#everyone i know claims to be my friend or claims to be there for me but its not true

[doromoni]

Not Over the Papaya | OP81

⊹ ｡•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Ships : Oscar Piastri x Popstar! Reader , Ex!Lando Norris x Popstar! Reader

Genre : Smau

A/N : I missed u all 🫶

Face claim : Jennie Kim

Warning : Just a reminder that this is all fiction!! nothing in this ever happened in real life, so don’t hate on the people referenced ok??

Summary : Y/N and Oscar cope with their own breakups by making the Heartbreak Club.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

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*Incoming call from Zak Brown

Pick up or Decline

Pick up

- Oscar what do you think you’re doing?-

- I’m celebrating my success with my friends… because apparently my team planned to have one without me -

- You were informed by your team, Oscar. Don’t act as if everything is our fault.-

- Informed? your team emailed Mark, not me. Mark, my manager who’s also in Australia a day before the event are you fucking kidding?-

- Don’t talk to me like that kid I’m your boss.-

- Yeah. not for long-

- what did you just say to me!?-

- I said not for long -

- I gave you the chance to drive for my team. Be grateful brat! -

- Yeah, thanks for the British bias bullshit you run in your team -

- I-

Call ended

Notification : a voice message from Zak Brown*

-Get your ass back to England. NOW!-

Notification: a massage from Norris*

f1news

liked by user1 and user2

f1news Problem in the Papaya garage? Oscar Piastri was spotted in the MTC today! Rumors are spreading about internal issues inside Mclaren as insider tips are saying that Oscar Piastri will be facing disciplinary actions, while the reason wasn’t said — fans speculate that it was because of the party Oscar threw with other drivers and his girlfriend during his stay in Australia.

user1 Dude this is wild! I’m sat for the drama.

user2 Oscar making another issue for his team… Lando can’t relate

user3 dude @user2 are you for real? Lando is far from innocent.

user4 Bro I’m starting to hate Oscar lowkey. He’s talented for sure but he doesn’t know the first thing about team integrity

user5 First Alpine then Mclaren 🤦‍♀️

user6 Mclaren to drop Oscar please

user7 Lando gave him his 1st win and he acts like this

user8 Dude deserved!

user9 These fans are wild… if it were Max or Charles doing what Oscar did they’d support it or turn a blind eye.

user10 Well Max and Charles are both 1st drivers of their teams. Oscar is just 2nd to Lando

user11 Oscar is hardly a second driver and that’s with Mclaren’s bias towards Lando

user12 What bias?? They have the same car

user13 Fake fan spotted! Lando always gets the upgrades first.

user14 That’s because he’s the first driver!

user15 Lando >>> Oscar

mclaren

liked by user1 and user2

mclaren PATO O’ WARD will be driving in Brazil! Pato will be driving for the practice session in Sau Paulo Don’t miss him drive!

landonorris Good luck Mate!!

patoo’ward thank dude

user1 let me guess, he’s using Oscar’s car.

user2 are they using this to punish Oscar?

user3 let’s go Pato!!!

user4 McLaren what are you trying to do??

user5 this shit is not gonna end well

f1news

liked by user1 and user2

f1news Mclaren had Pato O’ward fill in for Oscar Piastri all throughout 3 practice sessions. Oscar is reportedly cleared for driving and is healthy as told by the FIA.

Even without putting in time and practicing Oscar will be driving for qualifying and the main race.

Everyone is now questioning what exactly is going on inside Mclaren and is what they’re doing ethical and safe not only for their driver but also for the whole grid.

user1 YO WHAT?!! THEY DID WHAT??!

user2 I get that Oscar is under disciplinary action but this is so not it!! bro FIA DO SMTH

user3 Not only is this unfair to Oscar but this is so fucking unsafe for everyone on that grid

user4 What is McLaren thinking?!!!

user5 Please tell me this is a joke.

user6 Oscar looks livid and I cant blame the dude, his own team is fucking him over.

f1news

liked by user1 and user2

f1news BREAKING 🚨: Lando Norris wins pole while teammate Oscar Piastri crashes out in Q1 and qualifies P17.

user1 i’m not even McLaren fan and even I know what they did to Oscar was disgusting

user2 Mclaren should be fined and face the consequences of their actions… they did that to their own driver

user3 Just what the fuck

user4 I’m speechless. They made Pato drive all practice and they made Oscar qualify without a single practice lap?!! who tf let Mclaren do that

user5 the FIA failed Oscar

user6 this is sickening, what has become of this sport.

user7 Oscar needs to get out of that team!! are they trying to kill him?!

user8 Oscar risked his life and crashed out … where tf is McLaren’s med team?!! not even a proper radio call to ask if Oscar was ok?!!

user9 this is so not right.

Y/N. 10 mins

*story replies are disabled

charles_leclerc 9 mins

*story replies are disabled

maxverstappen1 8mins

*story replies are disabled

danielricciardo

*story replies are disabled

logansargeant

*story replies are disabled

f1news

liked by user1 and user2

f1news Mark Webber found approaching the RedBull motorhome! Is this for old time’s sake or is his visit something more?

Series Taglist : @champagneproblems17 @itsjustfranzi @cheriwritesig @forza-charles @awritingtree @sltwins @gr1mes-cc @hwalllllllelujah @btsfluffsworld @tillyt04 @landotd @booksandflowrs @czennieszn @thatsouthernblondewiththeass @tellybearryyyy @wobblymug @alittlechaotics-blog @bingussthirdtoe @mirrorball-6 @demandealalune @heartsforleclerc @yoongi-holland @maneskin-slave @alenix @forensicheart @bloodyymaryyy @stereading @hahahjej @youre-on-your-ownkid : closed

Maintaglist : @myescapefromthislife @peterholland04 @charlottef1 @fangirl125reader @mel164 @gnarlycore @chloelovesln4 @vickykazuya @merchelsea @ln4author @qzmef @nxk1309 @styl1shl1v @lottalove4evelyn @gr3yhues : closed for now

special thanks to @sam123456789987654321 ; thanks for always checking up on me luv!

[jaeyunluvbot]

sad beautiful tragic

genre/tags 𝟅𝟈 angst, lovers to exes, joshua hong x reader, fiance!joshua x reader

word count 𝟅𝟈 4.2k

part two

NOT PROOFREAD

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

It’s your freshman year of college. You’d taken the risk and moved across the country to go to UCLA. It was your first exam season and you were sorely regretting this choice, wishing you had your family and friends to lean on.

The library is dead silent except for the occasional rustle of pages and the distant hum of the air conditioner. Your head hurts from staring at your statistics textbook for too long, the numbers blurring together like they’re mocking you. You press your palms into your forehead, trying to focus, but it’s useless.

You’re on the verge of packing up and leaving when a voice interrupts your spiral.

“Mind if I sit here?”

You glance up, your eyes landing on a boy holding a tray with two coffees. He’s tall, with a warm smile and a slightly oversized UCLA hoodie that makes him look impossibly soft.

You nod, gesturing to the seat across from you. “Go ahead.”

As he sits down, he slides one of the cups toward you. “You look like you need this more than I do.”

You blink, taken aback. “What—how did you know I needed caffeine?”

He chuckles, the sound light and easy. “You’ve been glaring at that textbook for like ten minutes.”

You laugh despite yourself, the tension in your chest loosening. “Fair point. Thanks... I guess I owe you one now.”

“Nah,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “Think of it as my good deed for the day. I’m Joshua, by the way.”

“Y/N,” you reply, taking a cautious sip of the coffee. It’s just the way you like it—strong but not bitter. “This might actually save my grade.”

“Glad to be of service,” he says with a grin.

For the next hour, you pretend to study, but really, you’re watching him out of the corner of your eye. He’s quiet but not shy, the kind of person who makes you feel at ease without even trying. By the time you pack up your things to leave, you realize you don’t feel so alone anymore.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Life after college had been better than you'd ever imagined. When you moved to California for college, you’d never expected to find more than just a degree. Joshua had been the anchor in a world that felt so foreign—your solace when homesickness hit you hard. By the time graduation rolled around, the two of you were inseparable.

Your careers had fallen into place perfectly. You landed a job in New York, but when Joshua asked if you’d stay in California with him, you didn’t hesitate. You turned down the offer, found a great position in LA, and never looked back. Being close to him felt worth every sacrifice.

The proposal had been perfect in its simplicity. One quiet evening in your shared apartment, he’d set the table with your favorite takeout, candles flickering between cartons of food. You’d laughed when he nervously fumbled with the ring box but cried when he asked, “Will you marry me?” The answer had been a resounding yes.

At first, Joshua was just as excited as you were. He’d scroll through the boards with you, offering opinions on everything from table settings to wedding bands. “Simple and elegant,” he’d said, his voice laced with warmth as he picked out a gold band that matched yours. He’d even gotten himself a matching engagement ring, claiming he wanted everyone to know he was spoken for.

But then work started picking up for him.

It was little things at first—missing a cake tasting or zoning out during a discussion about the guest list. “Whatever you think is best, babe,” he’d say with a tired smile. At first, you brushed it off. He was busy, and you didn’t want to add to his stress.

Then, he missed your appointment with the wedding planner. It was supposed to be a big one, the meeting where you’d decide on the venue. You’d picked out three options together, but sitting across from the planner with an empty chair beside you made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

You called him after the meeting. He answered on the third ring, his voice apologetic but distant. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. The meeting at work ran over, and I couldn’t get away. Did you pick something?”

You paused, the lump in your throat growing. “Yeah. I went with the vineyard. It felt right.”

“That sounds perfect,” he said quickly, relief evident in his tone. “I trust your judgment.”

You tried to smile, but it felt forced.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

By the time he missed the florist appointment a week later, it wasn’t a surprise. “Sorry, babe. Just go with whatever you like,” he said when you called him, his voice rushed. “I know you’ll make it beautiful.”

You hung up feeling a mix of frustration and sadness. It wasn’t just the missed appointments. It was the way he seemed to disengage completely, like the wedding was your project and not something you were supposed to be building together.

He still wore his ring, still kissed you goodnight and said, “Love you.” But his words felt like a habit, something automatic and unthinking. You told yourself he was just busy, that once the stress of work eased up, things would go back to the way they were.

But deep down, you couldn’t ignore the growing ache in your chest.

The phone feels heavy in your hand as you sit cross-legged on the couch, staring at the blank TV screen. Joshua isn’t home yet—another late night at the office, or so he says. You’ve been scrolling aimlessly through your wedding Pinterest board, but even the dreamy photos of lace gowns and candlelit venues can’t shake the dull ache in your chest.

When the call connects, your mom’s warm voice cuts through the silence. “Sweetheart, how’s my favorite daughter?”

You manage a smile, even though she can’t see it. “Hi, Mom. I’m... okay.”

“Just okay?” she asks, a hint of concern in her voice.

You hesitate, unsure how much to say. “It’s just... I don’t know. I think I’m feeling a little lonely.”

“Lonely? What about Joshua? You two are practically glued together.”

Your throat tightens at the mention of his name. “He’s been so busy with work lately. And I don’t know, Mom, it’s like... I can’t really talk to him about how I’m feeling. I don’t want to add to his stress.”

“Sweetheart, you can always talk to me,” she says gently.

“I know.” You pause, picking at a thread on the couch cushion. “It’s just hard sometimes. All my friends here are his friends, you know? I can’t exactly call them and say, ‘Hey, I think Joshua’s pulling away from me.’”

There’s a soft sigh on the other end of the line. “Oh, honey. I wish I were closer. Are you sure everything’s okay between you two?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “He’s... different. He’s not excited about the wedding anymore. He misses every appointment, and when I try to talk about it, he just says to do whatever I want. Like it doesn’t even matter to him.”

Your mom’s voice softens even more. “Sweetheart, planning a wedding is stressful for anyone, but it sounds like you’re taking on all the weight by yourself. That’s not fair.”

Tears sting your eyes as you blink rapidly, trying to keep them from falling. “I just miss you, Mom. I wish you were here.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “I’ll come see you next month, okay? We’ll spend some time together, just us girls. Sit tight until then.”

“Okay,” you murmur, even though next month feels like a lifetime away.

After you hang up, the apartment feels even quieter than before. You glance at the dining table, still set with the meal you’d made hours ago, untouched. The ache in your chest feels heavier now, pressing down until it’s hard to breathe.

You wonder, not for the first time, if this is what homesickness feels like—not just for a place, but for a version of your life that feels like it’s slipping away.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

“You really need to decide on your groomsmen soon, Josh,” you say, your voice soft but edged with the faintest hint of impatience. “I can’t finalize the bridesmaids until I know how many you’re having.”

It’s late, and he’s seated at the kitchen counter, scrolling through his phone while you try to bring up yet another wedding detail. His hair is tousled from work, and he looks tired, but you push forward. You’ve been asking him about this for weeks now.

He looks up briefly, his expression unreadable. “I know, Y/N. I’ll get to it, I promise.”

You pause, trying to keep your frustration in check. “It’s been two months, Josh. You haven’t even mentioned it to anyone yet.”

“I’ve just been busy,” he says with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I’ll figure it out soon. Don’t worry.”

“Okay,” you say, forcing a smile. “But you really need to. It’s not just about the numbers—it’s about including people who are important to you.”

He nods distractedly, his eyes already back on his phone.

That night, as you lie awake in bed, you replay the conversation over and over. It’s such a small thing—picking groomsmen. It shouldn’t feel like such a big deal, but somehow, it does.

It’s not the first time he’s brushed off something wedding-related. It’s not the first time he’s promised to “get to it.” And it’s certainly not the first time you’ve felt like you’re the only one putting real effort into planning the day that’s supposed to celebrate both of you.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

By the time another week rolls around, you’re still waiting. Another week of him saying, “I’ve been thinking about it,” without any actual decisions. Another week of you wondering if this is what the rest of your life is going to look like—waiting for Joshua to care about something as much as you do.

When you ask him again, gently but firmly, his response is the same. “I’ll get to it.”

But he doesn’t.

And as you sit at the dining table that night, staring at your wedding planner and a half-empty glass of wine, it hits you like a punch to the gut: he’s not avoiding the groomsmen because he’s busy. He’s avoiding it because it doesn’t matter to him.

Because maybe you don’t matter to him—not the way you used to.

The thought sends a chill down your spine. You push the wedding planner aside, get up, and walk to the bathroom. His ring is still on the counter, where it’s been more and more lately. You stare at it, the dull ache in your chest flaring into something sharper.

“Oh,” you whisper to yourself, the word heavy with realization.

You leave the ring where it is and head to bed, the sheets cold and uninviting. For the first time, you don’t wait up for him.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The next morning feels heavy before it even starts. You wake up to an empty bed again, the sheets on his side rumpled but cold. You find him in the kitchen, sipping coffee and scrolling through emails on his phone, still wearing the same distracted expression you’ve come to know all too well.

“Hey,” you say softly as you pour yourself a cup. “We need to figure out the wedding party today. We’ve been putting it off too long.”

Joshua glances up, his brow furrowing. “I know. Let’s sit down after breakfast and go through it.”

You nod, hopeful for a moment. Maybe today will be different.

But before you can even finish your coffee, his phone buzzes on the counter. He picks it up, and you watch as his expression shifts from tired to tense.

“It’s my secretary,” he mutters, holding up a hand as he answers.

“Mr. Hong,” her voice is clear even from where you sit, “I’m so sorry to bother you on a Saturday, but the investors are furious about the delay. They’re demanding an emergency meeting.”

Joshua runs a hand through his hair, already moving toward the bedroom to grab his bag. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Thanks for letting me know.”

When he returns, he’s tucking his phone into his pocket and slipping on his shoes. “I’m so sorry, babe,” he says, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

You look up at him, frustration and sadness bubbling beneath the surface. “We were supposed to figure out the wedding party today, Josh.”

“I know,” he says, his voice rushed. “We’ll do it tomorrow. I promise.”

You glance at the counter as he heads for the door, and your stomach sinks. His ring is still there, sitting carelessly next to the fruit bowl.

The door closes behind him, and the apartment falls into silence.

You sit there for a long time, staring at the spot where his ring rests. Then, slowly, you slip your own ring off your finger. The weight of it has felt heavier these past few weeks, more a reminder of what’s slipping away than what’s supposed to be.

You carry it to your bedroom and place it gently in the jewelry box on your dresser, nestled between a pair of earrings your mom gave you and an old bracelet from college. It doesn’t feel right, taking it off—but it doesn’t feel wrong, either.

That night, you go to bed alone again, the silence in the apartment pressing down on you. You wonder, as you lie there staring at the ceiling, how many more nights will feel like this.

And for the first time, you don’t cry. You’re too tired to cry anymore.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The next evening, Joshua finally comes home. It’s later than usual, but you’re still awake, sitting on the couch with your wedding planner open in front of you. You’re not really reading it, though. Instead, you’ve been staring at the untouched coffee cup you poured for him hours ago, now cold.

“Hey,” he says softly as he steps inside, setting his bag by the door. He glances at you, and his brow furrows slightly. “You’re still up?”

“Yeah,” you say, keeping your voice steady. “We need to talk.”

He hesitates for a moment, then nods. “Okay. Let me just—”

“Now, Josh,” you interrupt, standing and closing the planner with a soft thud.

He blinks at the sharpness in your tone but joins you in the living room. You sit on the edge of the couch, hands clasped tightly together, while he sinks into the armchair across from you.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The tension in the room is palpable, stretching like a rubber band about to snap.

“Are you having an affair?” The words leave your mouth before you can second-guess them.

His eyes widen in shock, and his posture stiffens. “What? No! Y/N, how could you even think that?”

“Because you’ve been pulling away from me for months,” you say, your voice cracking despite your best efforts to keep it even. “You miss every appointment, you don’t care about the wedding, and you keep leaving your ring on the counter like it doesn’t mean anything to you.”

Joshua’s face falls, and he runs a hand through his hair. “Y/N, I swear, it’s not that. Work has just been—”

“Don’t,” you say, cutting him off. “Don’t blame this on work. Be honest with me, Joshua. Do you even want this anymore?”

His silence is deafening.

“I—” he starts, then stops, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I don’t know.”

You feel like the air has been knocked out of your lungs. “You don’t know?”

“We’re so young, Y/N,” he says finally, his voice quiet but firm. “I love you, I do, but... I don’t know if I’m ready for this. For marriage. For forever.”

You stare at him, the weight of his words sinking in like stones in your chest. “You don’t feel it anymore,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looks up at you, guilt written all over his face. "I don’t know what I feel anymore."

The tears sting, but you refuse to let them fall. "I stayed here for you, Josh," you say, the words breaking free before you can stop them. "I left everything—my family, my friends, my life—just to be with you. And now you’re telling me you don’t even want this anymore?"

Joshua’s expression falters. He opens his mouth, but no words come out. His silence cuts deeper than any answer could.

“Then let’s break up,” you say firmly, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

“Y/N, I—”

“No,” you say, standing up. "If you don’t want this, then we’re done. I can’t keep fighting for both of us."

He opens his mouth again to speak, but the words don’t come. He just nods, looking down at his hands.

“I’ll move out,” he says after a long pause.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” you reply, your voice hollow, as if you’re already a stranger to him.

That night, he sleeps on the couch, and you lie in bed alone, staring at the ceiling, feeling the space between you grow wider by the second. The silence in your apartment is suffocating, and for the first time since you moved to California, you feel truly and deeply alone.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The next morning, Joshua leaves for work as usual. His footsteps fade down the hallway, and the door clicks shut behind him. The apartment feels cold without his presence, but the tension, the weight of everything that’s happened, keeps you from feeling anything else.

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself, and begin packing your things. You leave behind the little things—the pictures, the mementos from your time together that once meant so much. The engagement ring stays on the counter where he left it the night before, untouched. You gather your essentials—clothes, toiletries, a few items that remind you of who you were before all of this. You’re doing this for you.

As you pack, the tears come, and you can’t hold them back. The weight of it all—the loneliness, the heartbreak, the way he’d stopped caring—finally crashes over you. You grab your phone and dial your mom’s number.

“Mom,” you choke out, barely able to speak through the sobs. "I—I can't... I can't do this anymore. I... I’m so lost."

You hear her soothing voice on the other end, muffled but full of warmth and concern. "Sweetheart, what happened? Where are you?"

“I—I'm in California, but I don’t want to be here anymore. I can’t do this alone. I... I left. I left him. I don't know what to do, mom."

Her voice softens, and you hear her take a deep breath. "Don't worry. You don't have to do it alone. I’ll book your tickets, I’ll get you home, okay?"

The relief that floods through you is overwhelming, but it doesn't stop the tears. Your mom insists on getting the earliest flight available, even going the extra mile to make sure you’re on the next plane out.

You hang up with her, still a mess, but knowing that, at least for now, you won’t be alone. You finish packing quickly, making sure to leave everything behind except what’s truly necessary. You wipe your eyes, trying to pull yourself together.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

By the time you finish, it’s still a few hours before Joshua will come home. You take one last look around the apartment—the place that was once filled with shared moments, warmth, and love. It now feels like a shell of something that used to be, cold and unforgiving. You make sure your essentials are packed, then head out the door, locking it behind you.

When Joshua comes home later that evening, he expects to find you resting, taking the nap you often took after a long day at work. He quietly enters the apartment, shedding his coat and bag, and makes his way to your shared bedroom. He pauses at the doorway, frowning as he notices the emptiness of the room.

There’s no sound of you resting, no gentle hum of your music. The bed is neatly made. A sharp unease twists in his stomach.

He turns toward the dresser, his eyes catching something familiar—something that doesn’t belong there.

It’s the love letter he wrote you years ago, the one you’d always kept in your wallet. The edges are frayed now from years of being carried close to your heart. It’s placed on top of the dresser, in the spot where you used to keep it safe, along with the ring he’d given you.

He picks it up, his hands trembling slightly, and unfolds the letter. The words are still familiar, and yet, they now feel like they were written by someone else.

His eyes scan over the message, the sincerity in his writing that once made you feel loved, now leaving him cold. He puts the letter back down slowly, the full weight of the situation settling in.

Joshua’s gaze moves to the counter, where the engagement ring lies, cold and unclaimed. The reality of it all hits him like a brick wall. You’re gone.

The apartment feels like a vacuum now, empty and silent. His throat tightens, but no words come. All the things left unsaid, all the moments missed, hang heavily in the air around him.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The plane ride feels like an eternity. You’re sitting by the window, watching the clouds drift by, but your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, doubts, and emotions that you can’t escape. It’s hard to breathe, to focus on anything other than the overwhelming emptiness that seems to have settled inside you.

Your phone buzzes constantly with messages, and you can’t help but check them. It’s Joshua.

Joshua: Where are you? Please, answer me. We need to talk.Joshua: Y/N, I’m sorry. Please come home. I can’t lose you.Joshua: I was wrong. I didn’t mean for it to end like this. Where are you?

Each message hits you like a punch to the stomach, but you know you can’t respond in the way he wants. You’ve made your decision, and no amount of begging can change the way you feel.

You almost find it funny, how little his words mean to you now that you had left.

You tap out a response, slow and deliberate, your hands trembling slightly as you type.

Y/N: I had to go. I’m sorry, Joshua. I wish you well. It's for the best.

You hit send and put the phone down, hoping he’ll respect your silence. The flight attendants come by, offering you a drink, but you don’t take it. You just keep your gaze fixed outside, the horizon blurring as you fight to keep it together.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

By the time you land and step off the plane, you can feel the weight of everything pressing down on you. You’re exhausted, emotionally drained, but there’s one thing you’re certain of: you made the right choice.

Your mom is waiting for you at the airport, her face full of worry and warmth. As soon as she sees you, she pulls you into a tight hug, and you collapse against her, tears streaming down your face. She doesn’t ask any questions. She just holds you, murmuring soft reassurances as she strokes your hair.

“I’m here, sweetheart. You’re home now. I’m here,” she whispers, and somehow, it makes everything feel a little less heavy.

The drive back to the house is quiet, the only sound being the hum of the tires on the road. You try to collect yourself, but the emotions keep rushing back, overwhelming you in waves. You know you’ll have to explain everything, but for now, all you want is to be wrapped in the comfort of your mom’s arms.

Once you’re home, she takes you straight to the living room and sits you down on the couch, making you a cup of tea. “Tell me what happened,” she says gently, her voice soft but insistent. “I’m listening.”

You take a deep breath, recounting everything—from moving to California, to the engagement, the wedding planning, and the slow unraveling of everything. You tell her about how Joshua had been pulling away, about how you tried to wait for him, tried to understand. You tell her about the ring left on the counter, the distance, the fighting, and finally, the breakdown of your relationship.

Your voice cracks as you speak, and she pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around you. “Oh, baby,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m so sorry. I know this isn’t easy. But you did the right thing. You deserve someone who’s all in, who’s going to love you fully, just like you deserve.”

You nod, wiping your eyes. You’re still so raw, but her words give you the strength to keep going.

As the night wears on, she handles everything for you. She cancels the wedding bookings—everything that had been set up for the wedding is erased. The vendors are contacted, the plans are halted, and you don’t have to worry about any of it. Your mom handles it all, taking the burden from your shoulders as you sit there, just trying to breathe.

When she finally gets off the phone with the last vendor, she sits next to you again, her hand resting on yours. “You’ll heal, sweetheart. And when you’re ready, we’ll figure it all out. But for now, just rest. You’re safe here.”

You close your eyes, resting your head on her shoulder, feeling the weight in your chest finally start to ease, if only a little. The pain is still there, but at least for tonight, you’re home.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

author's note 𝟅𝟈 lowkey wanna start a taylor swift songfic thing. i'm obsessed with this song so yk i had to write a fic based on it!

masterlist.

[somerandos-world]

I hope she looks at me and thinks shit he's so pretty~~

RAFE CAMERON X FEM! READER

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌ꕥ﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Warnings: fluff, profanity and I think thats it lmk if there's anything else :)

Series Summary: You've been waiting for Rafe to make his move then you work up your own courage to do it first.

A/N: I js did this little blob a while ago and found it in my drafts but hope ygs like it. I'm probably gonna do a pt 2 but lemme know if it's even worth it. (Also if the color coding thing is too much lmk and I won't do it next time) Not proofread sry.

COLOR CODED SPEECH:

BLUE: Rafe

PINK: Y/N

ORANGE: Rachel Peters

GREEN: Emma Davis

YELLOW: Topper

Its the middle of your last year of highschool and its all unraveling before you. Wait, y/n please... But lets rewind a bit... You had been friends with Rafe since before you could walk, then you had met Rachel and Emma in 4th grade. Or rather they met you when Bella had been serving the two backhanded "compliments" and you told her to eat a sack of dicks, she cried and went home early that day. From there Rachel and Emma instantly fell in love with you. They became your friends so who'd blame you for wanting to introduce them to your best friend but you soon found out what a grave mistake that was.

You started to notice since you'd introduced them Rafe had the absolute hots for Emma. Everyone seemed to notice except for Emma herself. When you realized this you started to sort of back off because who were you to break what, two of the people you love most, had. You constantly regret not claiming him before he could get his eyes on Emma but its too late now and you've stayed the best friend since. But the start of your high school years that's when the heartache really set in you saw the way he would look at her and then the casual glances he'd send you. You'd wish for anything to make him look at you that way.

Then in the beginning of junior year you found out that he'd gotten his dream girl and they made it official, your heart sank. You sobbed and cried to sleep the night you found out. You'd see Emma push him around as they giggle their sweet nothings to each other, that's when you stopped talking to them all together. It's not like you didn't miss them or you hated them or anything but you knew how much it hurt being around them, around him. Rafe noticed but it would only be a mere 2 seconds before his attention was back on Emma. The first few days he figured you were just busy with class after all its high school he thought he can't be the center of your attention all the time but when it had turned from a couple days into a couple weeks and almost a month he knew something was up, you'd even been walking to school instead of riding with everyone in his car. He tried calling for weeks after him and Emma became a "thing" but you wouldn't pick up, he even tried coming over but every time your lights were out and your window was locked, even though your window was never locked. Then he approached you at school when he saw you wiping tears from your eyes as you walk out the bathroom Hey what's going on? Are you ok? I tried calling- you cut him off startled by his sudden appearance Yea I-I'm fine. It's good all goof- I mean good sorry got to go. You somehow manage a half-hearted smile before storming off... But Y/N- You walked off and tears threatened to spill over the rest of the day. Gradually he started to give up and the missed calls started to decline, the closest thing you'd had to his knocking on your window was the tree beside your houses branches hitting it, bent over by the wind.

Towards the end of the year they broke up because Rafe apparently didn't "feel" like going out with her anymore and he apologized profusely or at least that's what Emma told you on the phone the night of the incident. Hey... An audible lump was in her throat so Anna intervened... Hey, hun I'm sorry I'm js trynna calm down Emma but she said she wanted you, [Can I tell her?] you heard Anna whisper. Tell me what? Did Rafe say something? Is it about me? And why would Emma ask for me? "Ok, so Em said I could tell you on here but you have to promise to keep quiet until next time we see you ok?" these precautions make your stomach tighten "y-yea of course. what's up?" you replied "So Rafe's being a total dickhead and he said like that he just doesn't "feel" like going out with Em anymore like what? He's an idiot right?? And like Emma just really wanted me to call you so..." sniffles and sobs fill the background, but you couldn't feel more the opposite, you hated that your friend felt this way but you couldn't help but feel heat rising to your cheeks and a grin threatening to stretch along your face. You hated this. You shouldn't be feeling this way you were being a terrible friend, she's hurting right now and you should be help-

"hello? y/n?" Shit-I forgot the phone fuck! "OMG yea hey sry- i'm just uh s-shocked" Well you weren't lying about that. "So that's umm all he said?" you could almost see the look on Rachel's face. "Right!? Like he's such an idiot. He just said that and then like kept apologizing, but like we feel sorry for him because that's like his loss right? Right Em-Aww babe..." Yea his loss..."Sorry Emma fell asleep. You know I told them not to date when they started and you know already they've broken up before.."You start to drift back into your own conscience as Anna rambles. Shit of course I know. Rafe comes to ME with that shit when it happens...Its true when they would Rafe would call you and ask if you could come over to his or the other way around, he usually wanted you to come to his though, of course, it's not like he didn't absolutely love your room, your bed and the smell of lavender that cascaded the place but he knew his parents never minded your presence unlike other visitors and he knew how strict your parents were. And in that mood who would want to sneak into a house, and at that time of night. He'd just wanna cuddle and cry in your arms. His cries made your heart ache. I mean I don't understand yk like I thought that she'd get it like I was just joking yk? your heart almost burst. I know, love. you tried to hold back tears I'm sorry I-I would've called one of the guys but Kelce is staying out of town and Topper's been mad at me for being with Emma all the time And- Hey, Hey its ok I don't mind...you know that. I'm here for you. Yea, your a good friend y/n, thank you it really means a lot The first time they broke up you ended up sleeping over, and holding him through the night. You missed this and it was evil but you were sort of happy when they'd break up because you had your best friend again. At least you thought you were happy but soon it started to infuriate you that he was hurting so bad, and he seemed to go back to her every. single. time.

So you waited, each time, for him. But this time was different you knew it was when he was the one breaking things off and not her. Then surprise surprise guess who turned up at your window after school the next day Rafe fucking Cameron. Hiii! he waved like a 6 year old through the closed window. You ran to open it as you laughed and then prepared to cradle him expecting a sad and depressing complexion, as he gracefully tumbled through the aperture, but something was different it was as if he had a weight lifted off of him his head was held just a little higher, and well..I mean he wasn't crying.

Hey dipshit. What's up?

Umm, well I-I broke up with Emma

Oh I'm sorry well did you wanna talk about it or did you wanna lay down or...?

Don't get me wrong I totally do but I actually wanted to tell you something first...

OH MY GOD, theres no way. No, right it's not that he'd never-he would never see me that way. God he doesn't even look at me half the time he-again you get lost in your thoughts looking into space when you realize what you're doing you look back at him to see him already staring at you. Sorry um what is-what'd you wanna tell me? you start to feel your body go numb and all you can hear is your heartbeat. You feel your face start to heat up and in the overwhelming feelings of the moment-you turn away and hear him giggle lightly. Well I- Rafe steps closer and he begins to tilt his head just the slightest to the right and-

Hey dude got your call Kelce said you were here I knew Mr. and Mrs.Y/L/N wouldn't know you were though so what'd you- Topper says as he gradually opens the window and his head starts to lift-Oh shit my bad uh...didn't mean to interrupt. Topper is quick to awkwardly sonder out of the door as he covers his eyes with his forearm and snickers as he walks out like he'd just witnessed his parents share a slimy, sappy, smooch.

Topper! Shit sorry I'll be right back. Just gimme one sec. Rafe says as he walks out and your heart starts to calm itself.

No-yea sure of course, go its totally fine. God you wanted him bad. Your stomach started doing flips realizing what just happened you'd never been the religious type but you prayed and prayed that this wouldn't be just a dream and you hoped he intended to say what you've waited years for him to say. Thoughts and scenarios played through your mind as you layed back with your legs hanging off the edge of the bed, and your face stuffed into a pillow as you smother it. You start to wonder what'll happen afterwawrds. Oh my god wait. Did I shower yet? Shit! You start putting out some clothes for Rafe, because he'd been over so much you already have some of his in your drawers, just in case ;} Then you made your way out the door. Topper and Rafe were just outside the door trying to "quietly" whisper and argue as soon as Topper saw you he cleared his throat, fuck, you thought they had moved downstairs to talk. Shit! Duh, mom and dad don't fuckin' know he's here- You start to scold yourself as you walk out you hoping this can be fast so you can just take a shower and get back in the room Hey! Whats up! Rafe said as he turned to you. His eyes widened and his eyes couldn't help but dart up and down your figure only covered in a tiny towel barely covering any of you, and your pj's in hand. Well this is gonna be fun. Lord help me please. Guess you've gotten pretty good at this praying thing. Sorry I didn't know you guys were out here I was just gonna go take a shower til you got back. And I didn't know if us girls are having a slumber party so I left your pj's on my bed. Unless you're leaving... You try to laugh at your little joke which comes out awkwardly as you try to hint at them to move out of the way so you can get to the bathroom down the hall. No no no he's not leaving right, romeo?

Yea s-shower, that sounds, nice Rafe says under his breath, staring at you still completely dumbfounded, you start to feel the red take over your body and the grin stretching along your face, while Topper snaps him back into consciousness. Earth to Rafe! Rafe almost jumps in response. Maybe keep it in your pants and make way for the lady. He starts to gesture to you and the path. Oh yea! Sorry-Wait shut up he moves out of the way finally as he apologizes to you with a smile then shoves Topper at the realization of his comment. Thanks you say to Topper. Its all good he brushes off your gratitude like some heroic savior. Umm we'll just be in the room! Rafe shouts a little too loud as he attempts for his message to reach you across the hallway. "Y/N! Is everything ok up there?" Your mom shout. Dude! You're still not supposed to be here! You giggle and Topper shoves Rafe in the room and they continue to "whisper argue" once more. Yea! sorry mom just turned the TV up too loud! You look back at the two gesturing to be quiet with your finger mouthing "shh! shut up!" And Rafe mouth's a timid "sorryy" Rolling your eyes you finally walk into the bathroom and replay thoughts in your mind as you undress and let the water heat up.

It's gonna be a long night... you think to yourself basking in the hot, refreshing water, lathered in hibiscus and almond body wash as you scrub and resume to the depths of your conscience. Once finished after a good amount of time you step out. As you got dressed in your pajamas you realized that you didn't bring a bra which you usually don't but with "guests" over you probably should have. Meh who cares. You thought until you slipped on your tiny white silk top and your even smaller shorts. The way your top clung to you showing a little more cleavage than you'd like and how your shorts began to ride a little too high for comfort made you start to overthink the entire outfit. Fuck do I look like a slut?! What if he likes it though. No what if he thinks I'm a whore?? Shit. I should've brought a bra-

Knock! Knock! "Sweetheart? You ok?" Kill me now. "Yea Mom I'm coming out right now sorry!" Well now you're stuck with what you got so here goes. You step out and with a quick glance your mom says "I like that, that's a cute matching set." Well great now I know I look terrible. You think as you thank her passively making your way to your room. What if he already left fuck. You open the door expecting to be met with him and topper arguing or something but you find him laid out on your bed shirtless, his hair messy and worn, all tucked in like a big baby. You always thought he looked so pretty like this, not like a girl but handsome felt to formal and that definitely didn't fit him, but neither did hot though he definitely was at times, to you when he was like this, at peace and unbothered he was simply pretty, beautiful even. Then you realize that now is your chance to put on a bra before he wakes up. So you quietly make your way to your dresser beside your closet facing your back towards him in your bed hoping that he doesn't wake up. After you've found a bra you begin pulling your shirt over your head slowly keeping your back facing him. Little did you know that the sleeping beauty was in fact awake and carefully watching you.

[summertimesadnessirl]

Nah. I don't think anyone will care when I die. I want to die because the same dumb shit keeps happening. Everyone else gets to have a stable life and build themselves out of poverty and all that. I wind up back at rock bottom every few years. I keep having to restart the way most people only do maybe once in their lives. I don't want to build myself a life again and have someone destroy it.

And the last time someone did it, they did it on purpose. The did it in an insane way no one would ever belive. A way I could not have prepared for. Then they gloated. Then they tried to claim I need to be "humbled." For finally believing I was allowed to have what everyone else is born into or allowed to build once and and I built 6 times. For not wanting to be poor my whole life. Then they gloated, told me I was crazy, then told me I need to be pushed to go after what I really want. What I want is revenge on a global scale. Like what I really want is for everyone who ever did this to anyone to literally instantly confess to all their crimes and die. Then I still want to die. I don't have a backup dream. I built the life I wanted. A life that also worked for the type of person I am and the type of lifestyle I can actually live- some fun. Some regular treats. Some things other people don't need that made things easier for me and compensated for a lot of my flaws and weaknesses. Some other things I did because I liked the people I did them with or for. I lost it. I don't want a backup life. I want to die. I am not getting tricked into building another life.

The truth is, there is no way that I could ever defend against what happened happening again every time my life makes me happy and works for me forever. So I am going to just allow the people attacking me... yeah. They are still attacking me... to kill me.

I know there's no explanation for why they are doing it other than sadism. They have made no demands other than many conflicting things that only seem to be whatever would be something someone else would want but would make me equally miserable as I am now even though it sounds like a reasonable demand if you don't know me...

Imagine if you were idk... diabetic and someone said they would stop bullying you if you ate a dozen cookies. And if anyone else did that, it would be a prank. Or if you have red wine triggered migraines and they say if you drink a glass of wine with dinner every day they'll stop. But you have to do it forever.

So I'm gonna let this destroy me completely and then kill me. I will not accept any other outcome. There is nothing I could be bribed with or convinced to take as a consolation prize.

I don't care anymore. 🤷 nothing will ever make me want to live now that this happened.

I know when it kills me, there's a billion to one shot that anyone believes I'm being gangstalked by a bunch of?? It doesn't matter. Everyone is going to assume I'm having a 4 year long psychotic break with the same delusions over and over and trying to f figure out or rationalize what's going on. If it wasn't happening to me, I would, too. None of the proof sounds real, all of it sounds like the crap you would hear in a shitty paranormal case, or a ufo investigation. Rokos basilisk. Indrid Cold is doing Havana Syndrome on me. The creature from Nope. Someone made a fake episode of last podcast on the left and added a bunch of additional information on Ester Cox. Bro idk. Dinky Earnshaw and Light Yagami are sending the world's slowest Tigers to constantly meow at me for 4 years. I don't give a shit, dude. It's happening. Good cops don't exist. No one is gonna solve the case. Even if some dead whore turns up, nobody will care but my imaginary boyfriend from when I was 15. I started imagining talking to him again because like? Whatever. Everyone thinks I'm nuts. Talking to a fake guy you made up as a thought exercise is actually normal. Lots of people do that. I know it's just a little game. I just stopped because I had friends. Highly unlikely that's going to solve my murder. So I literally do not know who is doing this. So I literally can't stop them or look for proof. They are never going to get into trouble either way. So instead, I'm gonna endure it til it kills me. Either they'll kill enough people that eventually someone will notice or they don't. But I don't wanna live anymore. Even if they quit right now and someone showed up at my door with like, a uhaul filled with 20 billion dollars and a litter of kittens, or full communism was declared, I will still want to die. So if they have to murder someone, it might as well be me.

[whispers-in-the-margins]

On Wicked; Green-ness, and Burn Scars.

12.01.2024

Two Fridays ago, on its release date, I went to the cinema to watch Wicked. To my advantage, I had only seen The Wizard of Oz (1939) twice in my life and had never watched the Wicked musical. While I knew the basics of the story and the concept of what I was about to see, I could not have anticipated how deeply I would resonate with Elphaba.

It was my first time seeing a movie alone, without the company of family or friends. I think this solitude played a role in allowing my tears to fall so freely, without fear of judgment.

While I understand the broader metaphors of Wicked—racism, discrimination, and the erasure of history as a global issue—my connection with Elphaba was deeply personal. The fact that, in this version, Elphaba is played by a Black woman emphasizes these themes of racism and otherness. But as I watched her sing about fantasies of being “de-greenified” and saw her attempts to play it cool as though she didn’t care about being different, I saw my own reflection.

Elphaba’s experiences felt achingly familiar. She has a speech prepared for the inevitable moment when she meets someone new—a way to explain her very existence because she knows people will ask, will stare, will judge. This hit me as a burn survivor. Every scene I watched felt like reliving pieces of my own childhood.

I remembered entering a new school where everyone stared and the questions came, blunt and raw. I remembered being liked by teachers for caring about schoolwork but struggling to make age-appropriate friendships. I remembered the popular girl who pretended to be my friend, only to make fun of me or “help” in ways that fed her savior complex.

Even Elphaba’s heartbreak was familiar: liking someone only to see them claimed by the prettier, more socially accepted girl. I wasn’t that girl, ever. And then there was the isolation from my own family—not because they didn’t love me, but because they could never fully understand. How could they?

Elphaba was green. I was marked with burn scars. We weren’t that different.

When I was a child, I too would fantasize about a powerful entity that could take my scars away. I, too, would act like I didn’t care, as if trying to trick the universe into making it happen faster. I, too, shied away from opportunities, feeling unworthy. And, like Elphaba, I slowly built my confidence from the ground up, helped along by the arrival of true friends—though they didn’t stay forever, and their loss hurt deeply.

By the time Elphaba sang “The Wizard and I,” I was already crying. I had never expected a film to reflect my inner world so profoundly. Sitting alone in the cinema, I felt grateful—not just for the movie itself, but for the space it gave me to process my emotions.

But it was during “Defying Gravity”, her battle cry, filled with sorrow and defiance, that felt like my own, when I truly broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. Watching Elphaba declare her independence, her refusal to conform or apologize for who she was, struck me in a way I didn’t think possible. In that moment, I felt completely seen and represented—not just by the story, but by the rawness of her journey. It wasn’t a perfect parallel to my own life, but the emotions—the pain, the power, the triumph—felt universal.

For the first time, I saw a character whose struggles and victories reflected my own in such an unflinching way. This was the perfect film for my first solo theater experience. It reminded me that I can cry without shame. That I can find strength in my scars. That I, too, am powerful enough to defy gravity, rise above my scars, and soar into the western skies.

[asters-galaxy]

About the SFW vs NSFW situation that's going on right now.

I know I'm not active much nowadays and I already commented on one of the posts involved, but if you'll allow me to get on my soapbox for a bit:

I'd like to explain mine and a lot of other people's stance on this, personally, as someone who has:

Enjoyed tickling and fantasized about it since about the age of 5

Enjoys it currently in both SFW and NSFW contexts

Does not allow minors on their blog

Is currently in school and studying psychology

Recently gave a presentation and is writing a paper about how kinks and trauma correlate

From how I've looked into this situation thus far, I see that another person made the very wild generalization that all people who enjoy tickling enjoy it as a sexual kink. I want to make it known to anyone who is reading this that this claim is not true.

(Important note: DO NOT HARASS THIS PERSON. IF YOU HARASS THIS PERSON, YOU ARE PART OF THE PROBLEM AND YOU ARE BULLIES. I DO NOT TOLERATE BULLIES ON THIS BLOG.)

Tickling is a sensory activity. It is a bonding thing that occurs in the animal kingdom (not just humans) often between familial connections and friendships. This is the norm in the human world; parents lovingly tickle their children, siblings and friends get into tickle fights, partners tickle each other -- it's a normal thing. These activities are not inherently sexual. When my parents tickled me and my brother when we were little, that was not sexual abuse or incest. When a classmate of mine was gang-tickled in the back of the classroom, his friends weren't suspended for sexual behavior in a school setting. Everyone in both of those situations were enjoying what was going on, but nobody was aroused. That shouldn't have to be said.

An important note on this, however, is that sexual abuse can happen this way -- it's not the only way, nor is it an inherent quality of the activity, but it does happen. I just wanted to preface that, because if someone touching you makes you uncomfortable in any way, you have a right to tell them to stop and to get angry if they don't.

The important thing when it comes to determining whether a scenario is kinky or not is based on consent and any potential arousal involved. For example, take the concept of a foot kink. Say a person asks for a foot massage. Just because foot kinks exist doesn't mean that person has a foot kink. And, even if they do, it depends on why they ask: are they asking because they want foreplay, or are they asking because they had a hard day at work and their feet are sore? It's similar with tickling -- I enjoy it in both contexts, so I can be aroused by it; however, this doesn't happen if I ask for it or otherwise seek it out because I'm looking for comfort. My partner will tickle me in more sexually intimate situations, but he will also do so if I've been having a bad day or if he wants to be playful with me, and it does not immediately or always arouse me -- only in the right and comfortable context.

Let's look at the sensory-seeking side. A lot of people in the SFW tickling community are diagnosed with or believe they have ADHD, autism, or both. I do as well. Looking at the science behind it, it makes sense: ADHD and autism are both disorders that alter the way that someone perceives physical sensory input. Given that tickling is an inherently innocent bonding activity that is playful and involves (hopefully) consensual sensory, it makes sense that a fixation could/would form and sensory-seeking behaviors would occur. This is a good explanation for anyone who was seeking tickling in some way as a child but has never/didn't at the time feel sexual about it.

And as far as sexual interest does go: kinks often form as a coping mechanism, and yes, they CAN be non-sexual or occur in non-sexual manners. So, again, tickling is not always a sexual thing for people.

Now to get into the nitty-gritty of the claims this person was making and their personal input:

This person claimed that if you cannot/do not want to show your tickling fixation to your friends, boss, and family, then it means it's kinky and that's why you're embarassed.

First of all, I wouldn't show any fanart or fanfiction to my boss, dickass. You think I'm giving them ammo that easily? HELL NO.

For my family, I don't feel comfortable doing that because I have a long history of my personal technology privacy being invaded. I also don't want them following me, same way I don't want them following my main Tumblr account.

But as far as friends go, I have shown my fanfiction to my partner and one of my friends (another person I know IRL found my blog after that); I am slowly working my way up to being comfortable enough to show other people I am close to. I keep it under wraps for a lot of reasons:

I hold myself very seriously and elegantly IRL and this entire blog juxtaposes that

A lot of my highschool life involved drama and tension, and I am very lucky that there were certain people I refrained from showing

I was also a victim of bullying as the "weird kid" and one of the only openly queer people in my grade, and I didn't want any ammo to be given to the people harassing me

And, perhaps most importantly,

It gets commonly mistaken as ALWAYS a fetish online, and people who don't understand that harass the creators of tickling art and fanfiction; I can handle that online by blocking as I please, but IRL?

We've all seen people talk about hating tickling, how "it's abuse, actually," how our community (fetish or not) is "gross" and "weird" and full of creeps. Think about the tickle Picrew's creator (a minor!) getting harassed on Twitter, which spread to them trying to bully SFW creators on Tumblr. Think about people cringing over tickle scenes. Think about the way that otomiyaa's writing breached containment and prompted negative comments. Almost all of us have seen this harassment happen or experienced it ourselves -- why put ourselves in that situation with IRL people, where it can be even more damaging to hear?

Moving on:

This creator also stated that any tickling blogs that talk to minors are either pedophiles or fostering a "safe space" for them to breed; they doubled down on this by saying that they were groomed, and that this community (again generalizing to everyone) let it happen by turning a blind eye

They then were called many things, including a pedophile, by harassers

Listen. I don't allow minors on this blog. But that's not because this is a tickling blog. It's because I don't like talking to children (this includes IRL, by the way) because it personally weirds me out; I have no reason to talk to them.

But the MAIN reason is because I have a history of minors pushing my boundaries -- not the other way around -- which gave me a sour relationship with this blog and my writing. That's why I haven't posted a fic in years. However, if a minor comes to this blog, I am not going to immediately groom them -- that's not how that works. And if a minor comes to this blog looking for help, I will help them.

Additionally, generalizing every SFW adult in this community as a pedophile because you didn't receive help when you needed it most is not a healthy way to cope with trauma. I am sorry that it happened, but I was either not in the community or a minor when it happened; that does not make me a bystander now just because I'm a SFW adult here. This goes for everyone who was not there or could not have done something at the time.

One groomer also does not mean that every adult here is/could be one. That is a horrific generalization to make. If that were the right generalization, then that would mean that every adult ever with any kink should never, EVER talk to children or they're a pedo. Do you see how misaligned that is?

I don't agree with the people who were harassing this blogger, including on the pedophile claim. I do have to say, though, that the horror and disgust that this person likely felt at being called that is exactly what they just put a lot of people through. It also does not negate the valid criticisms of those who respectfully spoke up. Something to dwell on.

Bottom line is -- and I don't say this to be demeaning -- that this person could genuinely benefit from some introspection, a break from the kink community, or both. It is not okay to label an entire SFW community as pedos because you were groomed by one person. It is not okay to generalize every person who likes tickling as a kinkster just because you are. Don't make sweeping generalizations. Period.

For anyone who felt hurt and confused by the claims this person made, please know that you are not alone (I was dealing with the same thing because of a different artist a while back); please also know that you don't have to label yourself as anything that you don't want to. As long as you aren't hurting anyone, you are valid and welcome here.

[chaoticshifter18]

My NON shifter friend shifted and she's in shock

I've openly talked to my friends about shifting for the 4 years I've been in the community, and they've always been skeptical but respectful about it, so it shocks me how my friend just told me she shifted the other day.

She says she woke up at 4 a.m and couldn't fall asleep back again, so she just went on tiktok and scrolled for hours, apparently listening to paranormal stories and that kind of stuff that only pops up on your fyp at 4 a.m (nothing about shifting btw). Without realizing it, she fell asleep, and she says she woke up in a place that looked nothing like her place.

She immediately thought "Am I in a sleepover?" "Whose house is this??", but the room she was in didn't look familiar AT ALL.

She says the walls were paper white, and there wasn't much furniture except for the bed she was in, a nightstand next to her, and a closet in front of her. The closet had a mirror, so she saw her reflection and noticed she was wearing her usual pijamas.

In that moment, she proceeded to touch everything and freak out about how unbelievably real everything felt. She touched her hands, her face, got on her feet and stomped on the floor... Every single thing she did just felt WAY. TOO. REAL. Her surroundings, her own body...

Guys she swears with her life it wasn't a dream.

The realization hit her, and she came by with the idea that she might have shifted. Out of her mind, she got out of the room and explored a little bit of the house. She says the house was huge and felt really modern and expensive.

As she was traveling through the corridors and getting down the stairs she couldn't help but freak out again and again. She couldn't believe it. And to make things worse, when she reached the ground floor, a group of people approached her and greeted her as if they knew her.

"Hey, did you sleep well?"

"Look who just woke up!!"

And she was like "Excuse me, who are you?". (She just thought it, she didn't say it)

Suddenly, a guy came by and KISSED HER, a guy she hadn't seen in her entire life, and he said:

"Darling, are you okay? What's wrong?"

That shocked her, but she just told him she was fine and says she got away from there as quick as possible.

In the living room, one of the walls was completely made out of glass, so she could perfectly see that they were in the middle of the forest and it was nighttime.

Since she didn't know where the hell she was and the situation was just TOO MUCH to handle, she proceeded to walk around the house in awe, and she says she did that for about FOUR HOURS.

Four freaking hours just staring at everything in denial and avoiding everyone.

At some point, she could't stand it anymore and layed in a couch with her eyes closed to try and shift back, but no matter how hard she tried to visualize her room and this reality, she kept opening her eyes to that damn house.

About to cry, se got up, went to the kitchen and sat down, she stayed there for a good hour just zoning out, and at some point, she says she heard her alarm (her CR alarm, cause she had to go to uni).

She claims she didn't even realize how or when it happened: in the blink of an eye, she was back at her CR, sitting down in her bed with her eyes WIDE OPEN and her heart racing.

And that's her storytime...

I feel sorry for the stress she went through, but this just proves to me everything that needed to be proved as my friend was the number one person to believe shifting's just lucid dreaming.

Thanks for reading and happy shifting!! <3

[ceratedfish24]

Your opinions on Scott are so real actually

Unfortunately the vast majority of artists/writers I like hate Scott for about no reason and every new session fills my feed with so many text posts about how toxic and hypocritical and manipulative he is

And like... I love their art and writing, I want to see their art and writing, but it stresses me out to see them meaninglessly single out Scott when I've been watching his videos for almost 10 years

Like most of the Scott hate is just internalised homophobia or a misguided need to defend Jimmy from normal friendly banter or projecting at the easiest target and there's nothing to be done about it but I almost gave up on interacting with the fandom because of it

Just wanted to let you know that your blog of Scott positivity has given me a reason to stay in the fandom and every time I see a bad faith take on Scott I scroll through your blog to calm down <3

Hi Anon🩵I’m so sorry to hear that your favorite writers and artists are taking out their internalized homophobia out on Scott/taking his banter too seriously. Honestly, I’ve blocked a few of those people. It’s always sad to see people claiming they’re a fan of him and then totally mischaracterize him for things that everyone else in the series does. I, too, got absolutely sick of people talking negatively about him but praising most others for the same things they hate Scott for. Sometimes negativity isn’t actually the most popular opinion. It’s just the loud one, and I intend to be louder🩵🩵🩵

I’m always so glad to hear that people find comfort in my posts. Scott is a wonderful content creator, and it makes me so happy to see someone be so openly and authentically queer in a cishet dominant space, which of course is not to say that I don’t like or appreciate the others or those who have less focus on their gender identity of sexuality. It’s just something I’ve always appreciated about Scott.

There’s so much hypocrisy surrounding those who dislike or mischaracterize Scott. It would be one thing if he were the only one behaving the way he does, but it is a death game. Everyone else is acting exactly the same way if not more so. They are having fun. It is a game. Leave them alone.🩵

Additionally, most of my takes about Scott come directly from his friends. His kindness and his love for his friends is so obviously reflected in how comfortable his friends are with him and how impressed and endeared by him those who didn’t know him before Third Life have grown to be.

[skateboardtotheheart]

there is just something about the difference between edwin's love interests and having the cat king's reaction to edwin in hell being "i'll be waiting when he gets back" vs charles "no version of this where i don't come get you" rowland convincing a powerful trans-dimensional being to open a door to hell just so he could get him back

i am insane

[bucephaly]

BTW even if you go on about how 'it's not enough to count' or 'I'm just white though' or whatever, it's still weird to bring up the 'cherokee blood' you think you have. Like. Why does it matter that you think you have distant cherokee ancestry if you aren't taking any action to learn about it. I see so many people seemingly recognizing how frustrating it is that so many people claim cherokee ancestry without learning abt it and think that as long as they say 'it's not enough to matter lol' then it's ok when they do it. I see people going 'well my great grandmother was fullblood cherokee but I mean I look white so whatever haha'

It's partially frustrating that it's almost always fake and completely wrong and even claiming it at all is kinda just annoying to see. But also just claiming it without making any effort to learn anything about us, why even mention it at allllll. It's like you think saying 'oh but I'm white' gets you off the hook and means you can claim it without putting any effort in to actually verify and learn abt it

[cheekblush]

really starting to believe that psychic who claimed i’m cursed

[crossbackpoke-check]

Dysprosium, Mary Soon Lee

dysprosium, AN 66, is a silvery-white rare earth metal. its name is derived from the greek dysprositos, meaning “hard to get at”, owing to the difficulty in separating and isolating this rare earth element. dysprosium is used to measure neutron flux, to fuel reactors, and to activate phosphors. terfenol-d is a magnetorestrictive alloy, meaning that it changes shape when a magnetic field is applied, and is used to manufacture underwater acoustic systems.

jason “robo” robertson, dallas stars #21 for @simmyfrobby’s nhl periodic table poems <3

[j-esbian]

i lost the post but i saw someone talking about how some of y’all act like being weird is a choice and like. YEAHHHHHHH.

that’s fine, it might be for you. but i just live like this and don’t know any other way. like yeah i’ve worked customer service, i can do innocuous small talk, but anything beyond that, i don’t understand what i’m missing. and it’s frustrating to see the tonal disconnect especially from people who are like “uwu embrace weirdness!!” where they’re like. dressing quirky and talking about bugs and listening to obscure music and eschewing small talk to ask Deep Questions on the first date and unlearning their tendency to not infodump. and generally have an idea of what Weirdness is supposed to look like. idk man some of us wake up and get out of bed and can’t figure out why the rest of their coworkers chitchat with each other but when they join the conversation it dies.

weirdness is value neutral. let’s stop trying to turn it into a badge because quite frankly, it’s not a choice for everyone. it’s fucking exhausting to never be on the same wavelength as other people and they’re going to react the way they do and label you the way they will without any conscious actions on your end. it’s difficult to talk about this without feeling like you’ll be dismissed as immature, a teenager whining “no one understands me” but the thing is. sometimes you don’t grow out of feeling alone and different, and there’s no good way to talk about it without feeling like people will think you’re just fishing for pity.

[onepiece-polls]

I love your polls and it’s great you try to be on both sides to give fair chance to everyone, but the way you talked about shanks/buggy is crazy They’re fine together but in canon they’re brothers and your shipping googles got so tight you actually sounded like you could believe they’re anywhere close to canon which is u know stupid af

lmao, okay, this came out of nowhere 😂 Like... I talked about that months ago. But okay.

Anyway, Shuggy is canon. They're making out behind you right now.

[rhineposting]

saw someone unironically saying "rhinedottir fed nigredo to durin to make nigredo grow better and stronger because durin's stomach is actually nurturing like hummus 😊😊😊" god if you're up there can you revoke this person's rights to speak about rhinedottir, or any morally questionable girlboss for that matter. if you can't accept that a lady had her son swallow her other son whole then just move onto characters who are actually nice instead of rewriting the actually not so good characters to fit your imaginary narrative better.

[oozeandgoo-art]

everyone is sooo in love with vakori on account of le is so cool and smart and deeply pragmatic and is also completely batshit insane