done this too many times to get caught. Except he was drunk in those instances, and being on MDMA was different. Sneaking past security was tough because he couldn’t bring himself to tiptoe without making so much noise. When they glanced at him, he thought it to be the only choice to just run past them. He’s in the elevator by the time they catch on, and the numbers look wonky in his eyes but he presses the button for the right floor. 

He’s shifting his weight repeatedly in an attempt to contain his excitement; he wants to see you so bad. The moment he hears the ding of the elevator, he’s running past the halls and stops upon seeing 124. He has to squint, but he knows this is your dorm. 

You wake up with a silent gasp when there’s a pound on the door. You clutch your sheets in fear until someone starts to sing your name. “Jungkook?” you mouth to yourself. You stand up and look through the peephole and there’s a man on the other side who’s bouncing on his feet impatiently.

“Open up,” he sings loudly. You’re worried when you swing the door open and yank him inside so he doesn’t wake up any other students. You try to talk but only a wheeze comes out, so you switch on the light to see him instead. The brightness hurts your eyes as you close them for a few seconds. “Well, well, well, look who we have here…”

He starts to circle around you slowly and stumbles behind you. “Sending people to spy on me after rejecting me like that.” His words are slightly slurred and you turn around to face him with a pout. You point at your throat to give him a hint, but his eyes don’t waver from your pleading ones. “What are your intentions, huh?” he weakly pushes you, “Sending me mixed signals. Who- who do you think you are?”

You hold his hands and place them on your neck, trying to communicate with him by mouthing, “I’m sick,” but he only chuckles. He seems sickeningly joyous, but he’s not over his anger. “Still not going to talk to me? What did I even do?”

You deeply inhale from your nose because he’s not paying attention to you. You’re frustrated with yourself until he yells, “WHY WON’T YOU TALK TO ME?” The surge of serotonin, his state of euphoria is crashing down on him the more you ignore him. He had believed the drug would only make him happy, but it intensified his sadness and anxiety just as much when he saw you. It helped him forget you in a social circle, but you confused him so much after he was reassured for so long - coupled with your silence, he’s raging.

“Why are you ignoring me?! What did I do that was so bad that you can’t bear talking to me anymore? You told me you loved me, please,” he chokes and tries to swallow the lump in his throat. “I-I’ll make it up to you, I’m so sad right now. Just say something…”

You’re watching him in shock and a hint of fear from his fluctuating mood. You want to cry at how pitiful he looks, but instead you aim to grab a piece of paper from your bedside table. He misreads your actions and pushes you against the wall. “Stop this. Stop!” He has your arms pinned and he’s trying so hard to intimidate you so you give in. A dry sob leaves you because he's going mad, but then he has a sudden epiphany. “Maybe you’ll love me again if I fuck you hard enough and engrave it in your brain that you’re mine. Yes, yes!”

He starts unbuckling his belt and you immediately try to stop him; he’ll get sick! He shoves you again and pulls down his jeans before mashing his mouth against yours. All of your efforts have gone to waste when his tongue forces its way down your throat. There’s no point to denying him now, so you hesitantly kiss him back. You’re so guilty, and he’s so careless as he roughly pushes his hand down your white cotton shorts. You’re wearing a navy blue sweater to match so you don’t get cold in the night, but the shorts are meant to prevent a fever. What’s the point now, then? He hasn’t even read your texts that you only remembered to send before sleeping. He missed a whole paragraph of your explanation and confronted you so angrily.

“I’m going to fuck you all night,” he growls against your lips, “then you’ll remember how much you love me.” Your moans are quiet and hitched as he presses down on your clit through your panties. His other hand is on his cock as he strokes it eagerly, ready to get inside you. “I missed you so fucking much in one day,” he whispers in a croak. Hearing it makes you feel even warmer inside as you nudge his hand to urge him to enter you. “You missed me too, huh?” he takes notice of your neediness. “Shouldn’t have fucking brought it upon yourself then.”

He removes his hand from your shorts and taps your thighs before demanding, “Jump.” You bite your lip in consideration until he taps them harder and you quickly wrap your legs around his waist. Your shorts are relatively short, resembling loose boxers, so when your back is pressed against the wall he only pushes them and your underwear to the side before thrusting into you. A scream gets caught in your throat, and you forget all about your aches as he roughly fucks into you without caring for protection or lube. It stings only slightly, but the pleasure in feeling so full of him outweighs the pain.

Jungkook is moaning and groaning as he bruises your thighs in his hold. Your panting is all he can catch, and though the feeling of you is an amplified sensation because of the drug coursing in his system, he wants to hear you chant his name as well. “Still quiet?” he tuts and carries you to your narrow bed and you cling onto his shoulder while trying to catch your breath after the sudden attack. “Your cunt is throbbing though,” he says as he pulls out of you and drops you on the bed. He manhandles you by flipping you on your stomach and holds up your ass. He finally takes off your bottom clothing, but he’s slightly dizzy as he yanks them off your ankles. He spreads your thighs apart and you’re on your knees with your head against the mattress. “I wonder why that is,” he says before slapping your pussy, making you whimper quietly. “So wet, yet you don’t even make a sound. Some whore you are.” You purse your lips and muster a whine, but it’s interrupted when he pistons his cock inside you without warning. Your sounds are hoarse as he pounds into you from the back, hands kneading your ass to the shape of his hands. He gives it a spank as he moans loudly; the new position makes it feel so much more intense, and Jungkook loves it. His ears finally get to hear your pathetic mewls as he thrusts so deeply inside you that your vision blurs with tears and your eyes roll to the back of your skull. You feel like a doll that can’t speak or move, and he’s evidently enjoying it going by his rushed pace. You’re challenging him with your silence, and he loves proving himself.

All of a sudden however, he stops moving. You look behind you with a pout and he quirks a brow at you. You grit your teeth because you know he's waiting for you to tell him to continue, or rather daring you to do something. A sudden surge of confidence overcomes you and you gently slam your hips against his, fucking yourself on his cock with your eyes screwed shut.

“Yes, baby,” he strains, “show me that you're still my good girl.” At his encouragement, you meet his thrusts faster and you're seeing stars at how amazing it feels. You want to be his good girl so bad, and you arch your back to savour the pleasure. “Your pussy is mine, all mine,” he affirms to himself and stills your hips to turn you around without removing his length. His fingers are digging into your flesh and your tits bounce under the fabric as he rams into you restlessly. Your mouth is open in a silent scream and he can barely make out your pupils, the whites of your eyes stirring his climax at how attractive you look under the poor lighting. “I love you so fucking much,” he cries, “say it back, baby.”

You try to, but you can only dryly cough. “You fucking bitch,” he hisses at your defiance and pulls out of you to pump his length. He’s close to his release, and he pushes up your sweater to see your hard nipples that make him salivate. He crawls to slide his cock between the valley of your breasts and it hurts when he harshly pushes them together. “Stick out your tongue,” he commands in a whisper, and you do so while panting like a dog. Every time he thrusts upwards, the tip of his head grazes your tongue and leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. He’s massaging your tits as he stutters between whines, and eventually his load spurts out to land on your chest and cheek with a particularly loud groan. His cum surges down his shaft as he rides out his high with the last slow thrusts. 

“Oh fuck,” he sighs airily and collapses next to you in the tiny space available. You clumsily turn on your side to give him more room and he pecks your swollen lips. He zips his pants back up and you’re still naked from the waist down. You’re staring at each other adoringly in the romantic, fragile atmosphere; another first.

“I love you,” you croak finally. It’s quieter than a whisper, and it makes you cringe at how hideous you sound; it’s painful as well.

His face lights up once he registers your words before noticing the tone. “What happened to your voice?”

“Sick.” You can’t bring yourself to say anything more as you snuggle into his side and he instinctively wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“Shit,” he murmurs, “why didn’t you tell me that sooner, idiot?”

You slap a hand on his front pocket where his phone is, and he hastily takes it out to see a bunch of notifications from you. “You sent it at night, you’re still the idiot.” You giggle and roll your eyes. “A promise is a promise, though,” he purrs before cupping your bare heat. “I did say I would fuck you all night.” You widen your eyes when his head lowers down to face your sopping wet cunt, and he slowly licks up a stripe over your soaked folds, making you shudder and grip his hair. He’s leaving kitty licks all over your sensitivity, the tip of his tongue lightly brushing against your clit every now and then. Your hips lift involuntarily, and he finally takes your clit in his mouth and sucks on it loudly. He slurps your arousal before spitting it back on your hood, and you can only squeak in response. Your hazed mind only tells you that you want more, and he doesn’t fail to provide.

Two fingers enter your clenching hole, and he’s scissoring your walls as he messily eats you out. The pleasure from earlier returns all too soon and you know you won’t be able to last long. His lids are hooded when you glance down at him and the way he’s looking at you makes it even harder to resist your orgasm. The knot in your stomach picks back up right before unraveling and your moan is raspy as you start twitching under his relentless mouth. He grows gentle and leaves kisses all over your vulva until your body falls limp on the sheets.

After another round of penetrative sex, the two of you fall asleep from exhaustion in your bed. It’s a first for the both of you, and Jungkook decides in his drunken mind that tonight won’t be the last. It feels so intimate when he cuddles you, and you won’t ever forget his love confession.

The next morning is not so pleasant however, as Jungkook wakes up with a loud sneeze and in his now nasal voice says, “God fucking damn it.”

[anigraham]

Vague Bitching

Vague bitching is vague. But I can assure you it isn’t political!

Years ago, something came up between me and another individual. I am not comfortable sharing the details and so I must be vague about it.

What I can say though is that the situation I found quite offensive at times. Now, I. . .don’t get offended easily. At least I don’t think I do. I am also aware that just because I take offense to something does not necessarily mean I have the “moral high ground” or whatever. So with that said. . .

I did my best to be as respectful of the other person and their position while also being honest about how I felt about it. It was actually hard at times for me, but I think I managed. It helps that we aren’t close. And I know it sounds awkward. Why is someone like this still in my life? Sometimes we don’t get a choice. I just try to be civil.

Now I wrongly assumed that the Offensive Thing(tm) went away. It’s been years after all, but it’s come up again. And apparently they don’t think I was respectful at all last time which is why they have been quiet about it all these years.

It’s come up again at the same time as a bunch of other stuff that I find upsetting to watch.

Have you ever had someone in your life where you feel like they are making a series of stupid as fuck or selfish as fuck decisions that will result in them hurting others? And you’re standing here like, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” And other people seem to agree with you, but you’re the only person speaking up about it?

That’s what is happening right now.

I confessed to Adem that I don’t know why I am so angry about everything and he said something that really stuck out to me, “You have a right to feel defensive over a child.” Of course the child is only one person wrapped up in this mess. If the child wasn’t involved I would still be upset, just maybe not as much.

And I feel like I am taking crazy pills as while I am not alone in thinking, “This is all bad.” I am watching some of them enable this individual. 

At the same time, why the fuck do I care so much? There is one innocent person wrapped up in all this, but for everyone else they are all adults. They can make their own choices including the main person driving this crazy train. I guess. Yeah. It’s Offensive Thing(tm) and the child who keeps making this personal to me. I’m why I am still attached and can’t seem to let go.

And if I am very frank about it, the resentment I have. I don’t think they have suffered any sort of consequence for what they did to me years ago. I ignored it. I pretended it didn’t happen. Actually thinking about it, I. . .never even told my therapist at the time about it. I don’t know why.

When I casually told two friends about what happened, they helped me see how wrong it was and helped me see how I am still hurting from it. Deeply. 

I’m sitting here feeling like shit as I remember that thing.

Offensive Thing, Child, and that thing.

I can’t help the child. I can’t change the offensive thing. 

Maybe I can let go of all this if I just heal what was done to me so many many years ago.

Yeah. Rambling and typing all this out. Maybe that’s what I should focus on. It’s what I have control over. Maybe that’s what really holding me down to this train wreck of an individual.

It’s moments like this I still wish I had a therapist, but perhaps I have the tools to do it on my own.

[missjanjie]

Must be the Summer Heat (That Gives Her That Glow) | Branjie

Summary: This is a continuation of this drabble that ended up being a oneshot. There were six individual requests for a follow up and also a recent prompt for Nina playing Vanjie in snatch game. Enjoy!

-

The All Stars Six cast had entered the workroom for the first day of the third episode. Everyone was in good spirits, relieved to have survived the first two eliminations.

Brooke Lynn and Vanessa, specifically, were happy to have narrowly avoided outing their relationship. It would have been embarrassing to have blown their cover in week one, especially since their official reconciliation was – as Vanessa had put it the first time around – fresh out the womb. In fact, they had only concretely confirmed their status to each other a week before arriving on set.

Maybe they would have better luck convincing literally anyone that they were ‘just friends’ if they had time to work out a story beforehand – they were as bad at improv as they were at any other type of acting. Winging it, they supposed, was all they could do.

This week’s challenge was the Snatch Game – something everyone saw as either a chance at further success or, for people like Brooke Lynn and Vanessa – a chance at redemption. It didn’t take long after the announcement for everyone to rush to their stations and get right into preparations.

“Who are you gonna do, Nina?” Brooke Lynn asked as he brushed out the wig that he was planning on wearing.

“Well, I’ll tell you who I’m gonna do…” Nina spoke in her ‘Vanjie’ impression, immediately making everyone laugh, “You know, hopefully it’ll go over better than Roxxxy’s Alaska impersonation, but I think my Vanjie-isms are on point,” he explained in his normal voice.

Vanessa arched his brow and laughed. “Ima be watching you, bitch. Tread lightly,” he warned, scribbling potential jokes and one-liners for his own character, shifting nervously as he tried to prepare. Clearly his stress was starting to show as he realized Brooke had made his way to his table with a concerned expression.

Brooke Lynn put his hand on Vanessa’s shoulder and squeezed lightly. “How’re you holding up, Vanj?” he asked gently, sitting beside him. “You feeling more confident this time around?” he asked, despite knowing the answer.

“Not as much as I should be,” Vanessa confessed quietly, resting his head on Brooke’s shoulder. “This is the shit I still struggle with, you know? I know Ru and everyone else are gonna be looking at me to see how I do. Guess I’m preaching to the choir, but you got some redemption already,” he mused.

He wasn’t wrong, Brooke Lynn knew that as much as Vanessa did. “I know, believe me, I get it. Last time was rough for both of us. But you’ve grown so much, and everyone’s rooting for you no matter what,” he told him. “Besides, you’re too much of a fan favorite to go home this early,” he teased.

Vanessa laughed, sniffling a little. “Thanks, Brooke. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he hugged him before Brooke Lynn returned to his station. He could do this, he thought. He just needed to get out of his head.

When it came time to play the game itself, everyone’s nerves appeared to have subsided for the time being – the most important thing was making RuPaul laugh however they could get him to.

One act that stood out, unsurprisingly, was Nina, who was able to mimic Vanessa’s mannerisms and vocal inflictions almost to a T. It was almost enough to make Vanessa break character at a few different points.

At one point in the game, RuPaul asked Nina in character if he had been staying in touch with the other season eleven queens, to which he answered, “Yeah, you know, I still got my Dream Girls. And between you and me mama, I ain’t been kicking Brooke Lynn out of bed either.”

Ru and the two contestants laughed heartily at that. “Oh really?” he egged him to go on – this was almost as good as getting a confession from Vanessa himself.

“Listen, what happens on tour stays in the hotel rooms. And the dressing rooms. And sometimes the bus when we thought everyone was asleep,” Nina continued, having all but forgotten that Vanessa and Brooke Lynn were both on the same panel, staring at him incredulously. ----------

“Hey Nina,” Asia called out to him while they were getting ready for the runway. “If you get into the top two and win the lipsync, are you gonna split that ten grand with Vanjie? You’re profiting off of her likeness,” he asked with a light laugh.

Vanessa bristled at the question even without being directly addressed. “It’s the least she could do after blowing up my spot like that. She knew she didn’t need to go for that low blow,” he chimed in as he did his makeup.

“Nina, girl, you know I love you, but it would’ve been just as easy to do a funny Vanjie impression without having to drag our personal lives into it like that,” Brooke added in a much more calm and gentle tone.

Asia looked between the three of them oddly. “Wait, so she was telling the truth? I mean, I had my suspicions, but…” his voice trailed off as he gestured vaguely, “I just figured y’all discussed what was gonna go down beforehand,” he shrugged.

Nina looked taken aback, but it was clear he did feel guilty. “Vanjie, I had no idea it would be a sensitive subject for you. We’ve all been joking about it, so I thought it would be fair game. But Asia’s right, I should have asked you for confirmation regardless, and I’m so sorry,” he apologized emphatically.

“I forgive you,” Vanessa replied curtly. He knew Nina’s apology was sincere, and he did accept it, but he did still feel tense and uncomfortable in a way that only time could heal.

“Are you alright, Brooke?” Nina asked with a hint of awkwardness in his tone, knowing that Vanessa was still upset.

Brooke nodded, doing his best to seem poised and unphased. “I’m not mad, I understand that you got carried away,” he replied even though, in reality, he was just doing his best to stay strong so neither Nina nor Vanessa felt any worse.

That had been the end of their storyline for that episode. All of them survived to the next week, and the pressure was building even more. They were all starting to feel the heat. Perhaps that was why after they got to a challenge that they were both safe in, Brooke Lynn and Vanessa managed to sneak away while the focus stayed on the winners and losers.

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up, Brooke Lynn,” Vanessa confessed. “It was one thing to compete when everyone knew we had our thing going on, it’s different when we’re trying to hide it. It’s just another fucking thing we gotta worry about, like we don’t fucking have enough to deal with,” he vented.

Brooke frowned sympathetically and wrapped an arm around him. “Baby, I get it. It’s hard for me too. I’d much rather be able to hug and kiss you whenever I want. But this is what we agreed to do if we didn’t want to have that narrative again. Then when all is said and done, we can pick up where we left off and love each other on our own terms.”

Vanessa sighed and curled up against Brooke Lynn. “You say shit that’s smart and makes sense, and I want it to change how I feel, but I just…” in an impulsive act, he suddenly sat up and kissed him deeply, cupping his face with both hands and pouring out every single feeling of longing and need over the past few weeks into that one kiss.

And Brooke couldn’t have fought his feelings if he tried. His arms wrapped around Vanessa’s waist and pulled him close. He had missed this – missed him – more than he realized. He wouldn’t go so far as to say love was more important than winning, but he’d be damned if he couldn’t ignore Vanessa’s feelings, let alone his own. If he was going to give in to their desires, he was glad they could do it alone, sequestered from their friends and the harsh eye of the camera.

“Anyone see where Brooke Lynn and Vanjie went?” Asia asked offhandedly, looking around without realizing he was in earshot of the couple.

As nonchalantly as possible, Vanessa and Brooke returned from their impromptu reconciliation-slash-makeout session and joined the group. “What happened?” Brooke asked as casually as he could. All he received in response, however, was a bunch of confused stares. “Is there something on my face?”

“Other than most of Vanjie’s lipstick?”

[aelinbitch-archive]

my meta is getting rly long lmaooo so:

RT all of this kassie your mind! The galaxy brain of it all! There is 1000000% this vibe from some people who hate rowaelin (people who usually hate aelin too) that’s like “This dumb bitch could be with a LOYAL, CARING MAN, but nooooo she’d rather be abused and overpowered by a fAe MaLe because apparently chaol is just too human and boring and stable for her why doesn’t she just fuck off and go colonize a country and then give ratty whiteporn a blowjob-“ and it’s like holy!???? actual fuck??? First of all, you sound like someone’s abusive ex right now. Jesus fuck it’s a YA novel take a deep breath and tone it down.

Second of all (and this is basically a direct quote from immy) the extent to which some characters are seen as autonomous and responsible for their own characterization (read: aelin and the way she’s seen as being somehow personally responsible/to blame for rowaelin) and some are seen as under the control of the author (read: chaol, dorian, and manon, and how dorian is just seen as being rUiNeD bY SJMeSs instead of being responsible/to blame for m/anorian + his own characterization as a womanizing douche) is a huge, glaring issue in many of the critiques of tog that i would otherwise totally agree with.

Third of all (and this is pretty similar to the first two points) exactly what you said about chaol!!!!! Exactly!!!!!!! The shameless re-articulation of him (or dorian, if he’s the alternative Love Interest Of Choice) by people who hate Rowan/think he’s abusive as “the healthy one” when in canon Chaol was So Deeply Fucked Up and did So Many Shitty Things and “Chaolaena” ended up being Deeply Traumatic for Aelin (JUST as much as Rowaelin was if not more)…. wild. (Like, part of HoF era Rowaelin was Aelin learning to heal from her experiences with Chaol and be accepted for who she is???) And people are like “ok but Chaol is just morally grey!! He grew and changed!! When he asked Celaena what she did to deserve being enslaved and whipped that was before they were dating!!” It’s like lmfao okay…. so are you going to apply that same logic to Rowaelin or…?

And then there’s these Rowaelin shippers that try to take the high ground in all of this which annoys me just as much like lmaoooo?? Yall have NO fucking business copping an attitude with people who don’t like Rowan when I would bet my life savings that some of y’all would turn on Aelin in a second, the exact same way Chaolaena shippers did in QoS, if Aelin dumped Rowan and went off on her own. It’s just so clear that some people (…a lot of people) only approve of Aelin and the direction the series goes in general if they approve of who Aelin’s fucking at the moment? It’s what made me lose respect for a lot of the “anti” discourse and it’s what alienates me from a lot of fans who, on a surface level, seem to share my opinions/preferences but on a deeper level… don’t value the same things I do.

It all comes back to my point in the original meta post which is that no one seems to care how Aelin’s love interests hurt her as long as they’re men people think are hot/ship with her. It’s so damaging and hurtful and I just hope young girls in this fandom can begin to rally around Aelin as an individual and not as like… an object to be shipped. God… because seriously, that concept is so insidious and subtly (and sometimes not-so-subtly) permeates SO much of the discourse in the fandom and “anti” fandom - like how when HoF turns into QoS and suddenly Aelin is no longer shippable with Chaol and no longer brotp-able with Dorian (her considering killing him when he was valg possessed made A LOT of people hate her) she’s “ooc” and “a completely different person” and sjm needs to “#bringbackcelaena”… because her entire identity to these peeps was her relationships with men, I guess? Couldn’t be me.

Anyway so sorry to derail your ask and make it all about Aelin I really was not trying to do that, it’s just that a ton of the fan perception of Rowaelin is connected to that whole ugly mess of Aelin stans v Aelin “antis” and where all of those opinions stem from. At the end of the day I would MUCH rather hang w/ someone who dislikes Rowan/Rowaelin than someone who’s a rabid stan while somehow managing to not care at all about one-half of that ship… the female half.

unpopular opinion: i don’t like rowan/rowaelin. i’m not here to convince u to unstan lol ppl are allowed to like/dislike things w/o feeling bad about it omg but i hate that some rowan stans are so insensitive when it comes to those who don’t like him! they’re so thirsty for him that they condemn anyone who doesn’t stan him & then excuse his problematic/lowkey triggering actions bc he’s hot and it’s gross. AGAIN not saying ppl can’t like rowan it’s ok lol but it’s more about some stan’s behavior

That’s totally fair my angel. I dislike the vibe that some people are locked out of the fandom for not being a cheerleader for every aspect of the series, and I hope that my followers/mutuals know that if they dislike stuff I like, or like stuff I dislike, expressing their opinions regarding that won’t ever cause me to cut them off (unless it’s like, some truly gross shit, which disliking rowaelin isn’t). 

Also I have to say, even tho I do like rowaelin, I understand where you’re coming from about people excusing his actions because he’s hot. I’ve toooooootally seen that. And I’ll just be 100% honest - no shade to anyone, but some of the rowaelin content on this website disturbs me a little bit, in terms what’s considered hot/romantic/acceptable when writing or depicting them in art. I’ve seen some weird stuff defended as hot or even just “not that bad.” Which isn’t necessarily a problem with canon, but your ask was more about stans anyway, so yeah. 

A while ago I actually wrote rowaelin meta in response to some other peeps (which was more about Aelin in relation to Rowaelin and how she’s included or not included in discussions of the ship, but it has some thoughts relevant to this ask) so I’m gonna just copy and paste what I wrote below and feel free to read if u want. (It’s like very overdramatic and fiery lmao but anyway). 

Keep reading

[takethepresent]

Overall, I thoroughly enjoyed the album. J. Cole came in with a smooth flow and a soulful sound to deliver a great work of art. The best parts of this album have to be the lyricism. J. Cole has always been someone who could deliver positive influence to an audience that may not be able to pick up on the tricky wordplay of other positive influences like Kendrick or Joey Bada$$. His words are relatable and easy to understand.

His album talks about the overall problems of the black community, and how they can empower themselves and move forward. The black community is facing a lot of tension at the moment. It used to be primarily internal within the black community as far as the mainstream media was concerned. However, the injustice of many shootings of unarmed black people have sparked a revolutionary black lives matter movement. J. Cole was seen at the actual protests. He has genuinely attempted to understand the struggles of his people and utilize his influence to help. His album attempts to empower the black community while giving non-blacks the opportunity to understand why certain problems exist in the black community.

Hopefully, we can come together in understanding to change our entire community for the better. With that, here are my takes on the individual songs.

Here is my take on each individual song:

For Whom the Bell Tolls

The intro kicks off with emotional lyrics. Perhaps this is an attempt to reach the subconscious depression of many people in the black community. One can only imagine the subconscious depression after many traumatic experiences that are common in a black person’s life. Without the support of society, it must be very easy to be black and feel alone in this world.

People struggle with depression just going through educational institutions and being conditioned by societal norms and mainstream marketing. Imagine going through all of that while dealing with racial oppression.

I am unsure what the bell is meant to represent.

Immortal

This song plays off of the word immortal. J. Cole describes the mentality of being “immortal” that results in people being killed. This is a great song to start off with to describe the main idea of the album: the struggles of the black community. Each verse, he dives deeper into the pain experienced in neglected communities. It serves as a reference point for other points raised later in the album. First, people must understand the uncontrollable forces at hand in communities such as this before they try and blame black people for their own oppression. Once people are introduced to this concept, they can start to understand more and more how people are conditioned.

The outro especially is his message to his audience. I will save any interpretations of the outro for you to make on your own. I do not want to take away from the original message he intended as it is.

Deja Vu

This perspective is very interesting.

“She fuck with small town niggas, I got bigger dreams”.

This just reminds me of how so many women pursue men of certain qualities for security in surface level matters. From the perspective of a guy who girls might actually like, those girls just don’t know their worth. They could do better if they knew their worth and did not invest it into surface level ideas.

Ville Mentality

In this song, J. Cole tries to describe the dangers of the “Ville Mentality”. This mentality is described in verse 2. This same mentality was hinted at in “Immortal”. He implies that this mentality has resulted in a loss of a father, with immense emotional and psychological effects on the child the father left behind.

She’s Mine, Pt. 1

This song is the first peak at a solution for the problems listed above. J. Cole talks about the way love has changed the person that he has wanted to be. The problems mentioned above could be largely summarized as hypermasculinity. Hypermasculinity is when guys try overly hard to be masculine as a false security. This false security is meant to cover up their insecurities beneath the surface. Many guys are deeply afraid to confront their emotions, which is the main reason for the vast majority of their problems. These emotions remain embedded in the subconscious and influence their behaviors without them realizing it. That is why they may behave in strange ways at times. They are simply acting unconsciously through subconscious emotions and thought patterns. Love has influenced him to express and feel his emotions deep inside his subconscious.

One problem that the black community needs to especially express and feel is their emotions dealing with the loss of their own. This grief is very painful and difficult to work through, but they must start. They must stop running away from it.

Change

This song is my favorite song off of the album. It is where J. Cole starts to get “spiritual”. In reality, he is giving us a real solution for our problems.

One, follow your intuition. Your intuition comes from somewhere outside of this reality.

Two, change comes from within. Look within and you will find the answers. Way too many people are so obsessed with the external self that they never connect with their inner self.

In the first song, he talked about how love caused him to start feeling his emotions. After some time of feeling one’s emotions, people will understand why they are the way they are. They can finally do better and have conscious control of their thoughts and actions.

It is nice J. Cole mentioned meditation. This is something that can heal the world.

“As if he’s spiteful like the white folks that control the jail”.

This line speaks out to me. It describes how we mold religion and our idea of God around our experiences. Someone who constantly sees their brothers and sisters locked up or punished harshly will develop a spiteful view of God. This may result in increased pessimism, self-worth and identity issues, and fear. He also hints at how the white-controlled corporation and prison complex system has conditioned these ideas into the minds of black people.

“I no longer bury my demons, I be a vessel for truth”.

He has felt his negative emotions that he was afraid to confront, and wants to share the truth he has learned. We should all confront our “demons”. You do not have to be afraid.

The song also talks about how power-hungry people in the hood create violence. They only do this because they feel powerless in their current situation. They have no way to make a living in a legal way, so they gain control of their situation through illegal ways. The underlining cause behind this is just a fear of losing control.

Overall, J. Cole wants us all to look within ourselves. The answers are there and they will allow us to move forward.

Neighbors

In this song, J. Cole attempts to use his influence to educate people on the reality that black people face in America. The oppression and discrimination of black people is real. Systematically, they are largely ignored in all major matters. The only time they are allowed to voice themselves is when they can be censored through Fox News at the same time. Often times, they are still painted as savages, rioters, criminals etc. However, whenever riots after football games occur, the media does not report it in the same way.

J. Cole describes how he moves to a more privileged estate for a better life. However, he still has to face racism and discrimination. His neighbors only think he is there because he sells drugs, a prejudiced mindset.

“So much for integration”

Foldin Clothes

This song is a more positive perspective of women. It is not about bitches or sex necessarily. It talks about being a better man overall for the right woman. A lot of men complain about being surrounded by “hoes”, but that is the type of woman they are attracting into their life because of who they are trying to be.

The outro emphasizes the contrast between this perspective and the perspective of his friends in the hood.

He also mentions meditation in this song again.

She’s Mine, Pt. 2

This song builds upon the ideas in “She’s Mine, Pt. 1″. It also has a nice part about Christmas, Black Friday, and corporations. He explicitly mentions how Black Friday shopping is meant for buying presents for Christmas that people can’t afford. The idea of buying gifts for Christmas is supported heavily by the idea of Santa Claus.

4 Your Eyez Only

This song will finish off the main ideas of the album. It continues to talk about the forces that oppress black people. It will also provide insight to the story that was told through the album.

(This is my personal take on the album. The conclusions I draw are my own and do not represent the original meanings intended by the artist. Everyone may have their own take on the album. That is the beautiful thing about art.)

See “music” tag below.

[pussymagicuniverse]

Lemonade as Beyoncé’s Magnum Opus

by Cindy Franco

Let’s get into Lemonade being Beyonce’s Magum Opus or “Great Work,” which refers to the alchemical process of turning lead into gold. Historically, some alchemists tried to turn lead into gold literally but the “great work” can also refer to the spiritual stages of transforming lead (depression) into gold (self-love).

The Nigredo

The first alchemical stage, “The Nigredo,” refers to a blackening of the soul or the dark night of the soul more commonly known as “depression.” Lemonade begins with exterior shots of an abandoned plantation which then pans to Beyoncé in a black hoodie. She stands in stark contrast to the lush greenery surrounding her, seemingly unable to connect. Beginning Lemonade with images of a plantation immediately roots the film in a shared past of trauma and bondage experienced by Black Americans.

The plantation looms large in Lemonade, at times even threatening to overshadow Beyoncé herself. In Gothic literature, houses often represent or allude to the psychic state of the protagonist. What does it mean for your psychic home to be a plantation? What does it mean for your psychic home to be a place of centuries of untold horrors? It is often said that depression is anger turned inwards. Depression is also rage with no place to go. Lemonade explores the depression caused by centuries of unexpressed rage chained to the soul.

Have you ever been so depressed, so despondent, that you pray for anything to make the pain stop? But there is no escape, only surrender. Beyoncé surrenders to the void and chaos of the dark night of the soul by diving deeper into her pain which plunges her into the 2nd alchemical stage, “The Albedo.”

The Albedo

The 2nd stage in alchemy is about the washing away of impurities.

From Wikipedia: “In this process, the subject is divided into two opposing principles to be later coagulated to form a unity of opposites.”

In “Hold Up,” B details her excruciating process of purification as such:

 I tried to change. Closed my mouth more, tried to be softer, prettier, less awake. Fasted for 60 days, wore white, abstained from mirrors, abstained from sex, slowly did not speak another word. In that time, my hair, I grew past my ankles. I slept on a mat on the floor. I swallowed a sword. I levitated. Went to the basement, confessed my sins, and was baptized in a river. I got on my knees and said 'amen' and said 'I mean.'

I whipped my own back and asked for dominion at your feet. I threw myself into a volcano. I drank the blood and drank the wine. I sat alone and begged and bent at the waist for God. I crossed myself and thought I saw the devil. I grew thickened skin on my feet, I bathed in bleach, and plugged my menses with pages from the holy book, but still inside me, coiled deep, was the need to know ... Are you cheating on me?

(poetry by Warsan Shire)

Here we see B stripping away parts of herself by engaging in increasingly intense self-effacing behavior in an effort to please her partner. She shape-shifts to the point of non-existence: “abstained from mirrors, abstained from sex, slowly did not speak another word.” This alchemical stage involves a lot of self-reflection because it is only by observing ourselves in relation to the other that we can change our behavior.

Further into her purification process, Beyoncé seems to enter into a deep meditative state that results in a kundalini awakening. Kundalini is defined as feminine energy coiled at the base of the spine, “but still inside me, coiled deep, was the need to know… Are you cheating on me?” Her now-enlightened focus is redirected outwards, which unleashes tons of previously trapped subconscious energy that carries her to the 3rd alchemical stage, “Citrinitas.”

Citrinitas

Citrinitas is referred to as a yellowing of the soul due to the soul’s transformation from the previous alchemical stage’s lunar/feminine/ying to a more solar/masculine/yang. The embodiment of a more masculine energy allows for intense personal expression due to deep inner knowing. Healing requires acknowledgement of pain and injustice; it requires the outward expression of previously pent up rage. As Lemonade progresses, B is no longer wondering or in denial about the truth. She knows.

In this case, knowing leads to anger and the angriest song on the album wherein she loudly proclaims, “Who the fuck do you think I am? You ain’t married to no average bitch, boy.” In the video for “Don’t Hurt Yourself,” we see flashes of a raging Beyoncé in black and white, wearing an outfit that we will see her wearing again in the “6-inch” video. To me, this is hinting at B’s final coagulation, which will result in the total merging of opposites alluded to in the 2nd alchemical stage. But she’s not quite there yet. 

Beyoncé rushes head first into apathy because healing is circular and sometimes, in an effort to heal, we convince ourselves that we feel nothing. Healing, much like grieving, is a long process that requires that we pause in order to reflect and get on living life. In “Sorry,” Beyoncé further embodies her shadow by acting more like her lover: “Now you want to call me crying, now you gotta see me wilding, now I’m the one that’s lying.” She’s giving him a taste of his own medicine by mirroring his actions back to him. She has essentially become a medicine woman.

The Rubedo

The fourth and final stage of the alchemical process is called “The Rubedo,” or reddening of the soul, which is the process of attaining individuation by merging the disparate parts of the personality into one coherent self.

“6-inch” begins with B dressed in red among the flames in the same dress that we saw her wearing in “Don’t Hurt Yourself,” which signals the completion of the coagulation process that indicates a unity of opposites. As “6-inch” continues, the audience slowly approaches a door bathed in red light until we see B again in the back of a car, which is also bathed in red light. To me, this imagery alludes to Beyoncé being in a womb waiting to be reborn. Before rebirth, she must first make peace with being a woman, with her ancestral lineage, with the blood of life and with the loss inherent in loving.

“6-inch” ends with Beyoncé emerging from the ‘womb’ in front of a burning plantation. She has freed herself from ancestral trauma by burning down her old psychic home.

“She murdered everybody and I was her witness.”

She’s done the healing work to burn away her past self which was lacking in intuition, self-expression and ultimately self-love. Everything post “6-inch” is from the point of view of an individuated Beyoncé who now knows herself on a deeper level. She chooses to forgive her lover from this place of deeper knowing that his past behavior was a reflection of her past self, a self that ignored the truth in order to keep the peace. This acceptance allows her to merge past, present and future in order to be reborn to her higher self. A woman who is brave enough to peer into the darkness, confront what she sees in the dark and emerge from that void with the confidence to speak on all that she has seen. 

“The nail technician pushes my cuticles back, turns my hand over, stretches the skin on my palm and says I see your daughters and their daughters. That night, in a dream, the first girl emerges from a slit in my stomach. The scar heals into a smile. The man I love pulls the stitches out with his fingernails. We leave black sutures curling on the side of the bath. I wake as the second girl crawls head first up my throat—a flower, blossoming out of the hole in my face.”

 — Nail Technician As Palm Reader, Warsan Shire

Cindy Franco is a lifelong writer of poetry, short stories and various random musings and essays. She was born in the Dominican Republic to a 17-year-old single mother who immigrated to the US at 22 years old. Cindy grew up in Washington Heights and the Bronx in the 90s. Her academic prowess secured her a scholarship to a prestigious boarding high school in Massachusetts at the age of 15. Unable to afford her college education, Cindy dropped out of college in her 2nd year but she never stopped learning or writing privately.

Cindy’s extraordinary life circumstances have given her a unique perspective and dedication to telling stories about women’s healing through art and spirituality. She deeply believes in the healing power of self-love, freeing women from excessive emotional labor, astrology, afro-spirituality and pop-culture. Find her on Twitter @SailorVanity.