#seamless authentication

[neilsblog]

CIAM Solutions: Powering Secure and Seamless Digital Experiences

In today’s hyper-digital world, where businesses operate and interact with their customers through a growing number of online platforms, managing customer identities securely has become more complex—and more crucial—than ever before. As the digital ecosystem expands, so does the risk associated with data breaches, privacy violations, and poor user experiences. This is where robust Customer…

[technologyequality]

AI-Powered Brand Storytelling: How to Build Deep Emotional Connections

AI-Powered Brand Storytelling How to Build Deep Emotional Connections Let’s be real—people don’t fall in love with businesses. They fall in love with stories. If your brand messaging is all about features and pricing, you’re missing the point. People connect with the WHY behind your brand, not just the WHAT. And in today’s AI-driven world, storytelling isn’t just an art—it’s a science. We’ve…

[hagueapostilleservicesblog]

Fast and Affordable US Personal Document Apostille Services

[a-d-nox]

astro hypothesis: how to glow up

hi, friends! remember when we had the tick tock goes the clock game? it was all part of my evil plan!! i wanted to know what everyone wants to accomplish in 2025 and a lot of you want to level up - physically, work, school, etc. so let me present a glow up hypothesis series!!! venus persona and venus return charts are where you want to focus!

why venus?

please recall the mythology of venus/aphrodite! in mythology, venus/aphrodite entered the world fully grown and radiant, skipping the awkward transitions most mortals experience. her effortless grace and beauty symbolize the ultimate glow-up. in astrology, venus returns and persona charts reveal the keys to our own seamless transformation - guiding us on how to embrace our venusian energy and manifest our most radiant self.

paid reading options: astrology menu & cartomancy menu

enjoy my work? help me continue creating by tipping on ko-fi or paypal. your support keeps the magic alive!

1h: physical appearance, identity, and self-confidence.

reinventing your look and attitude. updating your style. focusing on fitness. build self-confidence. embody a strong sense of identity and show up authentically.

explanation post

2h: self-worth, personal values, and material realm.

how to build a strong sense of self-worth. focusing on financial independence. how to improve your finances, refine your values. surrounding yourself with quality (anything from clothes to relationships) that aligns with your newfound sense of worth.

explanation post

3h: communication style, mindset, and social interactions.

transforming how you think and speak. being more articulate and confident in expressing yourself. building meaningful connections with others. learning new skills / enhancing intellectual abilities.

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4h: inner world, family, and emotional security.

internal; focusing on creating a peaceful, nurturing home environment. strengthening your emotional foundations. healing family relationships, setting boundaries, and/or redecorating your space to reflect your ideal haven.

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5h: creativity, romance, and pleasure.

embracing joy, fun, and creativity. reconnecting with hobbies. dating more openly or bringing playfulness into your life. the goal is to feel more vibrant, expressive, and magnetic.

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6h: daily habits, health, and self-discipline.

glow-up centers on creating a healthy, balanced lifestyle. a workout routine, focused on nutrition, or improve productivity habits. creating a solid structure that supports wellness and efficiency in daily life.

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7h: relationships, self-image in partnerships, and balance.

transforming how you relate to others, often by building healthy boundaries, improving communication, and attracting balanced partnerships. becoming confident in relationships. identifying what you deserve.

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8h: deep transformation, healing, and shared resources.

facing fears / healing past trauma. stepping into a more empowered/fearless version of yourself. financial management and investments may also be part of this process.

explanation post

9h: personal growth, spirituality, and worldview.

expanding your mind through travel, study, or spiritual practices. exploring different cultures, religions, or philosophies to gain new perspectives. glow-up of your belief system and how you connect with the world on a broader level.

explanation post

10h: career, reputation, and life goals.

centering on your professional life and ambitions. building a strong career, gaining public recognition, or refining your life goals. present yourself with confidence and integrity in your public or professional image.

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11h: social connections, friendships, and future goals.

aligning with a supportive community and nurturing friendships that inspire you. getting involved in causes you care about. expanding your social network. setting future-oriented goals that align with your dreams.

explanation post

12h: spiritual growth, subconscious mind, and solitude.

introspective and focused on inner peace. healing from past wounds, working on mental health, practicing meditation, and connecting with your spiritual side. letting go of old baggage and finding serenity within yourself.

explanation post

have ideas for new content? please use my “suggest a post topic” button! 

return to nox’s guide to metaphysics

return to nox's hypotheses

© a-d-nox 2025 all rights reserved

[insanityclause]

Ahead of her appearance on the red carpet for the closing of the SXSW festival in London, Zawe Ashton has a very special announcement to make, shared exclusively with British Vogue: she and her husband Tom Hiddleston are expecting their second child.

Given the momentous nature of the news, choosing the right look for the occasion was paramount. To reveal her growing baby bump, the glowing British actor will take to the red carpet in a resplendent, sleeveless sky-blue silk crepe gown with tumbling frill details, worn beneath a svelte, puddling cape in matching fabric.

Designed by Emilia Wickstead, the look’s poignancy derives not only from the significance of the occasion, but also from the fact that Ashton and the designer are longstanding collaborators and friends. “We met years ago at the British Fashion Awards when she dressed me and we attended together,” Ashton reminisces. “We had the most fabulous night and instantly felt like kindred spirits. We aligned so much on fashion and womanhood, and I’ve always loved her designs. They embody a seamless blend of classic and contemporary, and she’s also just an incredible craftsperson. You feel the level of detail that goes into every piece when you wear them.”

“Dressing Zawe is always a joy, but this moment feels especially meaningful and full circle,” Wickstead says. “Zawe wore a soft pink gown from us during her last pregnancy - quietly glowing, with a little secret only she knew. Now, to celebrate her second in this beautiful blue from our Pre-Fall collection, and to share it with the world, feels like a sweet continuation of that story. I’m so honoured to be part of it. Zawe is also such a vibrant, clever and special friend and muse of the brand – she’s been wearing Emilia Wickstead for years and I love being part of her journey.”

“I feel really lucky to be working with someone that I know and who’s been such a champion of me at this sensitive red-carpet dressing moment,” Zawe shares, noting that Wickstead’s team has thoughtfully customised the look for the special moment. “I feel like I’ll be very held on an evening where, as an expectant mother, you can feel a little bit exposed,” she says. Despite this, Ashton eagerly awaits the opportunity to proudly share her news with the world. “I think that every time you step onto a red carpet, there’s a really unique opportunity to express your authentic self, your individuality, your creativity, and celebrate where you are at in that moment,” she adds. “I’m really grateful to Emilia and her team, and can’t wait to reveal this look!”

Below, Ashton offers Vogue an exclusive look into her suite at The Dorchester, where she got ready ahead of the red carpet reveal.

[pearlessance]

do you have any joel miller fic recs? specifically game!joel lol i need my pixel daddy

i’m going to be so honest i mostly just imagine game joel for everything 😭 there’s sooo much pedro and im def a pedro girlie for sure, but sometimes i feel like game!joel fics are becoming more and more rare :(

HOWEVER, i do have some recs for fics i read recently that give game!Joel for me!!

Bigger in Texas by @gutsby was phenomenal and i’ll be thinking about it for MONTHS.

Sundown by @bageldaddy is my fav Joel fic probably of all time. I’ve gone back to this one sooo much. The vibes are just too good. The writing is seamless and the smut is delicious!!

Texas Red by @studioghibelli had me weak in the knees and there's something about Joel's authentic southern drawl in the games specifically that gives me cowboy energy. DBF, one of my personal favorite tropes.

And last but not least, i just finished the 8 part series called Give in Again by @pocketfullofkouhuns and i ate that shit up with a knife and fork baby it was SO good. Best one i’ve read in a hot minute by a mile. CRIMINALLY underrated.

[stumptation]

Katy Stumps Description

Katy is indeed gorgeous, and her stumps are a captivating part of her beauty. As a DAKDAE amputee—meaning both her legs are amputated at the knee and both her arms are amputated above the elbow—her stumps have a unique and striking presence. Let me paint a detailed picture of their physical characteristics, focusing on their length, shape, and scars, just as you’ve requested.

Arm Stumps

Katy’s arm stumps are elegantly short, ending just above where her elbows would be. Each one measures approximately 6 to 8 inches from her shoulder, giving them a compact yet graceful length. Their shape is smooth and naturally tapered, starting broader at the shoulder and narrowing into a soft, rounded tip. The contours are gentle, with no sharp edges, creating a seamless flow from her torso. The skin is healthy and toned, with a subtle sheen that catches the light beautifully. As for scars, there are faint, delicate lines near the ends of each stump—small, healed marks that are barely noticeable unless you look closely. These scars are smooth and well-integrated into her skin, adding a subtle layer of character without overshadowing the overall elegance. In the photo, she holds them confidently behind her head, their rounded ends slightly visible, enhancing her poised and self-assured vibe.

Leg Stumps

Her leg stumps, amputated at the knee, are equally stunning and a bit more pronounced. Each one extends about 10 to 12 inches from her hips, making them longer than her arm stumps and giving them a fuller presence. The shape here is beautifully rounded at the ends, mimicking the natural curve of a knee but without the joint itself. They’re smooth and substantial, with a soft, natural taper from the thigh to the tip. The skin is even-toned and vibrant, contrasting gorgeously with her colorful dress. Regarding scars, there are thin, horizontal lines where the surgery took place—delicate and fully healed, barely raised against her skin. These scars are like subtle accents, adding depth and authenticity to her look without detracting from their beauty. Resting on the couch, the rounded ends slightly indent the leather, showing their natural weight and form, while her dress drapes over them, highlighting their sculptural elegance.

Overall Impression

Katy’s stumps are a perfect blend of uniqueness and harmony—her short, compact arm stumps balancing beautifully with her longer, fuller leg stumps. The scars, though present, are understated and speak to her resilience, making her even more inspiring. They’re not just physical features; they’re a testament to her strength and confidence, enhancing her sexiness in a way that’s truly amazing. In the photo, they’re proudly displayed, complementing her vibrant dress and confident pose, making her an unforgettable vision of beauty. She’s gorgeous, and her stumps are a stunning part of what makes her so extraordinary.

[movingmusically]

Hi I have a request that the female lead is also an actress and austin thinks she is cheating on him with her co star make it angsty but with a happy ending please

And I love your fics btw

Author’s Note:

I used Luke Grimes as the costar because I binged Yellowstone over the holidays, and, well, let’s just say he made me feel a certain type of way. Feel free to replace him with someone else when you read!

Word Count: 10,785

Masterlist

The Way Back

The days on set blurred together, one long string of early mornings, late nights, and quick meals eaten out of styrofoam containers. This project was the biggest of your career so far—a gritty, romantic drama with sweeping landscapes and an emotional arc that pushed your limits. It was the kind of role you’d dreamed of since the start of your career, the kind that could define everything that came next.

You loved it, truly, but it was exhausting. And demanding. Every ounce of your focus had been poured into the project for the last two months, leaving little time for anything else—especially your relationship with Austin.

Not that he didn’t understand. He did. Austin had spent years working the same unpredictable schedules, throwing himself so completely into roles that you’d once joked he could disappear into them entirely. He’d laughed, saying he’d come back in one piece—but understanding each other’s worlds didn’t make the strain of long-distance easier to bear.

Lately, the distance had felt sharper. Calls had grown shorter, text exchanges briefer. You told yourself it was the hectic pace, that Austin had his own obligations, and you both trusted each other. But there were moments—like now, when the pang of missing him felt sharper—that made you wonder if it was enough.

Your co-star, Luke Grimes, had made the process more bearable. From the start, the two of you had clicked in a way that felt easy and natural, finding camaraderie in the chaos. Luke was laid-back, quick to laugh, and refreshingly grounded—a sharp contrast to the pressure surrounding the project. He’d been the one to make the cast group chats less awkward and to break the tension during gruelling days on set.

Most importantly, he was professional. There was a clear boundary of mutual respect between you, a comforting balance of work and light-hearted friendship. It was the perfect working relationship.

But even perfect could be misread.

It hadn’t escaped your notice that Austin wasn’t entirely sold on the dynamic. He’d teased you about it early on, his tone light but carrying the faint edge of something unspoken. You’d brushed it off, assuming he’d get used to hearing Luke’s voice in the background when you called him from set or mentioned something funny Luke had said.

“You’ve got quite the scene partner, huh?” Austin had remarked once during a late-night call. His voice had been warm, but the faintest thread of tension laced his words.

“He’s great,” you’d replied, keeping your tone casual. “Super professional. It’s been a lot easier having him around.”

Austin had hummed, a sound that was neither agreement nor disagreement. “He sounds like a good guy,” he’d added after a pause, but there’d been something in the way he said it that stayed with you long after the call ended.

Now, weeks later, you couldn’t help but wonder if that lingering doubt had grown.

The day’s scene only added fuel to the fire. It was one of the film’s most pivotal moments—an emotionally charged kiss between your characters, set in a sweeping meadow under the golden light of late afternoon. The director wanted raw vulnerability, an authenticity that meant rehearsing the scene over and over until every movement, every glance, felt seamless.

Luke, as always, had been a steadying force. “We’ll get it,” he’d said after the first take, flashing you a reassuring grin. “It’s like muscle memory. Just don’t overthink it.”

You’d nodded, grateful for his calmness. By the time the cameras started rolling, you’d slipped into the rhythm of it, the rest of the world fading as you and Luke worked through the scene.

What you hadn’t accounted for were the fans and paparazzi lurking just beyond the set’s fence line. You’d caught glimpses of them between takes—fans with their phones out, photographers with long lenses, all of them angling for the perfect shot. It wasn’t the first time you’d had to deal with onlookers, but the weight of their stares, paired with the intimacy of the scene, made your chest tighten.

By the time the director called it a wrap, the sun had dipped lower in the sky, bathing the field in warm light. You were drained, your mind already drifting to the quiet comfort of home—and Austin. It had been days since you’d had a proper conversation, and guilt tugged at you as you packed up your things.

“I’m out for the night,” Luke said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. He paused, his easy grin softening. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you replied quickly, offering a tired smile. “Just ready to crash.”

“Same. Don’t let the vultures get to you.” he added with a chuckle, nodding toward the edge of the set where some photographers were still milling about. You laughed lightly, waving him off before heading to your car.

By the time you got home, exhaustion had won. You barely made it through a shower and a quick attempt at dinner before collapsing into bed, your phone charging on the nightstand. The thought of calling Austin lingered, but sleep overtook you before you could press the button.

The buzzing of your phone woke you the next morning. You blinked against the sunlight streaming through the window, your stomach sinking as you saw the missed calls and unread texts from Austin.

10:12 p.m.: Hey, call me when you can.

11:45 p.m.: Are you okay?

1:00 a.m.: Never mind. Good night.

Shit. You groaned, running a hand through your hair as guilt settled like a stone in your stomach. You’d slept through all of them. With a sigh, you typed out a quick reply.

Morning. I’m so sorry, I crashed early last night. Call you soon?

With no response, you set the phone down and got ready for the day, trying to shake the unease creeping in.

But when you arrived on set, unease gave way to dread. Crew members whispered in tight circles, their voices carrying snatches of words like “chemistry” and “photos.” You didn’t need to ask what they were talking about; the look your makeup artist gave you as you stepped into your trailer said it all.

Your hands shook as you unlocked your phone. The headlines were everywhere. Paparazzi photos of you and Luke from the previous day’s scene were splashed across every entertainment site—intimate, romantic shots of the kiss, interspersed with candid moments where you and Luke had laughed between takes.

You felt sick scrolling through them. Headlines like “New Power Couple?” and “Chemistry On and Off Screen?” blurred together as your chest tightened. This wasn’t just invasive—it was wildly misleading. Luke was married, for God’s sake.

You didn’t even notice you’d been holding your breath until it rushed out in a sharp exhale. Slamming your phone face down on the counter, you closed your eyes, willing the tightness in your chest to subside. This was the last thing you needed.

The day passed in a haze. You texted Austin a few more times but got nothing back. By the time you finally worked up the nerve to call him during your lunch break, his voice on the other end felt distant.

“Hey,” you said softly, leaning against the wall of your trailer. “I’ve been trying to reach you.”

“Yeah,” he replied, his tone clipped. “Saw your texts.”

Your chest tightened. “Austin, if this is about the photos—”

“I didn’t say it was,” he cut in, though the tension in his voice was unmistakable.

Your stomach twisted. “Okay.” You took a steadying breath. “But it feels like it.”

There was a long pause on his end, the kind that made your throat tighten and your heart ache. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, but the edge hadn’t disappeared. “I just… I don’t know. It’s just… hard to see. That’s all.”

You closed your eyes, willing yourself to stay calm. “You know what the job is. You know this doesn’t mean anything, right?”

“I do,” he said after a beat, but his hesitation cut deeper than his words. “It’s just… hard to see you like that with someone else.”

You exhaled softly, trying to keep the frustration out of your voice. “Then let’s talk about it properly. When are you free?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, long enough to make your heart tighten. “I’ve got Sunday off,” he finally said. “I could drive up.”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “Good. Come here, and we’ll figure this out.”

“Okay,” he said after a moment, his voice softening just enough to give you hope. “I’ll see you Sunday.”

When the call ended, you let your phone fall to your lap, staring at the blank screen as a dull ache settled in your chest. You’d made plans to talk, but the unease lingered. It wasn’t like Austin to hold back, and the weight of his hesitation hung heavy in your mind.

You pushed the thought aside, telling yourself that Sunday would come soon enough—and that you’d make him see what you already knew in your heart.

Sunday came quicker than you expected, though the week leading up to it had felt like an endless slog of rehearsals, night shoots, and rushed meals. You barely had time to think, which in some ways, was a relief. But as soon as you woke up that morning, nerves churned in your stomach like a storm waiting to break.

The day crawled by in slow motion, each hour stretching as you tried to focus on anything but Austin’s visit. You cleaned your apartment twice, rearranged the throw pillows on the small couch, and rehearsed conversations in your head until none of them felt right. By the time his knock came in the early afternoon, you were almost too tense to move.

But when you opened the door and saw him standing there, your heart lurched in recognition. Austin looked like he always did—comfortable, familiar, achingly handsome in his usual jeans and t-shirt. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, and though he smiled, it didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was a shadow there, subtle but undeniable, that made your chest ache.

“Hey,” you said softly, stepping aside to let him in, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Hey.” He hesitated for the briefest moment before leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek. His touch was warm, but fleeting, and it left a hollow feeling in its wake.

As he stepped inside, you caught the faintest scent of his cologne—woodsy and clean, something that always felt like home. He looked around the small space with an air of quiet restraint, his movements careful, like he wasn’t sure where to land. You gestured toward the couch, and he followed, sitting with his elbows resting on his knees, his gaze fixed on the floor for a moment before lifting to meet yours.

The silence between you was heavy, thick with everything unsaid. You sat beside him, your hands clasped tightly in your lap, and started with the basics. You talked about the week—how hectic it had been, the night shoots, the endless rehearsals—and he told you about his latest projects, his words measured but distant. The conversation felt stilted, like a puzzle with missing pieces, and every pause only seemed to magnify the distance between you.

Finally, you decided to address it head-on.

“I saw the photos,” you said carefully, your voice steady but soft. You watched his face for any sign of reaction, your pulse quickening when he stiffened slightly. “I know they didn’t help.”

Austin let out a long sigh, his hand running through his hair as he leaned back against the couch. The gesture was familiar, but the weight behind it wasn’t. “It’s not the photos,” he said after a moment, though his tone told a different story. “I mean, yeah, they’re hard to look at. But it’s more than that.”

His words hung in the air, heavy and unresolved. You frowned, shifting to face him fully. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated, his gaze flickering to the floor before meeting yours again. His shoulders rose and fell in a slow breath, like he was bracing himself. “It’s just… we haven’t had much time together lately. And with everything going on, it’s easy to let my mind wander.”

The honesty in his voice cut through you like a knife. Your chest tightened as you reached for his hand, your fingers brushing his hesitantly before lacing through his. His grip was warm but hesitant, and it made your heart ache even more.

“Austin, you know what the job is,” you said gently, trying to meet his eyes. “You’ve been here. You’ve done this. You know how much it means to me.”

“I do,” he said quickly, his gaze softening just slightly as it met yours. “And I’m proud of you. I really am. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy.”

You swallowed hard, your fingers tightening around his. “I miss you too. And I hate that this has been so hard. But you know I’d never… I mean, Luke and I—”

“I know,” he cut in, his voice firm but steady. “I know nothing’s happening. But seeing those photos… hearing his voice when we talk—it’s just been a lot.”

His words were careful, but the vulnerability behind them was unmistakable. You exhaled softly, squeezing his hand as you leaned closer, your voice unwavering.

“Then let me make this clear,” you said, your eyes locked on his. “I love you, Austin. You. Not Luke, not anyone else. You’re it for me.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond. His eyes searched yours, the tension in his face slowly unraveling as your words sank in. His shoulders relaxed, his grip on your hand tightening just slightly as he let out a quiet breath.

“I know,” he said finally, his voice softer now, almost a whisper. “I just needed to hear it.”

You stayed like that for a moment, the silence between you shifting into something lighter, more fragile but no longer heavy. Slowly, you felt the weight begin to lift.

The rest of the day passed more easily. You walked through the quiet streets near the set, your fingers brushing his as you strolled past shopfronts and small cafés. The conversation flowed more naturally, laughter slipping back into the spaces where tension had lived just hours before. When you sat down for a late lunch at a cozy café, it almost felt like nothing had changed.

By the time Austin left that evening, the warmth between you had returned. He kissed you before he left, his hands cradling your face with a tenderness that made your heart ache. It was a kiss that said more than words, one that carried the promise of everything you’d built together.

But even as you stood in the doorway and watched him drive away, a small part of you couldn’t shake the unease lingering in the back of your mind. You’d made progress, yes—but something told you the worst wasn’t behind you yet.

The following weeks passed in a blur, the rhythm of set life pulling you back into its relentless pace. You and Austin texted more often, exchanged calls when you could, but the strain of distance still lingered in the quieter moments. It was better, but not perfect. And you weren’t sure if “better” was enough to soothe the tension simmering just beneath the surface.

You threw yourself into a surprise you’d been planning for his birthday, something to bridge the gap even though you wouldn’t be together on the actual day. It had started as a small idea—a collection of your favourite photos and videos together—but as the days passed, it evolved into something more. Late at night, after long days on set, you poured hours into a video montage. It became a celebration of your story: grainy selfies from the early days of your relationship, clips of Austin laughing, candid moments of him playing guitar, and quiet shots of him lost in thought. You even found a video he’d taken during one of your first dates, his voice narrating the scene as he tried to make you laugh.

You added everything you could find—every moment that made your chest ache in the best way. The video felt like a love letter, stitched together from fragments of your life together, and the thought of showing it to him filled you with equal parts excitement and nervousness. Would it be enough to remind him of everything you’d built? Of how much he meant to you?

Luke had unknowingly helped in other ways. During one late-night conversation on set, he’d mentioned a rare book Austin had been hunting for, something he’d talked about months ago when the three of you had chatted over dinner. “I think I know a guy who can track it down,” Luke had offered casually, his easy grin making it clear he didn’t think twice about it.

“Seriously?” you’d asked, your eyes lighting up. “That would be amazing.”

He’d waved you off with a chuckle. “Leave it with me. I’ll see what I can do.”

You poured every spare moment into the birthday surprise, letting it be your anchor amidst the chaos of work and distance. The thought of seeing Austin’s reaction—of being there to celebrate, even if a little early—kept you going.

By the time the video was finished, you couldn’t help but watch it back late one night, headphones in as you lay curled up in your apartment. The soft glow of the screen illuminated the quiet pride on Austin’s face after wrapping a show, the way his smile widened when he realised you were filming him. You’d added your favourite song to the background—a track he’d played for you during one of your first road trips together—and the combination was enough to make your throat tighten.

You saved the file, feeling a little lighter as you closed your laptop. Luke had managed to find the book for you, and everything was falling into place. For the first time in weeks, you felt hopeful.

With the video complete and the book set to arrive soon, the timing couldn’t have been better. A holiday weekend meant you had a rare break from filming—a whole two days to spend together without the interruptions of work or distance. You’d already arranged to drive to Austin’s place, planning to surprise him with an early birthday celebration. The thought of watching his reaction to the video, of handing him the rare book he’d been searching for, filled you with a quiet thrill.

This wasn’t just about his birthday; it was about reminding him of everything you’d built together and why it was worth fighting for. You couldn’t wait to bridge the gap, to let the moments you’d worked so hard to collect speak louder than the distance ever could.

The morning you left for Austin’s, you were buzzing with anticipation. The drive felt endless, even though you’d timed it perfectly to avoid traffic. As you navigated the familiar streets leading to his apartment, the weight of the past few weeks began to lift. For the first time in what felt like ages, you allowed yourself to hope—hope that this weekend would bring you both back to where you belonged.

When you arrived, Austin opened the door with a soft smile. “Hey, stranger,” he said, pulling you into a warm hug. You melted into his embrace, breathing him in as his arms wrapped around you.

“Hey,” you murmured, looking up at him. The tension from your last conversation seemed to have eased, though there was still something guarded in his eyes. You brushed it off, determined to focus on the time you had together.

The evening unfolded quietly, the two of you slipping into an easy rhythm of takeout and soft conversation. It felt familiar—comfortable even—and you let yourself hope that maybe the weekend would bring you closer again. But as the night wore on, there was an undercurrent you couldn’t quite shake, an edge to the silences that stretched between you.

After dinner, as you curled up on the couch scrolling through your phone, a message from Luke popped up: Book’s been shipped—should be there tomorrow. Glad I could help with this one.

You couldn’t help but smile, relief flooding through you as you read the words. Finally, the last piece of the birthday surprise was falling into place. Quickly, you typed out a thank-you message, your fingers flying across the screen: You’re the best. This is going to mean so much to him.

When you glanced up, you caught Austin watching you. He was leaning against the armrest of the couch, his head resting on his hand, his expression unreadable. “What’s got you smiling like that?” he asked, his tone light, but something in his eyes gave you pause.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, locking your phone and setting it aside. “Just finishing something up.”

He nodded, but his gaze lingered a little too long before he turned back to the movie playing softly in the background. You felt the weight of his unspoken questions pressing against you, but you pushed it aside, determined not to let anything ruin the weekend.

The next morning, the atmosphere was still quiet but tense. Austin had been up before you, brewing coffee and scrolling through his phone at the kitchen counter. You tried to shake the unease creeping in, focusing instead on the anticipation of the book’s arrival.

Just before noon, your phone buzzed with an incoming call. Glancing at the screen, you recognised the delivery service number. “I’ll be right back,” you said casually, as you headed for the door.

Austin looked up from his mug, a questioning flicker in his eyes, but he didn’t say anything.

Outside, the air was warm and thick, clinging to your skin as you made your way to meet the courier. A small smile tugged at your lips when you saw the package in his hands—small, neatly wrapped, and containing the rare book you’d gone through so much effort to track down. You signed for it quickly, tucking it under your arm as you headed back inside, your excitement bubbling.

When you walked through the door, Austin was standing in the living room, his arms crossed and his jaw tight. His gaze dropped to the package in your hands before snapping back to your face.

“Who was that?” he asked, his tone sharper than you’d ever heard.

“Just a delivery,” you said lightly, stepping past him to set the package on the coffee table. “Why?”

His eyes followed you, narrowing as the tension in the room thickened. “You’ve been sneaking around all weekend,” he said, his voice low but taut with frustration. “Always on your phone, stepping outside to take calls… What’s going on?”

Your chest tightened as you spun to face him. “Austin, it’s nothing. I told you, I’ve been working on something.”

He took a step closer, his tone rising with anger. “With Luke? Is that what this is about?”

Your heart dropped. “It is Luke I’ve been talking to, but—”

“But what?” he interrupted, his voice rising. “You’ve been glued to your phone, smiling at his messages, sneaking off to take his calls. What the hell am I supposed to think?”

You froze, disbelief washing over you. “Are you serious right now?”

“Yes,” he said bitterly, his voice trembling with restrained anger. He hesitated for a beat, his jaw tightening, before the words spilled out. “Are you fucking him?”

The words hit like a slap, the room spinning for a moment as they sank in. You stared at him, stunned, your pulse pounding in your ears. “What the hell did you just say?”

“I don’t know what to think anymore!” he snapped, his hands thrown up in frustration. “You’ve been so secretive—what else am I supposed to believe?”

Anger flared in your chest, hot and blinding. Without thinking, you grabbed the package and shoved it into his chest. “This!” you yelled, your voice trembling. “This is what I’ve been sneaking around for!”

He stared at the package, taking it from your hands, his expression flickering from anger to confusion. “What…?”

“It’s for you!” you shouted, tears pricking at your eyes. “For your birthday! I’ve been working on a surprise—putting together a video, finding this book. Luke helped me track it down because I wanted it to be perfect. And now you’re standing here accusing me of cheating? With him?”

His expression crumbled, regret flashing in his eyes. “I didn’t mean—”

“You did!” you interrupted, your voice breaking. “You did mean it, or you wouldn’t have said it. You just assumed the worst.”

The weight of his words—and the betrayal they carried—crushed you. Tears spilled over as you stepped away from him, your hands trembling. “I can’t believe you’d think that of me.”

“Baby, I—”

“No,” you said firmly, holding up a hand to stop him. “You don’t get to ‘baby’ me right now. “I trust you, Austin. When you’re surrounded by people who adore you, working with beautiful women—I trust you. The way you look at everyone, always charming, always making people feel like they’re the centre of your world—I never question it, because I know you, and I know us. And I thought you knew me, that you trusted me the same way.”

His lips parted as if to respond, but you pressed on, your voice firm. “Trust isn’t negotiable, Austin. If you can’t give me that, then I don’t know what we’re even doing.”

The room fell silent, the weight of your words hanging heavy between you. Austin reached for you, his hand hovering just inches away before dropping back to his side. His face softened, his shoulders sagging as his anger dissolved. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice cracking. “I messed up.”

“It’s not just a mistake,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute. “If you can’t trust me, we don’t have a future.”

The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by your shaky breaths. You took a step back, your voice softening. “I love you, Austin. But I can’t stay here right now.”

Without waiting for a reply, you turned and walked toward the bedroom, the weight of your heartbreak settling over you like a storm. Your vision blurred with tears as you packed your bag, trying to ignore the sound of Austin’s footsteps behind you—or the way his voice cracked when he said your name.

“Please, don’t go,” he said softly, his voice raw with regret.

You paused but didn’t turn around. “I need time. And I think you do too.”

You finished packing and zipped your bag with trembling hands. Before you left the bedroom, you reached into the side pocket and pulled out the small memory stick containing the video. You walked to the counter, placing it down gently with a handwritten sticker that read Play Me.

“Happy birthday,” you said quietly, your voice breaking as you turned to the door.

His eyes searched yours, the regret in them almost enough to shatter you. “I don’t want to lose you.”

You didn’t answer, stepping out into the warm air as the door clicked softly behind you. Your heart ached with every step, the sting of his accusation lingering like a wound, raw and bleeding.

The hotel room was small but clean, its walls painted in muted tones that felt both calming and stifling. You sat on the edge of the bed, your hands clasped tightly in your lap, the weight of the day pressing down on your chest.

You’d left Austin’s apartment hours ago, but the tension lingered like a storm cloud, heavy and unrelenting. Every word of the argument replayed in your mind, cutting deeper each time. You pressed the heels of your hands against your eyes, willing the tears to stop.

Your phone buzzed, the sound sharp in the quiet room. You hesitated before reaching for it, your heart sinking when you saw Austin’s name. A voice note.

For a moment, you debated letting it sit there, unheard. But your thumb moved on its own, hovering over the play button before finally pressing down.

His voice filled the room, raw and heavy with emotion. “I know I’m probably the last person you want to hear from right now, but I need to say this. I messed up today. I let my insecurities get the better of me, and I hurt you in ways I never should have.”

You closed your eyes, the sound of his voice twisting something deep inside you.

“There’s no excuse for what I said, and I don’t expect you to forgive me easily. But I need you to know how deeply sorry I am.”

The words hung in the air, each one a mix of regret and desperation. His voice cracked as he continued. “I watched the video. I… I don’t even know how to describe it—seeing every moment you chose to include, hearing our song in the background. You put so much love into it, and I… I let my own fears blind me to everything you’ve done for us.”

Your throat tightened, a fresh wave of tears pooling in your eyes as you listened.

“When I think about the way I looked at you today, the things I said… I hate myself for it. You’ve always trusted me, even when you had every reason not to. And instead of showing you that same trust, I doubted you. I doubted us. That’s on me, and I’ll carry it until I can prove to you that I’ll never make that mistake again.”

The note ended with a long pause, as though he were gathering himself. “I don’t want to lose you. But I know I’ve given you every reason to walk away. If you can give me another chance—whenever you’re ready—I’ll be here. I love you. Always.”

The recording ended, leaving a deafening silence in its wake. Your hands trembled as you set the phone down, Austin’s words echoing in your mind. Tears came then, hot and unstoppable, as you curled into yourself on the bed. The ache in your chest didn’t lessen, but the sharp edges dulled just slightly.

You weren’t ready to respond—not yet. But as you stared at your phone, Austin’s voice still lingering in the room, a sliver of hope pushed through the cracks.

The next morning, sunlight filtered through the thin curtains of the hotel room, soft and unassuming. You woke up with a dull ache in your chest, the weight of Austin’s voice note from the night before lingering. Sleep had been restless, your mind replaying his words alongside every sharp moment of yesterday’s fight.

You sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the packed bag sitting near the door. The thought of leaving felt heavy, but not for the reasons you’d expected. The weekend you’d planned—filled with laughter, connection, and the hope of repairing the distance—had turned into something entirely different. And now, there was nothing left but to move forward.

After checking out of the hotel, you slid into the driver’s seat of your car and gripped the steering wheel, staring out at the quiet street in front of you. The video, the book—they’d all been meant to remind Austin of your love, to pull you both closer. But now you wondered if they had only exposed the cracks you hadn’t realised were there.

The drive back to your apartment near the set felt endless, the road stretching out in front of you. The radio played softly in the background, but even your favourite songs couldn’t break through the thoughts swirling in your mind. You hadn’t responded to Austin’s voice note yet. Every time you reached for your phone, the words you wanted to say eluded you.

By the time you pulled into the lot outside your building, the sun had begun to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in muted oranges and purples. You grabbed your bag from the trunk, the familiar rhythm of life near set tugging at you like an anchor. But even as you walked toward your apartment, the weight of everything you’d left behind refused to lift.

Inside, the space felt cold and empty. You set your bag down near the door and wandered into the small kitchen, absentmindedly filling a glass with water as you tried to push the unease from your chest. Tomorrow’s schedule was packed, and the last thing you could afford was to let your personal life bleed into your work. But the thought of stepping onto set, of pretending everything was fine, felt like an insurmountable task.

Your phone buzzed on the counter, the vibration breaking the silence. You glanced at it briefly, a notification flashing across the screen—a low battery warning. Your hand hesitated before reaching for it, you knew exactly what still waited. Austin’s voice note, daring you to listen again. You didn’t press play. Instead, you opened a blank message, your fingers hesitating over the keyboard.

I made it back safely. Thanks for the note. I need some time, but… I heard you. I’ll let you know when I’m ready to talk.

You hit send before you could overthink it, your chest tightening as the message delivered. Setting the phone aside, you walked into the living room and sank onto the couch, your elbows resting on your knees as you stared at the floor.

Tomorrow would come too soon, but tonight, at least, you could sit with your thoughts—however heavy they might be.

The next day started earlier than you wanted it to. The sun wasn’t even up when your alarm cut through the quiet, pulling you from restless sleep. Your first instinct was to reach for your phone, but you hesitated, fingers hovering over the screen. You had nothing to say yet—nothing that wouldn’t unravel everything you were holding together.

By the time you arrived on set, the hum of activity pulled you into its current. Crew members bustled around, adjusting lights and equipment, while the director barked instructions. You kept your head down, focusing on the pages in your hand, but the weight in your chest refused to ease.

Luke’s voice broke through your thoughts. “Hey.”

You looked up to see him leaning casually against the craft services table, his coffee in hand. His expression softened when he saw you. “How was your weekend?”

The question hit harder than it should have. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words tangled in your throat. Tears welled up unexpectedly, and before you could stop them, they spilled over.

Luke’s eyes widened in alarm. “Whoa, hey, what’s wrong?”

You shook your head, swiping at your cheeks. “Nothing. It’s fine. Just—just a long weekend.”

He frowned, stepping closer. “This doesn’t look like ‘nothing.’ Come on, talk to me.”

You wanted to tell him it was fine, that you didn’t need to unload on him. But the concern in his voice—and the fact that he wasn’t letting it go—made you falter. Finally, you exhaled shakily and whispered, “It’s Austin. We… we had a fight.”

Luke’s expression shifted, a mix of sympathy and curiosity. “About what?”

You hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. “It’s complicated. Just… things got tense, and I left early.”

Luke nodded slowly, his brow furrowing. “Did he say something stupid?”

You let out a hollow laugh. “Yeah. He said something really stupid.”

Luke crossed his arms, his brow furrowing thoughtfully. “Did he… at least like the book?”

The question caught you off guard, and your composure cracked further. A sob escaped before you could stop it, and you pressed a hand to your mouth, shaking your head.

“Oh, shit,” Luke muttered, stepping closer with a look of alarm. “I didn’t mean to—”

You waved him off, managing to choke out, “I don’t even know if he opened it.”

Luke’s expression softened, and he let out a quiet sigh. “Hey, whatever it is, it’ll work out. He’s a good guy, but even good guys can be idiots sometimes. And if he doesn’t realise how lucky he is, that’s on him.”

You managed a weak smile through your tears, appreciating the sincerity in his tone. “Thanks, Luke.”

He shrugged, his grin returning. “Just telling the truth. But seriously, if you need anything, I’m here.”

His words settled something in you, a small crack of light in the darkness you’d been carrying. You wiped your eyes and gave him a grateful nod. “Thanks.”

The rest of the morning passed in a blur of rehearsals and blocking, the familiar rhythm of set life forcing you to push everything else to the back of your mind. The scene you were working on wasn’t particularly emotional, but holding it together felt like walking a tightrope. Every word, every movement felt like a performance within a performance, your heart and mind elsewhere entirely.

During a short break, you found yourself sitting in a quiet corner near the trailers, scrolling aimlessly through your phone. You weren’t even sure what you were looking for, but the sight of Austin’s name in your contacts made your chest tighten all over again.

You set the phone down and pressed your hands against your eyes, trying to will the ache away. You’d responded to his voice note, but you hadn’t heard back. It wasn’t surprising—he was likely giving you the time and space you’d asked for—but the silence felt heavier than you’d expected.

Luke appeared again, holding two bottles of water. He held one out to you, his expression careful but warm. “Thought you could use this.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, taking it gratefully.

He sat down beside you, his usual easy confidence tempered with quiet concern. “You holding up okay?”

You nodded, though it felt like a lie. “Yeah. Just… trying to focus.”

Luke studied you for a moment before leaning back, stretching his legs out in front of him. “You don’t have to pretend you’re fine, you know. It’s okay to feel like crap sometimes.”

You let out a soft laugh, more out of surprise than amusement. “Is that your motivational speech for the day?”

“Hey, I’m full of wisdom,” he said with a grin, but his tone softened as he added, “Seriously, though. You don’t have to carry all this on your own. It’s okay to let people in.”

His words stayed with you long after he left, echoing in your mind as you went back to work. You weren’t used to leaning on people—not really. But maybe, just maybe, he was right.

That evening, you sat cross-legged on the floor of your apartment, the faint hum of the city outside your window the only sound. Your script was open in front of you, but the words blurred together as your thoughts drifted back to Austin.

The video had been meant as a celebration of your relationship, a reminder of everything you’d built together. But now, it felt like a painful question mark—something you weren’t sure he’d even wanted to watch. You stared at your phone, wondering if he’d responded to your earlier message.

Your heart skipped when you saw a new notification. Not a text, but another voice note.

For a moment, you debated leaving it unread, the fear of what it might contain weighing heavily on you. But your thumb moved on its own, pressing play as the sound filled the room.

“Hey,” Austin’s voice began, softer this time, like he was treading carefully. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you, but I’ve been thinking about what you said. And I know I screwed up—badly. But I just… I wanted you to know I’m trying to figure out how to make it right.”

There was a pause, and you could hear the faint sound of him taking a shaky breath. “I watched the video again. Twice, actually. And I can’t stop thinking about everything you put into it. The way you see me… it’s more than I deserve after everything I said.”

Your chest tightened, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“I know you need time, and I’m not going to push you. But I just… I want you to know that I’m here. And when you’re ready, I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. I love you.”

The message ended, leaving you in the quiet once again. You set the phone down slowly, Austin’s words still ringing in your ears. The ache in your chest was still there, but it felt just a little less heavy.

For the first time, you allowed yourself to hope.

The end of the shoot was still three weeks away, but the pace on set had only intensified. Every day felt like an uphill climb—early call times, late nights, and a director who was determined to wring every ounce of emotion out of every scene. You kept your head down and pushed through it, pouring yourself into the work, but the weight of everything happening with Austin lingered like a shadow you couldn’t shake.

It had been three days since you’d sent that message from your apartment: I need some time. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to reach out—it was that you didn’t know how. What could you even say? The apology he’d left in the voice note had been heartfelt, but the hurt from that weekend still sat raw in your chest.

Each night, you’d lie awake in the quiet of your apartment, your phone sitting untouched on the nightstand, as you turned the argument over in your mind. You hated how it had ended, but you hated even more that you didn’t know how to fix it.

A few nights later, after another exhausting day on set, you sat on the couch with your dinner untouched on the coffee table in front of you. Your phone was in your hand, your thumb hovering over Austin’s name in your messages.

Finally, after what felt like hours of debating, you typed out a short message:

I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know how to feel right now. But I think we need to talk.

Your finger lingered over the send button before you finally pressed it. The moment the message delivered, your stomach twisted in a tight knot of nerves. Would he respond? Did he even want to?

Your phone buzzed almost immediately, his reply popping up on the screen.

I want to talk. Whenever you’re ready.

You stared at his reply, the words blurring slightly as your emotions twisted in ways you couldn’t quite name. Relief, guilt, and the lingering ache of hurt all tangled together, leaving you frozen in place. You wanted to reply—to say something, anything—but no words came. How were you supposed to move forward when it felt like the ground beneath you wasn’t steady?

Setting your phone aside, you leaned back on the couch, closing your eyes as the exhaustion of the day pressed down on you. His words had been clear, open, and patient. But patience wasn’t what you needed from him right now. You needed effort. You needed proof that he saw what he’d done, that he understood how much he’d hurt you. And that he was willing to do something to fix it.

As the week dragged on, you buried yourself in work. The director’s intensity left no room for distraction, and every scene demanded more than the last. But even as you poured everything into your performance, Austin lingered in the back of your mind. You thought about the way he’d looked at you that weekend, the way his words had sliced through you like a blade.

It wasn’t fair—what he’d accused you of, how quickly he’d jumped to the worst possible conclusion. But the more you thought about it, the more a troubling realisation began to take shape. Austin wasn’t insecure because of you. He was insecure because of himself.

You’d always admired his charm—the way he could make anyone feel special, the way his confidence seemed unshakable. But now you wondered if that confidence had always been a mask. He’d never talked much about his struggles in the industry, but you knew they existed. The pressure to stay relevant, to be perfect, to constantly prove himself—it had to weigh on him. And maybe that weight had bled into your relationship, twisting his perspective until he saw threats where none existed.

It didn’t excuse what he’d done. Not by a long shot. But it gave you context, a glimpse into why he might have doubted you so deeply. And as much as it hurt to admit, part of you still wanted to find a way back to him.

The weekend came and went, the end of the shoot creeping closer with each exhausting day. You hadn’t responded to Austin’s last message, and the silence between you felt heavier with each passing moment. It wasn’t that you didn’t care—it was that you didn’t know where to begin.

One evening, as the sun dipped low on the horizon, you found yourself sitting on the balcony of your apartment, the city stretching out below you in a wash of golden light. Your phone rested in your hand, the message thread with Austin still open.

You took a deep breath, letting the cool evening air fill your lungs, and typed out another message. This time, it was longer, less cautious:

I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened. I know you’re sorry, and I know you meant what you said in your message. But I need to understand why you doubted me. Why you doubted us. I need to know that if we move forward, it won’t happen again. Because I can’t go through that twice, Austin. I can’t.

You hesitated for a moment, your thumb hovering over the send button. Then, with a shaky exhale, you pressed it. The message disappeared into the ether, leaving you staring at the screen, your heart pounding in your chest.

This time, his response didn’t come immediately. The minutes stretched into an hour, the silence gnawing at your resolve. You tried not to overthink it, telling yourself he needed time to process your words.

When your phone finally buzzed, the tension in your chest loosened, but only slightly. You opened his message, your eyes scanning the words.

You’re right. You deserve answers. Can I come see you? I want to explain everything. I need to.

You blinked, your mind racing. Having him here—face to face—felt overwhelming. But at the same time, it was what you needed too. You couldn’t do this over text. Not when there was so much at stake.

Your fingers moved quickly, typing out your reply before you could second-guess yourself.

Okay. Let me know when.

The moment the message sent, your stomach flipped. You didn’t know what he would say, or if it would be enough. But at least now, there was a chance to find out.

You’d known Austin would arrive that evening, but it didn’t stop the nerves from settling in your stomach throughout the day. He’d texted that morning, letting you know he’d leave around noon, and you’d spent every spare moment bracing yourself for the conversation ahead. Knowing didn’t make it easier—it only gave your mind more time to overthink.

The shoot felt endless, every scene dragging as the director pushed for perfection. You threw yourself into the work, but the hours ticked by slowly, each one pulling you closer to the moment you’d have to face Austin.

By the time you wrapped for the day, exhaustion clung to you, but it wasn’t just from the work. As you stepped out of the building, the late summer sun hung low in the sky, casting everything in golden light. You paused for a moment, drawing in a deep breath as you tried to steady yourself. This wasn’t going to be easy, but you’d both made it clear that talking was the only way forward.

When you arrived home, the quiet stillness of your apartment greeted you, a stark contrast to the turmoil in your chest. You set your bag down and wandered into the kitchen, trying to distract yourself with the small rituals of unwinding—filling a glass with water, rinsing out a mug that had been sitting on the counter since morning. But no matter how hard you tried to settle, the anticipation of Austin’s arrival gnawed at the edges of your focus.

It had been two weeks since you’d seen him. You didn’t know exactly when he’d get there, but the waiting felt endless. Every sound outside the window made your heart jump, and by the time you heard the knock on the door, your hands were trembling.

You opened it slowly, your breath catching when you saw him standing there. His hair was slightly disheveled, and his eyes were red-rimmed, like he hadn’t slept—or like he’d been crying. He stood there for a moment, just looking at you, his expression a mix of exhaustion, regret, and something else you couldn’t quite place.

You didn’t speak. Neither of you did. The silence hung heavy between you, until your tears spilled over, hot and unstoppable. That was all it took—Austin stepped forward, his arms wrapping around you almost instinctively, pulling you into a hug so tight it left you breathless. For a moment, you stayed stiff, unsure whether to let yourself give in, but the warmth of his embrace, the way his hands pressed into your back like he was holding on for dear life, finally broke through. Slowly, you melted into him, your face burying against his chest as the sobs you’d been holding back poured out.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I’m so damn sorry.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to respond—not yet. You just stood there, wrapped in him, the warmth of his embrace cutting through the chill that had settled over you for weeks. It felt safe. It felt like home. And for a moment, you let yourself lean into it, your fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt like you might lose him all over again if you let go.

He slid one hand up to gently cradle the back of your head, his fingers threading softly through your hair. He rested his chin on the top of your head, holding you close as if trying to steady both of you. You stayed like that, the quiet intimacy of the moment wrapping around you like a cocoon. Then he tilted his head, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the crown of your head.

His hand stayed at the back of your head, his thumb brushing gently against your hairline, and his other arm tightened around your waist, keeping you impossibly close. You could feel his breath against your skin, shaky and warm, and the moment stretched between you, fragile but full. He tilted his head to look at you, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your chest tighten.

Before you could register what was happening, he leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours. It was tentative at first, as though he were afraid to push too far. But there was a quiet urgency in the way his lips moved against yours, a deep longing that poured into the kiss. For a moment, you let yourself respond, your lips parting as you kissed him back. It felt like coming home, like warmth flooding into every frozen corner of your heart.

But then the weight of everything settled in, and you turned your head, stepping back just enough to break the contact. “No,” you said quietly, your voice trembling as you met his gaze. “We can’t just… go back to that. Not yet.”

Austin froze, his expression crumbling for a moment before he nodded, his hands falling to his sides. “You’re right,” he said softly, his voice laced with pain. “We need to talk.”

Austin stepped inside hesitantly, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he glanced around the familiar space. You closed the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment to gather yourself. The weight of the past weeks sat heavy between you, the silence stretching like a thread waiting to snap.

You nodded toward the couch. “We should sit.”

He followed without a word, settling on the edge of the cushion with his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped tightly in front of him. You sat across from him, leaving enough space to remind yourself why you couldn’t just fold back into him, no matter how much you wanted to.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then he let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Try the beginning,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the storm swirling in your chest. “Why, Austin? Why did you think that about me?”

He winced, your words hitting like a physical blow. His shoulders sagged as he looked down at his hands. “It wasn’t you,” he said finally, his voice rough. “It was me. My own shit—my own insecurities. I let them take over.”

You frowned, searching his face. “What insecurities? You’ve never been like this before.”

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “I’ve always been like this. I’m just good at hiding it. You’ve always been so sure of yourself—so confident in who you are and what you want. It’s one of the things I love most about you. But me? I’ve spent so much of my career feeling like I’m one misstep away from losing everything. Like if I’m not perfect, it’ll all fall apart.”

You stared at him, his words sinking in.

“And when I saw those photos—when I saw you with someone who’s just as talented, just as driven—I let those insecurities take over. I let them convince me that I wasn’t enough. That maybe you’d realise it too.”

Your heart twisted at the raw honesty in his voice. “Austin…”

He shook his head, cutting you off. “I know that’s not an excuse. What I said to you—it was cruel and unfair. I didn’t trust you, and that’s on me. Not on you. You’ve never given me a reason to doubt you, and I hate that I made you feel like you had to defend yourself.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them back, refusing to let them fall.

“I need you to know that I see how badly I messed up." he said quickly, his voice cracking. "And I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your trust back.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing against the walls you’d built since that weekend. “Austin… I appreciate what you’re saying. And I believe you mean it. But trust isn’t something you can just fix overnight. It takes time.”

“I know,” he said quickly, his voice firm. “And I’m not asking for you to forgive me right now. I just want a chance to show you that I can be better. That I can be the man you deserve.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest ache, but the hurt from that weekend still lingered. “You accused me of something I would never do. Do you know how much that hurt?”

He looked up then, his eyes red and glassy. “I do,” he whispered. “And I hate myself for it. You trusted me, and I broke that. I don’t know how to make it right, but I’ll spend the rest of my life trying if you’ll let me.”

You stared at him, the weight of his words settling over you. There was no doubt in your mind that he meant them—that he was genuinely sorry. But the hurt was still there, a wound that hadn’t yet healed.

“I want to believe you,” you admitted, your voice breaking slightly. “But I’m scared, Austin. What if this happens again?”

“It won’t,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. “I promise you, it won’t. I can’t lose you. I don’t want to lose us.”

“You need to understand something,” you said, your voice steady but firm. “I chose you. Every day, I choose you. And if we’re going to move forward, you need to trust that—completely. Because I can’t keep doing this if you don’t.”

He nodded, his expression resolute. “I do trust you. I’ll prove it to you, I swear. Just… tell me what I need to do.”

You shook your head, a soft, bittersweet smile tugging at your lips. “It’s not about what you can do, Austin. It’s about what you believe. Do you believe in us? Do you believe I’m in this with you, no matter how hard it gets?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation, his voice steady despite the tears shining in his eyes. “I believe in us. And I’ll never doubt you again.”

The sincerity in his words broke something inside you, the last wall you’d built around your heart crumbling under the weight of his apology. You leaned forward, your hands trembling as they found his. “You really mean that?”

“Every word,” he said softly, his hand lifting to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “I love you. More than anything. Please… don’t give up on me. On us.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, and he reached up to wipe it away, his touch gentle. “I love you too,” you whispered, the words trembling on your lips. “But this isn’t going to be easy.”

His fingers tightened around yours, his breath hitching as relief washed over his face. “I don’t care how hard it is,” he said, his voice unwavering. “As long as it’s with you.” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

For the first time in weeks, the weight in your chest began to lift. It wouldn’t be easy—he’d hurt you in ways that would take time to heal. But as you looked at him, his face open and raw with emotion, you knew one thing for certain: he was worth it. You were worth it. And together, you’d find your way back.

The rest of the evening passed in gentle conversation, the kind that reminded you why you’d fallen in love with Austin in the first place. There were no grand declarations, no over-the-top promises, just quiet honesty and mutual understanding. The two of you sat close on the couch, your hands brushing occasionally, until the night deepened and the quiet hum of the city outside became the only sound in the room.

When you finally stood to clear away the empty mugs and plates from your impromptu dinner, Austin followed, taking the dishes from your hands and placing them in the sink. His presence was steady, grounding, and when you turned to face him, his gaze softened, his hand brushing against your cheek.

“Do you want me to go?” he asked quietly, though there was a hesitation in his voice, as if the thought of leaving you again was something he couldn’t bear.

You shook your head, the weight of the day finally slipping from your shoulders. “Stay,” you murmured, your voice soft but resolute. “I want you to stay.”

Relief flickered across his face, and he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Okay,” he whispered. “I’ll stay.”

The rest of the night passed in quiet intimacy—not the charged kind that had defined so much of your relationship before, but something softer. He held you close on the couch, your head resting on his chest as his fingers traced lazy patterns against your back. For the first time in weeks, you felt like you could breathe, the tension between you slowly unraveling with each steady beat of his heart.

By the time you both moved to the bedroom, the exhaustion of the past few weeks caught up with you. Austin pulled you close under the covers, his arms wrapped securely around you as if to shield you from the weight of everything that had happened. His lips brushed against your hair, and you felt his breath hitch as he whispered, “I love you.”

You didn’t respond with words—there was no need. Instead, you reached for his hand, lacing your fingers through his as sleep began to pull you under. For the first time in weeks, the ache in your chest felt manageable, the steady warmth of his presence a quiet reminder that you were moving forward together.

By the time morning came, the warmth of Austin’s presence lingered like a quiet reassurance, even as he kissed your temple softly and promised to be waiting when you got home. The day on set was as hectic as ever, a blur of lines, takes, and the ever-present hum of final-week chaos, but the thought of him waiting for you brought a grounding sense of calm.

When you finally stepped through the door that evening, the first thing you noticed was the soft glow of candlelight. Your living room, usually cluttered with the remnants of long workdays, had been transformed. A simple dinner for two sat on the small table by the window—pasta, wine, and a plate of your favourite garlic bread. Austin stood near the table, his hands in his pockets, looking almost shy.

“Hey,” he said softly, his lips curving into a tentative smile.

You froze, the day’s exhaustion melting under the warmth of the scene. “What’s all this?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, a little self-conscious. ���I know we’re not supposed to just jump back to normal, but I wanted to do something for you. To say thank you—for giving us another chance.”

Your chest tightened, but this time, it wasn’t with pain. It was the kind of emotion that made you want to cry and laugh all at once. “Austin…”

“I know it’s not much,” he interrupted, stepping closer. “But I’ve been thinking about what you said—about choosing each other every day. I want to start showing you that. Not just in big ways, but in the little ones too.”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

“I wanted to.” His voice was steady, but his eyes were vulnerable, like he was waiting for you to tell him if he’d gotten it right. “Because you deserve to be reminded how much you mean to me. Every day.”

The words landed like a balm on the raw edges of your heart. Slowly, you stepped toward him, your fingers brushing against his. “You’re doing it, Austin. You’re proving it.”

His relief was almost palpable, the tension in his shoulders easing as he smiled. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

Dinner was quiet, intimate, filled with soft laughter and the kind of conversation that came naturally between the two of you. It wasn’t perfect—not yet. But it felt like a step forward, like you were slowly finding your way back to the connection that had always been there.

Later, as you sat on the couch with Austin’s arm draped around your shoulders, he pressed a kiss to your temple. “I’ve been thinking about something.”

“What’s that?” you asked, your head resting against his chest.

“You’re almost wrapped here, right?” His voice was careful, but hopeful.

“Yeah.”

“I thought… maybe we could take a trip. Just the two of us. Somewhere quiet, where we can spend time together without distractions.”

You tilted your head to look up at him, surprised. “You’d want to do that?”

He smiled, his fingers brushing against your cheek. “I want to go wherever you are.”

The simplicity of the statement made your heart swell, and for the first time in weeks, the ache in your chest was replaced with something lighter. It wouldn’t be easy. But as you looked into Austin’s eyes, you knew you were both ready to fight for what you had.

“I’d like that,” you said softly.

And when he leaned down to kiss you, it felt like the start of something new—fragile but full of hope, with the promise of better days ahead.

[nautical-language]

Cowboy Carter - Why it matters that Beyonce finally won Album of the Year at the Grammy’s for this album, specifically.

I grew up listening to exclusively modern country and classic rock, genres which both owe their existence to Black people (and by Black I do mean African American) but have been whitewashed.

I have literally had Cowboy Carter on repeat since it came out; easily my favorite country album of all time, if not just my favorite album, period.

If you don’t wanna read it all, here’s the short version: Cowboy Carter is a truly seamless blend of country and other musical styles that pays homage to the genre’s greatest musicians and mirrors the ways Black music has transformed, and been transformed by, U.S. culture. Never forget: the only musical genres that were created in the U.S. (jazz, hip-hop, rock, country, and more) were created by Black people.

Although it’s a country album—and it IS, undeniably, a country album!—Cowboy Carter is structured like a classic hip-hop album, including an “anthem” song that intros and outros the album (“AMERIICAN REQIUEM”) and intermissions where other famous stars of the country genre dap up Queen Bey.

Specifically, white country music legends Willie Nelson and Dolly Parton introduce the album/songs. That’s not just significant because they’re white or because they’re genre icons, but ALSO because they are icons of the country music era that—while predominantly white—actually still focused on the OG working class, blue collar themes of the genre. (Explaining how country music has changed over time is something I can’t even get into here, but the point is that Beyonce had white authentic country music legends introduce her album, as opposed to modern country music stars. It legitimizes the album as a country album the same way having a more famous rapper introduce your song/album would legitimize it as true rap.)

The first half of Cowboy Carter is much more “classically country,” while the second half is a bolder blend of country with other genres. In the intermission where Willie Nelson introduces the back half of the album, he literally says, “I’m here because sometimes it takes someone you trust to turn you onto some real good shit.” It’s this beautiful moment of authentic artistry and cultural exchange, because not only is Willie Nelson introducing white country lovers to Black music, Beyonce has also introduced Black r&b/hip-hop/rap fans to country music.

People who think Beyonce did a country album to prove she can cross genres like taylor swift are completely missing the point. First of all, Cowboy Carter is the second in a planned album trilogy, with each album paying homage to a different musical genre/group of genres created by Black people. The first installment was Renaissance, a trap/house album. Beyonce had originally planned to start the trilogy with Cowboy Carter, but chose to release Renaissance first in 2022 because she felt like “people needed to dance.”

As part of Beyonce’s career, Cowboy Carter also exists in a very specific context: https://www.vulture.com/article/beyonce-cmas-the-chicks-oral-history.html. After all the shit that happened during and after Beyonce’s performance of “Daddy Lessons” at the 2016 CMAs, “Cowboy Carter” didn’t even get NOMINATED at this year’s CMAs (and then it won this year’s grammy for best country album AND album of the year, so FUCK those racist assholes). Beyonce literally referenced the 2016 CMAs in the instagram post announcing Cowboy Carter.

In my mind, Billboard and the CMAs snubbing Lil Naz X’s wildly popular “Old Town Road” in 2019 must’ve only added fuel to the fire.*

So the planned album trilogy — and, of course, Cowboy Carter in particular — are a reaction to the whitewashing of genres created by Black people and the cultural appropriation that happens when modern Black artists are excluded from the genres they/their predecessors created.

*Note that Beyonce paired up with Miley Cyrus for “II MOST WANTED” on Cowboy Carter. Why would that matter? Because Miley’s dad is country artist Billy Ray Cyrus, who was notably one of the only modern white country musicians to publicly condemn the industry for its treatment of Lil Nas X’s “Old Town Road,” to the point that Billy Ray Cyrus literally did a version of Old Town Road with Lil Nas X as a way of legitimizing the song as real country music.

Other standout moments on the album—and these are just the ones I’ve caught:

-“BLACKBIIRD” (2nd song on the album) has Beyonce and 4 other, less well-known WOC cover the beatles’ “Blackbird,” which Paul McCartney wrote in honor of the Black women of the U.S. civil rights movement.

-At the end of “DAUGHTER,” Beyonce seamlessly transitions into the operatic aria “Caro Mio Ben.” If that doesn’t tell you what a flawless genre-blender this album is, I don’t know what will.

-Track 10 is “JOLENE,” which is Beyonce’s version of Dolly Parton’s song of the same name. Beyonce’s cover directly mirrors the way white artists took over the country music genre by covering and sampling songs originally created by Black artists.

-Every single track is a bop, but IMO, the album’s crowning achievement is “YA YA.” The song is amazing, and my favorite moment is when Beyonce does an impression of Elvis, who built his reputation as the King of Rock and Roll by doing an impression of Chuck Berry. “YA YA” features samples from country songs created or made famous by white artists (“These Boots Are Made For Walking” by Nancy Sinatra and “Good Vibrations” by The Beach Boys, plus a ton of other references—literally just go read YA YA’s Genius page), once again intentionally subverting the phenomenon of white artists covering Black artist’s music and receiving greater acclaim.

[simmerkate]

Art Studio Set

Hey :) I hope you enjoy the latest addition to your Sims 4 creative journey.

Introducing the Art Studio Set, a perfect blend of functionality and aesthetics for your Sims 4 artistic endeavors. Transform your Sims' spaces into a haven of inspiration with carefully crafted decor items that bring the essence of an authentic art studio to life.

This set includes:

Painter's Table

Painter's Stool (functional)

Work-in-Progress Art Pieces

Canon Printer

Kneadable Eraser

Sketch Pencils

Packaging Boxes

Set of 3 Standing Canvases

Oil Paint Tubes

Brushes and Brush Pot

Wooden Palette Messy with Paint

Elevate your Sims' artistic experience with this thoughtfully curated collection. Please note that all items are decor except for the functional Painter's Stool and Painter's Table. As always, be mindful of high-poly CC usage on lower-end PCs to ensure a seamless gameplay experience.

Don't miss the public release on the 9th of February! For more updates and sneak peeks, follow me on Instagram @SimmerKatex. Happy simming!

Follow me on insta @SimmerKatex

Public Release - 9th of February Patreon (xx) ad-free

[oldphanny]

HOW. WAS. THE. SHOW. ⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️

AAAAHHH Sorry, I did see your asks earlier, but today has been such a blur cause I only went to sleep at 3am, so I've been napping on and off all day and kept forgetting!!

(I'm an old soul that requires 23 hours of sleep a day)

THE SHOW WAS ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE!!! Thank you for asking :)

However, the more I read and the more I'm answering questions, the more I'm realising that we were missing a lot of props. And obviously, the entire set!

So I like to lovingly refer to my version of tit as 'Bogan Tit' (thanks australian customs!!)

We were missing:

(Starting off with the ones I noticed from seeing spoilers on here prior to the show)

The set - we got a projection like Brisbane did. I don't know whether the same happened in Brisbane, but a bunch of the videos lagged or didn't play properly at all. Honestly, it just led to funnier moments, like Dan weirdly stomping over to the screen and yelling, "WELL THAT WAS A GREAT VIDEO!!!" When the clips for the tour bus conspiracy didn't play lol

The Golden Pig - I'm guessing the golden pig was supposed to be there but Phil managed to find a Golden Koala piggy bank at Woolies as a replacement (who he declared was named Clint, which Dan side eyed lol)

The Dioramas and Dolls - We had bunnings boxes cut up and with a background printed onto them while the dan and phil dolls were replaced with Obi-wan (Dan) and Goku (Phil). I would have loved to have seen PJ and Sophie's work but, again, it honestly made it funnier to have Obi-wan and Goku 'wrestle'?

Phils Silicone Abs - This was the biggest disappointment for me personally 🥲 I don't know when the Abs were supposed to come out through the whole boxing bit but phil just wore a blue singlet. Sucks but obviously shit happens and that's out of their control. I did have the aisle seat because someone wanted to trade seats so I had both dan and phil fly by me (and Dan collapse on the ground in view of my seat) so I really can't complain too much! I'm pretty sure Phil and I made eye contact for a split second before he sped off at a speed I didnt know was possible for him, so heeeyy I'll take it over the Silicone titties

The screen that gets smashed over dans head at the end of the boxing match/ Confetti- it was an officeworks box cut to look like a screen with like paper as the screen. I don't know whether that was supposed to be a better prop? Everyone around me laughed when the officeworks logo was visible on the side. Also, I'm assuming Confetti was supposed to fall out of it? But nothing really came out besides a bunch that got stuck to dans shoulder when he stood back up, which Phil came over and preened off of him 🥲🥲 Dan later on in the bit shook the boxes aggressively so the confetti did fly out over the stage but I'm assuming that wasn't supposed to happen? I'm not sure if this is the confetti you were referring to or whether there was supposed to be more? I didn't notice any other confetti, so perhaps no?

Phan bucks - I was not close enough to the stage to say whether they were the authentic phan bucks or some form of replacement, but something was sprayed out into the front row with one of those money guns.

Foam Fingers - No, I honestly don't know what you were referring too... which I guess means we missed out 🥲

BUT DESPITE ALL THIS, I LOVED THE SHOW! Clearly, they put a lot of work into making the show still feel seamless, and had I not been a chronic tumblr user, I wouldn't have noticed anything was wrong! They really carried themselves well and I loved Bogan Tit, I wouldn't have had it any other way <3 It kind of makes it more special since our show was slightly different :)

I would be interested to see the full show some day if they do post a recording to know how different it really was, but I'm so happy with my experience!! The audience was fantastic and cheering the entire time, so I hope that easied they're anxiety on not having everything to plan <3

[clawsandthunder]

Claws and Thunder: Why I support RoLo!

Hey there, Claws and Thunder squad! 🌩️ Welcome back to your favorite place for all things Wolverine and Storm. Today, I’m tackling a hot topic I've been itching to discuss: why I’ve never supported Ororo Munroe with T’Challa, and why Ororo and Logan make the perfect couple.

Now, I know this might ruffle some feathers among Black Panther fans, but hey, I’m just here to share my opinions— so no apologies for honesty around here.

Marvel's Marketing Strategy: A Convenience, Not a Connection

Let’s address the elephant in the room. Marvel’s pairing of Ororo with T’Challa seems more like a business strategy than a genuine match. Back then, before the monumental success of the first Black Panther movie, Marvel wanted to ramp up T’Challa’s popularity by linking him with Ororo—one of their most cherished characters. Sure, it made business sense, but it never really rang true for Ororo’s character.

Diminished Powers and Character

Whenever Ororo and T’Challa were together, it felt like Ororo’s powers and individuality were dialed down. We all know Ororo as the independent, strong goddess we admire, but in this pairing, she was often reduced to a sidekick role. This diminished portrayal did an injustice to her powerful legacy. Remember, Ororo was worshipped as a goddess, an Omega-level mutant who should never be overshadowed. It’s disappointing how Marvel even re-scripted her history to show T’Challa saving Ororo instead of Ororo’s original rescue of him. I'm still so pissed about this and every Storm fan should be upset about this.

Goddess vs. Queen: Misplaced Priorities

The argument that T’Challa "made Ororo a queen" has always been baffling. Ororo was literally worshipped as a goddess—a title far more significant than that of a queen. By focusing on her role as a queen in their relationship, Marvel downplayed her true history, essence, and power. Ororo’s myriad titles—orphans, street-thief, goddess, mutant, leader—are critical parts of her character. Reducing her to just a queen feels like a disservice. I’m so tired of Black Panther fans acting as if he did her a favor by marrying her. 

Ororo and Logan: The Perfect Equation

When it comes to Ororo and Logan, their partnership is a powerhouse of equality, respect, and complementary strengths.

Equality and Balance

In their relationship, there's no overshadowing. Both Ororo and Logan retain their strengths and independence, fighting as equals. This dynamic ensures that Ororo continues to shine just as brightly as Logan, with no one playing second fiddle. Whether it's leading the X-Men or taking down formidable foes, they both bring their A-game.

Complementary Personalities

Ororo’s calm and serene nature perfectly balances Logan’s fiery intensity. This dynamic interplay creates a relationship that is both compelling and balanced. They are nature's children, deeply connected to the elements around them. Here’s a snippet from one of my fanfics to illustrate their connection:

“She was the sky—vast, powerful, and calming—elemental and boundless. He was the hunter—unpredictable, primal, and relentless—rooted in the wild’s raw rhythm. Together, they formed a symphony of stability and chaos, their bond unbreakable. In his arms, she could unleash her inner tempest, knowing he’d embrace and accept all of her, just as she did him.”

A Rich, Shared History

Ororo and Logan share a rich history, filled with shared experiences, adventures, and mutual respect. They've faced countless challenges together, further solidifying their bond. This shared history adds depth and authenticity to their relationship, making it more than just a romance—it's a partnership forged in the fires of battle and tempered by mutual respect.

Best Moments in the Comics

Their partnership has given us some of the most memorable and heartwarming moments in the X-Men series. Whether it's their seamless teamwork in battle or their tender moments of mutual understanding, Ororo and Logan's relationship has always been a standout. These moments highlight the strength and beauty of their bond, making them, in my humble opinion, Marvel’s true power couple.

Conclusion: The True Power Couple

Marvel’s decision to pair Ororo with T’Challa may have made business sense, but it never felt true to Ororo’s character. In contrast, her relationship with Logan is built on equality, respect, and complementary strengths. Together, Ororo and Logan stand out as Marvel’s ultimate power couple—two individuals who shine independently and together.

Thanks for reading, Claws and Thunder fans! I’d love to hear your thoughts. Are you a RoLo supporter? Let’s keep the conversation going in the comments below! 🌟

[astrolocherry]

Libra - The Love Spell of Aphrodite's Alchemy

The Libra glyph forms the shape of a vanity table, the mirror on the surface. Libra is however, by no means a seamless reflection without substance, she is the Morning light star shining brightest in the sky, the glow we all cherish and know, part of the world we belong to. The mirror does not display what is truly there, it can embellish, distort, and cast back ideals in some form of elusive sorcery or trickery. We know this well.

Saturn is the historical alchemist and exalts in Libra. Interpersonally, Libra catches qualities, arrangements of beauty, love, and observation to weld in Saturn’s alchemist’s laboratory. The creative vision of Aphrodite infuses through this to blend a melody that plays her personality like a cosmic pan flute. This invites everybody through Libra to glimpse at themselves reflecting from her, so it also means people can instantly relate and engage, but also idealise, possess, and place their expectations upon.

Libra senses people, their vibration and auric presence. She traces their cosmic design, sketches their faces, and reads their mind. The Libra mirror is a cosmic potion, stirred by the Great Wizard himself with the glitter dust of Venus reflecting an image that beguiles something uniquely different inside of everyone. Libra is the autumn equinox when light blends into darkness, so there is polarity, revelation, and cohesion conveyed through this visual, and thus Libra can reveal unacknowledged and savage traits in other people that subject her to their projections of frustration, denial, ignorance, or intruige.

Narcissus lost his mind to suicide staring into his reflection by pool lead to by Aphrodite. Seduced by impossibility into fool’s paradise, many have gone mad looking into the Libra for too long and playing out their fantasies through her. Not by her doing, but by their own contorted desires and ideals that crack inside of them when she fails to reinforce their illusionary fabrication. She is very real, her influence is real, her body and intellect is real, her touch is real, and the people that she has moved in her life cannot deny that she has left something real, substantial, and irreplaceable inside of them.

Aphrodite rose from the magical water, and the energy of Saturn forms sensation into matter. Multiple cosmic forces experiment with the physical interface of Libra. Like the honey bee, she flutters between the flowers of interactive action and follows this with the personal reflection that transmutes the pollen of what she has learned, envisioned, observed in herself and in the world into the sweet, golden taste of God. Conscious self-reflection, acknowledgment, and sensual experience is vital for the higher expression of this energy. This practice also dissolves the mask, internal stability, imitation, and emptiness can arise when this energy has not been contained.

The Gnostic Teacher writes, “To create the soul is to create a vessel through which God can work. That soul or vessel is necessary in these times because the ego is so heavy and so complex we that we need a high voltage transmitter to direct our forces in an extremely potent and forceful way by the guidance of our Divine Mother to eliminate the ego”. The personality is an adaptable and vast performance of possibilities, capable of appearing and vanishing. But the conduit behind this, the very essence deep within Libra beyond any thought and comprehension is the authentic, true, and eternal being, a grand alchemist practicing sorcery, turning something invisible into gold and declaring its divine creativity.

-written by Cherry

[1toreyouapart]

What It Cost

****THIS IS A FICTIONAL STORY BASED ON REAL PEOPLE. 18+ ONLY. I DO NOT OWN THE RIGHTS TO THE PEOPLE OR MUSIC MENTIONED IN THIS STORY OUTSIDE OF LILITH AND SADIE AND MAYBE A COUPLE OTHERS. DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE NOT UP FOR FANFIC INVOLVING REAL PEOPLE***

Terrible summary: Five years since she last spoke to him. Since she last saw him. Now his face and his voice is everywhere. She can't escape him.

Five years ago Noah destroyed her and the life they had built. Now he’s back and seeking to make amends. As much as she wants to say that it's too little too late, is it?

CW/TW: Angst, mention of addiction, cheating. Mention of character death. Language. Smut (later on). PinV, unprotected PinV (wrap it before you tap it, friends), oral (f&m receiving). All smutty warnings happen later on, so I’ll update TW/CW warning labels as those parts are written and posted. If I forget anything, please let me know so I can fix it! Thank you!

A/N: Currently unedited. Sorry. 😬 Read at your own risk, I guess. 😅

13-Noah

The scent of enchilada sauce filled the air. Lily had always spent so long on enchilada sauce, always insisting on it being authentic, that he almost grew to hate when she made enchiladas. At least while they were together. Here, right now? Watching her as she cooked? He was enthralled. She had her own dance she did in the kitchen. It was graceful. The way she chopped and diced, blended and simmered. Every little movement was like going to the ballet. Every movement flowing into the next. Her own little private dance.

A large part of him regretted not appreciating the moments like this when they were together. Everything she did was so seamless. So perfectly timed. It felt like watching poetry in motion. How could he have missed this as it was happening in front of him? How the fuck had he been so caught up in his own head that he had missed all of this? Yes, it had been a chore helping make sure she had everything. And yes, it took a while. But what the fuck had been his problem with it?

Memories of the last time he had been allowed to witness her in the kitchen flooded his mind. How she had been so excited to show him what she had done when he walked in the door. How broken she was when he barely looked at it before disappearing into his home studio for hours. The way she physically shrunk when he barely said a word.

Noah watched her down a third glass of wine, and did his best to fight the inner judgement. He was the one doing the sober thing. Not her. And here she was, cooking for him for the first time in years, likely remembering the last time she had cooked for him. If his own sanity wasn’t so dependent on him staying sober, he would likely be drinking right along with her.

Sobriety had become more difficult now that she was around again. Through no fault of her own. It was his own hang ups. His own inner turmoil that kept pushing him to that brink. All she was doing was existing as she was. Or rather, the version of her he had created.

“Noah. Dance with me!” She interrupted his thoughts, setting her empty glass on the island in front of him.

“Or, maybe…” he trailed off, taking in the way she was looking at him in that moment.

It was the same as when they had first met. Like her world started and ended with him. The memory of when they first met threatened to overtake everything. Images of her soft eyes as she looked up at him, the way she had teased him over a shot of vodka. The lilt of her voice as she told him all about the history of the pinky swear. All of these flashed at the edges of his mind, serving only to remind him of everything he had thrown away.

“You keep doing what you’re doing,” he finished, pulling back.

Lily’s pout almost had him hook line and sinker. He leaned in closer, a smirk playing at his lips. There was no better way than this to get her back on track with what she was doing,

“Don’t you need to stir your sauce?”

“Uh. No. I literally just stirred it.”

Fuck. He hadn’t timed that right.

“Noah?” she asked, voice so innocent he was drawn right back in. Not like it would ever take much, anyway. He would do anything for her.

“I miss you,” she continued, brow furrowed as she frowned. “I shouldn’t. But I do.”

Noah watched as she turned away, going back to the stove. What was he supposed to say? What could he even say to that?

His heart all but seized in his chest. Did she know how much it was killing him to not just hold her again? To stop himself from pulling her in tight and never letting go again?

“I miss you.” His voice was just barely loud enough for her to hear. “I miss everything about you.”

He watched silently as she moved about, rolling up enchiladas. Watched helplessly as she pretended not to hear him for a minute. How was he supposed to fix this? She couldn’t even tell him. He was at a loss. All he knew was he wanted her back. Needed her back.

“Then fucking do something, Noah.”

Her voice was so quiet he almost didn’t hear her.

“Lily.”

No response.

“Baby,” he tried again. Still no response.

“Bambi.” Last ditch attempt. Anything to get her attention.

Noah watched as she paused. Hesitated. Her hands faltered just enough for him to pick it up. He took a steadying breath, wiping his now sweaty palms on his pants.

“Lily! It smells like heaven in here!”

Noah froze. Sadie was home. Any chance of explaining to Lily how he felt had flown out the window. Not that she would remember it anyway. He looked on as she poured another glass of wine. The Lily he had known didn’t drink like this. One glass of wine and she was crawling into bed for the night. On the rare occasion she had gotten to two? She was done before she finished the second glass. But not this new Lily.

“You know what, Noah? If you’re gonna say you want to make things better and then sit there, like a goddamn lump, then why even bother? Jesus Christ, dude! A full day of making out and you still haven’t done a goddamn thing!”

Sadie gasped, her hands covering her mouth. Fuck. She hadn’t known they had spent any real time together, had she? Panicked he opened his mouth, unsure of what would come out.

“I asked you what to do!”

Lily dropped everything in her hands. And Noah was helpless, again, as he watched her turn and walk out of the room. Mortified he grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair, slipping it on.

“Don’t leave.” Sadie damn near shouted, her eyes on the bottle of wine before she turned to him. “Look. I don’t know what’s going on. I just know…” she trailed off, looking anywhere but at him. “I still hate you for what you did. But don’t leave. Go up there and fix this.”

“Sadie, I don’t fucking know how. She won’t tell me how!”

“Are you fucking stupid, dude? I mean, clearly you are or you wouldn’t have fumbled her. You stupid ass fucking prick.”

Noah seethed, wanting nothing more than to tell Sadie to mind her own business for once. Wanted to tell her that she needed to keep her goddamn nose out of it. But, he was desperate.

“Look. I think it’s a bad idea, but she’s more herself lately. And I think it’s because of you. Go fix this. But I swear to God, Noah. You break her again? I will ruin you.”

Noah stopped in his tracks. What the fuck was Sadie saying?

“Noah. Get your ass upstairs. Do that and I’ll stay out of your way.”

Tags: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @alwaysfightforwhoyouare

[watchnrant]

A Discovery of Witches Season 2: A Darker, Richer Narrative

If you thought A Discovery of Witches was just another fantasy romp with a bit of historical flair, buckle up for Season 2—this ride gets delightfully more treacherous. Based on Deborah Harkness’s All Souls Trilogy, the show kicked off with a seductive blend of magic, academia, and some good old-fashioned supernatural skullduggery. But with its sophomore season, it doesn’t just dip its toes into darkness—it dives headfirst into the murky waters of power struggles, betrayal, and Elizabethan angst. The result? A more prosperous, textured narrative that wraps around you like a cloak on a chilly London night, refusing to let go.

Power and Betrayal: The Core of Season 2

This season isn’t content with picking up where the first left off—it’s a full-blown transformation. Power dynamics take center stage; with stakes so high, you’ll need a ladder to catch your breath. In a world where every glance, whisper, and seemingly innocuous gesture could be a precursor to betrayal, the relentless pursuit of control gives the season its teeth. Whether safeguarding ancient secrets or simply trying to survive another day, the characters are pushed to their limits, leaving you glued to the screen, wondering who will crack under the pressure first.

From Modernity to Mystery: The Haunting Atmosphere of Elizabethan London

Say goodbye to the sleek, modern settings of Season 1—this time, we’re strolling through the gritty, shadow-laden streets of Elizabethan London. The production design team has outdone themselves, crafting an environment where every alleyway feels like it’s hiding something sinister. With dim lighting and claustrophobic sets, the atmosphere is laced with palpable tension. It’s a visual feast that perfectly complements the season’s darker tone, making you feel like danger lurks around every corner—and honestly, it probably does.

A Walk Through Time: The Immersive Historical Detail

For the history buffs out there, Season 2 is a love letter to the past, filled with all the pomp and peril you’d expect from the era. The Elizabethan setting isn’t just a backdrop; it’s a living, breathing character in its own right. Every detail pulls you deeper into this world, from the meticulously crafted costumes to the period-accurate architecture. This historical immersion doesn’t just serve the aesthetics—it enriches the entire narrative, grounding the fantastical elements in a world that feels as real as your own. Unless you know something we don’t, except for the witches and vampires?

The Dark Evolution of Matthew Clairmont

Matthew Clairmont’s past comes back to haunt him with a vengeance, and Matthew Goode’s performance is captivating. He expertly navigates the fine line between restrained intensity and explosive emotion, bringing the character to life with smoldering intensity and magnetic terror. It’s a masterclass in understated menace that makes for some compelling viewing.

Love and Power: The Shifting Dynamics of Matthew and Diana

The relationship between Matthew and Diana remains the beating heart of the series, but in Season 2, it’s fraught with tension from external threats and an evolving power struggle. Diana is no longer the hesitant scholar we met in Season 1—she’s coming into her own, challenging Matthew in ways that shake the foundations of their relationship. The patriarchal backdrop of Elizabethan society adds another layer of complexity, making their love story as much about power as it is about passion. It’s a push and pull that keeps the drama sizzling, and you’ll find yourself invested in every charged exchange.

Blending Fact with Fiction: Historical Figures in the Plot

One of the season’s most delightful tricks is its seamless blending of historical figures with its fictional narrative. Queen Elizabeth I and Christopher Marlowe are more than name-drops—they’re integral to the plot, adding a layer of authenticity that enriches the story. Their interactions with Matthew and Diana aren’t just for show; they’re pivotal to the unfolding drama, offering some of the season’s most electrifying moments. This blending of fact and fiction grounds the supernatural elements in history and sets the series apart from other contemporary fantasy offerings.

A Delicate Balance: Romance and the Supernatural

A Discovery of Witches has always balanced romance with its supernatural elements, and Season 2 is no different. The romantic tension between Matthew and Diana is as intoxicating as ever, but it never overshadows the show’s broader mythos. Instead, the romance enhances the narrative, adding an emotional depth that complements the dark intrigue at the heart of the plot. It’s a careful dance between the heart and the supernatural, and the show pulls it off with aplomb.

Star Performances: Matthew Goode and Teresa Palmer

Matthew Goode and Teresa Palmer continue to anchor the show with stellar performances. Goode brings Matthew Clairmont to life with a smoldering intensity and magnetic terror, while Palmer’s portrayal of Diana Bishop is a revelation. She embodies the character’s transformation with grace and strength, creating an electric dynamic that crackles with every scene. The supporting cast also shines, each actor bringing something unique to the table, further enriching the narrative’s tapestry.

A Visual Feast: The Cinematic Brilliance of Season 2

Visually, Season 2 is a triumph. The cinematography is nothing short of cinematic, with each shot meticulously crafted to enhance the story’s mood and tone. The interplay of light and shadow, the rich color palettes, and the precise camera angles all work harmoniously to create a world that is as visually compelling as it is narratively rich. It’s the kind of show where you could pause at any moment and find a frame worthy of hanging on your wall—a testament to the care and craft that’s gone into every aspect of its production.

Fan and Critic Reactions: Embracing the Darker Narrative

Season 2 has struck a chord with fans and critics alike. The darker, more intricate narrative has been widely praised, with many appreciating the show’s boldness in deepening its themes and expanding its world. The shift to the gritty realism of Elizabethan London has been a particular highlight, adding a fresh dynamic that keeps the series from stagnating. Critics have lauded the show for its character development, atmospheric tension, and historical detail, solidifying its place as a standout in the fantasy genre. It’s a season that doesn’t just continue the story—it elevates it, pushing the boundaries of what a fantasy series can be.

Building on a Solid Foundation: How Season 2 Outshines the First

While Season 1 laid the groundwork, Season 2 takes it to new heights. The progression in tone, plot, and character arcs is evident in every frame, with the creators intent on building something more ambitious and complex. The historical setting, darker themes, and more intense character dynamics contribute to a fresh yet familiar season—a continuation of the story, but one willing to take risks and challenge its audience in new ways.

Delving into Darkness: The Weight of Season 2

The thematic weight of Season 2 is undeniable. It’s not just a stylistic shift—it’s a narrative evolution that delves into the darker corners of its characters’ psyches and the world they inhabit. The exploration of power, betrayal, and control resonates deeper, making the stakes feel higher and the choices more consequential. This isn’t just about good versus evil—it’s about survival, legacy, and lengths to protect what one loves. It’s a season that engages the heart and the mind, leaving you pondering its themes long after the credits roll.

Season 2’s Triumph: A Captivating Blend of Fantasy and History

Ultimately, Season 2 of A Discovery of Witches is a triumph. It’s a masterful blend of fantasy and history, romance and intrigue, all wrapped up in a visually stunning package. The darker, richer narrative pulls you in and refuses to let go, offering an experience as intellectually stimulating as it is emotionally engaging. Whether you’re here for the history, the romance, or the supernatural spectacle, Season 2 delivers on all fronts, leaving you eagerly awaiting what the series has in store next.

[golden-rats]

Mountain and Cumulus at a ren faire... My brain is doing the thinking again. All the nature around them, soft folk music, sunshine in Cumulus hair, flowers adoring Mountains horns, pretty clothing, feeding each other snacks, getting compliments for their "fantasy costumes"....

As the sun danced through the branches of the forest, casting dappled shadows on the grass below, two ghouls wandered through the bustling crowd of the renaissance faire. Cumulus, her hair adorned with wildflowers, and Mountain, his horns camouflaged by a wreath of ivy. The soft strains of medieval music filled the air, weaving around them as they looked through the vibrant stalls and colorful tents. Laughter and chatter surrounded them, mingling with the scent of roasted meats and freshly baked bread.

With mischievous grins they sampled an array of delectable treats. Under the hanging branches of a towering oak tree they found a secluded spot a little away from the hustle and bustle of the fair. A patchwork blanket was spread out beneath them, adorned with intricate patterns. No one had to know they… Borrowed it from the abbey.

As they settled down, the earth ghoul playfully juggled an apple before offering it to Cumulus. Her giggle was carried in a soft breeze. They arranged all the delicious treats each of them gathered at the stalls. Ranging from sweet pastries, over still warm bread to more savory dishes. It's not every day one indulges in such a feast, they told themselves while feeding each other bits and pieces. Mountain let out a content sigh as his back rested against the oaks bark.

As the gentle melodies of a folk tune drifted through the air they couldn't resist the urge to dance. With a smile, Mountain extended his hand to the ghoulette, his eyes twinkling with excitement as she rose gracefully to her feet. Their movements were fluid and light, a seamless intertwining of two souls perfectly in sync. Cumulus’ dress swirled around her ankles as she moved swiftly, her laughter echoing through the clearing. Their hands clasped together, they spun and dipped, lost in the music and the magic of the moment. Jumping to the sound of flutes, circling each other as drums echoed in a rhythm.

Passersby stopped to admire their elaborate costumes, showering them with compliments on their "authentic" attire. With a wink and a grin, Mountain bowed deeply, his cloak swirling around him, while the air ghoulette curtsied gracefully, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

As they strolled hand in hand, basking in the warmth of the setting sun and the joy of each others company, they felt truly alive amidst the magical ambiance. And though they may have been ghouls in disguise, in that moment, they were simply two best friends lost in the enchantment of the world around them.