#but its hard to watch and i am sad about it

[autisticfaun420]

Autism and Fecal Smearing

I want to get this out of the way first so I'm just gonna say it, I struggle with this awful habit which is called diaper digging and fecal smearing, this post (and blog for that matter) I don't want to shy away from talking about this stuff. So yeah if I have a bowel accident, am frustrated/overstimulated/angry/sad, and am left alone for a few minutes I tend to do this. It's not as bad as before because I have preventative measures in place, like special onesies that make it so I can't remove my diaper myself (ughhh whatever...) and crunchy scented textured slime that my mom will add even more scent to just to make it overwhelming. The average number of episodes has been greatly reduced but I had one a couple weeks ago when my onesies were in the watch so the topic is fresh on my mind.

A lot of caregivers and autism parents are mystified and baffled by this habit and wonder why we do it. I can't speak for everyone, only myself, but to me personally the scent and texture of feces is so overwhelming and strong that I get a "high" from it. I take cannabis edibles daily and my parents let me get drunk once a month so I'll say its very comparable. I get a rush from it. My life can be so monotonous sometimes that smearing crap feels like getting away with a bank robbery, I go from extremely angry to feeling before then to like a happy giddy kid without a care in the world. I zone out so hard that I end up smearing it all over my face, walls, floor, and if it gets in my mouth I'm usually too far gone to care. I do not do it because I'm mad at my parents, I do not do it because I want to get back at them for something, I simply do it because my need for sensory input is so strong and when I'm about to go into a potentially violent meltdown I reach for the sensory nuke when my normal things to stim with just won't cut it. No high is complete without the crash and there's a crash. Seeing my parents and one of my unlucky friends SOOOOOOO unreasonably mad, it's terrifying. My parents got used to it and eventually just shrugged it off but I have heard them lose their cool over it several times and have heard my name and every cuss word in the book the room over where they clean. Not nice of them but I do not blame them one bit but the feeling inside hearing that is very real for me. I guess they got too good at shrugging it off. I had an incident where I smeared in the bathroom of one of my high school friends, very chill guy, look at me and scream at the top of my lungs, and punched a hole in the wall in the living room. I didn't know the painting he had in his bathroom was that rare but I ruined it completely and that's why he reacted that way. He could of done better but I do not blame him one bit. After that though seeing a side of that friend that I never seen before scared me into wearing the stupid onesie suit every day without fuss or a fight when before I would. Not only the suit but I have the replacement slime on me at all times, if I have a BM I tend to just pull it out and play with it. This doubles up as subtly letting my parents know I need a change, which I like cause I don't have to ask verbally which can feel kinda degrading sometimes. There is one good thing that has happened with this though. My hippie parents looked at my turd stained walls and thought I had some latent artistic talent and needed self expression and bought me art and painting supplies. They were misguided, it didn't prevent any incidents but I still took the art well. My therapist at the time had some art connections and the art I made was featured in what's known as an "outsider art" gallery. I sold a few pieces for 300-600 each. It's just a little bit bitter sweet cause if you've seen the King of the Hill episode about the Probots or just know a bit about outsider art in general, you'd know the way they market it is kind of, problematic to say the least. The gallery's artist profile for me made me out to be some kind of idiot dunce and made my parents look like heroic geniuses for spotting this talent or some shit and it's embarrassing that my artwork sold most likely cause of that over the strength of the art. Like oh wow look at this stupid R word who plays with poop his cool parents are soo smart, ughhhh. However I guess that's just the art game and I'm super proud of myself I made a couple thousand dollars of MY OWN money, it meant the world to me to have it. I'm not allowed to post my artwork on here and I wish I could share it with you on MY terms and not the gallery's but my parents are worried it could come back to my identity.

I want to end this post by saying if you engage in fecal smearing you are not stupid, broken, or filthy. You are a human being desperate for relief and you took the fastest way to get it. Shout out to all my autistic homies who smear or have smeared, I see you and you are loved.

[everywishway]

It's so hard being an anime fan sometimes bc of how pervy it is. Like, in my top 5 is My Dress Up Darling. I'm a cosplayer and I have basically the same personality as Marin. She's such a silly goober and I am such a nerd for all the cosplay minutia. This is the comfort show I watch when I'm sad or just need some cute romcom vibes.

BUT I TRY SHOWING THIS TO MY BEST FRIENDS AND THEY ARE LIKE "WTF THIS SHOW IS SO HORNY". Like, I know but I'm ace and largely ignore that BS in favor of Marin being my little silly.

Or I'm talking about TGCF and my friends are like "oh, its those horny Chinese men I keep seeing having sex all over my dash" and I'm like "NO. LET ME TALK ABOUT MY WHOLESOME GIRL FAILURE OF A MAN, XIE LIAN, AND HOW MUCH HIS BOYFRIEND LOVES HIM".

Like, is it just bc I'm ace that I tone all that shit out? Is that normal? I just get so invested I don't notice it.

[yeonjune]

Yeonjun about the strain he felt while preparing for his debut solo project ✙ "GGUM" MAKING FILM

[art--harridan]

[Image description: A traditional drawing of Katrina from the film Vamp. It is boldly coloured with oil pastels, and is a close-up of her face, stretched out to bare her fangs. Both her mouth and her eyes are wide open, although one of her eyes is obscured in a dark shadow. She is deeply shadowed, although the contours of her face are lit up from below in a bright and unnatural neon green, which also makes her visible eye look uncanny. There is a pink rim light around the top of her head, and deeper reds behind her. The oil pastels create a grainy texture that is offset by the rigidity of the colour blocking of the different tones of her face.]

[yourlocalsewerdragon]

like i carry little pieces of everybody i met on this site, everywhere i go

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[hundredowls]

silly oc doodle..... ballroom yuri

[skeletalheartattack]

"BLJ" actually stands for Biden Long Jump <isnt sure if youre aware of mario 64 speedrunning technique backwards long jump

and if joe biden was put into half life 2 he'd do an "ABH", as in: Accelerated Biden Hop

[astrxealis]

damn i never thought i'd get into stardew valley this much but here we are !! makes perfect sense tho

[omanu]

.

[seirosu]

what does your life look like -- without me there ?? without me there ?? do I still cross your mind -- without me there ?? without me there ??

is heaven all we thought it'd be ?? can you still hear my voice now ?? are you watching down on me ?? when all i see is stars ??

what does your life look like -- without me there ??

𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 .

[munch-mumbles]

google how do you comfortably read real books in bed. google. please

[skyeateyourdonuts]

dangerrrrrr

[wistfulwatcher]

#i am so with you on that one#i still hope we somehow get that explanation in the final#and up until now they've always used every minute in those 1h episodes#because if we really don't get any explanation how suddenly EVERYONE was on board with slicing the throat open#gutting and fucking eating one of their friends?#an actual LIVING person??#i can't#then i guess they lost me#no matter how much i love this show#cause the slow progression over these two season was all for nothing if they don't show the literally first conscious decision of the group (via @bb-bechloe-bonding)

i've sat with the episode for two days now, and i'm still just genuinely so disappointed and bewildered by lottie's suggestion that they sacrifice one of the survivors. as presented, lottie's reasoning for the need to offer one of them to the wilderness is because they're all struggling as adults. just struggling, not facing any real and true dangers like the threat of starvation they were facing in the wilderness. she wants one of them to die - the very thing she wanted to prevent natalie from doing A WEEK AGO! - so that the other 5 survivors' lives get a little happier.

sacrificing one of them so they can all eat in the wilderness makes sense. it's an ugly and brutal choice, but it's understandable. lottie's plan is not. and the thing is, they did have an opportunity in this episode to justify lottie's 2021 suggestion, and they just...didn't. because, presumably, the reason for lottie making the suggestion in 2021 falls under the reason the ritual began in 1997. but we didn't get to see that ritual discussion.

understanding their motivation for the sacrifice is crucial. it's been crucial for the past two seasons, it's been what we were building to, and it's the bedrock of their new religion. we know they needed to eat, and that the sacrifice was a practical one. but how did they decide that one life was worth more than another? that a group of lives were more valuable than one? philosophy nerd misty was in that room; did she explain the different schools of thought? did they decide that the overall health of the group was more important than a single life? did they decide that the group as an entity needed to survive? and what does "survive" mean? physical satiation? emotional stability, making a choice they could all live with? did they discuss their possible future selves? the idea of happiness, since that's essentially what lottie is pitching in 2021?

lottie's whole pitch is that they need to do this - LITERALLY DIE - to survive, so that is exactly what they needed to define in the ritual discussion for this episode to make sense. and they didn't.

[jungwnies]

F1 GRID | the end of the season '24

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri ୨ৎ : synopsis : quiet nights at the hotel after a long race

୨ৎ : genre : some are happy & some are sad ୨ৎ : tws : none ୨ৎ : word count : 2531

୨ masterlist ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : i am so proud of lando for being able to secure that wcc for mclaren, but i am SO sad seeing carlos drive in red for the last time, and seeing lewis have his last drive with mercedes :c

ʚ・max verstappen

the post-race buzz of abu dhabi had faded, leaving a quiet calm in max's hotel suite. he sprawled on the sofa, phone in hand, scrolling through memes with that trademark deadpan expression. p6 wasn't great—definitely not how he wanted to wrap the season—but the world championship trophy on his shelf said it all. he was untouchable, even on an off day.

you dropped onto the couch next to him, giving him a small smile. "not quite the result we were hoping for, huh?"

he tilted his head, barely fazed. "meh. one bad race doesn’t erase a good season." he tossed his phone onto the table, already over it. "at least now i don’t have to hear the word 'tyre degradation' for a while."

"exactly," you agreed, nudging his arm. "just endless beaches, lazy mornings, and maybe some sketchy tourist traps."

he smirked, his eyes lighting up for the first time all evening. "knowing you, that probably means camel racing or some falcon photo op where i end up holding a bird for instagram."

you laughed. "don’t pretend like you wouldn’t secretly enjoy it."

"maybe," he admitted with a faint grin. "but only if there’s good food after. priorities, you know?"

as you leaned into his side, you felt the tension melt away from him. the season was done, the pressure gone. and for once, max verstappen, the reigning world champion, was just a guy on a couch, ready to trade apexes for sunsets and podiums for bad tourist selfies.

ʚ・lewis hamilton

a bittersweet stillness filled the room—p4 after starting sixteenth was nothing short of remarkable, but tonight marked the end of an era. his last race with mercedes. the silver star that had defined his legacy, his dominance, was now in the rearview mirror.

you leaned into him, your head resting lightly on his shoulder. "what a drive, lewis," you murmured, pride laced in your voice. "it was magic out there, just like always."

he smiled faintly, his gaze fixed on the city lights beyond the window. "it felt good, you know? pushing through the field like that. it’s how i want to remember this team—fighting, always fighting." his voice was steady, but there was a weight behind it, a depth only you could hear.

"it’s hard to see this chapter end," you said softly, running your fingers along the edge of his hand. "so many years, so much history. but watching you today—watching you fight with every ounce of heart you’ve got—it’s impossible not to feel proud."

he turned to you then, his eyes warm, a quiet fire still flickering in them. "it’s sad, yeah. mercedes is family. but every journey has its end, and every end makes way for something new. it’s time. time for a new challenge."

you smiled, squeezing his hand. "and ferrari red will suit you, no doubt about it."

that earned a laugh from him, light but genuine, his shoulders finally easing. "we’ll see. it’ll be... different. but i’m ready for different. i have to be."

"you’ll thrive," you said, meeting his gaze with steady confidence. "because that’s who you are, lewis. you don’t just race—you redefine what’s possible."

he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "and having you by my side, that makes it all the better."

the evening stretched on as you reminisced about mercedes—about the victories, the struggles, the growth. there was sadness, yes, but also hope, an electric anticipation for the future. ferrari would be a new challenge, but lewis hamilton was built for challenges. and you? you’d be there, through it all, cheering him on as he wrote the next chapter of his already legendary story.

ʚ・george russell

the air in george’s hotel room was thick with emotions. lewis—his teammate, his mentor, his benchmark—was leaving for ferrari. the weight of it sat heavily on his shoulders, a silent pressure he hadn’t quite found the words to unpack.

you settled beside him on the bed, your hand resting lightly on his back. "you drove brilliantly today, george," you said softly, your tone filled with pride.

he gave you a faint smile, though his usual spark was dimmed. "thanks. it’s just... weird, you know? lewis not being here next season. he's been... well, everything. a teammate, a rival, someone to learn from."

"it’s a huge change," you agreed, your voice gentle. "but today, you showed exactly what you’re made of. you didn’t just race—you fought, george. and everyone saw it."

he turned to look at you, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. "but can i really lead this team now? without him?"

you met his gaze firmly, your conviction unwavering. "you don’t have to be lewis, george. you’ve already proven you're your own kind of leader—sharp, determined, and always hungry for more. you don’t need to fill anyone’s shoes because you’re carving out your own legacy."

his shoulders relaxed slightly, the tension giving way to a spark of confidence. "it’s just... lewis set such a high bar. and stepping into that space—it’s a lot."

"you don’t need to step into his space," you reminded him with a reassuring smile. "you’ve earned your own, george. you’ve fought for it, and you’re more than ready to take the reins."

he took a deep breath, the weight on his chest easing as resolve began to take its place. "this is my chance, isn’t it? to really prove myself."

"absolutely," you said, squeezing his hand. "and i’ll be right here, every step of the way, cheering for you."

his smile widened, more genuine this time, and he leaned in to kiss you softly. "thank you, love" he murmured. "that means everything."

as the night stretched on, you stayed by his side, feeling his determination grow stronger with each passing moment. george russell was ready to rise, ready to lead, and ready to show the world exactly why he belonged at the front of the pack. and you couldn’t wait to witness it all.

ʚ・carlos sainz

arlos sank onto the balcony of his hotel suite, the cool night air brushing against his skin, a sharp contrast to the adrenaline and heat of the race. it his last race with ferrari, the team that had become more than a job.

you slipped behind him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, resting your chin lightly on him. "carlos," you said softly, your voice thick with emotion, "you were amazing today. truly incredible."

he let out a quiet sigh, leaning back into your embrace, his eyes fixed on the city lights. "yeah, it was a good one. but leaving ferrari? that’s… it’s hard. really hard."

"i know," you murmured, your cheek pressing against his. "you and charles, ferrari… it felt like it fit, like it was meant to be."

he nodded slowly, a small, wistful smile tugging at his lips. "we were a good team, weren’t we? two competitive guys who somehow managed not to kill each other every weekend," he joked, though his voice carried a faint sadness. "but, ah, next season? it’s going to feel strange not seeing his stupid smile in the garage."

you chuckled softly. "but you’ll always have the memories," you reminded him. "and you’ll make new ones, new rivalries, new podiums."

he turned to look at you, his warm brown eyes meeting yours. "do you remember my first race with ferrari?" he asked, a grin breaking through the sadness. "lando was on the podium with me. and now he’s here again for my last one. crazy, no?"

"it’s like the universe has a sense of humor," you said, your smile mirroring his. "full circle moments like that don’t just happen by chance."

he laughed softly, his shoulders relaxing a bit. "yeah, maybe. or maybe it’s just one of those little things that reminds me to enjoy the journey."

you held him close, knowing how much leaving ferrari meant to him. the passion, the heart, the pure determination he’d poured into every single lap. but you also knew that carlos was unstoppable—wherever he went, whatever he faced, he would find his way to the top.

"wherever you go, whatever happens," you said, your voice steady and filled with love, "i’ll be right there, cheering you on."

his arms wrapped around you, pulling you in tightly. "i know," he whispered, his voice thick with gratitude. "and that’s what keeps me grounded. thank you, mi amor."

ʚ・charles leclerc

the roar of the abu dhabi crowd had faded, leaving only the soft hum of the air conditioning in charles’ hotel room. he sat on the edge of the bed, eyes fixed on the trophy for his third-place finish. starting p19 after that engine penalty, clawing his way up to the podium—it was an extraordinary drive. but there was a weight in his gaze, a shadow of disappointment.

you sat beside him, your hand finding his. "charles," you said gently, your voice full of admiration, "that was incredible. you were on fire out there."

he offered a small smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "it wasn’t enough," he muttered, his voice heavy with frustration. "we were so close to the WCC... but mclaren just had too much."

"you did everything you could," you assured him, squeezing his hand. "no one could have driven that race better. you started from the back, charles. and you still ended up on the podium. that’s... that’s amazing."

he ran a hand through his hair, sighing deeply. "i know, i know. it's just hard. we were so close. it stings."

you gently cupped his face, lifting his chin so his eyes met yours. "charles leclerc, you are one of the best out there. don’t let this one race make you forget everything you've accomplished this season. you fought for every position, you never gave up, and you made us all proud."

a real smile tugged at his lips, the weight on his shoulders easing slightly. "thank you," he whispered, leaning into your touch. "i needed that."

there was a brief pause, and a flicker of sadness passed through his eyes. "it’s gonna be strange without carlos next year," he said quietly, his voice low.

you felt a pang for him. you knew how close he and carlos were, both on and off the track. "i know," you murmured, your heart aching. "but you'll still have him as a friend. and you’ll both keep achieving incredible things."

he nodded slowly, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "he’s like a brother to me. it won’t be the same without him."

you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close. "i know it won’t," you whispered, running your fingers through his hair. "but i know you ,charles. you'll adapt. you’ll keep shining."

he held you tighter, drawing comfort from your embrace, "what would i do without you mon amour."

you let out a soft laugh and place a gentle peck on his lips, "you'd probably be a mess without me, i love you."

"i love you too." he told you, snuggling closer.

ʚ・lando norris

the echoes of the abu dhabi celebrations had finally faded, leaving a peaceful quiet in lando's hotel suite. he was sprawled on the sofa, the trophy resting on his chest, his eyes half-closed as a contented sigh escaped his lips. the excitement from the victory was still buzzing inside him, but a calm had settled in, like he was finally letting everything sink in.

you curled up beside him, your finger tracing the lines of the trophy. "still can't believe it, huh?" you whispered, a soft smile on your face.

lando chuckled, a grin tugging at his lips. "yeah, it's still kinda crazy. like, i feel like i'm dreaming, but don't wanna wake up."

"you were amazing today, lando," you said, your voice filled with pride. "and the whole season, really. you led mclaren to victory. it’s historic."

he grinned, his eyes lighting up. "yeah, it really is, isn’t it? bringing mclaren back to the top after all this time... feels unreal. but in the best way possible."

"you deserve all the praise," you reassured him, snuggling closer. "you’ve worked so hard, and you’ve grown so much as a driver. i'm so proud of you."

he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you in closer. "couldn’t have done it without you, honestly," he murmured, his voice warm. "you’ve been with me through all of it—my biggest supporter."

"and i always will be," you promised, feeling your heart swell. "through the wins, the losses, i’ll be right here."

he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft kiss. "and that's all i need," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

as you lay together, bathed in the soft glow of the hotel room lights, the weight of his achievement settled in. lando norris, the man who led mclaren to the top of the world again, securing the WCC after 26 years. this moment, this victory, would be something you both would remember forever. the future was bright, and you couldn’t wait for the next adventure—together.

ʚ・oscar piastri

back in the comfort of his hotel room, oscar kicked back with a grin plastered on his face, the adrenaline from the race replaced by his usual playful energy. p10 wasn’t the podium he’d wanted, but who cared? mclaren had just clinched the WCC, and that was more than enough for him.

“we did it!” he shouted, arms thrown up in the air, his grin wider than ever. “champions, baby!”

you chuckled, shaking your head at his excitement. “you guys were incredible today, oscar. especially lando, bringing home the win.”

“yeah, lando was on fire!” oscar agreed, grabbing a celebratory drink from the minibar. “though, i wouldn’t mind a podium myself…” he paused, a glint of mischief lighting up his eyes. “if it weren’t for someone deciding to use my car as a brake early on.”

you raised an eyebrow, trying to hide your smile. “ah, yes. max verstappen. saw that incident. bit of a rough start, huh?”

“rough is putting it lightly,” oscar grumbled with a smirk, taking a swig of his drink. “the guy treated me like a bowling pin! swear i saw stars, maybe even a few constellations.”

“well, you can’t deny it made for some exciting racing,” you teased, nudging him playfully.

“exciting for you, maybe,” he shot back with a grin. “i was just trying to survive out there! dodging debris, angry drivers... felt like a demolition derby.”

“but you made it through,” you pointed out. “and you contributed to the team’s victory. that’s what counts.”

he gave a dramatic nod, his humor returning full force. “true, true. who needs a podium when you’ve got bragging rights for surviving a verstappen torpedo?”

you burst out laughing, unable to hold back. “that’s the spirit babe."

as laughter filled the room, you couldn’t help but admire oscar’s resilience and ability to keep things light, even when things didn’t go his way. he might’ve been a little salty about the verstappen incident, but he was genuinely happy for the team, and that’s what made him such an asset. next season was going to be one to remember, and you couldn’t wait to see what this rising star would achieve.

© 2024 jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[rafecameronssl4t]

I enjoyed reading your rafe fics of love island and I was wondering if you could write one where reader and rafe are coupled up but he went to casa amor. Rafe started getting close to another girl and ended up kissing her. The reader saw a video of what happened in casa amor and she’s all sad and heartbroken. When it comes to the re coupling, the reader stays single while rafe brings back the girl to the villa. It’s sad but also a happy ending? I understand if you don’t want to write it!! I’ve been watching season 6 of love island USA and now I want to read sad fics lol

Oscar Winning Tears || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader love island au

A/n: sorry bb this isn't a happy ending but I might end up writing a part 2????

Warnings: angst!!!! justice for my girl, it hurt me writing this :(

Word count: 1,905

MASTERLIST (love island au masterlist)

Divider by @h-aewo

The firepit crackled softly, its warmth doing little to ease the icy weight in your chest. You stood among the other girls, the glow of the villa lights illuminating your tense expression. Casa Amor was over. This was the moment that would decide everything. The whispers around you were nervous, expectant. Some girls were murmuring about their hopes, clutching onto the chance that their boys had stayed loyal.

You barely heard them. Your mind was consumed by a single image: Rafe’s lips on another girl’s. That damn video. It had been quick—a montage of clips sent to the main villa to stir the pot. It worked. You’d seen him laughing with her, their bodies closer than they should’ve been, the playful touches that turned into something more. And then the kiss.

You’d felt your stomach drop as the girls gasped around you, some trying to reassure you while others exchanged worried glances. But you didn’t cry then, and you wouldn’t cry now. You refused to give anyone, especially him, that power. Your stomach churned just thinking about it, but you refused to let anyone see how much it hurt.

Sophie's voice broke through the tense silence. "Ladies, the boys are on their way back. Please stand by the firepit." You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to stand tall, even as your legs felt like jelly. Your palms were sweaty, and you discreetly wiped them on your dress, hoping to mask the anxiety clawing at your composure.

The first footsteps echoed from the path. A single pair. One of the girls next to you exhaled a shaky sigh of relief as her partner walked in alone, grinning sheepishly. Another boy followed, also alone. The tension was unbearable. Then, you heard it. Two sets of footsteps. Your breath hitched. A bitter chuckle escaped your lips before you could stop it, soft but sharp, enough to make the girls around you glance your way.

You didn’t look at them. Your eyes were fixed on the pathway, your heart sinking deeper with each passing second. You’d been prepared for this, or at least you told yourself you were. But nothing could really prepare you for the sight of Rafe walking toward the firepit with another girl on his arm. And then you saw him.

He walked in, his hand lightly resting on the arm of another girl. He didn't meet your eyes. His head was low, his expression unreadable. If you didn’t know him so well, you might have missed the subtle signs of guilt: the tightness in his jaw, the way his hand fidgeted at his side, the occasional glance toward you that he quickly averted.

The murmurs from the other islanders grew louder as they registered the scene. You could feel their eyes darting between you and Rafe, their pity and shock palpable. When he reached his spot across from you, Sophie turned to you with a sympathetic smile. "Y/n," she began gently, her voice laced with concern, "how are you feeling, darling?"

You let out a dry laugh, the sound bitter even to your own ears. "How am I feeling?" you repeated, your voice trembling despite your best efforts. You took a moment to compose yourself, sucking in a deep breath before continuing. "I’m not surprised. I expected it." Everyone at the firepit watched silently.

"I saw the video," you added, your tone flat but sharp, like the edge of a knife. That did it. Rafe’s head snapped up, his blue eyes wide with shock. Guilt was written all over his face. He opened his mouth, but you weren’t done. "Y/n—" he started, but you raised a hand to cut him off. "Don’t," you interrupt, your voice breaking slightly. You looked up at the sky, blinking furiously to keep the tears at bay.

You refused to cry—not in front of everyone, not in front of him, and certainly not in front of her. The girl at his side, her hand still loosely resting on his arm, spoke up. "It’s Love Island, babe. You gotta do what you gotta do," she shrugs. Her voice was light, almost dismissive, as if her words weren’t twisting the knife already buried in your chest.

Your head snapped toward her, and for the first time that night, anger flared in your eyes. "You’ve literally been here five minutes," you snapped, your voice sharp and cutting. "Don’t tell me what Love Island is about." Her confidence faltered, and she blinked taken aback by your tone, but you didn’t give her the chance to respond. Your attention shifted back to Rafe.

The anger in your chest burned hotter now, but beneath it was a raw, aching hurt that threatened to consume you. You forced a bitter smile onto your face. "I hope you’re happy with your decision, Rafe. I really do. I hope you don’t regret it." The firepit was silent except for the crackling of the flames. The other islanders shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to say.

Some of the girls moved closer to you, murmuring quiet words of comfort that barely registered. Rafe looked like he wanted to say something, his lips parting slightly, but no words came out. He looked down again, his shoulders slumping under the weight of his guilt. Straightening your spine, you turned away from him, heading back to your spot with the girls.

Your heart felt like it was shattering, pieces of it breaking off with every step, but you kept your head high. The tears still threatened to fall, but you blinked them back, refusing to give him—or anyone—the satisfaction of seeing you cry. This was Love Island, and you’d play the game. But this time, you’d play it for yourself.

~

The recoupling ceremony ended in a blur. The moment Sophie dismissed everyone, you were the first to stand, your legs moving on autopilot as you stormed off. The heels of your shoes clicked sharply against the wooden planks, the sound punctuating each shaky breath you took. Behind you, the murmurs began—low and uncertain—as the other girls watched you retreat.

It wasn’t long before they followed, one by one, a show of solidarity that left the Casa Amor girls awkwardly planted in their seats. You held your head high as you walked away, desperate to maintain the last shred of composure you had left.

Rafe sat frozen at the firepit, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. He could feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on him, the tension radiating like a storm about to break. His jaw clenched as he stared down at the ground, guilt eating away at him like poison. “Mate, what the fuck were you thinking?” one of the boys muttered, breaking the silence.

Another chimed in, leaning forward to fix him with a sharp glare. “She stayed loyal to you. You had the real deal, and you blew it for… what? A bit of fun?” Rafe swallowed hard, his throat dry as sandpaper. He couldn’t defend himself. He couldn’t even look up. Beside him, the girl from Casa Amor shifted uncomfortably, her confidence waning as the tension mounted.

“Seriously, Rafe,” one of the others said, his voice lower but no less disappointed. “She deserved better than this. You know that, right?” The words hit Rafe like a punch to the gut, but he stayed silent, his guilt too overwhelming to let him respond. He risked a glance toward the path you’d disappeared down, but the sight only made his stomach churn.

The tears you’d been holding back spilled over, unstoppable, hot streams burning down your cheeks. Your chest felt tight, suffocating, as if your heart was collapsing in on itself. You pressed a trembling hand to your chest, trying to steady your breathing, but it was no use. Sobs wracked your body, and you stumbled slightly, leaning against a railing for support.

Despite your efforts to escape, you were still within view of the firepit. You hated that they could see you like this—breaking apart, vulnerable, destroyed. The girls were by your side in an instant, Sofia’s arm wrapping securely around your shoulders. “It’s okay, we’ve got you. Let’s get you out of here, okay? Away from everyone,” she murmured softly, her voice low and comforting as the others circled around you protectively.

You nodded mutely, unable to speak past the lump in your throat. They guided you to one of the outdoor lounges, the soft cushions offering little comfort as you collapsed onto them. Sofia sat beside you, pulling you into her arms as the others hovered close, their faces etched with concern. You buried your face in Sofia’s shoulder, gripping her tightly as sobs tore through you.

It all spilled out—the heartbreak, the anger, the betrayal. “I can’t do this,” you gasped, the words spilling out between sobs. “I fucking can’t do this.” The raw pain in your words made the girls exchange worried glances, their sympathy etched in their faces. “I stayed loyal to him,” you choked out, your voice breaking. “I stayed loyal, and he…” You couldn’t even finish the sentence.

The memory of him walking in with her was enough to shatter you all over again. “He’s a fucking idiot,” one of the girls said fiercely, her voice cutting through the haze of your pain. “You gave him everything, and he didn’t deserve any of it.” Sofia wiped your tears. "You did everything right. This isn’t on you." Her words only made it worse.

You had stayed loyal. You’d turned away from every temptation in Casa Amor, reminding yourself over and over that Rafe was waiting for you, that he was worth it. You’d trusted him to do the same. But he hadn’t. “But why?” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Why wasn’t I enough?” The question hung in the air, unanswered, as your sobs filled the silence.

Sofia tightened her hold on you, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears as she tried to comfort you. "I gave him everything," you choked out between sobs, your voice breaking. "And he just… he didn’t care. He didn’t even think about me." The girls murmured quiet reassurances, their hands resting on your back, your arms, wherever they could offer comfort.

But nothing they said could touch the aching void inside you, the gaping wound left by his betrayal. Your heart ached, a dull, throbbing pain that radiated through every inch of your body. The memory of Rafe walking in with her—his arm around her, his guilty eyes refusing to meet yours—was seared into your mind. For the first time, you truly doubted if you could keep going.

Back at the firepit, Rafe’s guilt was palpable. He finally glanced up, only to see the other boys still staring at him with varying degrees of disappointment and disbelief. “You fucked up, man,” one of them said bluntly. “Big time.” Rafe didn’t argue. He didn’t try to explain. What could he say? That he’d been tempted, that he’d let his guard down, that he’d convinced himself it was harmless until it wasn’t? None of it mattered now.

The damage was done. His gaze shifted to the path again, and for a fleeting moment, he thought about going after you. But when he saw the other girls walking back toward the villa, their arms around you like a protective wall, he knew he’d lost any right to comfort you. You were gone. And it was entirely his fault.

PART 2 IS HERE