#colette patterns

[mutantenfisch]

Finished the sweater for @adores-many-cats

Fucked up the head opening nonetheless xD

The yarn is cotton so I'll wet and stretch it because there's No Way i am undoing this xD

#mutantenfisch knits #knitting #knitting mishaps #colette kort by hobbii was my pattern btw

[keitamine]

WAIT OH MY GOD YOU HAD THE MOUSE BOOKS TOO? THE GERONIMO STILTON BOOKS? Unless there's like some other books with a mouse named thea which i guess there could be

AAKDJDHA YES I COLLECTED THEM WHEN I WAS A KID.

I had all the mouse books and was the coolest kid on the block because my bookstore would stock the latest installments before any other bookstore 😎.

It started with the Geronimo Stilton ones, and then they started selling a spinoff called Thea Sisters, featuring 6 different mousegirls who work under Geronimo Stilton's sister Thea. The Thea Sisters books had cooler covers so I liked them more.

These were my blorbos. Nikki because she is green and I like the color green. Colette because she is cool.

#this is not my book btw i just found this off google images #Unfortunately I think colette was the start of a pattern that would not fully emerge until One Punch Man came out with Genos #rat books man... #ask

[writingwithcolor]

Black woman’s skin turns blue from powers; is this whitewashing/erasure?

Anonymous asked:

I have a character in a comic I'm hoping to write one day. She's a light skinned black woman(she's half white if that helps!) living in New York City during an 80s themed post nuclear apocalypse. The comic's main characters are all rock stars, so a lot of the character design elements revolve around the different rock genres. The character in question is in a glam rock band, so there's lots of bright, saturated, crazy colors involved in her design. The problem I'm having involves this one story beat where she gets mutant superpowers that give her electricity and sound based abilities. Her skin turns cotton candy blue as a result of the mutation. I'm hung up on whether or not this might fall under some kind of skin lightening or white-washing trope since it's a fairly light shade of blue. I designed her mutant look before her human look, so this was well before I'd even figured out what race she was, and I simply thought the shade of blue would compliment both the electricity powers and the fact that her hair is dyed pink. Is there a way I could still make this work? Or am I worrying about nothing?

Ideally, it would be nice to keep her brown skin tone. There’s a common comic and supernatural trend where Black people’s skin is covered up by a suit or Black-coded characters are an unnatural color (blue, green, purple, etc).

This is more of an issue when: 

There are no other Black characters of those identities besides the covered up/ ones with unnatural skin colors.

The creator adds this change to make them "special" because they do not believe Black characters, with features commonly associated with Black people like dark hair, skin and eyes, are acceptable enough for the character to stand on their own.

The supernatural special Black people are treated well by the story. The "non-special" Black people have unhappy stories and misfortune.

Other races of characters do not get their skin covered up or changed. Only the Black ones and/or BIPOC in general.

I think a quick fix for this would be for her skin to turn blue when she’s actively using her powers, at random, or other specific times, besides constantly. If she needs to be more consistently “mutant looking” Are there other ways she could change without her skin color changing or changing completely?

People with glitter on skin, light surrounding their face, and blue braids. Images from pexels.

More ideas that keep her skin brown

Hair

Her hair color changes blue or your color of choice (which could include body hair too, which would give her a more “otherworldly” appearance).

Note: If her hair is curly or natural, please keep it so! At least, the powers shouldn't change it straight.

Eyes

Her eyes glowing brighter or colorfully during power-use.

Note: If they're usually brown, they could stay brown when powers not in use, like Marvel's Storm in some versions.

Storm by Marvel Entertainment//20th Century Studios.

Skin and body

Blue patterns appear on her skin.

Blue glow or sheen to her skin without fully changing the color.

Her skin projects color and light.

New growths or changes to body, such as ear shape, wings, etc.

No matter what you decide, please make clear in your tale that she’s a Black mixed race woman. And have fun!

More reading:

How Special is Too Special? The Politics and Characterization of Stacking Special/Abnormal Traits on Mixed Race Characters

~Colette

#Black women #skin color #supernatural #superheroes #description #asks

[emeritusemeritus]

Beloved, Besotted, Betrothed. [Fred Weasley x Reader]

Title: Beloved, Besotted, Betrothed.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader.

Timeline: {DH1} set during Bill and Fleur’s wedding. No mentions of War or Voldy.

Summary: Weddings always bring out the best in people, but you hadn’t expected it to bring out something else entirely within Fred.

Warnings: SMUT. P in v sex, oral sex both male and female receiving, Role-play, illusions to choking, Fred has a wife kink? Innocence kink. Strong cursing. Mentions that reader has curves and large breasts. Established relationship. Talk of marriage.

"Oh Molly you look beautiful," you say as you step into the kitchen, seeing your boyfriend's mum all dolled up ready for her eldest son's wedding. You had been upstairs getting ready with the bride and the rest of the bridesmaids, finishing your hair and makeup when you remembered that Fleur's fascinator was still in the box on the kitchen table.

The men had been tasked with setting up the marquee outside and had been essentially banished from the house as the women got ready, with strict warnings from Molly to not mess about, those warnings no doubt pointedly aimed at Fred and George.

"Oh thank you dear," she says blushing as she fusses with a piece of her hair, flustered by the compliment.

She was wearing a long green and turquoise patterned dress with flowing sleeves, a little satin waistband and a ruffled pattern on her right shoulder that resembled a flower. Her signature red hair had been curled with one section pinned back and decorated with a beautiful antique hair brooch and her makeup complimented her look perfectly.

"It's so nice to be all dressed up," she giggles as she waved her wand slightly, the plates of food on the counter becoming magically wrapped by a covering to keep the food fresh. You smile at her, nodding your head to agree as you spot the box from the table, choosing to spend a little time with Molly before retreating back upstairs.

"I wish it were you and Fred getting married today," she says with a sigh, looking out the window towards the Weasley men, and Harry, who are all trying to erect the tent. Your chest swells as you spot Fred looking so handsome in his suit, minus the blazer jacket, his golden waistcoat glimmering in the sun as he concentrates on the spot he's lifting with his wand.

"Molly," you playfully scold, knowing exactly what she meant by that. She gives you a little look where she pretends to be contrite for just a moment before scrunching her nose up and shrugging.

Fleur was not her first choice of daughter in law as she'd admitted to you more than once that she found her bossy and rude and had questioned the longevity of their relationship as she believed they were rushing into things, that the physical attraction between them was the most prominent reason why they were together.

Truthfully, you quite liked Fleur. She could be a little off handed with some of her comments, a little too quick to say what she thought rather than consider the effect of her words but you always thought it could be because of her having to mentally translate before speaking English. You couldn't deny that she had not made clever moves to try and impress Mr and Mrs Weasley and had inadvertently criticised their home, the family and Molly's favourite singer, Celestina Warbeck, all in the same sentence. If you hadn't been so protective of the Weasley family, you'd probably had actually found it impressive that she'd managed to offend nearly everyone in the household in less than two minutes.

You'd met during your sixth year at Hogwarts when the triwizard tournament had taken place and had become good friends with her and two of her Beauxton schoolmates Colette and Clemence, both of whom were also bridesmaids.

"I'm just saying," Molly says with a little knowing smirk. "I can't wait to have you as my daughter."

"Then you'll have to talk to your son," you quipped, casting one last look back outside to where the men were still trying to get the tent up straight, seeing even from afar that Fred's tongue had slipped out to rest in his bottom lip, something he did when he was concentrating hard.

"Believe me I will," she says with a smile, reaching out to pat your shoulder before walking over to the sink to busy herself.

You grab the box with Fleur's fascinator in and return back upstairs to finish getting the bride ready. Once Fleur was ready, you quickly changed into your bridesmaid's dress, each of you helping zip the others up before smoothing out your curled hair in front of the mirror.

The dress was a beautiful grey silk with a blue undertone that clung to every one of your curves, perfectly tailored to your body. Each dress was just slightly different but all had the same structure and little cape over the shoulders that was reminiscent of their Beauxbaton school uniform, a little ode to their magical roots.

"Fred will die when he sees you in that," Colette says as she appears behind you in the mirror, a smile tugging at her glossy lips as she looks at you. Her accent never failed to make you smile, hearing her try to pronounce 'Fred' in such a thick, French accent was always a little humorous to you.

"Oh hush," you say, casting one last glance at your body, smoothing out any lines in the silk.

You had to admit that you did feel incredibly sexy in the dress, though it was still modest in principle, it definitely showcased your features splendidly. Your breasts were considerably fuller than the other girls who all had slim figures and small breasts whereas you had a more hourglass figure that was openly showcased in the dress, something you knew Fred would enjoy greatly. You'd had to make adjustments to the cups of the dress multiple times in fittings as your breasts didn't fit in the same style as the others and so with a little ingenuity from the tailors, they'd adapted your dress to hold your chest a little better.

You checked the time and saw that there was still half an hour to go before the ceremony was due to begin and so you began to clear away the makeup and beauty stuff that littered the room.

Fleur's mother knocked on the door a little while later and you decided to leave them for a private moment, just Fleur, Gabrielle and their mother.

You passed Ginny as you walked down the stairs, seeing her eyebrows shoot up as she looked at you. Ginny had not been a bridesmaid, on account of her dislike for the bride. Bill hadn't been offended and truthfully neither had Fleur but you still felt a bit of guilt at being a bridesmaid at her own brothers wedding when she wasn't.

"Has Fred seen you yet?" She asks, walking in her dressing gown towards her room.

"No? Hello by the way," you replied, a little confused by her smirk but instead of replying she simply giggled and slipped through the door of her bedroom.

You hadn't expected to see anyone except Molly downstairs, knowing that the boys had been banished, but when you reached the kitchen it wasn't Molly that you saw leaning against the counter. Fred.

He was facing away from you, reading the paper from what you could see, his hip resting on the counter as he leaned down, looking devastatingly handsome, even from behind.

"What do you think?" You asked quietly, creeping into the kitchen. You didn't miss his little jump of surprise, which made you bite back a smile as he turned towards you, smirking already as it he was already planning a snarky reply.

The second he turned and saw you, his mouth opened on its own accord, jaw dropping, seeing him freeze as he openly gawked at you. You had to bite back a laugh at his reaction, seeing that it was even better than you'd hoped.

"I," he began to say before clearing his throat, his fingers doing an involuntary dance at his sides as his eyes take over you, before fixing his gaze to your breasts. "I think it's illegal to look hotter than the bride on her wedding day."

You laugh and watch as he seems to bounce back to usual, though his gaze linger a little longer on your curves before he reaches out to you. You place your hand in his and he pulls you gently towards him, delicately placing his arms around you as to not crease your dress.

"Ah, lipstick," you say, pulling away from him as he tries to kiss you, making him frown and pout at your denial of a kiss. "I promise you can mess it up after the ceremony." His eyes a little as he shoots a wicked smirk at you, his hands wandering over the soft fabric of your dress, running his hands over the curve of your waist.

"You look so beautiful," he says, smiling down at you. Even with your heels, he still towers over you with his height.

"And you look very handsome," you replied, reaching up to push his hair back from his face as you smile at each other.

"Well don't you look nice," George says, interrupting your moment, walking in with his bandage wrapped tightly around his head.

You turn and smile at him as Fred grumbles under his breath for his twin ruining the moment.

"How are you feeling Georgie?" You ask, looking at him with concern, even though it had been nearly five days since he received the unfortunate curse, you were still worried about his pain levels and him in general.

"Stable enough to walk down the aisle with you," he winks, earning another grumble from Fred. He'd been overwhelmingly annoyed at not being able to walk with you down the aisle even though he was also a groomsman but Molly had insisted on the fact, knowing it was both tradition and superstition that unmarried couples should never walk down the aisle together. Fred had instead been paired with Gabrielle, Fleur's younger sister, whilst you were paired with George, a rather unfair deal he had stated.

"I better get back," you said, your gaze flickering to the stairs, knowing that you needed to get Fleur ready for the ceremony.

"I love you," Fred says, a surprisingly sentimental tone to his voice that made you pause, his hand now holding yours as he looks at you with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat.

"I love you more," you say teasingly, slowly pulling away from him as you climb the stairs once more to help the bride.

The ceremony was beautiful and the newlyweds looked utterly joyful and in love, with smiles all around. You could feel Fred's eyes on you at multiple times during the ceremony and each time without fail he would either wink at you or smile sarcastically sweetly, trying to break up the formality of the situation.

At the reception, you'd been carrying out your role as bridesmaid flawlessly, helping with gifts, chatting to guests and even helping Fleur go to the toilet in her elaborate, poofy dress. When you returned to the marquee, you could see Fred and Molly chatting in the corner and so you took a seat next to George at the table, resting your head on his shoulder as the early morning and demand of the day began catching up with you.

"Tired, maid of the bride?" George joked as he shifted down a little in his seat so that you would be able to rest your head on his shoulder without straining. You simply nodded in reply, closing your eyes for just a moment before opening them and looking around the room at everyone you loved, all of whom enjoying themselves.

"Mind if I steal my girl?" A familiar voice asks from behind you and you can't help but smile as you lift your head from George's shoulder and look up to find Fred with his hand outstretched, ready to steal you away. You place your hand in his and he leads you to the dance floor as a slow song begins to play.

"This is familiar, eh princess?" He smirks, taking your waist in his other hand as he pulls you close. "I thought nothing would ever top your Yule ball dress but you always manage to surprise me." You smile up at him and can't help but study his gorgeous features, feeling like the luckiest woman in the world in that moment. Memories of the Yule ball danced in your mind, Fred's long hair, your glittering dress and the fun you had that night making a smile erupt on your face.

"You know, when we get married I hope there's none of this crap," he says, looking around at the slightly overdone decorations, curtesy of Fleur's imagination and her father's wallet.

"When?" You asked, a little teasing smile tugging at your lips, "that's a little presumptuous don't you think Weasley?" He smirks, spinning you gently in his arms before pulling you back into his chest, holding you even closer.

"Princess I've been calling you my future wife since the moment we first met, ask George," he chuckles slightly, still rocking you in his arms. "There's no one else I would ever want to call my wife."

You smiled up at him and reached up to press a kiss to his lips in the middle of the dance floor, not caring once bit about the mass of people around you. He kisses you back immediately, also unfazed by the people around you as you sink completely into the moment, just the feel of Fred around you and the sound of the music in the background.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look?" He says dreamily, his hand stroking the spot on your waist where it resides.

"Not in the last hour," you tease with a smile.

"Then I must apologise, a woman as beautiful as you deserves to be told constantly."

"I think you're drunk," you say with a blush at his words and he chuckles whilst shaking his head.

"Just in love," he replies giving you a look of utter adoration that takes your breath away.

You dance for a little while with Fred before George steals you away for a dance, then Bill and then Arthur. You laugh as Arthur twirls you around, seeing Fred doing the same to Ginny not too far away from you. You'd never felt more loved and included than you did in that moment, feeling like a Weasley already. Fred eventually steals you back from his dad as a more rambunctious song comes on and you dance wildly around the dance floor between both the twins, no longer caring about holding your composure or ruining your dress as you fling your arms about, jumping around with the younger guests.

You couldn't help but tease Fred as the night carries on, dancing a little more provocatively as the upbeat music continues, swinging your hips as you dance. You lightly grind against him acting as if it was an accident at first but he soon realises exactly what you're doing, his hands coming up to grip your hips hard as he stands behind you and leans down to talk in your ear so you'd hear him over the music.

"I know what you're doing princess," he says breathily in your ear, pressing his crotch tightly to your backside. Apparently your little deviant plan was working as you felt his semi-excited member pressed against you which made you smirk.

You soon around and Fred immediately places his arms around you, caging you into his body.

"Want to sneak away?" You said quietly with a little devilish smirk as you flirt with him, "you know, I won't be able to get out of this dress all by myself."

"Let's go princess," he says with a little smirk, patting your bum twice before taking your hand and leading you out of the tent back towards the house. You looked around you, checking that no one was watching but it all truthfulness you couldn't care less.

The house was still deserted when you entered, with all the other family members and guests still partying outside. Fred stopped at the base of the stairs as you began to bunch up the bottom of your dress to climb the mountain of stairs and suddenly lurched at you, picking you up bridal style earning a little surprised squeak from you and a chuckle from him.

He attempted to kiss you whilst you were in his arms and ascending the stairs but you quickly put an end to it, knowing that he'd most likely bang your head on one of the many wooden banisters or worse due to being distracted. As soon as you stepped through the door to his and George's room, he slammed the door shut with his leg, still carrying you as he went to throw you on the bed, briefly muttering a silencing charm before he turns his attention back to you. He wasted no time and crawled on top of you, pausing only briefly to take in the sight of you all dressed up and sprawled out on his bed before he captured you in a delicious kiss.

The kiss deepened immediately with Fred's tongue swiping at your lip, his hands already running over your curves, teasing both himself and you as he puts off touching you in the places you desperately want him to. His kisses begin to extend down your neck, towards your collarbones as you heave out a calming breath, already feeling wonderfully overwhelmed by the sensations. He kisses over your clothes breasts and a flick switches in you, needing to feel his lips everywhere without obstruction. He apparently feels exactly the same and begins fumbling at the little zipper on the side of the dress.

You untie the little cape and let that open wide, waiting for Fred to do the last little clasp which you knew he'd enjoy. You reach for his hand and pull it towards the little clasp in between your breasts which he opens in no time, watching as your naked breasts spill out of the dress, not having been able to wear a bra all day. He curses under his breath as he looks at your bare breasts and you take the time to slide the rest of the fabric down your torso so that you're left in just your lace panties.

"Godric you're beautiful," he says more to himself than anything as he looks over your body before his gaze flicks up to you and he smiles before diving it for another kiss. His hand that he isn't bearing weight on comes up to massage and toy with your breasts and you can't help but run your fingers through his hair, trying to get his mouth where you want it. He senses what you want and immediately begins feasting on your tits, licking and sucking as your sensitive nipples which had you gasping and writhing almost immediately.

You begin pulling as his collar, desperate to get him naked too as you push him, flipping him over so that he was lay flat on the bed. You crawl to straddle him and you don't miss the glimmer in his eyes as your almost naked body climbs over his, breasts swaying as you begin to suck at his neck, making him moan.

You pop open the buttons on his collar, pulling off his tie and open up each individual button, placing a kiss on the newly exposed skin as you make your way down his torso, thankful that he'd taken off his jacket and waistcoat earlier in the night. You almost ripped the shirt off him as soon as the last button was done and you ran your fingers over his gorgeous chest and shoulders, running down his stomach until you reached his little happy trail.

You moved down on the bed so that you were face to face with his crotch and began opening the fastenings of his trousers, pulling them over his hips and down his legs, leaving him in just his boxers, the outline of his impressive length clearly visible. You placed a kiss to his cock through his underwear and heard him groan, knowing he was watching your every move.

You looked up at him and saw his intense gaze, making you smirk as you tugged at the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down, his excited length springing out and falling onto his lower belly as you tug away the underwear, discarding them across the room. The sight of him bare before you, his perfect cock already hard and leaking was enough to make your mouth water and you couldn't help but lean down and press a few fluttering kisses along his length, feeling it twitch against your lips in excitement.

Maintaining eye contact with Fred, you gave him your sexiest look and leant down further to take his cock into your mouth, licking all the way around the sensitive tip as you tasted him. He groaned and shoved his head back against the bed at the sensation as you took more and more of him into your mouth, running your tongue along the veined underside of his cock to extend his pleasure. As you began to bob slowly on his cock, you were rewarded with loud groans and curses of your name from Fred, his cock only hardening further in your mouth.

"Godric princess, your mouth is fucking perfect," he groans in bliss.

Your hand came up to support your ministrations as you began to pump the few inches you weren't sucking, running your hands over his balls and giving them a very gentle tug like he liked, all of which making him writhe and groan.

"Princess, get up here," he says, suddenly reaching his hand out for you. You kisses his tip one last time before crawling up his body, his hands immediately reaching for you as he pulls you into him, one hand cupping your jaw as he pulls you in for a sinful kiss.

"Merlin," he says, pulling away as he runs a hand over his face, "you have no idea what these little white panties are doing to me."

"Do they make me look innocent?" You ask with a little smile, kissing down his jaw, eliciting another breathy moan from Fred.

"Yeah, but it's like you're the bride, making me lose it picturing it being our wedding night," he admits, his hands gripping you tighter in his hold, one large hand cupping and massaging your bum covered by the white lace. Your eyes widen a little in surprise, though he doesn't see, as you take in his words.

"That get you going big boy?" You ask breathily in his ear, still nibbling at his jaw as your hands explore his chest, briefly catching his nipples as you roam. "Picturing me as your bride? You like the idea of fucking your new wife?" He curses and moans, hips surging at your words, answering your question.

"Fuck baby," he whines as your hand wraps around his cock and begins slowly pumping him, your thumb catching the beads of precum and rubbing it into his soft tip.

"Maybe you like the idea of ripping off my sweet, appropriate little wedding dress and seeing exactly what's underneath."

He moans louder than you remembering ever being as your speed increases, your words having an evident affect on him.

"Or is it that everyone would know how good you're fucking your new wife, that everyone would know that I belong to you?" His hips start to stutter and you know he won't last much longer, the mixture of your hand on his cock and the words in his ear almost too much for him as he nods along with you, whining and groaning.

"Mrs Fred Weasley does sound good don't you think?" You ask him with a little smug smile at how he curses, hands scrambling to touch your tits as you pump him. "Y/n Weasley, Fred's wife." He's so close you can almost taste it, knowing he's just need a little nudge with the game you were playing.

"You wanna pretend it's our wedding night? I'll let you do anything you want to me husband, let you fuck everything that's yours."

He moans loudly as his hips stutter, your hand working his quickly as your other hand cups his balls as he erupts, ropes of cum spurting from his cock and landing on his stomach as you pump him through his orgasm, not stopping until his body stops twitching. He's breathless as he comes down from his high, chest heaving as a look of bliss falls over his face.

"Merlin," he says, finally opening his eyes to look at you, seeing your wicked little smirk. "Fuck that was hot." You smile as you reach down to grab his shirt from the floor, wiping his pleasure from his abdomen before throwing it back down onto the floor.

"Now, I think it's time I looked after my bride don't you think?" He says with a wicked grin, hands already pawing at you as he cups your jaw, pulling you into another kiss, his other hand creeping over your curves as he suddenly pushes you down onto the bed. His mouth wastes no time in pleasing you, immediately latching back into your breasts as he goes all out, grabbing, toying and sucking your breasts, never leaving the other one left out.

His fingers begin to drift down your body and tease your inner thighs as your legs part in anticipation, your arousal dripping from you at this point. When Fred's fingers finally slip between your legs and he feels the abundant wetness of your panties he curses again, latching onto your nipple and giving a harsh suck making you gasp.

"Mrs Weasley, so wet for me," he says with a smirk, slipping one finger inside your panties and into your waiting hole. You moan out at the sensation, feeling his thumb come up to toy with your aching clit and you can't help but roll your hips, unable to keep still as his fingers work you perfectly. "So good baby, so fucking perfect."

"Freddie," you keen as he adds a second finger, adjusting his angle so that he can press up against your gspot, making you writhe against him. The panties restrict his movements but it doesn't seem to faze him, working his magic on you.

He suddenly pulls his hand from you, making you whine but he quickly grabs and spins you on the bed so that you're on your hands and knees, his ability to manhandle you so effortlessly only furthering your arousal.

He moved to stand behind you, pulling you towards the edge of the bed as his fingers toy with the white lace panties you're still wearing. His hands hook into the waistband and you feel him rip off your panties, pulling them right down your legs, leaving you completely exposed to him. You gasp as the cool air hits your sensitive pussy lips and within seconds his mouth is on you, feasting deliciously on your dripping cunt.

"Freddie!" You moan, pushing your hips back as his tongue slips between your lips, lapping as your clit before slipping into your little hole. His entire face is pressed against your pussy and you can hardly contain your moans as you feel his mouth playing you like an instrument. His tongue circles your clit before he sucks on it in little bursts, making your hips writhe against his face. He alternates between sucking and licking, covering himself in your arousal before he suddenly pulls open your ass and really dives into your pussy, locking his lips around your clit and sucking, tongue circling the little bud.

"Fred!" You shout as you cum, hips rolling over his face as he laps at you over and over in just the right spot, letting you ride out your pleasure.

Your orgasm has done nothing to calm your arousal, if anything it's only spurred on a further need for Fred as you turn and drag him down onto the bed with you, kissing him feverishly as you feel the signs of his arousal renewed against your leg.

"Freddie, fuck your wife," you say, dragging a breathy moan and a curse from his lips as your hands reach out for him in anyway you can get him, hips raising up in desperation.

"I've got you sweetheart," he reassures you as he kisses you one last time before reaching down to kiss your nipples, hands lifting your legs, seeing you beautifully exposed before him. "My perfect girl, so fucking hot."

"Yeah you got a hot little wife Freddie?" You tease, knowing that your words would only fuel his fire.

"The fucking hottest," he growls, pumping his cock twice before positioning himself right at your entrance.

"Give it to me good Freddie, only you can fuck your wife so good like this."

He curses and grabs hold of his cock, tossing your legs into his shoulders as you feel him slowly sink into you, stretching you out as he gets deeper and deeper. You both moan in unison as he moves his hips, hitting all the right spots inside you before he begins to pick up his pace, big hands holding your thighs tightly. He watches as your breasts begin to bounce in time with his thrusts and you can't help but raise your arms up to grab hold of the metal headboard so you can get leverage to raise your hips in time with his, letting the last inch of his sink into you.

"Yeah you like that sweetheart? Your husband fucking you good? Fuck you are so tight," he says, eyes flicking between your breasts and watching his cock disappear into your pussy.

"So good Freddie," you moan out, arching your back as he pounds into you. "Only you can fuck me this good." You right hand slips off the bed frame and you start to circle your clit for a little extra pleasure until Fred notices and bats your hand away.

"Dirty girl, your husband not taking care of you good enough? Is my big cock not enough for you?" He teases.

You begin to whimper in reply, "no it is, so good baby."

He immediately pulls out of you and flips you over like it's nothing, pulling your hips up slightly before he slams back into you. He takes no prisoners with his thrusting as you feel his balls slapping against you, his left hand gripping your hip so hard it'll almost certainly leave a bruise. His right hand snakes around your hip abs begins toying with your clit deliciously and you can't help but rock your hips, your insides clenching around Fred's thick length as you cry out.

"Oh Freddie!" You cry out, feeling thoroughly fucked as he slams into you. "You're so deep!"

"Come on my little perfect wife, I want you to cum all over your husbands cock," he says, leaning down and changing the angle slightly so that he rubs against your gspot making a silent scream erupt from you. The hand that was holding your hip suddenly shifts and he wraps it around your throat as he fucks into you with abandon, his hips stuttering just enough that you know he's close. His hand doesn't squeeze nor put any pressure on but just feeling his long fingers wrapped around your throat whilst he plays with your clit and pounds into you is enough to send you hurling towards your end.

"Freddie Freddie Freddie!" You chant as you cum, nails clawing into the bedsheets as you feel the white hot pleasure erupt within you, your hips rolling back onto his cock as he pounds you even harder, no doubt feeling your walls squeezing him. He suddenly lets go of your throat and scrambles to grab hold of your hips as he slams his length into you once more and holds you tightly to him, buried entirely in you as he cums. You can feel his cock twitching inside you as he shoots his load as deep in you as he can, groaning and cursing behind you as your name falls from his lips.

After a few moments, he pulls out and watches as his cum begins to dribble out of you, cursing once again at the sight. You feel him shift and he presses a kiss to your back before carefully shifting you so that you were lying on the bed as he slips in next to you, instinctively reaching to pull you into his side.

You lean up and kiss him as his arms snake around you, one hand resting gently over your breast, thumb idly passing over your nipple.

"I love you so much sweetheart," he says, pulling off your lips but never really moving away as he kisses you again.

"I love you Freddie," you say, pouring as much love as you can into your words.

"Gonna marry you one day princess," he mumbles and you can suddenly hear the tiredness in his voice.

"If you're gonna fuck me like that again, I'd marry you right now," you said breathlessly, entwining your fingers with his.

He chuckles, squeezing your hand in his as his eyes close, "give me 10."

"I want to be your wife one day," you say quietly a few moments later, no longer teasing. You feel Fred's eyes open and he looks at you with a look you can't place.

"Sweetheart, nothing would make me happier than you being my wife, but stop talking about it before I get hard again."

#emeritusemeritus #harry potter #fred weasley #fred weasley x you #emeritusemerituswrites #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley masterlist #Fred Weasley smut

[brawlstars-dragon-au]

Sketch dump time! A whole bunch of requests from the crazy ex-bird app

In Order: Maisie, Pam, Colette, Buster, Chester, Chuster ❤️🧡 (and a teeny Gus), Leon and Sandy (Leondy 💚💜), Bull, El Primo, and Mandy!

Extra notes about each sketch:

Maisie:

Her breath attack is a condensed foam material, similar to that of a fire extinguisher. Using a gas similar to a pressurized CO² (based on gas-based fire extinguishers!), she shoots it out at high speeds. These hits can potentially cause frostbite and even severe damage to the body if left unattended. She's quite powerful in this AU due to this ability 👀👀 being able to put out the fires and overpower another dragon's breath? Now THAT'S some queen moves right there! She can also simply spray out the foam substance at short range without that pressurized gas. This helps with more close range fire fighting work.

Her right wing and front leg were undeveloped, a disability she'd had since she hatched. However! With the help of mechanics, she uses these prosthetics to help her fly. Still gotta test out how to draw it to make sense, as well as sort out how it stays in place. I've been using inspiration from Toothless (HTTYD) and his tail that Hiccup made.

Pam:

Pam is a bulkier dragon, very much on the larger side of all of them. I'm at odds with myself to figure out whether ot not she'll have wings 🤔 so I had two copies there! Perhaps her wings may be a bit smaller if I do give her them.

Pam spits out molten magma that's stored up inside her as an attack. However, it can also be chunks of scrap metal that she stores up. Otherwise, it's just magma.

Though I didn't draw this, I want Pam to be very resilient to fire in general, as her species/family of dragon use their ability to spew this magma (technically Lava after ut leaves her body? I'll do more research on this...) in order to craft and shape metal. While other dragons need to spend some time to build up a fire hot enough, the Junker family line is able to do this much more easily. (Amber is a close second, though)

Her skin has the ability to crack and seep up lava out of it, potentially coating her body in this to give herself a temporary lava shield, something extremely hard to break through. (In the future, little Jessie may also be able to do this... however, Pam doesn't think she's ready at the moment and avoids the topic or any ideas of teaching her how.)

Colette:

Colette flies in a sort of funny way, twirling around and flapping her wings to maintain somewhat of a chaotic flight pattern. Think of a snake slithering through the sky, but with large wings and the grace of... a teenage dragon (not much, but it does work).

When she gets better at flying...pray and hope she isn't able to catch up to her favourite brawlers cause she isn't ever gonna let go of them 💀 It makes for a great attack, actually! Charging at enemies and coiling around them like a snake to prevent movement, like a big hug ❤️ she just loves everyone SO much 😍

Buster:

Finally kinda set on a design for this funky guy! He's a larger dragon (smaller than El Primo or Frank, but still definitely up there in size)

His wings never quite grew fully, so he wouldn't be able to fly 😔 however, that'll never stop him and his dreams of being a cool movie star 🧡🧡

Buster, at the heart of it, is an unstoppable force when he sets his mind to something. He'll charge in with the same ferocity as his favouite protagonists, rivalling the audacity and hard-headed nature of even Bull! All while doing so for his friends 💪 we love Buster in this AU frfr

Chester:

Chester always has theatrics when he flies. Flips, spins, and fun aerodynamic movements up in the sky! He's gotta compensate for his lack of speed compared to other wyverns after all, but he thinks he's pretty great 😎

Loved drawing this kinda unique pose tbh! That's what I loved with these drawings, I got to experiment without really thinking too much for em with how polished and clean that look. It was very fun! 🔥

Chuster ft. Gus❤️🧡:

We love some goofy gays here 🥹❤️🧡 I just wanted to let em have a little nuzzle + smooch! Dragons don't necessarily kiss, but little side boops like this are the equivalent of a cheek kiss.

Also, a little Gus on the side 🥹🥹 I love this sort of found family dynamic that have! Buster being the cool dad vibe/big bro to Gus, and then Buster being in a relationship with Chester so that he's also a cool dad too 😎 Gus loved these two guys from the very start, they're funny 🤭 never a boring day for these silly lads.

Leondy 💚💜:

My beloveds 🤲 I really do cherish the ship, as well as strong friendship Sandy and Leon have. (Btw in my HCs, Leon and Sandy are 13 & 14 respectively, just to clear that up!)

Sandy, I've mentioned a few times, is very inspired by Capybaras, so Leon finding one is just perfect 🤭 silly little deadpan face lads.

Bull:

BULLDOZERRRR- What a lad! Bull is inspired by- uh, Bulls! Great creatures, large bodies and thick necks to support those headstrong charges 🐂 I love making his posture all confident, strong steps to say, "Yeah. You TRY and stand up to me. I DARE you." Don't wanna mess with him on most days 🏃‍♀️💨💨

El Primo:

Still figuring out a full-body for El Primo, bit he's roughly the same size as Bull! (Maybe a bit bigger)

El Primo has got really small wings, similar to his El Dragón skin. Even his scales and horns are inspired by that mostly! Love when characters have preexisting dragon themed skins 🤭 makes it a lot easier to make ideas!

His "mask" is actually just body paint. He has similar paint on his body, really showing off the vibrant colours and persona he puts on for the crowds.

He WILL beat up his enemies into a pulp in matches. Thank goodness there's the gem powered regeneration and the respawn system in place 😭 I plan to give him a very strong body and tail, enough to support him when he needs to go on his hind legs and overpower his opponents. Buster is designed in a similar way as well!

Mandy:

Last but not least, the Queen of Candy herself. Not even the Dragon AU let's her escape fast food work 😔😔

Her super attack is purely a magical sugar-based rainbow blast, as shown in the sketch. Also, I'm now realizing that I forgot her red spots oml- No wonder she looks so empty 💀 uhh sorry about that, lads 😭 I'll redraw her one day to show off that glowing effect of her spots 🥹🥹

And that's all! Thank you for reading if you made it this far! Hopefully I can make more of these sketch dumps 🤭✨️ maybe take reqs from here too! We shall see. Take care y'all!

#bs dragon au #brawl stars #brawlstars #brawl stars dragon au #robos art tag #dragon #Maisie #Pam #Buster #Chester #Chuster #Leon #Sandy #Leondy #Bull #Primo #Mandy #oh god ao many tags ararrra #brawl stars Maisie #brawl stars Pam #brawl stars Buster #brawl stars chester #brawl stars leon #brawl stars sandy #brawl stars bull #El Primo #brawl stars el primo #brawl stars mandy #sketch dump #art

[ijustmissyouraccenths]

Love Story

Colette is an up and coming actor, Harry is an international popstar who fell in love with cinema. When the pair work on a rendition of Romeo and Juliet, their worlds collide as feelings develop.

CW: Brief mention of dying, Smut.

Word Count: 11,860

Colette stepped into her dressing room, a lavishly appointed space designed to echo the opulence of the Verona in which her film "Romeo and Juliet" was set. The walls were draped in deep burgundy velvet curtains, softening the room with a rich, warm texture that whispered of hidden secrets and dramatic declarations. Golden accents framed mirrors and furniture, reflecting the flickering light from several ornately carved silver candelabras positioned thoughtfully around the room.

As she entered, her eyes were drawn to the vanity, an exquisite piece of craftsmanship with an expansive mirror bordered by tiny bulbs that bathed the area in a gentle, flattering light. Upon the surface lay an array of cosmetics and brushes, each laid out with precision, their handles catching glints of light like miniature scepters waiting to bestow their magic upon her.

The air was filled with a subtle scent of roses and myrrh, creating an atmosphere that was both calming and invigorating, as if the very essence of romance and tragedy had been captured and dispersed through the room. A large window draped with heavy curtains looked out upon a secluded garden that boasted marble statues peeking through lush greenery—Juliet's own secret sanctuary.

Colette’s costume hung on a dress form; it was a stunning creation of silk and lace, the fabric dyed in shades of moonlight and adorned with delicate embroidery that mimicked the intricate patterns of an Italian tapestry. The bodice was fitted, designed to accentuate her figure while allowing for the dramatic movements required in her scenes.

Next to the dress stood a pair of custom-made shoes, their leather soft and supple, seeming almost alive, like they were molded from a piece of night itself. They were embellished with small pearls and crystals, which twinkled like stars against the shadowy backdrop.

On a small table beside her plush, velvet-covered chaise lounge lay her script, its pages worn from use yet handled with reverence. It was flanked by a quill and an inkpot—an affectation provided by the director to inspire connection to the era they were emulating—as well as a delicate teacup painted with scenes from Shakespeare’s works.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself amidst this feast for senses—a real-life canvas painted with details fit for royalty—Colette prepared mentally to step once again into Juliet's world: one where love defied reason and every corner held both beauty and sorrow. She sat at her vanity, poised to transform under the artful hands of her makeup artist, ready to breathe life into Shakespeare's timeless lover once more.

The door to her dressing room opened with a soft creak, heralding the arrival of Madame Laurette, the makeup artist whose skills transformed actresses into visions from another time. Clad in a smock splattered with the remnants of foundation and rouge from previous masterpieces, Madame Laurette carried an ancient-looking leather case, which she set down with a practiced grace next to Colette.

"Ah, my dear," Madame Laurette began, her voice a soothing melody, "today we paint the tragedy and triumph of young love upon your canvas." Her hands were deft as they opened the case, revealing rows upon rows of pots and brushes, pencils and palettes; tools of the trade laid out like a surgeon's instruments, each with a purpose to bring forth beauty from bareness.

With delicate fingers, Madame Laureette applied a light moisturizer to Colette's face, preparing the skin like a primed canvas. She then used a sponge to dab on foundation that matched Colette's complexion so perfectly it seemed as if it were but a whisper on her skin. As she worked, she spoke softly about the character of Juliet—her passion, her grace, her strength in the face of despair.

Next came the eyes—windows to Juliet's soul. Madame Laurette chose shades that reflected the hues of twilight; dusky purples and soft blues blended seamlessly to suggest a depth of emotion. The eyeliner was applied in a fine line, accentuating the shape of Colette's eyes, making them appear larger, more expressive. Lashes were curled and coated with mascara that made them flutter like the wings of a night moth.

Cheeks were next attended with a brush dusted in rose-pink blush that brought a gentle bloom to her porcelain skin, reminiscent of English roses in bloom. It was as if Juliet herself had paused in a garden, momentarily caught up in thoughts of her Romeo.

Lips were not forgotten—painted in a soft red that was bold yet not overwhelming—a color that whispered of promises and kissed by starlight. As Madame Laurette worked her magic, the transformation from actress to character was nearly complete.

Finally, Madame Laurette set everything with a light dusting of powder which seemed to pull forth an ethereal glow from within Colette herself. Standing back to admire her work, she nodded slightly as if granting approval to proceed with the act.

As Madame Laurette packed away her tools and bid her farewell with wishes of good luck, Colette took one last look at herself in the mirror. Now staring back was Juliet Capulet: tragic yet triumphant in her love—a young woman framed not only by curls dark as raven wings but also by an aura of timeless romance that would soon spill over onto the stage under countless watching stars.

Her movements were infused with an anticipatory grace that seemed woven from the very threads of the narratives she was set to embody. The costume assistant approached, a vision of focus and professionalism, carrying the garment that would complete the transformation: a dress that seemed spun from moonlight and gossamer dreams.

The dress itself was a masterpiece of historical accuracy blended with theatrical flair. Its fabric was a whisper-soft silk that flowed like water over Colette's form, pooling slightly at her feet in a shimmering cascade of sky-blue. Intricate embroidery adorned the bodice, featuring delicate vines and flowers meticulously stitched with silver thread, catching the light with every subtle movement and suggesting a lattice of morning dew. Sleeves of sheer chiffon draped elegantly from her shoulders, airy and almost translucent, giving her arms the appearance of being wrapped in wisps of cloud.

As she stepped into the dress, the assistant deftly laced up the back, pulling the strings tight enough to sculpt her waist without hindering breath—a crucial balance for any performer. The final touch was a delicate ribbon tied in a bow just below her collarbone, a nod to youthful innocence and burgeoning romance.

Once dressed, Colette floated towards the full-length mirror, her steps tentative yet poised as though she were both discovering and remembering Juliet’s haunted grace. Her reflection seemed to transcend time; here was Juliet not as mere fiction, but resurrected in flesh and blood and silk, her eyes alight with both excitement and a hint of sorrow for the tale she was to live anew.

Taking a deep breath that lifted her chest slightly against the soft confines of her dress, Colette turned away from her reflection—away from Juliet's temporary shelter—and made her way out of the dressing room. The corridor outside was lined with flickering candles encased in glass lanterns hanging from ornate metal stands, casting shadows that danced like shy phantoms on the walls.

As she walked, her dress whispered secrets only she could hear, each step a murmur of silk. Exiting the building, she stepped out into an expanse that felt less like part of a film set and more like stepping through a wrinkle in time into Verona itself. The set designers had outdone themselves; cobblestone streets wound beneath balconies overflowing with ivy and blooms. Lamps glowed softly along pathways and a distant fountain murmured in melodious tones.

Here under the vast expanse of an artificial twilight sky beginning to pin itself with stars, Colette paused at the center of an old square waiting for Harry's arrival. In this moment suspended between reality and fiction—where night air kissed her cheeks as sweetly as any lover might—she was neither Colette nor Juliet but something timeless; a whisper of love’s eternal reverie waiting to be awakened by Romeo’s pledge beneath soft-footed shadows.

Colette felt eborn into another age and another life—her heart beating rapidly with anticipation and empathy for her character’s imminent joys and sorrows. She moved towards the set where artificial stars awaited their nightly audience and real emotions would stir under painted skies.

Just as the anticipation in the air reached its peak, Harry emerged from the shadows, a figure pulled from the very pages of Shakespeare. His costume was a masterpiece of Elizabethan artistry—velvet doublet embroidered with intricate silver threads that caught the light with every subtle movement, making him shimmer like a star newly born into the night sky. His breeches were of a similar rich fabric, hugging his legs with a precision that spoke of many hours spent in the tailor’s care. Upon his feet were boots made of soft leather that whispered against the cobblestones as he moved.

His hair, usually untamed and wild, had been tamed into soft waves that framed his face, echoing the romantic heroes of old. Around his neck, a heavy chain with a cross pendant rested against his chest, gleaming softly in the lamplight. His eyes, when they met Colette's, sparkled with a mixture of excitement and nervous energy—the perfect echo of Romeo’s own youthful vibrance and passionate soul.

As Harry walked closer to where Colette stood, waiting in her character's eternal reverie, his presence seemed to draw the very essence of the night towards him. The distant murmur of the fountain seemed to harmonize with his every step, creating a melody that resonated with the quiet rustling of Colette’s gown. Each element of the scene—the glowing lamps along the pathways, the soft rustle of ivy against stone—seemed to lean towards him, as if nature itself was eager to hear the tale these two star-crossed lovers would enact.

The square they occupied breathed with an air of ancient romance; it was as though they had truly stepped back in time and were no longer actors on a set but living embodiments of their characters. The buildings surrounding them wore age like proud badges, their windows darkened save for the occasional flicker of candlelight that suggested life continuing unaware inside. Above them, the crescent moon cradled stars that had witnessed countless tales of love and tragedy.

Harry reached the center of the square, his boots clicking on the cobblestones with a rhythmic certainty. He stopped before Colette, who remained motionless, her gaze fixed upon him with an intensity that belied the serene expression on her face. Her costume—a flowing dress of midnight blue, embroidered with tiny silver threads—whispered tales of bygone elegance as it caught the breeze, fluttering lightly around her ankles.

Clearing his throat softly, Harry began to recite Romeo's lines with a tender fervor that seemed to pull at the very air around him. "But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun." His voice rose and fell in perfect cadence, each word a brushstroke painting emotions across the canvas of the night.

As he spoke, an unexpected gust of wind stirred the leaves around them into a gentle dance, mirroring the turmoil brewing in Romeo's heart as he gazed upon his forbidden love. The scent of rose and old stone mingled together, casting a spell over the scene that was palpable. The director, hidden in the shadows beyond the set's makeshift lights, allowed himself a small smile at the authenticity of this moment—cinema magic in its purest form.

Colette responded in kind, her voice carrying back to Harry with equal parts longing and restraint. "O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?" She stepped forward slightly, her hands clasped before her as if to steady her racing heart. Her eyes never left Harry's, and in them flickered the fire of Juliet's love—a burning, all-consuming flame that acknowledged neither reason nor consequence.

The crew around them had ceased all movement; even those seasoned in film felt themselves caught in the spellbinding performance unfolding before them. The prop master forgot his duties for a moment, lost in the authenticity of Colette's accent and the palpable connection between her and Harry.

Above them, clouds began to drift across the moon's face slowly veiling and unveiling the celestial glow. This natural play of light added a dramatic flair to the scene below—an unwitting collaboration between man and nature that highlighted this poignant moment of shared solitude between two lovers cursed by fate.

Every detail was perfect, the way the lamplight flickered as though trembling with anticipation; how a distant owl hooted right at Juliet’s tender confession; the subtle shift of fabric as Harry moved closer to Colette—contributed to an atmosphere thick with drama and history. Even those behind cameras or holding booms felt as if they were no longer just creating but witnessing something transcendent; a story retold yet forever new in its telling.

As Harry delivered Romeo’s pledge of undying love beneath Juliet's window conceived anew beneath towering oaks and ageless stone buildings, it was clear this was not merely a recitation but an act of truth.

The director, normally a stoic figure shadowed by the breadth of his responsibilities, allowed a rare smile to creep across his face as the final words lingered in the air, trembling like the leaves around them. His approach was silent, reverent almost, as if stepping into a sacred space that the actors had conjured with their spellbinding talent.

"Cut!" he called out, but the word was soft, filled more with awe than command. The silence that followed was profound, filled with the collective held breath of the crew before they erupted into spontaneous applause. The clapping rolled through the set like thunderous waves, each member expressing their unbridled admiration for what they had witnessed.

The director raised his hands, beckoning for quiet, his eyes gleaming with both pride and something akin to gratitude. "That," he said, his voice steady but imbued with emotion, "was nothing short of magnificent. Harry, Colette—I've seen many a scene in my years behind the camera, but what you both have delivered today transcends performance. It reaches into the core of what it means to be human; to love, to despair, to hope."

He walked over to the actors, who were still nestled in their characters' final embrace, slowly returning to themselves as they listened to his praises. "Colette," he continued, turning to her with a respectful nod. "Your Juliet is both vulnerable and fiery; you’ve given her a depth that breathes new life into Shakespeare’s lines. And Harry," he turned with equal admiration to the young actor whose eyes still held a glimmer of Romeo's passion. "You’ve played Romeo not just as a lover but as a warrior fighting against the inevitable tragedy of his fate. Exceptional work."

The surrounding buildings and trees seemed to absorb his words, casting longer shadows as if in agreement. The director then turned towards the crew members who had captured every nuanced moment on film. "And let’s not forget the incredible work of our crew—lighting, sound, props—this magic can’t happen without each piece falling perfectly into place."

He clapped his hands together once more, this time signaling an end rather than silence. "Alright folks, let’s pack up here—remember this feeling of accomplishment. We’ve got early scenes tomorrow and we need to bring this same energy."

As they disbanded gradually, whispers of praise continued amongst them like quiet ripples on a pond at dusk; everyone shared part of the triumph. Juliet’s balcony scene would be remembered not just for its beauty and tragedy but for its vivid realness that evening under the shrouded moonlight—an echo of love carried softly by the wind through the leaves of those ancient trees.

As the crew began to disperse, the air filled with the clatter of equipment being packed and the soft murmur of satisfied conversations. Harry and Colette slowly walked side by side toward the dressing rooms, their costumes slightly less pristine than they had been at the start of the day but still radiant under the fading sunlight. The path was lined with ancient oaks, their branches gnarled and stretched toward the sky like silent watchers of countless tales unfolding under their gaze.

Harry glanced at Colette, noting how the evening breeze gently lifted strands of her hair. She looked ethereal, a stark contrast to the raw intensity she had displayed on stage just moments before. "You were truly magnificent today," he said, his voice carrying a warmth that lingered in the cool air. "It’s amazing how you transform so completely."

Colette smiled, a blush tinting her cheeks. "Thank you, Harry. You were incredible as well. There’s a certain ferocity you bring to Romeo that’s both thrilling and heart-wrenching."

They reached the dressing rooms, tucked behind a curtain of ivy that draped over the stone walls of the old stage building. Its doors stood like portals back to reality from the whimsical world they had just left behind on set.

Pausing by her door, Harry shuffled slightly, a mix of eagerness and hesitation playing across his features. "Colette, I was wondering, would you... perhaps care for some dinner? There’s this little place I know nearby, quite secluded, perfect for winding down."

The offer hung between them like a delicate promise; a chance to extend the enchantment of their shared performance into the evening. Colette’s eyes lit up with genuine interest. "That sounds lovely, Harry. A quiet dinner would be perfect." Her smile was inviting, bridging the gap between their on-set romance and off-set camaraderie.

As they walked towards Harry's car parked under a canopy of whispering leaves, they talked about everything from their interpretations of their characters to trivial anecdotes from their daily lives. The restaurant was nestled in an alley illuminated by strings of faint golden lights that created halos in the misty night air.

Inside, they chose a corner table surrounded by bookshelves filled with worn volumes and odd trinkets—a cozy retreat from the outside world. As they ordered, they continued to unravel layers of conversation, each topic a stepping stone deeper into each other’s thoughts and dreams.

The meal was delicious—simple fare but made with care—a reflection of the restaurant itself. They laughed over shared appetizers and lingered over wine that painted their thoughts in broader strokes. The candlelight flickered across their faces, casting soft shadows that danced to an unplayed rhythm.

By dessert, Harry found himself watching Colette with renewed appreciation as she articulated her ambitions for future roles and her vision for modern theatrical interpretation. She listened equally intently as he described his journey through being a musician and his aspirations beyond.

As Harry and Colette lingered over the last sips of their drinks, the cozy warmth of the restaurant began to feel like a protective cocoon against the crisp night air outside. They shared a quiet moment, smiling at the serendipity of their meeting and the depth of conversation it had spurred. But as they rose to leave, pushing their chairs back gently against the worn wooden floor, the surreal bubble they had enjoyed burst with abrupt clarity.

Stepping out onto the alley, they were met not by the quiet of the night but by a sudden burst of flashing lights and clamorous voices. Paparazzi, having caught wind of their dinner together, swarmed around them like moths to a flame. Cameras clicked and flashed relentlessly, capturing every gesture and expression, as reporters shouted questions trying to pierce through the veil of their private evening.

"Harry! Colette! Are you two more than just co-stars?" one voice rang out, sharper than the rest.

"Is this dinner a sign of a new Hollywood power couple?" another chimed in.

Shields up against this intrusive barrage, Harry instinctively placed a protective arm around Colette’s shoulders. He guided her gracefully yet swiftly towards his car, parked under the now ominous canopy of leaves that whispered secrets in a tone much darker than before. Each flash from the cameras cast stark shadows on the ground and painted their path in fast paced steps.

Colette kept her head down slightly, her smile replaced by a composed mask of cordial indifference; it was clear she was no stranger to these encounters but nonetheless hoped they might evade them tonight. Harry muttered a polite "have a good night" as he helped her into the passenger seat of his car.

Inside the relative safety of the vehicle, they exchanged a look—a mix of amusement and exasperation—and Harry let out a sigh as he started the engine. The lights outside continued to flash through the tinted windows as he maneuvered out of their parking spot.

The drive back was quiet at first, as if they were both processing the sudden shift from intimate conversation to public spectacle. Yet soon enough, Harry turned down the volume on an ambient tune that had started playing automatically when they entered.

"That was intense," he said, glancing over at Colette with an apologetic half-smile.

"It always is," Colette replied, turning to face him with a resigned smile. "But hey, part of our charming careers, right?"

Harry laughed softly. "Yeah, charm is one word for it."

As the car glided through the dimly lit streets, the silence between them grew heavy with unspoken thoughts. Colette broke the tension first, her voice soft but tinged with a hint of frustration.

"I sometimes wonder if this is what we signed up for, you know? The constant scrutiny, the invasion of privacy... Is it worth it in the end?" she mused, her gaze fixed on the passing city lights.

Harry nodded thoughtfully, his grip on the steering wheel tightening imperceptibly. "I ask myself that question too, especially on nights like this. It's like we're always under a microscope, every move dissected and analyzed by strangers."

A sense of comfort blossomed between them, a shared understanding born out of their parallel experiences in the spotlight. Colette turned to Harry, a spark of defiance igniting in her eyes.

"But despite all of that," she continued, her voice gaining strength, "we can't let them define us or dictate our every move. We're more than just their headlines and gossip fodder."

Harry smiled at her resolve, a flicker of admiration shimmering in his eyes. "You're right, Colette. We're artists first and foremost, creators of worlds and emotions."

Their shared conviction filled the car with a renewed sense of purpose, a quiet determination to reclaim their narrative from the prying eyes of the paparazzi. As they neared Colette's apartment building, Harry parked the car with a sense of finality.

"Thank you for tonight," Colette said sincerely, turning to face him with a genuine smile. "Even the chaos at the end, I truly enjoyed our conversation and dinner, it was really good."

Harry returned her smile warmly. "Likewise, Colette. We are more than just co-stars caught in a media frenzy."

As Colette opened the door to her apartment, the image of Harry in his Romeo costume flashed vividly across her mind. His appearance had been a perfect blend of vulnerability and valiance, his attire accentuating the expressive lines of his body as he moved with an almost ethereal grace on stage. The sheer, soft fabric of his shirt clung to him as if it were part of his own skin, and the way the stage lights had caught the highlights in his hair made him look like a figure from an old-world painting—romantic and heroic.

Inside her quiet apartment, everything seemed too still, too empty compared to the warmth of Harry's presence. She tossed her keys on the table absent-mindedly and moved towards her bedroom, her mind replaying their conversation in the car. His words echoed in her ears, blending with flashes of his smile and the intensity in his eyes when he spoke about their artistry. It was as if he'd stripped away all the glitz and scandal that so often cloaked their lives, revealing a raw, sincere connection between them.

Colette tried to settle into bed, pulling her covers close, but restlessness took over. Turning onto her back, she stared at the ceiling, her thoughts spiraling around Harry’s comforting arm around her shoulders earlier that night. She remembered how secure it felt, a protective circle that shut out the incessant flash of cameras and curious stares. The smell of his cologne, a subtle mix of bergamot and sandalwood—seemed to linger on her skin, transporting her back to their fleeting moments of privacy amidst the chaos.

The more she thought about him, the more details came flooding in. How his lips curved into a smile just before he laughed, how his eyes lit up when discussing a particularly passionate scene. Even the way he held himself during their performance—confident yet tender—seemed etched into her memory with surprising clarity.

A sigh escaped her lips as she turned again in bed, fluffing her pillow in vain search for comfort. The digital clock on her bedside table glowed 2:17 AM; time was slipping by slowly tonight. Every tick seemed to resonate within the quiet room, each one reminding her of Harry’s gentle demeanor and unspoken assurances.

Why was it so difficult to push these thoughts aside? Why did every tiny detail of him seem magnified tonight? Colette knew that sleep would be elusive as long as these memories danced through her head, a sweet torment but a torment nonetheless.

Realizing that fighting it was futile, she sat up and reached for a book from her nightstand. Perhaps diving into someone else’s fictional world could ease her back from hers filled with all too real emotions spurred by Harry. Yet as she flipped through page after page, Colette found herself reading without absorbing any words. Her mind was back with Harry, reliving each moment spent together that day.

Finally surrendering to the inexorable pull of those memories, Colette set the book aside and allowed herself to reminisce about every glance exchanged and every laugh shared with Harry until tiredness eventually claimed victory over turmoil—a bittersweet end to an evening that neither camera flashes nor gossip columns could ever truly capture.

As the first rays of morning light began to filter through her gauzy curtains, Colette felt a tentative peace settle over her. The unavoidable sunrise not only heralded a new day but also the unavoidable return to set where today's scenes awaited her—scenes that would force her to bridge the gap between reality and fiction, between Colette and Juliet, Harry and Romeo.

The day unfurled slowly, each moment stretching languidly as if aware of the weight it carried. Colette arrived on set, her heart thrumming a nervous rhythm against the cage of her ribs. The set was a meticulous recreation of Verona, the air perfumed with artificial blooms that lined the faux stone balconies. It was here, beneath a painstakingly crafted balcony, that she found Harry already immersed in his role, his eyes distant yet filled with an intense purpose.

As makeup artists fluttered around them like attentive sprites, dusting their faces with powder and painting their lips, the boundary between Harry and Romeo, Colette and Juliet blurred seamlessly. The director—a wiry man with a penchant for perfection—guided them through their positions with an authoritarian yet oddly paternal touch.

"Remember," he said, his voice low and urgent as if conveying a secret, "this kiss isn’t just about passion. It’s about discovery, wonderment. You’re unveiling layers of your soul to one another."

Taking their places, Harry extended his hand with a gallantry that could either be attributed to him or to Romeo—it was hard to tell at this juncture. As Colette placed her hand in his, their fingers tentatively entwining, she wondered if he felt the same electric surge that ran up her arm.

The cameras rolled silently, capturing every nuanced expression. Around them, the crew faded into obscurity; it was just Harry and Colette, Romeo and Juliet. As Harry spoke his lines—the words Shakespeare penned centuries ago—his voice wove around her heart like a tender vine. His gaze held hers captive and in that moment, under the watchful eyes of countless unseen spectators both present and future, fiction turned into a palpable reality.

With the gentlest of motions indicative of both apprehension and certainty, Harry drew closer. His breath mingled with hers—a sweet prelude to the imminent ballet of their lips. When their lips finally met in an embrace as old as time yet fresh like dew on morning leaves, there was a hush on set so profound that even the rustle of fabric seemed sacrilege.

The kiss deepened not out of direction but from an intrinsic need to explore the burgeoning emotion that had started off as an onscreen farce but had bloomed into something indefinably real. They existed in the breath between lines; in the silence between words—their world distilled into the small space between their intertwined fingers and mingling breaths.

As they parted—an infinity encapsulated in seconds—their gazes lingered longingly; not solely because the script demanded it but because their souls hesitated to disentangle.

"Cut!" The director's voice sliced through the thick curtain of emotion, abrupt yet not unkind.

Applause broke out among the crew, bringing Harry and Colette back from Verona to the soundstage. Yet something lingered in their shared glance, a spark that neither the stark lights of the studio nor the return to their own separate lives could dim. As they stepped away from each other, there was an awkward moment of hesitation, a mutual recognition of something undefined and new swirling between them.

The rest of the day passed in a daze of repeated scenes and whispered lines. Colette found herself more aware of Harry's presence, every look and every touch magnified under the scrutinizing lens of her newfound feelings. Off-camera, they joked and laughed, but there was an unspoken agreement in their smiles, a secret tucked away behind their lighthearted banter.

When filming wrapped for the day, Colette felt the exhaustion from emotional strain more than from physical demand. The carousel of her thoughts kept spinning as she drove home, the ghost of Harry’s touch lingering like a promise on her skin.

Back at her apartment, she knew she ought to eat something or perhaps review scripts for tomorrow's shoot. Instead, she found herself at her window, gazing out into the twilight cityscape, her mind replaying every encounter with Harry. It wasn't just their characters who had discovered new emotional landscapes; Colette feared she was standing on the precipice of a revelation herself.

Her phone rang, slicing through her silence. She hesitated before answering, half-hoping it was Harry. It was her agent instead.

"Colette! Todays news came in; you were absolutely sublime! Everyone’s buzzing about the chemistry between you and Harry," her agent enthused over the line. Though meant as praise, each word weighed heavy on her soul like stones filling her pockets.

"Thanks," Colette managed to say, her voice a mere whisper against the storm inside her. "That means a lot."

"Listen," her agent continued, oblivious to Colette's turmoil, "There’s talk already about future projects for you two—maybe even some endorsements together. This could be huge for your career."

Her career. Right. That’s what mattered. Yet as Colette ended the call and sat back against the soft cushions of her couch, she couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps this time, something else mattered more.

She finally allowed herself to consider the possibility that what was scripted for Romeo and Juliet might have woven itself into the fabric of reality for Harry and herself. Could life imitate art to such a degree? Or was it merely caught up in the whirlwind of creating something beautiful together?

The night deepened around Colette as she sat alone with her thoughts. She knew decisions lay ahead, decisions about how far she should let this potential off-screen relationship develop amidst their on-screen romance. Tonight though, she would allow herself one certainty: that in all her roles, both lived and acted, nothing had ever felt quite as dangerous or as genuine as whatever was unfolding with Harry.

The room dimmed further as the last strains of sunlight vanished, leaving only the flickering shadows cast by the streetlamps outside. Colette's mind, a whirlpool of longing and rationality, began to conjure vivid scenes of Harry reciting lines from their recent scenes. Each word, artfully delivered with his rich, emotive voice, seemed to echo through her now quiet apartment, filling the spaces between her scattered thoughts.

He had stood there on stage, beneath the opulent glow of the set lights, his eyes finding hers in the scripted moments that felt all too real. "But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks?" Harry's voice had quivered slightly with a passion that transcended performance. Colette remembered how her heart had leapt at those words, how the scripted distance between them seemed to collapse in a singularity of shared emotion.

As Romeo, he had been impetuous yet earnest, his every motion weaving a spell of youthful ardor and desperate love. And now, alone, she let her mind replay those scenes—his beseeching gaze, his hands reaching not just for Juliet but for Colette herself. Could it be that each line he delivered was an arrow aimed directly at her heart? The balcony scene unfolded again in her thoughts: Harry's silhouette framed by the mock Verona backdrop they had on set. "With love's light wings did I o'erperch these walls; For stony limits cannot hold love out," he had declared fervently.

Could stony limits hold her emotions at bay? Her career had always been a fortress of sorts—a necessity to keep vulnerability at bay. But Harry’s portrayal of Romeo dismantled her defenses brick by brick, not through sheer force but through the tender strength of shared vulnerability.

In her mind's eye, Colette wandered back to a moment during rehearsals when Harry had improvised—off-script yet profoundly resonant—speaking directly to her soul beyond the bounds of their characters. "And yet I wish but for the thing I have: My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite." How his eyes had held hers, unwavering!

The thought brought an unexpected tear to Colette's eye—a tear for the uncertain future, for the potential hardships they might face together or apart, but also a tear for the beauty of a connection that might just transcend the ephemeral world of acting.

Colette rose from the couch and moved towards her window. Gazing out into the starlit cityscape, she pondered over these newly tapped depths within her heart. Perhaps tomorrow she would make decisions with consequences she couldn't yet foresee. But tonight belonged to dreams and whispered lines—a night where Harry's recitations from Romeo and Juliet swirled around her heart like a sweet yet potent incantation. Tonight was not about contracts or cameras. It was about understanding that what they might share could be as profound and real as any love story ever penned—an ode not written by Shakespeare but lived by two hearts daring enough to explore it.

As the hours ticked by, the city outside her window slowly transformed. The glaring neon signs dimmed to a soft glow, and the relentless honking of cars turned into a distant murmur, as if even New York herself had decided to catch her breath. In that serene quietude, amidst the gentle rustle of leaves and the occasional chirping of a late-night bird, Colette's mind kept returning to Harry—to his eyes, his voice, his surprisingly delicate touch on stage.

She tried reading a book, but the words blurred into meaningless shapes as her thoughts danced back to those moments onstage when the air between them seemed charged with an electric intensity. It was in those moments when Harry's voice would deepen just so, casting out lines like spells that wrapped around her heart, binding it inexplicably to him.

Restlessness finally got the better of Colette. With a sigh, she set aside her book and picked up her phone. Her thumb hovered over Harry's contact—for a moment she hesitated—but then, driven by an impulse she neither questioned nor understood fully, she pressed call.

The phone rang briefly before Harry's familiar voice filled the line. "Colette? Is everything alright?"

"I couldn't sleep," she confessed softly, the words feeling both foolish and necessary.

There was a pause—a thoughtful silence—and then Harry’s voice came again, quietly intense. "Come over, then. I’ve been trying to distract myself with scripts and lyrics, but it seems tonight is bent on being restless."

A small smile touched her lips; relief washed through her in gentle waves. "Give me twenty minutes?"

"Take your time," he replied with such warmth that it felt like a hug through the phone.

When Colette arrived at Harry’s apartment—a modest yet cozy space filled with stacks of books and paintings that spilled from every corner—she found him sitting on the balcony overlooking the twinkling skyline. He had two cups of tea steaming gently on a small table between them.

As she stepped out onto the balcony, he rose to greet her with an ease that belied his earlier restlessness. They didn’t speak much initially; words seemed superfluous as they sipped their tea and let the city’s nocturnal symphony envelop them.

It was only after both cups were emptied that Harry spoke again, his voice soft but clear against the backdrop of whispering winds. "You know," he began hesitantly, "tonight reminds me of our final act last week—the way Juliet looks at Romeo with such... such unguarded hope.”

"Yes," Colette whispered back, feeling that familiar pull in her chest—the inexplicable connection that seemed to thrive in shared silences and stolen glances rather than grand declarations.

"Sometimes," Harry continued, turning to face her more fully now, "I wonder whether we’re more than just actors playing parts—whether some scenes bleed into reality without us even noticing."

Colette reached out then, touching his hand lightly. "Maybe they do," she said simply. And for a long while after that, they sat there together—two figures etched against a sprawling cityscape—finding solace in each other's presence and in the quiet conviction that tonight was not merely about roles or rehearsals; it was about discovering truths hidden within lines delivered.

As the night deepened and the city's sounds ebbed into a lulling quiet, the conversation between Harry and Colette drifted from their characters' tragic romance to their own realities—careers that were as dazzling as they were demanding, personal lives constantly scrutinized by the public eye, and futures uncertain but full of potential.

"Sometimes I think about stepping away," Harry admitted, his gaze locked on the distant lights. "From the music, from the films—just to see who I am when the lights go off."

Colette nodded. The vulnerability in his voice resonated with her own unspoken fears. "It's as though we're constantly wearing masks, isn't it? Onstage or off, it's hard to tell where the character ends and where we begin."

"Yeah," he sighed. "Tonight though, being here with you—it feels real. No scripts, no audience." His eyes met hers with an intensity that sent a shiver through her.

She smiled, feeling a sense of kinship forge deeper between them. "No masks," she whispered.

They sat for a moment in silence, each lost in contemplation of the rare simplicity this evening had brought them—a stark contrast to their everyday chaos. Harry eventually stood up, stretching his arms towards the starry sky before offering his hand to her. "Come on, let’s take a walk. The night’s too beautiful to spend it all sitting down."

Reluctantly leaving their secluded spot, they wandered down quiet streets lined with barely lit cafes and closed bookstores, their steps synchronized in comfortable silence. Every so often, Harry would point out an old theater or a quaint little art gallery he’d visited during his tours. Colette listened intently, her heart swelling with an affection that was new and yet profoundly familiar.

As they turned back towards Harry's apartment, he stopped suddenly under a streetlamp’s soft glow. "I haven't felt this... peaceful in months," he confessed, looking at her with an earnestness that made her heart skip.

She reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. "Neither have I," she said. "It’s easy to forget what quiet feels like when your life is full of noise."

Harry nodded, his gaze lingering on her face as if memorizing every detail. "Do you think it's possible? To find peace amidst all the turmoil?"

"I think," she started, pausing to gather her thoughts under his attentive gaze, "it's about finding the right person to share in those quiet moments—the ones who hear the music in your silences."

A warm smile spread across Harry's face as he drew her closer. Underneath that streetlamp, amid the sleeping city and beneath an audience of stars, they found a momentary escape—not as Romeo and Juliet caught in Shakespearean tragedy nor as celebrities shadowed by fames relentless spotlight—but simply as Harry and Colette discovering solace within each other's company.

As they slowly headed back to his apartment, hands entwined with silent promises of more shared nights like this one, both understood that while their careers might pull them in different directions come morning, tonight was theirs—a night marked not by dialogues written by playwrights long gone but by honest words exchanged between two souls navigating through life’s vast stage together.

She felt the warmth of his hand in hers, the roughness of his skin against her own soft palm, sending shivers down her spine. She looked up at him, taking in the way he moved, so confident and yet so gentle at the same time. Colette couldn't help but feel safe in his presence. The sound of their footsteps echoed on the empty sidewalk, mixing with the distant hum of traffic and occasional howl of a lonesome siren. As they turned into an alleyway, she breathed in the scent of freshly baked bread from a nearby bakery, mingling with the stale smoke from a cigarette butt left behind by some passerby. The stars above twinkled like diamonds scattered across a midnight sky, their light guiding them home.

They walked hand in hand beneath the glow of the streetlamp, casting shadows on the brick wall behind them as they stepped forward. The rhythm of their stride became synced, almost like they were dancing to an unknown melody. Every now and then, Harry would point out constellations he recognized or make up stories about the ones he didn't, his voice deep and soothing like velvet caressing her ears. His laughter rang out when she teased him about his astronomical knowledge—or lack thereof—and she loved how genuine it sounded despite everything that surrounded them.

Colette paused for a moment to look at a painting on an old doorstep; it was beautifully executed yet marred by graffiti tags that told stories of love lost and hearts broken. Harry stood beside her, looking over her shoulder as if seeing it for the first time too. She noticed how his presence made even this decrepit alleyway seem somehow beautiful.

They continued walking, their steps echoing softly against the pavement as they neared Harry's apartment building. As they reached the front door, he stopped and with a flourish produced a set of keys from his jeans pocket. The metal jangled softly against each other as he unlocked it, and then they stepped inside out of the cool night air into the warmth of his cozy living room. Setting down her purse, Colette looked around at the familiar surroundings - the worn sofa, the bookshelf filled with favorite novels and framed photographs from past adventures, and the unlit fireplace waiting for winter evenings. The musty smell of old books mingled with freshly brewed coffee drifting from the kitchenette.

"Well," Harry began as he shut the door behind them, "I guess this is where our little adventure ends."

Colette's heart sank at his words but she forced a smile anyway. "Yeah... it was fun while it lasted."

"It always is," he agreed quietly, moving towards her and giving her one last hug before gently pushing her towards the door. "You should get some sleep though, early morning meeting tomorrow."

With one final wave goodnight, Colette slipped through the door and into the hallway, hearing it click shut behind her. Outside on the sidewalk, she took a deep breath of the cool night air and felt a slight shiver run down her spine as reality came crashing back in - work in the morning with its emails and deadlines and office politics. But for now, she allowed herself to linger on the memory of their night together: The taste of wine on her tongue still lingering; the soft buzz from alcohol fading; Harry's touch still lingering on her skin like tiny electric shocks. 

As Colette closed the door behind her, she could hear the familiar clicking sound filling her with a sense of finality. The night air was crisp against her skin, carrying with it a chill that sent shivers down her spine as she took in deep breaths of the city outside. Her mind was still reeling from the events of the evening; it had been an unforgettable journey into a world she never imagined existed. But alas, all good things must come to an end, and now she found herself standing on the sidewalk once more, back in reality. The neon lights from nearby stores cast an artificial glow upon the pavement as she stepped away from Harry's cozy apartment and began to walk towards home. The sound of footsteps echoed on concrete as cars honked their horns in the distance, creating a symphony of urban noise that surrounded her.

She could still feel Harry's embrace pressing against her back as if he were wrapping his arms around hers again, sending tingles up and down her spine with each step she took away from him. She could still taste the sweetness of red wine dancing on her tongue - its tartness mixing with the lingering taste of their passionate kisses as if it were a bitter-sweet symphony only they shared. She let out a soft sigh and looked up at the starry sky above; the sight always managed to calm her nerves but tonight it only served as a reminder that their time together was over.

The streets were empty save for a few late-night stragglers making their way home from parties or bars, their laughter and music fading into nothingness as Colette walked further down the block. A soft breeze rustled through trees lining the sidewalk, leaves whispering secrets only they knew while carrying with them.

Once Colette made it home she brushed her teeth and went into her cozy bed wrapped around in her favorite cotton pajamas, snuggling deep into the softness of her sheets. She reached over to her phone on the bedside table and saw Harry's name still glowing on the screen. A smile tugged at her lips as she remembered their last goodbye

As she drifted off, Colette imagines walking through Central Park once more. The crisp air rustled through trees, carrying with it the scent of autumn - earthy and musky. She could hear the sound of leaves crunching underfoot and see birds flitting from branch to branch overhead. They sat together on a bench, leaning against one another as they watched nature's greatest show for free. He held her hand closely, lacing fingers between hers as if they were always meant to be entwined like that. And then she felt a drop of rain on her nose, followed by another one on her cheek. They both laughed as they ran hand in hand towards his apartment; their shoes splashing through puddles left behind by an unexpected shower that cloud-covered sky promised earlier in the day.

Colette woke up with that same coolness brushing against her face but found herself alone in bed instead of curled up with Harry. The memory lingered like a fond dream but faded away with each blink until all that was left was reality.

Colette got ready and made her way over to the studio, today was the last day of scenes, and the scene where Romeo and Juliet meet their demise.

As she entered the bustling set, the weight of the final day pressed on her shoulders like a heavy curtain about to fall for the last time. The air was thick with a mix of excitement and melancholy, as everyone from the crew to the cast moved with a purposeful urgency, aware that this chapter was closing. Colette brushed past the props and costume racks, her mind still tangled in thoughts of Harry and the night that they had spent wrapped in each other’s company.

She found herself in front of her dressing room mirror, staring at her own reflection as she slipped into Juliet's intricate gown. Each layer of fabric seemed to wrap her tighter, not just in character but also in the realization that soon she would have to strip away this identity that had become a second skin over months of filming.

"Knock knock," came a familiar voice from the door. It was Harry, leaning against the frame with that charming smile that always seemed to disarm her.

"Hey," Colette replied, her heart skipping a beat. "Ready for the grand finale?"

"As I'll ever be," Harry said, stepping inside and helping adjust a loose strand of her hair. "It’s surreal, isn’t it? Feels like just yesterday we were stumbling through our first lines together and today we die together."

Colette nodded, feeling the corners of her eyes moisten. "I'm going to miss us—this."

Harry took her hand gently, squeezing it reassuringly. "The end of one story, Colette. Not the end of everything."

Together, they walked onto the set where the final scene awaited them—a beautifully tragic conclusion to Shakespeare’s timeless tale. The set was a somber array of shadows and light, perfectly crafting an ambiance befitting their last moment as Romeo and Juliet.

As they stepped into their marks, silence enveloped the set. The director called for quiet on set and slowly, every surrounding noise dulled into obscurity until there was nothing but the fictional world they were anchored in.

"Action!" came the resolute call.

The scene unfolded with an intensity that mirrored the raw emotions both Harry and Colette felt. They delivered their lines with a palpable passion, their voices laced with the poignant realization of both the characters' and their own impending separation. As Romeo, Harry took a vial of poison, his hands trembling slightly—a detail that added a layer of desperate realism to his performance. Colette, as Juliet, lay motionless on the stone-cold crypt, her chest rising and falling subtly, awaiting her final cue.

When it came time for Juliet to awaken, Colette's eyes fluttered open to meet Harry's gaze one last time. The sorrow in his eyes was reflected in hers; no longer just acting, they were living their characters' tragedy. As she spoke her last lines, a tear escaped down her cheek, blurring the boundary between performance and reality.

The potent mix of fiction and their personal goodbye charged through their final kiss, drawing a silent gasp from the crew around them. As Juliet drove Romeo's dagger into her chest, Colette collapsed beside Harry with a grace that spoke volumes of the artistry she had poured into her role.

For a few heartbeats after the director called "Cut!" nobody moved. The echo of their lines lingered in the air, heavy with the weight of finality. It was only when the applause broke out that Harry and Colette were pulled back from Verona to the stark reality of the studio set.

Still lying beside each other on the cold ground of the set crypt, they turned to look at each other one last time. The clapping around them faded into a distant murmur as Harry reached out to brush away another tear from Colette’s cheek.

“That was...” Harry started but seemed unable to find the right words.

“Beautiful,” Colette finished for him, her voice barely above a whisper. “And absolutely fucking heartbreaking.”

They helped each other up and took a bow to the crew whose cheers had now filled up space like light flooding into dark corners. It was over — their journey as star-crossed lovers had come to an end on screen.

Just then, the director, a tall figure with a rumpled look that spoke of endless days and sleepless nights, stepped into the circle of light. He adjusted his glasses, looking from Harry to Colette with an expression torn between admiration and the perpetual dissatisfaction of a perfectionist.

"Truly magnificent," he pronounced, though his voice carried a but that hung in the air unspoken. The crew quieted, sensing there was more to come. "However," he continued, casting a quick glance at the cameraman who nodded sheepishly, "we had a slight glitch with the lighting. One of our key lights flickered out right at the crucial moment."

A collective sigh rippled through the team, mixed with a few suppressed groans. Yet no one protested— they all knew the importance of getting it just right.

"We need to go for another take," the director declared firmly. The disappointment was palpable, but so was the resolve to perfect the art they were all crafting together.

Harry and Colette exchanged a look of weary determination. Without a word, they moved back to their starting positions beside the stone altar that served as Juliet's final resting place. 

As the crew reset their equipment, Harry glanced around at the towering set pieces that recreated Verona's gothic splendor. Artificial moonlight streamed through stained glass windows crafted from gel and plastic but beautiful nonetheless. Shadows danced along walls textured to look like ancient stone, casting eerie patterns that whispered of old secrets and timeless tragedies.

Colette smoothed her velvet gown—a rich crimson that pooled around her like spilled wine—and repositioned her hairpiece, tucking a stray lock behind her ear before she lay down once more on the cold faux-marble slab.

The props master darted forward to adjust the placement of the dagger—a replica so finely crafted it seemed as sharp as truth itself—before scurrying away as silently as he had arrived.

"Places everyone!" called the assistant director, a sprightly woman whose energy seemed inexhaustible. Her voice cut through the murmured conversations and last-minute adjustments, snapping everyone back to attention.

As silence reclaimed the set, encapsulating it in a tense bubble of anticipation, the director looked over his tableau one last time. Satisfied, he lifted his hand high then brought it down sharply.

"And... action!"

In a haunting moment, Colette delved deeper into her character, her eyes brimming with an unfathomable anguish originating not in physical torment but in the profound intertwining of loss and love. As she enacted plunging the steel through heart and bone with tragic precision, Harry’s response mirrored her intensity—his visage a masterful portrayal of despair and utter helplessness.

Silently, the cameras rolled, capturing each subtle nuance: the taut muscles beneath Juliet's delicate makeup; Romeo's trembling fingertips reaching across unseen barriers; Colette's quivering shoulders as she drew breaths heavy with sorrow. When she crumpled beside Harry once more, her descent seemed like a graceful surrender—a fragile leaf succumbing to its inevitable fall.

The seconds stretched endlessly until once again the director called out "Cut!" His voice broke through Colette’s final shuddering breaths and this time when he spoke there was no hiding his satisfaction. "Perfect," he said simply, nodding with fervor.

The applause that erupted was spontaneous and heartfelt, echoing around the cavernous studio like waves crashing against a shore. Crew members wiped away tears, caught in the emotional riptide of the scene they had just witnessed.

Harry and Colette, still entangled on the ground, finally allowed themselves a small smile—exhausted, relieved, and a little incredulous at the magic they had managed to recreate. As they stood up, their faces glistening with sweat and theatrical tears, they were enveloped in a series of eager hugs and congratulations from everyone around them.

The makeup artists hurried over with their kits ready to do touch-ups, but for a moment nobody touched Harry or Colette; it was as if their looks were sacred, perfectly capturing the essence of the poignant tragedy they had just embodied. The director approached them, clapping Harry on the back and kissing Colette on both cheeks.

"I couldn't have asked for more," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You both brought Juliet and Romeo to life in a way I never could have envisioned when we first started this project."

Harry, catching his breath, nodded appreciatively. "It felt right," he admitted, looking down at his costume, stained with artificial blood that somehow felt all too real at that moment.

Colette brushed a tear from her cheek and laughed lightly. "I think I'm going to miss her," she confessed, referring to Juliet. "It's strange how a character can become a part of you."

As they made their way off the set, passing through the constructed archways and past the fabricated stone tombs, there was a collective sense of completion but also of loss; the world they had created was temporary, its dissolution inevitable now that the film was wrapped.

The wrap party later that evening was a lively affair held at a local venue adorned with replicas of props and costumes from the film. The mood was buoyant yet bittersweet as cast and crew mingled, sharing memories from months of hard work.

Colette found herself standing by a balcony overlooking the city lights, a glass of champagne in hand. Harry joined her soon after.

"It's going to be odd not seeing everyone tomorrow," he said, leaning against the railing beside her.

"Yeah," Colette agreed softly. "It's like saying goodbye to family."

They sipped their drinks in companionable silence for a moment before Harry spoke up again.

"What’s next for you?" he asked curiously.

Colette shrugged slightly. "A few scripts to read; maybe some time off. And you?"

"Same," Harry replied. "Though it'll be hard to top this experience."

They smiled at each other, sharing an unspoken acknowledgement of the journey they had shared. The night grew deeper around them as words gave way to shared glances and laughter from inside reached their ears—a soundtrack to endings and new beginnings alike.

“Why don’t we get out of here, go to my place for a while.” Harry said while looking over at Colette.

Colette glanced up at the stars twinkling above, considering his invitation. A gentle breeze ruffled her hair, bringing with it the distant sounds of celebration from inside. It felt like the perfect end to an intense and transformative day.

"Sounds like a plan," she replied with a smile that matched the lightness in her heart.

They excused themselves from the party, slipping away unnoticed among the throngs of well-wishers and fellow revelers. The city's streets were quiet as they walked side by side, their footsteps syncing in a comfortable rhythm.

Arriving at Harry's place, he unlocked the door and let them into his warmly lit apartment. Colette really examined the place. The space was tastefully decorated with various mementos from his travels and projects, each piece telling a story of its own. Colette wandered over to a shelf displaying several old cameras and script binders.

"This place has character," she commented, picking up a vintage camera and examining it closely.

"Thanks," Harry said as he went to fix them some drinks in the kitchen. "It's my little sanctuary away from all the chaos."

Returning with two glasses of wine, he joined her by a large window overlooking the cityscape. They talked for hours about everything—from their fears and dreams to trivial stories from set—each conversation thread drawing them closer, weaving a new layer into their friendship.

As dawn hinted at its arrival with a soft glow on the horizon, Harry poured them each another glass of wine. "To new beginnings?" he proposed, raising his glass slightly.

"To new beginnings," Colette echoed, clinking her glass against his. They sipped their wine in serene silence, watching as the city slowly came to life.

Harry's heart raced as he leaned in closer to Colette, his breath hot against her ear. "I have to do this," he whispered urgently, desperation lacing his words. Colette's eyes widened in surprise, but she nodded, giving him permission to continue. And with that, Harry pressed his lips hungrily against hers, pouring all of his pent-up desire and longing into the passionate kiss. Electricity crackled between them as their bodies molded together, fueling the intensity of their connection. In that moment, nothing else mattered but the taste of each other on their lips and the overwhelming need driving them both.

“I’ve been thinking about this since we filmed that scene.”

Colette's breath hitched at Harry’s admission. "That scene?" she inquired, her voice trembling with a heady cocktail of nerves and anticipation. He traced his thumb across the contour of her lips, nodding before reclaiming them with a renewed intensity that left no room for doubt.

"That damn scene," he murmured against the luscious curve of her mouth, his hot whispers making her shiver in response. His hands found their way to her waist, pulling her closer so she could feel every hard inch of him against the softness of her body.

Colette's heart pounded in her chest as Harry's thumb traced the contours of her lips, her eyes fluttering closed at the feeling. His hot whispers sent shivers down her spine, and she couldn't help but arch into him, seeking more contact.

"That scene," he murmured against her skin, his voice thick with desire, "made me want you even more." With that, he claimed her lips once again, his tongue diving deep into her mouth as his hands found their way up underneath her shirt. She moaned into the kiss, feeling his calloused fingertips brush against the underside of her breasts.

His touch sent electric shockwaves through her body, making every nerve ending tingle with anticipation. She whimpered softly against his mouth, clutching at his shoulders as he teased her nipples through her bra. "Harry," she gasped out between ragged breaths, her voice barely a whisper.

He pulled back slightly to look down at her flushed face. "Tell me you want this," he growled lowly, eyes dark and intense as they bore into hers. Colette swallowed hard before nodding frantically. "I do," she whispered back in a voice that shook with need.

Without further hesitation, Harry scooped Colette up into his strong arms and carried her over to the nearby bed. He set her down gently before kneeling down between her spread legs and gazing up at her with a hungry glint in his eyes. "You are so so fucking beautiful," he murmured approvingly as he ran his roughened hands up along the insides of her thighs until they reached their final destination: the lace-covered mound of between them.

Groaning lowly, Harry pressed his fingers against the damp material covering Colette's core and pushed them through the fabric to slide along her wet folds. She cried out softly as sensations she hadn't felt since that fateful day on set washed over her once again—sensations that only seemed to intensify now that they were alone together like this .

Harry's fingers slid deeper into Colette's wet folds, finding her swollen clit and circling it gently. She moaned loudly, arching her back as the sensations overwhelmed her. "You like that, don't you?" he growled, his voice thick with desire.

"Oh god yes," she whimpered, her eyes fluttering closed. "Please, Harry. I need you."

He pulled his fingers away from her core and stood up, pulling her with him. She stumbled to her feet, feeling unsteady from the intense pleasure he'd just given her. He backed her up against the wall, their bodies flush from chest to thighs. His hard cock pressed against her stomach, making her even wetter.

"You are so pretty, love.," he murmured again, his lips brushing against hers in a featherlight kiss. His hands roamed over her body, squeezing her ass cheeks and pulling them apart to reveal her tight little hole. "I want you to feel every inch of me inside you."

Colette shuddered at his words, imagining how good it would feel to be filled up by him. She reached down between them and took hold of his cock through his pants, stroking it slowly as she looked up at him with pleading eyes. "Please," she whispered again.

Harry groaned deeply and grabbed hold of her wrists, lifting them above her head and pinning them against the wall next to her head. His other hand slid down between their bodies once more, pushing aside the fabric of their clothes until he could position his cockhead at her entrance. He looked into her eyes for permission before thrusting forward powerfully into her tight heat.

She cried out in shock and pleasure as he filled her completely in one swift motion. He began to move inside her slowly at first, watching as she adjusted to his size. But soon enough he picked up speed, slamming into her over and over again with a roughness that made Colette's legs shake uncontrollably beneath him."Fuck yes!" she screamed breathlessly as he took control of their coupling completely."

She could feel every inch of him, stretching and filling her while also leaving her wanting more. His grip on her waist tightened as he picked up speed, slamming into her so hard that the bed shook beneath them.

"You like that?" he growled, his voice hoarse with lust.

"God yes!" she moaned back, arching her back to meet each of his thrusts. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she clung to him, unable to resist the overwhelming pleasure coursing through her body. He reached down between them and rubbed circles around her clit with his fingers, sending shudders of delight through her entire being.

"You're so fucking tight," he grunted, leaning down to capture one of her nipples in his mouth and sucking hard. The sensation sent electric shocks straight to her groin, making her even wetter for him. She cried out his name as he hit a particularly sensitive spot inside her, causing an explosive wave of pleasure that left her breathless.

Colette found herself begging for release as he continued to thrust into her unmercifully. "Please... I need you to cum with me!" She could feel herself getting closer and closer to the brink but didn't want it without him by her side. In response, he picked up the pace even more, driving deeper than ever before as they both neared their climaxes together.

Their bodies moved in a frantic rhythm, the sound of their heavy breathing and the soft thuds of flesh meeting flesh filling the room. Colette felt the coil of tension winding tighter and tighter within her, her entire being focused on the overwhelming sensations Harry was eliciting from her.

Just as she thought she could take no more, Harry’s movements became even more purposeful, his strokes deepening, each pushing her further towards that edge. His mouth left her nipple with a wet pop, traveling up her neck, leaving a trail of kisses until he reached her ear. His hot breath against her ear sent another shiver down her spine as he whispered, "Let go for me, love. I’ve got you."

And with those words, Colette felt the dam break. A powerful orgasm washed over her, waves of pleasure pulsating through her as she cried out his name, her body trembling uncontrollably. Harry followed soon after, his own climax overtaking him with a groan as he buried his face in her neck, his body shuddering against hers.

As they both regained their breath, Harry slowly pulled back to look at Colette, his eyes soft now with a tender glow. Gently, he pressed a kiss to her forehead before easing out of her and helping her lay down on the bed. He lay beside her, pulling her into his arms and wrapping her up in his warmth.

They lay there in silence for a moment, neither needing words to express what had just transpired between them. Finally, Colette turned to look at him, a shy smile playing on her lips. “That was…” she started but seemed lost for words.

“Everything,” Harry finished for her, smiling back. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear gently. “You were everything, my Juliet.”

Colette snuggled closer into his embrace, feeling an unfamiliar sense of peace wash over her. What had started as an undeniable attraction had blossomed into something far deeper in these moments alone together. They both knew that what was happening between them wasn’t just fleeting passion; it was something that might just redefine their understanding of connection and desire.

As the night deepened, outside the confines of their intimate world, the city's sounds blended into a distant hum, almost like a lullaby meant to soothe them in their post-climactic serenity. Harry lay there, feeling the gentle rise and fall of Colette's breathing against him, his thoughts meandering through the events that had led to this moment.

After what felt like an eternity bathed in silence and warmth, Colette stirred slightly, breaking the magical spell that had enveloped them. She lifted her head to meet his gaze, her eyes reflecting a mix of wonder and a hint of vulnerability. "Harry," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the quietude. "What does this mean for us? For tomorrow?"

Harry’s heart tightened at her words. Tomorrow. With their lives so deeply entrenched in public scrutiny and their careers always on the line, the weight of reality began to dawn on him. Yet looking into Colette's hopeful eyes, all he wanted was to delay those worries, to live in this bubble for as long as they could.

He brushed his lips against her forehead softly, choosing his words with care. "Let's not think about tomorrow yet," he murmured softly. "Tonight, it’s just you and me. No labels, no expectations. Just... us."

Colette nodded slowly, nestling back into his chest. "Just us," she echoed, allowing herself to be enveloped by the warmth of his promise.

They stayed like that for a while longer until sleep began to claim them, their bodies entwined in a quiet promise of the now with thoughts of tomorrow held at bay. 

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles masterlist #harry styles smut #one direction #harry styles x reader #hs live #harry styles one shot #otra tour #harry edward styles #harrystylesfanfic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one direction #harrystyles #harry styles series #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #harry styles mature #harrystylesau #harrystylessmut #harrystylesoneshot #harrystylesfanfiction #love on tour #harryedwardstyles #Harry edits

[nanshe-of-nina]

Favorite History Books || The Daughters of Henry II and Eleanor of Aquitaine: A Comparative Study of Twelfth-Century Royal Women by Colette Bowie ★★★★☆

This study compares and contrasts the experiences of the three daughters of Henry II and Eleanor of Aquitaine. The exogamous marriages of Matilda, Leonor, and Joanna, which created dynastic links between the Angevin realm and Saxony, Castile, Sicily and Toulouse, served to further the political and diplomatic ambitions of their parents and spouses. It might be expected that their choices in religious patronage and dynastic commemoration would follow the customs and patterns of their marital families, yet the patronage and commemorative programmes of Matilda, Leonor, and Joanna provide evidence of possible influence from their natal family which suggests a coherent sense of family consciousness. To discern why this might be the case, an examination of the childhoods of these women has been undertaken (Part I), to establish what emotional ties to their natal family may have been formed at this impressionable time. In Part II, the political motivations for their marriages are analysed, demonstrating the importance of these dynastic alliances, as well as highlighting cultural differences and similarities between the courts of Saxony, Castile, Sicily, and the Angevin realm. Dowry and dower portions (Part III) are important indicators of the power and strength of both their natal and marital families, and give an idea of the access to economic resources which could provide financial means for patronage. Having established possible emotional ties to their natal family, and the actual material resources at their disposal, the book moves on to an examination of the patronage and dynastic commemorations of Matilda, Leonor and Joanna (Parts IV-V), in order to discern patterns or parallels. Their possible involvement in the burgeoning cult of Thomas Becket, their patronage of Fontevrault Abbey, the names they gave to their children, and finally the ways in which they and their immediate families were buried, suggest that all three women were, to varying degrees, able to transplant Angevin family customs to their marital lands. The resulting study, the first of its kind to consider these women in an intergenerational dynastic context, advances the hypothesis that there may have been stronger emotional ties within the Angevin family than has previously been allowed for.

#historyedit #history books #litedit #house of plantagenet #english history #medieval #french history #european history #women's history #history #nanshe's graphics

[bathgardens-sims]

MBTI Sims (♀) WCIF Compilation Part 3/4, xSxJ

Part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Find on the gallery:

Creator ID: Bathgardens

Title: MBTI xSxJ F

GENERAL CC USED ON MOST SIMS:

Pyxis EA Teeth Begone

Kijiko Remove EA Lashes

Kijiko 3D Lashes Version 2

Miiko Face-Kits NO.1 + NO.2

Praline Cleavage Overlay Collection

For skin blends, lashes, and other skin details, I would recommend downloading ALL forms (e.g. forehead crease, mouth crease, glasses, etc.) because I often layer details!!!

ESFJ

Skin: Nesurii Calluna

Hair: Simstrouble Matilda V3

Eyebrows: TwistedCat Naive

Eyes: CloudCat Summer Dream Eyes (non-default)

Earrings: ClumsyAlien Bloom

Necklace: Christopher067 Majesty

Eyeshadow: Sagittariah Pure

Liner: Miiko Wing It

Blush: BreezyTrait Petals

Lips: Northern Siberia Winds N31

Nails: Aretha French Nails

Top: Sentate Colette | Caio Florence Basic Underwear (glove)

Bottoms: Aretha Teddie Jeans

Shoes: Aretha Alex Sneakers

ESTJ

Skin: Simbience Haute

Hair: AH00B Brenda Hair V2

Eyebrows: Praline N151 Sam

Eyes: CloudCat Summer Dream Eyes (non-default)

Earrings: Ridgeport Specie Hoops

Necklace: Christopher067 Lucid

Eyeshadow: Sagittariah Pure

Liner: TwistedCat Stalker Set

Blush: BreezyTrait Petals

Lips: Sagittariah Kami

Nails: Aretha French Nails

Outfit: Serenity Back to the 60s Pinafore Dress V2 Patterns | Aretha Ana Accessory Top

Shoes: Solistair Wolfe Boots Full Colour Hibiscus

ISFJ

Skin: Andersimblr Snowfall | Miiko mouth corners | Miiko Freckles NO.2

Hair: Simstrouble Sybil V1

Lashes: Miiko Lashes Part 5 (skin detail)

Eyebrows: PeachyFaerie Cupid Eyebrows 05

Eyes: Praline Treasure (default)

Earrings: Serenity Alice

Necklace: Christopher067 Constant

Eyeshadow: TwistedCat Dark Hour

Liner: Kumikya Florence

Blush: Silerna Loving You

Lips: Christopher067 Emmi Lipstick

Outfit: CloudCat Avalon

Shoes: QICC Darcy Sneakers

ISTJ

Skin: Nesurii Amaryllis | DivineCap gaia | TwistedCat Eye Shapes | Helgatisha Moles N1

Hair: Oakiyo Akira

Lashes: Miiko Lashes Part 4 (skin detail)

Eyebrows: Praline N155 Kuta

Eyes: Praline Treasure (default)

Earrings: Aretha Ashley

Eyeshadow: TwistedCat Pyrite

Liner: Kumikya Florence

Blush: Twistedcat Sour Fruit

Lips: Angissi Lipstick A99

Outfit: CloudCat Rainy Day

Shoes: Nords Comfy Shearling

Thank you to all of the creators featured!

@pyxiidis @kijiko-sims @miikocc @pralinesims @nesurii @cloudcat @clumsyalienn @northernsiberiawinds @caio-cc @andersimblr @solistair @oakiyo @dissiasims @kumikya @simstrouble @thepeachyfaerie @serenity-cc @christopher067 @twisted-cat @silernaa @qicc @divinecap @helgatisha @arethabee @angissi @nords-sims

#mine #wcif #sims 4 #the sims 4 #ts4 #show us your sims #mbti #mm #maxis match #ts4 maxis match #ts4cc #sims 4 cc

[scarletfire03]

when I first got into half life I was still very much a furry. so here have fur-life doodles Also yes this AU started out as a furry AU.

gina and gordon are both hyenas but gina is a striped hyena

vvv some lore and explanations for shit vvv

you may notice I didn't choose obvious animals for some characters. most people would probably make adrian a shepherd dog of some sort since his last name is literally shephard. I don't like using domesticated animals for furry designs tho. its too easy, its overused and kind of a weird concept if you think about it. how the hell were these guys domesticated. instead, I like to go for less popular choices and more uncommon animals. I chose a close relative of sheep for adrians design because i think its a bit ironic that the shephard is a sheep. also they have cool color patterns which I really like :D

as for gordon being a hyena, this was originally just a random idea I had. just tried choosing a cool animal. but when I developed this idea I realized that I could do a lot more with this. hyenas are seen as scavengers that aren't very strong and they are also seen as not very intelligent cough cough the lion king cough cough this is completely false. spotted hyenas are highly intelligent and social creatures and they take down their own food for the most part. they are strong. have you seen their jaws?? they are capable of breaking bones with their bite. I wouldn't dare to mess with one. the more I thought about this the more I felt that it was very fitting for the guy that is considered a goofy idiot by most of his coworkers (every fucking scientist at black mesa seems to treat him like hes just an intern and like he has 0 skill) to be a hyena. hes completely misjudged by everyone around him. and during the resonance cascade he showed the world that everyone was wrong about him. at the same time, his actions might've strengthened those stereotypes in some people that saw him. I mean, he kind of did turn into a killing machine back there. even if he was saving my life I would be wary of him. you just cant trust someone that kills without hesitation. the resistance might also be more divided in their opinion about him (something I'm still keeping for my AU because the canon resistance is boring as fuck sorry) and not everyone thinks he is the savior of mankind.

also like, LOOK AT HOW SPOOKY THAT LOOKS

gina is also a hyena because during development she was literally just female gordon. like, she was supposed to be the female player choice. to keep that theme at least somewhat i made her a hyena aswell. to make her design more unique i made her a striped hyena though.

colette is a lynx (a siberian lynx in the doodle but I later decided on her being an iberian lynx instead)

alyx and barney don't have that much story behind their designs aside from me wanting to have an avian character and not just a bunch of mammals.

eli is also a cheetah obviously and i was thinking of making kleiner something like a slow loris cause they look funky and he is very funky

also on a side note: gordon furreemans head looking like a radiation symbol was an accident at first because i was trying to draw him more cartoony and then I noticed this and now he has a radiation symbol for a head. also that doodle is where my current angular lookin style originated.

#half life #art #my art #furry #furry art #fur life #gordon freeman #adrian shephard #barney calhoun #alyx vance #gina cross #colette green

[k00291998]

Tucking research

As tucking is a textiles technique I have never used before I wanted to first practice some sample patterns and stitches on a smaller scale.

A book from the library was suggested to me, for example of different types of tucks and how to make them. The book is called The art of manipulating fabric, by Colette Wolff. Along with this book I watched a series of step by step videos on YouTube by Gretchen Halle.

On the page above I have tryed pin, double centred, blind, random and shell tucks.

On this page I have curved tucks, which I really like the effect off but seem to be quite difficult to get completely correct, bow-tie tucks and crossover tucks.

#art #fashion design #fashion #artist research #sketchbook #tucking #sewing

[writingwithcolor]

Hi! I'm writing a scene with a Black medical researcher who's recently removed his PPE, including medical coveralls. He's got natural hair, which I was going to base off of Donald Glover's hairstyle in The Martian. What would a few hours in a hairnet, facemask, and Tyvek suit do to that kind of hair style? I'm assuming it'd squash his hair a bit, but I don't know how much it'd squash his hair, or what the facemask straps would do to it. Would it be better to change his hair to a shorter cut?

Afro hair in a space helmet

I saw this movie a while ago - totally forgot about it! Based on pictures I looked up from the movie, it looks like Donald’s hair is styled naturally and simple.

Donald Glover in The Martian. Photograph: Peter Mountain (cropped)

I suppose how it would look after the helmet depends on how big this helmet is. If it’s small enough, that his hair is touching the walls of the helmet, then it would likely just flatten and squish down his hair. If his hair were longer and tightly flush to the top and/or sides of the helmet, it might look more drastically flattened.

After it’s off - most likely just a simple matter of pulling at the strands and fluffing it back out to normal.

You might need to account for perspiration too. If these masks make one sweat, his hair would likely build up sweat too. If there is a lot of sweat, it could make the hair sag and also not be as flattened to the sides of the helmet. The wetness will also make the curl pattern stand out more.

Hope that helps!

~Mod Colette

#hair #black hair #afro hair #description #asks

[kimberriez]

Colloyd Week 2023 Day 7: Free Day

What I was actually working on for the past two months! Colloyd amigurumis! I'm also not much of a photographer so I apologize for the picture quality.

His gloves come off. I might retry his hair someday (for a more Lloyd-like feel) when I get more practice making dolls.

Colette's vest and dress comes off if you cut a few strategic stitches, I wanted to to lay a bit better so I sewed it on.

And some progress pics below.

Bald Lloyd, also the hair spider before I tried to get it on his head.

Close up of Lloyd's face with his hair down.

I learned a lot making these, and they would not have been possible if not for the the patterns I bought and tutorials form Green Frog Crochet.

#colloydweek2023 #tales of symphonia #amigurimi #crochet #lloyd irving #colette brunel #tales of #can anyone guess what I'm doing for Kranna week?

[brawlstars-dragon-au]

colette hcs? :D

Colette, our favourite little collector! ✨️ She has a huge hoard of items in her home. These include merchandise, miscellaneous items from brawls, and special souvenirs that won't fit in her scrapbook. It may or may not pose a health hazard, but you'd be a fool to try to get her to throw away any of her prized possessions.

Speaking of her scrapbook, she has a whole lot of them 😭 though each seems similar on the outside, each are labelled on the inner cover according to the date. She makes sure every single one of her books is kept in perfect condition, as some contain items that she considers the most valuable things in the world.

Her flight patterns are quite interesting. Given that she has four wings, as well as additional limbs, she moves through the air in a sort of a swirling wyrm motion, but she can fly straight in short bursts (this is similar to her in-game Super.)

Her attacks consist of a pure magic shot that takes a percentage of an enemies health. The regular attacks come from energy that she shoots from her mouth, but alternate attacks can be thrown from her hands with enough energy buildup. (These attacks are the ones her gadgets do, giving different effects per shot. They are harder to control, though.) Her super utilises her magic to power her scrapbook-led super, allowing her to charge straight at brawlers with her unbound excitement.

She does still work at the giftshop with Griff and Edgar. Her extra limbs make her the ideal person to ask for help when grabbing things off the shelves and carrying items. She always presents herself as best she can and actually quite enjoys working there. (Apart from the stolen tips by Griff... she'd file a complaint, but she loves this place too much to complain at all.)

She adores talking to customers as well! She's always the one of the trio to be interacting and making sure visitors to the Park know just how amazing it is to be here. If you ask her about her favourite brawler, she'll probably start talking your head off, and you'll be there for an hour. (Frankly, it’s just hard to step back when you see someone so genuinely happy to be there. It hypes up the visitors as well :D)

Her horns are actually not natural. They're made from a gold-like material. She has a wide collection of horns, all based on different brawlers! The one she usually wears (in the art done of her a while ago) is her favourite set.

She's trained a flock of corvid birds (mostly magpies and ravens) to bring her little trinkets from around the park. Nobody knows how she did it... but they are concerned. Crow especially.

#thanks for the ask! #Colette is just a fun lady to be around #she's a little crazy but she means well..... I think? #she's getting better at her stalker-like tendencies #bs dragon au #brawlstars #brawl stars #brawl stars dragon au #brawl stars au #colette #colette brawl stars #brawl stars colette #headcanons #headcanon post #long post #kinda-

[oomles]

Another plush completed and ready to go; say hello to Colette! She's a unicorn who loves cloudy skies and creamsicles ☔

Making the raincoat and boots for this plush was one of the most challenging things I have ever sewn. I made the patterns for the clothing myself, and I'm very proud of how it turned out! (Fingers crossed I don't have to work with stretchy pleather again any time soon, haha!)

A big thanks to @/MidnightKoi for commissioning me! 🧡

#my art #plush #plushie #plush commission #mlp #pony #pony oc #oc plush #sewing #mlp oc

[recurringwriter]

writing patterns tag game

Rules: list the first line(s) of your last 10 posted fics and see if there's a pattern!

tagged by @omgkalyppso

1. The Shadow of Every Spark (E, lots of ocs): "What's that?" Colette asked, pointing to the letter in Felicity's hand.

2. A Pagan of the Good Times (E, ocs, human/goddess): Rufus tested the ropes at his wrists, experimenting--but there was very little give.

3. opponent (G, Felix and his grandfather pre-academy): "Why do you always let me win?" Felix demanded, glaring up at his grandfather with those furious, fiery eyes that looked so much like Glenn's.

4. only the lucky ones really get to know (M, Rufus Cassius/Hanneman, blood): Hanneman waited anxiously in the alley.

5. but this world takes more strength than it gave me (T, Lambrigue): There was a visitor to Fraldarius.

6. you never let me go (T, ocs): "What do you want from me, Rodina?" Brier shouted, and the empty grounds of the old chapel echoed with her voice. 

7. The Wolf (T, ocs and Ashen Wolves): "I promise, Rodina, you have to follow me," Brier said, in her soft voice.

8. Rodina Fic #1 (T, ocs and Felix): Mia could suspect who was knocking on her door, but she didn't get a chance to answer it before Felix barged into her dormitory room and then shut it behind him.

9. from up in lights to up in smoke, we just can't let this go (E, Rodrigue, Rufus Cassius, and ocs, Violence): It was always dark in the cell.

10. Our Promises were not for Nothing (T, Rodrigue's parents): Boreas knelt before the king, carefully holding the bundle of rich, teal blankets that protected his new son.

an obvious trend of me not knowing how to start things elegantly so i just jump in as though i've resumed something longer. 40% start with dialogue. 40% start with the character's name. Remaining 20% set the scene but in a choppy, jarring way. On the other hand i will say that they each very much fit the atmosphere i intended for the rest of the scene or fic. I'm tempted to do further analysis and perhaps make some charts, this was very fun!

i don't know if there's anyone left for me to tag BUT i will say if you've read this far and have any fics that you should consider it a fun game to tag me with your first sentences.

#tag games #thank you for the tag! #recurring writings #one of these i haven't shared here yet 🤭

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Colette Colfer

Published: Jan 17, 2024

A slow-burning religious revolution is transforming Ireland. The Catholic Church has waned to a smidgin of its former significance and much of the enormous space it once occupied in the Irish psyche has been vacated. A gap has appeared. We need to mind this gap.

At the same time as Catholicism is declining in importance, a new belief system centred around the concept of gender identity is gathering momentum, thrusting roots deep into the cultural fabric of Irish society, and filling parts of the expanse previously occupied by Catholicism.

This new belief system has implications for all sectors of Irish society including education, sports, legislation, and the media. It also influences popular individual understandings of the self.

‘I am large, I contain multitudes’ wrote Walt Whitman (1819 – 1892) in his famous poem Song of Myself. The kaleidoscopic complexity of the individual is often eclipsed when those espousing gender identity theory magnify gender identity out of proportion to other facets of the self.

Although the idea of gender identity is considered secular in nature, there are many religious parallels. A certain level of faith is required to believe in the existence of the scientifically unfalsifiable intangible internal essence that is the gendered self. This disembodied sense of self, elevated in importance above the body, mirrors ideas about the soul. Sacrificial rites involving the removal of healthy organs assert the primacy of gender identity that is bestowed with a sacred quality.

There are echoes of holy days and religious seasons in new calendars listing dates associated with gender identity. These include Agender Pride Day (19th May), Non-Binary Awareness Week (in July), International Pronouns Day (20th October), and Transgender Awareness Month (November). There are also quasi-religious symbols, priest-like leaders, slogans that sound like mantras and compulsory articles of belief including that sex is ‘assigned’ at birth, that everyone has a gender identity, and that social transition and affirmation are the path to finding one’s true self (or salvation).

Societies are always changing. When 108-year-old Florence Pannell was interviewed on UK television in 1977 about growing up in Victorian England, she was asked what had changed most during her lifetime. Florence responded: ‘Everything! Nothing is the same! Everything is changed!’ To be alive is to be caught in a web of change. The rate of religious change in Ireland is happening faster than the rate of population change. The Irish population rose 46% from 3.5 to 5.1 million between 1991 and 2022. During the same period, the number of people with ‘no religion’ increased by over 1,000 per cent.1

Ireland in the 1900s was steeped in Catholicism. Church steeples punctured skylines symbolising the highest societal value and pinpointing the geographical locus of the community. Streets and remote country roads were dotted with grottos of the Virgin Mary. Silhouettes of huge crosses were visible on hills and rocky outcrops. Weeks revolved around Sunday mass. People’s entire lifelines were patterned with religious rituals.

Catholicism in Ireland reached its peak in 1961 when Roman Catholics made up a phenomenal 94.9 per cent of the population. Since then, however, the proportion of Catholics has been in decline. By 2022 it had dropped to 69% and since then, the tide of Catholic belief has been receding further still.

Receding tides require attention. In 1907, a tidal wave resulted in the deaths of 70% of the inhabitants of Simeuleu in Indonesia. Survivors told the story of an earthquake followed by a receding sea and then a tidal wave. They referred to the sequence of events as smong. Stories of smong were passed down through the generations in popular lullabies and poems.

When a devastating tsunami in the Indian Ocean on the 26th of December 2004 killed an estimated quarter of a million people, the island of Simeuleu was an anomaly in the region as there was only a minimal loss of life. Just seven victims were recorded from the population of almost eighty thousand. The high survival rate was accredited to the stories of smong. Islanders had recognised the signs of the retreating sea after an earthquake and had rushed to higher ground.

Declining religious adherence has potentially important implications. Sascha Becker and Hans-Joachim Voth point out, for example, that: ‘As the role of religion in public life declined from the late 19th century onwards, new ideologies and totalitarian world-views spread’. Becker and Voth mention that the ideologies of both Communism and Naziism were more popular in highly secularised areas of interwar Germany.

The decline of Catholicism in Ireland and the concomitant increase of those with no religion warrants careful consideration. Catholicism has faded significantly from the public sphere, scarpered from centre stage to a quieter corner in the wings. The stage is now peopled by those proclaiming the new gospel of ‘equality, diversity, inclusion’ and the stage is festooned with sacralised Progress Pride flags signalling the adoption of gender identity theory. The ideology of nationalism has more recently made a notable public appearance side stage and new belief systems or older ideologies could also emerge and rise to prominence.

Ireland’s National Census of 2022 indicates a religiously heterogeneous society with over fifty separate categories of religion outlined. This compares to the National Census of 1981 when just eight separate categories of religion were recorded and all the Christian denominations combined constituted 99.4% of the total population. A look at just some of the 2022 categories and numbers of adherents gives an indication of the level of religious change: Islam: 81,930; Hindu: 33,043; Taoists: 200; Scientologists: 132; Satanism: 189; Jedi Knight: 1,800, Jehovah’s Witness: 6,332; Buddhist: 9,053. A low-key online campaign in the run-up to the 2022 Census encouraged those with concerns about gender identity theory to identify their religion on the census form as ‘Believer in Biology’. Although the official census data did not publish details, a Freedom of Information request showed that at least 163 of the 8,064 in the ‘Other stated religion’ category identified their religion as ‘Believer in Biology’.2

Minding the gap vacated by traditional religion that is currently being filled, at least in part, by gender identity theory involves paying careful attention to the latest top-quality research on gender dysphoria, following best medical practice, developing guidelines based on evidence rather than ideology, allowing space for a diversity of beliefs and for healthy civil discussion that allows open conversation and respectful dialogue about the implications of gender identity theory on wider society including on single-sex spaces, sports, and children’s psychological and physical well-being.

The highest point in the urban skyline of Ireland today is the satellite pylon rather than the church steeple. This signals a switch in societal values and the locus of community formation. Social media is where new belief systems are promulgated and where younger generations are most likely to seek and find meaning. The trains of communication in the internet era are fast-moving. Mind the gap.

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According to the National Census, 66,270 people had no religion in 1991. This rose to 736,210 in 2022 – a difference of 1,011% ↩︎

The numbers for ‘Believer in Biology’ only include records processed after November 2022. ↩︎

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This speaks to the "Substitution Hypothesis," which suggests that as traditional religions decline, other quasi- and religious-like practices fill the void to satisfy human tendency towards religiosity.

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