first of all, and this is not a news flash to anyone, but…the casting this year was extremely disappointing. i’ve watched this show for years and definitely noticed the difference in who they were scouting. not only were these influencers after fame, money, and exposure, but they were problematic and uneducated.
i mean, two people had to be kicked off the show because of exposed racism (yulissa, cierra), another several contestants had extremely public bigoted political views (austin, charlie, elan, zac, forgive me if i forgot anyone, i literally have dissociated from this cast already)!!! it’s not a season i’ll ever rewatch bc i barely liked any of the islanders this year.
throughout the season, i despised ace (anyone with a gigantic tattoo of their own name across their back is not someone i would want to get to know and the way he behaved in the villa reinforced exactly who i thought he was) but was honestly shocked he and chelley didn’t go to the finale. they were the only real couple in the villa at that point so i really thought there was a chance they were taking the whole thing.
controversial take, i know, but: i’m still not sold on nic and olandria. hope i’m wrong, but i just don’t see enough chemistry between them to last. olandria threw the term slow burn around the villa A LOT but it seems like it might just be a cover up for the fact that she may just be uninterested. and that’s fine! i just don’t think she met her man. she knew nic the entire time and after 6 weeks in isolation, she STILL couldn’t say her eyes were only on him🤷♀️
i did vote for amaya and bryan but honestly it was a weak finale four and i was not happy with my options. bryan has a wandering eye that’s been caught on camera dozens of times so i would say their days together are numbered. but they did have the strongest connection in the end. iris and pepe’s bond is only lust i’m pretty sure, huda and chris were a dumpster fire waiting to happen, and nicolandria is a pipe dream. also, to my recollection, all of them had only been together for, what, 5 days?
as for huda, i really can’t say much at all other than don’t excuse her behavior. the worst thing you could do for someone like that is to defend her actions (trust that she will do that enough herself). listening to her talk on tv, i notice a lot of blame shifting and distortions of stories based on who she’s talking to…red flags are definitely all the way up. i really hope she gets better but it’s going to take a lot of work with a professional and desire to change.
my highlight of the season was megan thee stallion night. it was a fever dream that this cast didn’t deserve.
warnings: reader is going through a breakup (not in the way you’re thinking though), brief descriptions of depression symptoms, reader has abandonment issues that rear their ugly heads, yoongi is the sweetest ofc but this also may just be a garbled mess bc my brain is one rn!
a/n: author is going through a brutal friendship breakup so this is 1000% self-projection, but hopefully someone can find some comfort in it as well.
of all the heartbreak life has handed you, this one is the hardest to rectify. it’s not exactly a breakup. not a loss in the usual sense. just the slow, quiet unraveling of a friendship you thought would last forever.
it’s a grief no one prepares you for; mourning someone who’s still here, still breathing, just no longer yours.
maybe you were naive to think you'd never lose them. or maybe you just really believed in the promises you’d made when you were younger.
beneath the ache is a deeper, older fear—one that whispers you’ll always be the one left behind, like before. that you’re somehow unlovable, destined to be abandoned.
your thoughts are so loud, so consuming, that you completely miss the sound of the door unlocking.
you don’t move from your spot, bent over the kitchen counter with your chin in your hand. not until the quiet clatter of keys against the marble snaps you back to the present.
you turn to meet yoongi’s soft eyes and manage a small smile, though you already know it’s a weak attempt.
he doesn’t bother asking how you are—he knows you’ll just deflect, make a joke to ease the tension.
besides, he’s learned your signs: your shoes, usually lined up perfectly, are now messily strewn across the foyer; your plant wilting on the windowsill, thirsty and forgotten; the cup of tea abandoned on the counter—because even that couldn’t comfort you today.
“do you want to talk about it?”
you don’t answer. the lump in your throat is too painful. instead, you pull your phone from your pocket and silently slide it into his hand.
his eyebrows knit as he takes in what’s on the screen—the last message from your friend displayed in a morbid shade of gray:
“we’re just not the same people anymore. i think it’s time to move on.”
his eyes snap to you the moment he hears your choked cry. he drops the phone somewhere on the counter and pulls you into his warm chest.
pressing his face against yours, his frown catches the hot tears slipping from your eyes, and he exhales your name softly.
your voice trembles when you speak, making you internally cringe at yourself.
“i don’t even get why i’m this upset… i mean, there’s been so much distance. i guess i knew something was wrong, but… but what if i could’ve done something different? what if i missed all the signs? maybe i just wasn’t paying enough attention.”
yoongi pulls back just enough to meet your reddened eyes, gently swiping his thumb over your cheek.
“hey,” he says softly, “don’t let your mind go there. you did what you could. you cared. that’s more than enough. people drift apart sometimes. it’s not about you not being enough.”
you sniffle quietly, shutting your eyes as yoongi leans forward, resting his forehead against yours.
“but what if i was too quiet and let it slip away?” your voice barely a whisper, bottom lip trembling.
“you’re being way too hard on yourself right now,” yoongi says, voice steady and sure. “you weren’t quiet. you were there. and if someone doesn’t meet you halfway, that’s on them.”
you’re silent, letting his words sink in. this is one of yoongi’s best qualities—the way he sees through your spirals and grounds you before they take over.
you stay wrapped in yoongi’s arms a while longer, not needing to say anything. there’s a dull ache where something used to live, and it’ll take time to stop reaching for it.
but in this moment—in his warmth, in his quiet steadiness—you start to believe maybe it’s okay to let go.
warnings: reader is going through a breakup (not in the way you’re thinking though), brief descriptions of depression symptoms, reader has abandonment issues that rear their ugly heads, yoongi is the sweetest ofc but this also may just be a garbled mess bc my brain is one rn!
a/n: author is going through a brutal friendship breakup so this is 1000% self-projection, but hopefully someone can find some comfort in it as well.
of all the heartbreak life has handed you, this one is the hardest to rectify. it’s not exactly a breakup. not a loss in the usual sense. just the slow, quiet unraveling of a friendship you thought would last forever.
it’s a grief no one prepares you for; mourning someone who’s still here, still breathing, just no longer yours.
maybe you were naive to think you'd never lose them. or maybe you just really believed in the promises you’d made when you were younger.
beneath the ache is a deeper, older fear—one that whispers you’ll always be the one left behind, like before. that you’re somehow unlovable, destined to be abandoned.
your thoughts are so loud, so consuming, that you completely miss the sound of the door unlocking.
you don’t move from your spot, bent over the kitchen counter with your chin in your hand. not until the quiet clatter of keys against the marble snaps you back to the present.
you turn to meet yoongi’s soft eyes and manage a small smile, though you already know it’s a weak attempt.
he doesn’t bother asking how you are—he knows you’ll just deflect, make a joke to ease the tension.
besides, he’s learned your signs: your shoes, usually lined up perfectly, are now messily strewn across the foyer; your plant wilting on the windowsill, thirsty and forgotten; the cup of tea abandoned on the counter—because even that couldn’t comfort you today.
“do you want to talk about it?”
you don’t answer. the lump in your throat is too painful. instead, you pull your phone from your pocket and silently slide it into his hand.
his eyebrows knit as he takes in what’s on the screen—the last message from your friend displayed in a morbid shade of gray:
“we’re just not the same people anymore. i think it’s time to move on.”
his eyes snap to you the moment he hears your choked cry. he drops the phone somewhere on the counter and pulls you into his warm chest.
pressing his face against yours, his frown catches the hot tears slipping from your eyes, and he exhales your name softly.
your voice trembles when you speak, making you internally cringe at yourself.
“i don’t even get why i’m this upset… i mean, there’s been so much distance. i guess i knew something was wrong, but… but what if i could’ve done something different? what if i missed all the signs? maybe i just wasn’t paying enough attention.”
yoongi pulls back just enough to meet your reddened eyes, gently swiping his thumb over your cheek.
“hey,” he says softly, “don’t let your mind go there. you did what you could. you cared. that’s more than enough. people drift apart sometimes. it’s not about you not being enough.”
you sniffle quietly, shutting your eyes as yoongi leans forward, resting his forehead against yours.
“but what if i was too quiet and let it slip away?” your voice barely a whisper, bottom lip trembling.
“you’re being way too hard on yourself right now,” yoongi says, voice steady and sure. “you weren’t quiet. you were there. and if someone doesn’t meet you halfway, that’s on them.”
you’re silent, letting his words sink in. this is one of yoongi’s best qualities—the way he sees through your spirals and grounds you before they take over.
you stay wrapped in yoongi’s arms a while longer, not needing to say anything. there’s a dull ache where something used to live, and it’ll take time to stop reaching for it.
but in this moment—in his warmth, in his quiet steadiness—you start to believe maybe it’s okay to let go.
warnings: reader is going through a breakup (not in the way you’re thinking though), brief descriptions of depression symptoms, reader has abandonment issues that rear their ugly heads, yoongi is the sweetest ofc but this also may just be a garbled mess bc my brain is one rn!
a/n: author is going through a brutal friendship breakup so this is 1000% self-projection, but hopefully someone can find some comfort in it as well.
of all the heartbreak life has handed you, this one is the hardest to rectify. it’s not exactly a breakup. not a loss in the usual sense. just the slow, quiet unraveling of a friendship you thought would last forever.
it’s a grief no one prepares you for; mourning someone who’s still here, still breathing, just no longer yours.
maybe you were naive to think you'd never lose them. or maybe you just really believed in the promises you’d made when you were younger.
beneath the ache is a deeper, older fear—one that whispers you’ll always be the one left behind, like before. that you’re somehow unlovable, destined to be abandoned.
your thoughts are so loud, so consuming, that you completely miss the sound of the door unlocking.
you don’t move from your spot, bent over the kitchen counter with your chin in your hand. not until the quiet clatter of keys against the marble snaps you back to the present.
you turn to meet yoongi’s soft eyes and manage a small smile, though you already know it’s a weak attempt.
he doesn’t bother asking how you are—he knows you’ll just deflect, make a joke to ease the tension.
besides, he’s learned your signs: your shoes, usually lined up perfectly, are now messily strewn across the foyer; your plant wilting on the windowsill, thirsty and forgotten; the cup of tea abandoned on the counter—because even that couldn’t comfort you today.
“do you want to talk about it?”
you don’t answer. the lump in your throat is too painful. instead, you pull your phone from your pocket and silently slide it into his hand.
his eyebrows knit as he takes in what’s on the screen—the last message from your friend displayed in a morbid shade of gray:
“we’re just not the same people anymore. i think it’s time to move on.”
his eyes snap to you the moment he hears your choked cry. he drops the phone somewhere on the counter and pulls you into his warm chest.
pressing his face against yours, his frown catches the hot tears slipping from your eyes, and he exhales your name softly.
your voice trembles when you speak, making you internally cringe at yourself.
“i don’t even get why i’m this upset… i mean, there’s been so much distance. i guess i knew something was wrong, but… but what if i could’ve done something different? what if i missed all the signs? maybe i just wasn’t paying enough attention.”
yoongi pulls back just enough to meet your reddened eyes, gently swiping his thumb over your cheek.
“hey,” he says softly, “don’t let your mind go there. you did what you could. you cared. that’s more than enough. people drift apart sometimes. it’s not about you not being enough.”
you sniffle quietly, shutting your eyes as yoongi leans forward, resting his forehead against yours.
“but what if i was too quiet and let it slip away?” your voice barely a whisper, bottom lip trembling.
“you’re being way too hard on yourself right now,” yoongi says, voice steady and sure. “you weren’t quiet. you were there. and if someone doesn’t meet you halfway, that’s on them.”
you’re silent, letting his words sink in. this is one of yoongi’s best qualities—the way he sees through your spirals and grounds you before they take over.
you stay wrapped in yoongi’s arms a while longer, not needing to say anything. there’s a dull ache where something used to live, and it’ll take time to stop reaching for it.
but in this moment—in his warmth, in his quiet steadiness—you start to believe maybe it’s okay to let go.
warnings: reader is going through a breakup (not in the way you’re thinking though), brief descriptions of depression symptoms, reader has abandonment issues that rear their ugly heads, yoongi is the sweetest ofc but this also may just be a garbled mess bc my brain is one rn!
a/n: author is going through a brutal friendship breakup so this is 1000% self-projection, but hopefully someone can find some comfort in it as well.
of all the heartbreak life has handed you, this one is the hardest to rectify. it’s not exactly a breakup. not a loss in the usual sense. just the slow, quiet unraveling of a friendship you thought would last forever.
it’s a grief no one prepares you for; mourning someone who’s still here, still breathing, just no longer yours.
maybe you were naive to think you'd never lose them. or maybe you just really believed in the promises you’d made when you were younger.
beneath the ache is a deeper, older fear—one that whispers you’ll always be the one left behind, like before. that you’re somehow unlovable, destined to be abandoned.
your thoughts are so loud, so consuming, that you completely miss the sound of the door unlocking.
you don’t move from your spot, bent over the kitchen counter with your chin in your hand. not until the quiet clatter of keys against the marble snaps you back to the present.
you turn to meet yoongi’s soft eyes and manage a small smile, though you already know it’s a weak attempt.
he doesn’t bother asking how you are—he knows you’ll just deflect, make a joke to ease the tension.
besides, he’s learned your signs: your shoes, usually lined up perfectly, are now messily strewn across the foyer; your plant wilting on the windowsill, thirsty and forgotten; the cup of tea abandoned on the counter—because even that couldn’t comfort you today.
“do you want to talk about it?”
you don’t answer. the lump in your throat is too painful. instead, you pull your phone from your pocket and silently slide it into his hand.
his eyebrows knit as he takes in what’s on the screen—the last message from your friend displayed in a morbid shade of gray:
“we’re just not the same people anymore. i think it’s time to move on.”
his eyes snap to you the moment he hears your choked cry. he drops the phone somewhere on the counter and pulls you into his warm chest.
pressing his face against yours, his frown catches the hot tears slipping from your eyes, and he exhales your name softly.
your voice trembles when you speak, making you internally cringe at yourself.
“i don’t even get why i’m this upset… i mean, there’s been so much distance. i guess i knew something was wrong, but… but what if i could’ve done something different? what if i missed all the signs? maybe i just wasn’t paying enough attention.”
yoongi pulls back just enough to meet your reddened eyes, gently swiping his thumb over your cheek.
“hey,” he says softly, “don’t let your mind go there. you did what you could. you cared. that’s more than enough. people drift apart sometimes. it’s not about you not being enough.”
you sniffle quietly, shutting your eyes as yoongi leans forward, resting his forehead against yours.
“but what if i was too quiet and let it slip away?” your voice barely a whisper, bottom lip trembling.
“you’re being way too hard on yourself right now,” yoongi says, voice steady and sure. “you weren’t quiet. you were there. and if someone doesn’t meet you halfway, that’s on them.”
you’re silent, letting his words sink in. this is one of yoongi’s best qualities—the way he sees through your spirals and grounds you before they take over.
you stay wrapped in yoongi’s arms a while longer, not needing to say anything. there’s a dull ache where something used to live, and it’ll take time to stop reaching for it.
but in this moment—in his warmth, in his quiet steadiness—you start to believe maybe it’s okay to let go.
