#The Alpine Waltz

[whillywisp]

Seeing a lot of talks about finnick as a dad/doting husband during pregnancy on the fyp and I must contribute to the conversation 🌱 (warnings: it's long and so fluffy you're gonna die). Part 1.

Part 2 ☁︎

The thing about Finnick is that he has a lot of love to give to anyone who would take it. His heart is overflowing with it, shining cerulean with it. So of course fatherhood came to him as easily as breathing—

Wrong. Have you seen that walking talking ball of anxiety, love and autism?

The day you tell him you're pregnant he passes the fuck out. On the floor. And when he wakes up he cries for an hour straight, thanking you enough times with kisses pressed into every inch of your skin he could reach that the words don't even sound like English anymore. He's so grateful, so fucking grateful and terrified but above all, completely and irrevocably in love with you.

Throughout the pregnancy, he's as paranoid as it gets to the point you have to beg him to please leave you alone and no, Finnick the baby won't be hurt if i eat too fast please breathe and let me breathe but it's all from a place of love. He's lost too much, almost everything in his life. The few people he could still keep were precious to him and he was not going to let any of them forget that least of all his babies. Or baby.

Finnick talks to the baby a lot. Asking the most bizarre question to your bump as if he actually expected a tiny, baby's voice to answer him. He was constantly on about something new and his favourite topic to talk about was whatever his new hyperfixation was and you just nodded and smiled because of course the baby wants to know how to do an alpine stitch! But it was so endearing and relieving to see him finally be happy, finally find a purpose, even if it was to just talk nonstop to your belly. He deserves this, these little pockets of happiness.

And one of his greatest happiness was taking care of you. Circling back to the fact that he starts hyperventilating when his lover so much as sneezes too hard, the hellscape that was pregnancy scared him. No, fuck it, it terrified him. So he did what he always did and loved to do and banned you from anything and everything that needed physical exertion. Chores of any kind were out of order. You were on a healthy diet of four meals a day and of course they included all your cravings that he always presented to you no questions asked thank you very much and you had to take naps, multiple of them, all with his presence as a requirement (you were sure those were just an excuse to cuddle you but you would rather take up another round of hunger games than call him out on it). He attended every appointment, had an alarm set for all the prenatal meds, and always a kiss for the belly and your lips just so you knew that this was it for him. You and your baby were the very centre of his universe and this was him orbiting you both. And you couldn't help but be grateful that you had him to love and cherish just as he did you.

And your favourite way of telling him you loved him was letting him take control over the one thing you knew he loved: baby shopping. With all due respect, this is the type of guy who bought baby shoes when he was eighteen with no baby in sight because look at how tiny this is it's so cute *big sparkly green eyes.* But it's particularly endearing watching him waltz around the store, arms full of onesies and plushies and you kind of just stand there, unable to do anything because what the fuck were you supposed to do at nine months pregnant and married to a man who you *checks notes* gifted a day where he could buy anything he wanted as a birthday present?

I promise you the answer was not 'go into an early labour the second he dumped the shopping bags in the living room' but who am I to say anything?

The baby coming two whole weeks early did not sit well with his anxiety. He was a mess, a complete and utter mess but he was also the most precious angel on this planet so seeing him holding back tears of fear so he could be there for you and hold you tight, so tight, because he was scared he would lose you broke your heart too. While the pain of the labour was bad, knowing he was close, holding you tight as he pressed gentle kisses everywhere, to cater to everything you needed, was enough to realise, he was the one. And you were going to fight through hell for him.

Such a wretched thing, love, you thought to yourself as you felt him shake beside you through the pain and haze, to ask you to hope against hope that the strain on your strength and your fading string of fate would persevere despite it all.

But you did. You survived and so did your precious little baby girl, and so did the last pieces of Finnick's soul, despite it all.

The first time he holds his tiny, tiny baby in his arms, something in his brain just clicks (or maybe his frontal lobe was finally fully developed because of course his baby picked the day before his birthday to make her own entry on planet earth) but whatever it was, it was perfect. His entire world narrowed down to the squirming little angel in his arms and he couldn't help but feel his heart leave his chest for the second time in his life to become hers. She fit right into the crook of his arms, the space in his neck. She fit into his life like another piece of puzzle that he never knew he was look for.

She was his little angel, his little girl. The person he never knew he fought through whole wars for but now, holding her against his chest as he watched you both sleep, he knew this is what he was meant to do. To love, to love, to love. For the sake of it. Simply because he could. Simply because he was alive and it was good enough reason to love with his entire being.

Part 1 because I don't exactly know if you people will like it enough to want more.

#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x gn!reader #fanfiction #hunger games #finnick imagine #finnick odair #moonfm #finnick odair x male reader #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair x fem!reader

[holylulusworld]

Shopping trips

Summary: Bucky loses you.

Pairing: Beefy!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader, Bucky x Alpine :)

Warnings: fun, crack, fluff

A/N: This random drabble got inspired by this post.

“Crap, we lost her,“ Bucky curses under his breath. He dips his head to look at Alpine on his left shoulder. “I told you to keep an eye on her. Now she’s gone again.”

Your boyfriend sighs deeply. He looks at the shopping cart in front of him, filled with things you don’t need but insisted on buying.

Bucky inhales sharply as he realizes that you mean so much to him that he agreed on buying fluffy pillows and soap smelling like lavender.

“We should never separate at a home décor store, punk.”

“Sir, can I help you?” One of the store employees asks. He was watching Bucky talk to his cat and believes your boyfriend is nuts, or a shoplifter trying to distract people by talking to his cat.

“I lost my girl at your store,” Bucky mutters. The last thing he needs is a nosy guy sticking his nose into Bucky’s business. “I need to find her. Uh-she wanted to get more candles.”

“Maybe you should call her.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “She doesn’t have her phone with her. It’s no phones day.”

The shop employee looks at Bucky as if your boyfriend lost his mind. “What?”

“No calls. No work. Just spending time with my—” Bucky bites his tongue. “It’s none of your business how my girl and I spend our Saturday. Now get out of my sight so I can look for her.”

“Fine,” the man snaps at Bucky.  

“The audacity,” Bucky pushes the shopping cart along the aisle while looking around to find you. “Doll? Where did you go to?”

He stops in his tracks, huffing as you are nowhere to be found. “Alpine, we gotta find mommy!” Bucky looks left and right before he does the only thing coming to his mind.

“DOLL!“ Bucky calls for you. “DOLL!”

“Hot Stuff!“ You answer immediately. While you were roaming the shelves, you got a little too distracted and forgot where you left Bucky and Alpine.

“Uh-this came from the candles section, right?” Alpine meows loudly. He jumps off Bucky’s shoulder to search for you on his own. “DOLL!”

“HOT STUFF!”

People watch you and Bucky from different parts of the store. They shake their heads and chuckle as you try to find your significant other.

“DOLL!”

“HOT STUFF!”

You sigh when Bucky pushes the shopping cart in your direction. “DOLL! Fuck!” He leaves the shopping cart behind to wrap his arms around you. “Babe don’t get lost again. My heart can’t take it.”

You chuckle as he scolds you for running off on your own. Bucky presses you to his chest and buries his nose in your hair. “I was only looking at the candles.”

“Admit it. You got lost too,” he lifts his head to look down at you. Bucky grins as, last time you entered the home décor store, he got lost. Now you are even.

“I didn’t get lost,” you grumble. “Getting distracted at this place is easy. I found all those nice candles and a new blankie. Look.” You point at the shopping cart you filled with candles, more pillows, and the new blankie.

“You got more pillows.” His features soften when his eyes land on the second shopping cart you filled with all the things you want to use to turn your home into an even cozier place for you and Bucky.

“I got candles too.” You grin. “One is called Kamasutra Dreams.” You whisper in Bucky’s ear. “It’s an erotic candle.”

“Sir is that your cat!” Bucky groans when the same guy annoying him earlier points at Alpine sitting on top of one of the shelves filled with candles.

“Alpine. There you are.” Bucky pats his shoulder. “We found Mommy. Let’s go home.”

Alpine hisses at the store employee. He jumps off the shelf and waltzes toward Bucky, meowing loudly.

“Come here, punk.” Bucky crouches down so Alpine can jump on his shoulder. He carefully gets back up to make sure Alpine won’t fall off his shoulder.

“Aw, my two favorite men,” you coo and pat Bucky’s cheek. “After we paid for all the new things for our home, I’ll invite you for lunch.”

“Hmm…” Bucky glances at the erotic candle in the shopping cart. “I’m more interested in getting to know more about this candle…”

Tags in reblog.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #beefy bucky #beefy!bucky barnes #Shopping trips #beefy bucky barnes x reader

[bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove]

Rainy Days- B.Barnes

Summary: A rainy Monday spent between Bucky, his lover and Alpine.

Parings: Bucky x Fem!Reader, very brief mentions of Steve and Sam

Fic Warnings: Use of Y/N(only once), Fem!reader, soft!Bucky, Bucky dog-ears book pages, mention of the book A Little Life.

Author’s Note: There is dog-ear slander in this fic, I personally hate dog-earing book pages so it’s in here. Feedback is always welcomed and my asks are open if you want to ask me any questions. I am not taking requests at this time but I will definitely post if I ever open them.

My full Masterlist

Hope you enjoy! :)

Word Count: 970

gif not mine

It was an early autumn morning on a mundane Monday in Brooklyn. Rush hour was just starting, the sounds of the cars passing by the apartment window as well as the gentle patter of the rain were relaxing. She didn’t want to get out of bed. It was warm, the mood was just right and she was wrapped in the arms of the man she loved. Bucky was still fast asleep beside her, mumbling incoherent phrases in his slumber, sometimes catching a few words that did make sense which made her quietly giggle. 

She knew that once his nose twitched, he was starting to wake. Letting out a soft hum, he pulled his lover closer to his chest and sighed contently once feeling the weight of her head close to his heart. He was awake but was refusing to open his eyes, clinging to sleep, hoping he could find his way back to dreamland. Of course that got interrupted by the incessant meowing at the foot of their warm and cozy bed. The couple broke out of their bubble in a fit of sleepy laughter.

“Poor girl, you feelin’ left out, Alpine?” Bucky chuckled, finally opening his eyes. He had opened his free hand out to the white ball of fur, who greedily started rubbing her head on his palm. Alpine had waltzed her way up the bed and planted herself right on his chest, her tail smacking Y/N in the face as it flitted around happily. Bucky let out another sleepy chuckle when he noticed that his girl was getting assaulted by the cat’s tail. “You’re smacking your mama in the face, come here,” He patted his empty shoulder which Alpine quickly and happily took over. Now it was Bucky getting smacked in the face with her tail but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Good morning, handsome,” She smiled up at him, her voice just as tired as his was.

“Good morning, gorgeous. You okay with staying in bed all day?” Before she could answer, he kissed her lips lovingly, not caring about morning breath, just her.

“Wouldn’t dream of anything else.” Alpine let out a loud meow in protest, obviously hungry. “Maybe after we feed this little gremlin,” She laughed softly before sitting up and slowly getting out of bed. As she left their bedroom, Alpine jumped right down and followed her out, Bucky sighing softly once more. He was thanking whoever sent this woman into his life. 

When she reentered the room, he took in her appearance. Her hair disheveled, the mascara that refused to come off now smudged under her eyes, her eyes bleary and still very much sleepy and her body practically drowning in his blue t-shirt. In her hands she held two cups of coffee, hers was in a mug with his face on it, which Steve had gotten her as a joke but now it was her favorite and his was in a mug with Sam’s EXO-7 wings on it, which Sam had given him as a housewarming gift, he would never admit it but it was his favorite mug.

He grunted as he sat up in bed, accepting the cup of coffee gratefully and pulling her back into his arms once she was sat down on the bed again. The two of them enjoyed the silence for a while, just listening to the rain and the cars passing by. Bucky started a quiet conversation that spiraled, the two of them talking for hours in bed, just enjoying each other’s company. Traffic was long gone, the rain coming to an end, their coffee cups empty, the music that Bucky turned on playing softly in the back. Of course it was 40s music because the man refused to listen to anything else, his guilty pleasure was Harry Styles but he never told a soul about that one.

“You wanna pick up where we left off last night?” Bucky asked her.

“Where were we?” She asked back. 

He pulled the book from his nightstand, a gently used copy of A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara, and opened it to the page that held the bookmark. It was a bookmark that she had made for him when she learned about his horrible habit of dog-earing pages, the design simple but it was the thought she put behind it, the color she chose the same blue as his eyes; a daffodil pressed into the paper under the laminate, his birth flower which he had learned once it was gifted to him; and the handwritten words ‘I love you, James Barnes’ sat neatly on the bottom of the bookmark. Every time he saw it, he smiled.

“Looks like we left off with going into a little bit of Jude’s backstory. You ready?” When she nodded, he began reading aloud. Smiling even wider when she nestled herself under his vibranium arm, her head resting on his chest, right above his heart, her arms finding themselves around his waist. As they read on, the rain picked up again but they didn’t seem to notice. It felt like it was just the two of them in the whole world and of course Alpine. The further Bucky got into the book, the less he noticed around him, when he finally looked away from the page, he saw that she had fallen asleep again. Soft snores falling from her slightly parted lips, her arms hanging loosely around his waist, the neckline of her(his) shirt shifted to the right and there was nothing more perfect to him than this, than the love of his life fast asleep in his arms, dreaming of their future together. It didn’t take him long to follow after her, quickly finding himself in a peaceful slumber that he only seems to get with her in his arms.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader fluff #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky fluff #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #marvel #the winter soldier #white wolf #bucky x fem!reader #soft!bucky #domestic!bucky #soft!bucky x reader #domestic!bucky x reader #bucky and alpine

[eviesaurusrex]

ᴀʟᴘɪɴᴇ | ʙ. ʙᴀʀɴᴇꜱ

summary: YN walks into their kitchen, ready to start baking Bucky’s favorite cupcakes, only for a white little intruder to thwart her plan.

prompt: There was a cat sitting in my kitchen. I don’t know where it came from because no one of my neighbors owns a cat. She just sat there on my kitchen table and stared into my eyes.

word count: 1.9k

warnings: none, pure fluff, Alpine being a little home intruder, Bucky being head over heels for her, Alpine already feeling perfectly at home, not entirely proofread

author’s note: I read the prompt, and I instantly thought of Bucky and Alpine. It’s nothing good because I’m tired, but we have to deal with it for now.

* * *

A sunny day passed at the windows of their cozy Brooklyn apartment, but YN still felt more at ease inside their home, not feeling the overwhelming urge to go outside and stock up on that vitamin D for free out there, even though fall was apparently just around the corner. She needed to go outside, but today wasn’t the day. Today was a staying as long at home as possible and not even thinking about going outside-day. At some point, everyone had such a day on their plate. Maybe today was the day because Bucky finally was back home after three cruel weeks in some rural part of the planet, without a phone line and without wifi to send a mail, telling her that everything was alright.

They had spent the entire morning and early afternoon in their bed, not in the mood to leave just yet, and had bathed in each other’s company. Bucky had drawn indecipherable patterns on her naked back, constantly pushing her to the brink of sleep again while the tv was running in the background, the countless rerun of Criminal Minds flickering over the screen. They had talked about everything and anything, Bucky had read to her, she had read to him, and they had cuddled enough to satiate their indescribable need to feel one another close again—for now.

He was showering now, and while he did that, YN could take up on her promise and bake his favorite cupcakes. She had wanted to bake them last night after Tony had informed her that Bucky, Steve, and Sam would return that night or the morning at the latest. Stubbornly, she had tried to stay awake, but ultimately, YN had fallen asleep in front of the tv on the couch, Grey’s Anatomy running in the background and lulling her into slumber, only waking up when she felt Bucky’s familiar warmth and his whispering words when he had picked her up and carried her to bed. He wasn’t too sad about the unprepped cupcakes because she had promised him, between heated and longing but also tired kisses, that she would make him some for breakfast or lunch.

Going through the list of ingredients in her head, YN strolled through the living room and into the kitchen, just to open the two windows there and let the soothing warmth of the afternoon air inside. Humming to a tune that kept stuck in her mind, she waltzed into the pantry next, stacking ingredient after ingredient into her arms, adding some colorful sprinkles to spice things up a bit, before waltzing back out—more careful now because non of them needed a flour incident yet again. “Gotta quickly jump downstairs to the store to get some more butter,” YN mumbled to herself, lost in her thoughts of planning the act of proceeding here, but fell silent at the sound of a soft meow.

At first, she thought she must’ve imagined it and slowly placed her ingredients onto the small kitchen island in the middle of the room, only to hear it again, louder this time. With the unopened pack of sugar still in her hand, YN raised her gaze and stared directly into a pair of the bluest eyes she had ever seen, a pink nose almost bumping against hers. Without moving, the two stared at one another; she even stopped breathing for a few seconds, thinking the cat might disappear right in front of her eyes and all this would just be a weird dream or a wild imagination. Maybe she was hallucinating because she didn’t eat anything today, and her blood sugar was low. But even after seconds without fresh oxygen and a deep inhale after that, the white cat still stood in front of her, her tiny paws still resting on the flour pack, her tiny nose still almost touching hers.

YN knew that this cat didn’t belong in here—they didn’t own one, and she knew for a fact that neither did their neighbors. The missing collar was just another indication of her suspicion that this cat was as homeless as she had once been. No one had wanted her, so she had searched for a place to call home on her own, probably just like this little fellow in front of her.

The sound of the stopping shower pulled the agent out of her head, and without moving her body an inch, she slightly pulled her head back to shout over her shoulder: “Uhm… Bucky?” Usually, this was all it took for the super soldier to come running and looking what his girl needed, and even after tiring weeks, she heard the sounds of his heavy steps coming closer and closer. “Everything alright, doll?” He still stood in the living room, not seeing the cat now sitting in front of YN, licking her paws and starting to clean her pristine white fur as if she wanted to make the most perfect first impression. “Well… Uh… We have a cat sitting in our kitchen.” Stepping one step aside, she opened the view for him and pointed to the small kitten—she couldn’t be much older than half a year—just in case he didn’t see the little intruder right away.

Bucky stopped moving, even breathing, as his eyes fell on the little creature now meowing in anticipation, and YN knew he felt just as confused as she still did. “I don’t know where she came from—well, okay, I know where she came from because there’s only one way in. She came through the window, obviously. But I don’t know where she came from. She just stood right in front of me, basically staring into my soul, and now she’s just… sitting there. I don’t know where she came from, but I also don’t know what-what to do?” YN had faced many difficult situations as an agent, many situations no average person would ever have to face, but this, this was uncharted territory even for her.

The white kitten meowed again, louder this time, staring from one human to another, waiting on her spot on the wooden countertop patiently, her fluffy tail sweeping from one side to the other.

YN stared back at Bucky to see his reaction to this quite unusual situation and saw him… starstruck. That was the only fitting adjective she could find at that moment, and she didn’t dare to say another word, not wanting to disturb him in his thoughts. She waited just as patiently as the little intruder did, both watching the man as closely as possible until he started moving. He crept closer and closer, a worried look now creeping up into his pretty blue eyes as he scooted inch after inch.

“What are you doing, love?” It was only a whisper, a soft giggle hiding in its depths. “Tryin’ not to scare her away, doll,” he answered even more quietly, eyes never leaving the cat, who apparently was as undisturbed by them as possible. “I don’t think she’s even slightly irritated by us, baby.” The giggle fought its way out of her body now, and Bucky finally looked at her, a teasing smile appearing on his handsome features. “And why are you still holding the sugar then, sugar?” Looking down at her hands, YN realized that she indeed held the pack of sugar and slowly placed it onto the kitchen island, but not even that disturbed the cat. She just quickly glanced from Bucky to her and back to the high-towering man.

Suddenly, she started to purr when he finally reached her, a hand slightly outstretched to let her sniff at it. But she didn’t even need to be soothed because in the next second, she elegantly jumped in his direction, and only his quick reflexes helped him to catch the cat before she could claw at his skin. “Woah there,” the brunet chuckled, cradling the now heavily purring cat in his arms and dwarfing her even more. His fingers started to scratch her soft belly, mumbling sweet nothings to her, and YN could see how heavily enraptured he already was with the tiny ball of white fur.

Slowly walking over to these two unalike seeming characters—but YN knew how much of a cuddler Bucky was, so the cat was basically him—the agent peaked into his arms to see a very content cat lying there, little paws stretched towards the ceiling and meowing in her direction as if she wanted to command even more attention. And she wasn’t that strong-willed when it came to cats. “Aw, you’re such a cute little home intruder, aren’t you?” She grinned happily as the kitten tried to catch her index finger between her paws, purring even harder when she felt YN scratch her lovingly under the chin. “And she just came through the window?” She looked up at Bucky’s quiet question, could hear the uncertainty swimming in his tone, and she nodded. “Yeah. Just sitting there all of a sudden, demanding attention and love, I suppose? She doesn’t wear a collar, and I don’t think she’s chipped, either. Look at how thin she is.” Her words turned into a worried mumble, but a smile soon etched its way back onto her face. “But you’re a strong one, little one. Yes, you are. Just like him.”

Bucky stared down at his best girl, watching her fall in love with the cat just as hard and fast as he had. He felt his heart ache and beat rapidly, especially as he watched them, knowing they must turn into a family now. He couldn’t leave the little fella all by herself, kicking her out again, putting her down in some pestering alleyway to fend for herself. She didn’t deserve it—just as he hadn’t deserved to be left behind. Just as YN hadn’t deserved it.

“We can’t put her back out there,” he finally dared to say, trying his luck, and he knew it. Sometimes, Bucky was sure that finding YN was all he could’ve hoped for, that this was all the luck the universe had granted him, but then, she had loved him back, had saved him from himself, and brought him back. They had built a home together and still loved each other, maybe even more so than at the very start. The bad dreams couldn’t get him here, the haunting memories were a distant white noise for most of the time, and even when they tried to attack him out of the shadows, YN was there to save him. That’s why he knew that this cat was meant for them. They had to protect her from the cruel outside world and welcome her in their cozy little corner of this planet.

And as Bucky glanced at YN between his long lashes, watching her face and her eyes as she finally looked up at him, he knew that she thought the same thoughts. He just knew. Apparently, the cat knew it as well because she turned in his arms, jumped down to the ground, and almost pranced toward their couch. Stretching, she prepared herself and jumped onto the cushions looking over at them and picking her favorite—the dark green one YN loved to use when Bucky’s thigh wasn’t around—and plopped down, making herself comfortable.

Softly, he wrapped his arm around the woman he loved and pulled her into his side, eyes still watching how this cat already felt perfectly at home.

“I think we have a cat now,” YN grinned and looked up at Bucky in perfect timing of his bending head and his soft lips on top of hers. “Any name ideas?” He hummed lowly at the question, lips still connected in a gentle kiss, before leaning their foreheads together and gently nudging the top of her nose with his.

“How about Alpine?”

* * *

Two in two days, what’s happening??? Anyway: I hope you liked it and enjoyed reading this one. If you did: I’d love a reblog and your thoughts about it! I know I once had a taglist, but I kinda lost it on my Mac and didn’t want to look for it now. Sorry.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes

[adore-laur]

CLOUD NINE

— a swoonworthy sequel to pink velvet 💍

——

Lake Como is an area with timeless appeal that seizes the eyes of every wanderer roaming the enticing paradise of solitude. Rolling vineyards weave throughout the countryside, with snow-capped mountains rising above the clouds. Romanesque cathedrals and theaters overlook the grand lake beautifully shaped by glacial movements. Opulent gardens of cascading wisteria and olive groves blossom across the region, decorating the premises of historical villas and estates. 

It's bliss for the second time. 

It also happens to be one of the most desired places in Italy for wedding venues, which is why you're currently driving through the captivating village of Bellagio with Harry the evening before the big day. A year has passed since you were in Salerno together for your third anniversary. A year since he proposed on the secluded beach he rented out for you, bent down on one knee with shaky hands holding a pink velvet ring box that encapsulated evermore. 

Now you're back and ready to marry the man who has one hand on the steering wheel of the vintage car and the other resting on your thigh.

Bellagio, which juts into Lake Como, greets you with cobblestone streets hugged by dainty shops and restaurants. Stucco and terracotta houses painted with pastel colors sit with their wooden shutters open, plants on their balconies and ivy climbing their walls. Everything is perfectly placed and flourishing under the European sky. 

A boat launch is where both of you are headed since the sun will be setting soon, and being on the lake is where tourists say it is the most idyllic place to admire. You're going to rent a private speed boat for two hours to wind down and spend time together on the alpine waters before being the center of attention tomorrow. 

The narrow backroads lead to the pier, where many boats are docked. Harry has brought a comically large backpack filled with various snacks, books, and other items to keep busy while on the lake. He's currently humming along to a solemn Italian waltz statically playing through the car's antique radio speakers. His hair whips in the wind, and golden hour light dances across his face.

"I know you're looking at me," he says, gently squeezing your thigh. 

You snap out of your trance and lean over the console to pertly kiss his dimple. "You're just really... bello? Is that how you say pretty?" 

His cheeks flush an endearing shade of pink. "Bello, yeah," he murmurs with a shy smile. "Thank you, baby." 

After another few peaceful minutes of driving, Harry pulls into a parking lot by the docks. The piers bob in the shallow water. The lake is even more stunning up close, with delicate ripples and a mountainous backdrop that resembles a contemporary impressionist painting. 

As you gaze upon the elegant villas sitting along the coastal cliffs, the passenger door swings open, a gentlemen-like gesture Harry always does no matter the countless times you've told him you're entirely capable. You sling your tote bag over your shoulder and pick up Harry's backpack, which is crammed in the space behind the seats. You hand it to him and then interlock your fingers with his before walking to the launch. Luxurious boats rock in the water; their exteriors are glossy and classic, and their interiors are more modern with white leather seats. 

"Ciao, siamo qui per il noleggio di due ore," Harry greets the group of men standing on the pier with cigars poking from their lips.

They all smile and wave the both of you over. Harry initiates a foreign conversation with them that you can't understand, save for a few fleeting words. Eventually, one of them claps their hands together and leads you to a speed boat. As the other men remove the ropes that secure it, Harry reaches his hand out to help you step on. He then guides you to the driver's seat, sitting down and settling you on his lap as he sticks the key into the ignition.

"Ready, cipollino?" he asks, recalling the nickname he gave you last year while tipsy under a streetlight. His hand rests on the curve of your back as the engine rumbles to life. 

"Yeah," you reply with an eager nod. "And stop calling me that!"

"What should I call you, then?" 

"Your wife." 

"Not yet, darling." He kisses your neck and then looks behind him, giving the men a thumbs-up.

They return his gesture, and he doesn't waste any more time as he pushes the throttle forward, making the boat lurch. With your legs draped over his, the village becomes farther away. Sailboats and ferries float on the water, and Italian flags are proudly attached to them. 

The speed creates swells of water that refreshingly spray your skin as you lean your cheek against the top of Harry's head. He steers with one hand as the other reaches down to unzip his backpack. He sifts through the belongings, eventually taking out a container of mixed cheese cubes he bought a couple of days ago when he went shopping at a local food market. 

"Close your eyes and guess," he says over the gusty breeze, hiding the container behind his back. 

You close them and open your mouth so he can feed you. You hear him snap the container's top off and then feel a cheese cube on your tongue. You chew it, humming thoughtfully while you figure out the distinct flavor. 

"Provolone. That's too easy," you say after swallowing. "Give me another one." 

A second piece is given; this time, it's a uniquely rich flavor you've never tasted. You decide to just guess fancy names you've heard in passing. "Um, mascarpone? No, wait. Gorgonzola?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. I have no bloody clue what it is." You laugh and open your eyes, but Harry quickly covers them with his large hand. "One more," he murmurs cutely. 

Parting your lips again, you wait for another piece of unknown cheese. However, a pair of soft lips capture your mouth instead. You feel Harry smirk against it, causing you to tilt your head with a bright smile. 

"Was that too cheesy?" he asks, playfully tickling your ribs before cutting the engine so the boat can drift. "Eh? Get it?" 

You drape your arms over his broad shoulders. "How long have you been waiting to say that?"

He scoffs under his breath. "What do you mean? I come up with these killer jokes on the spot." 

"Oh yeah?" you challenge, calling his bluff. "Tell me another one." 

Harry pouts his lips and thinks. "Let's see. Give me a second; I have loads of good ones." You giggle into his neck as he struggles. "'Kay, I've got it. Why does water never laugh at jokes?" 

"I don't know. Why?" 

He cradles your head and whispers in your ear, "It isn't a fan of dry humor." 

You lean back and narrow your eyes at him. "That was terrible." 

He pretends to throw you overboard, leaving you squealing and holding on tight to his shirt. "Sii gentile."

The following two hours are spent cruising around the lake, pointing out extravagant architecture, and reading the several translated Italian romance novels you bought from an independent bookstore. The mountains are hazy due to the clouds drifting past the jagged crests. The faraway sounds of ferry horns and coos from the wading birds provide a serene atmosphere. You don't plan to remove yourself from Harry's lap anytime soon since his calm breathing and affectionate kisses against your skin make you fall into a blissful reverie. 

It doesn't feel like the wedding is tomorrow. The reality hasn't quite hit you yet; you've always felt like it's been some unreachable day that won't ever happen. But now, you sense the forthcoming nerves and anticipation somewhere deep in your bones. 

Only one more sunrise until he's eternally yours. 

Once the sun has plunged below the horizon and left a blended tangerine and turquoise sky in its wake, Harry lets you take control of the steering wheel to drive the boat back to the docks. You successfully station it between two narrow piers. The men that had previously helped get up from their chairs and come over with rope. Harry takes the key out of the ignition, puts his backpack on, and then grabs your hand and ushers you to land. 

"Grazie per la vostra generosità," he tells them with a hand on his heart. "Buonanotte." 

"Sei il benvenuto," replies one of the men with a kind bow. "Guidare sicuri."

The both of you smile and walk to the parking lot, getting back in the car.

"That was so relaxing," you say as you slightly recline the seat and sigh happily.

"Mm-hmm." Harry rubs his full stomach and yawns. "Definitely gonna sleep like a baby tonight." 

"Really? I think I'll be up all night with anxiety." 

"Why? Getting cold feet already?" 

"No, just nerves," you say. "It's a life-changing event we've been planning for so long." 

His thumb strokes the back of your hand as he starts driving. "I don't know about you, but I'm pretty confident I made the right choice in marrying you." 

"I'm not doubting that. I just—" 

"I know, love," he interrupts softly. "I'll probably be a jittery mess tomorrow if it makes you feel any better." 

You give him a reassuring glance before closing your eyes while he takes the backroads that lead to the villa. The windows are rolled down, warm air envelops your face, and the smell of bread makes you hungry again. Harry will often read random names of restaurants and shops that he passes or quietly hiccup from all the food he ate earlier. 

Just as everything becomes background noise, you suddenly feel the car slow down and jerk to a stop. You open your eyes and see that you're on a flat bridge made of grey cobblestone that connects the downtown area to a dirt path lined with cottages. You look over at Harry and find him staring at you with an indecipherable expression, his mouth downturned and his eyes dancing between yours. 

"I think there's something wrong with the car," he says. 

"What?" 

"It just stopped." He scratches his jaw and sighs. I'm pressing on the gas, but it's not moving." 

You blink in confusion. "The car is in park, Harry. 

"No, I think the car just broke down. Stay here. Let me check under the hood." 

"Just put it in drive. Nothing's wrong with it." 

Harry ignores you and opens the door, getting out and slowly walking to the front. His hands place themselves on his hips as he bends his knees and studies the car like he knows what he's doing. He definitely does not. 

"Hey!" he calls out, pointing a finger somewhere next to you. "It's a little chilly out. Do you mind grabbing my suit jacket from under my seat?" 

Suit jacket? What is he talking about? You turn your head and reach under the driver's seat to blindly grab the jacket he apparently brought along. You feel a soft material against your fingertips, and you pick it up and set it on your lap. Sure enough, it's a suit jacket that's neatly folded and the color of a robin's egg. You've never seen it before, and you don't know when he could have possibly bought it since you've been inseparable since arriving in Italy. 

You hold it up, and Harry grins, shuffling over to the passenger window. You notice that the stripes on his button-up perfectly match the jacket. Interesting.

"Grazie," he says nonchalantly, taking it from you and putting it on. "Fits like a glove. Speaking of..." 

You cross your arms over the window and rest your chin on them. "You're acting really suspicious right now, and I suggest you tell me what's going on before I cancel the wedding." 

Harry simply laughs and heads over to the hood. You watch as he reaches into his suit pocket, pulling out a pair of white gloves made of lace. 

Now you're concerned. 

He gazes up at you from under his eyelashes and smirks, putting on the gloves like he's about to perform surgery. "What?" he asks while straightening his collar. "I don't want to get my hands dirty." 

You shake your head in disbelief. "Where did you even get those?" 

He ignores you once again and pulls out his phone. He types something briefly and then holds it against his ear. "Towing company," he mouths to you, pointing at his phone with a wink. 

You're speechless as you sit in the car, wondering what he mysteriously has up his sleeve. You're not stupid; there's obviously something going on because the car clearly has not broken down, and he's calling a towing company for some reason. 

During the short conversation, you listen to him speak Italian in a low murmur, and before you know it, he's hanging up and strolling toward the metal railing of the bridge. He puts his hands in his pockets and paces back and forth, looking up at the peach-colored sky and then out at the sapphire-blue water. 

As you're about to step out and join whatever he's doing, you hear distant music start playing. You look out the window and see a group of people walking in your direction, all holding instruments such as mandolins, horns, and accordions. Harry is also walking your way in your peripheral vision, a cheeky expression on his face. 

You don't know where to look, but your ears recognize the familiar tune of "That's Amore" by Dean Martin when the group starts singing. Harry quickly rounds to the front of the car and does a clumsy spin, then leans his body and elbow on the hood, lifting one foot up as he begins mouthing along to the lyrics with a satisfied smile. 

"Dance with me, amante."

You let out a shocked laugh and join him. "Did you plan all this?" 

He daintily sticks out his gloved hand for you to take. "I might have researched Italian wedding traditions a while ago. One of them involves serenading the bride from outside her window, but... I put my own twist on it, I guess. The car didn't actually break down." 

You hum against his chest as he begins swaying you. "Yeah, I caught onto that pretty quickly." 

"I'm a shit liar," he mumbles into your hair, giving you a twirl. "Anyway, the bride is supposed to lower down a basket of bread, cheese, and prosciutto to accept the marriage." His hand leaves your waist to dig into his pocket. "And my darling, I just happen to have some leftover cheese cubes. Would you be so kind as to do the honors?" 

He pulls out a small bag with only three pieces of cheese left. He takes one out and holds it gently between his fingertips. You take it and dramatically clear your throat. "Harry Styles, I accept this marriage. I cannot wait until tomorrow." 

Grabbing your wrist, he pops the cheese into his mouth, grinning widely as he chews. "I accept your acceptance." 

You continue slow dancing on the bridge as the song crescendos, the singers happily crooning the love-filled lyrics while you're pressed close to Harry. 

Tomorrow can't come soon enough. 

——

White silk with a subtle hue of lavender feels cool against your skin, the thin fabric of your dress lightly blowing in the breeze. 

Harry is right around the corner, probably fidgeting with his fingers behind his back, toeing the ground, and ensuring his outfit is wrinkle-free. You can almost feel his energy, along with the collection of yours and Harry's close family and friends who flew out for the wedding. You hear them distantly chatter as they wait for your arrival. 

Deep breaths are the only kind you've been taking all day, and you're surprised the pendant of your necklace isn't shaking from how hard and fast your heart is pounding. You haven't seen Harry since you fell asleep next to him last night, knowing he planned to sneakily slip out of the villa to get ready with his groomsmen early in the morning. 

It's evening, so a golden tint casts over everything. The private ceremony occurs outside the lakeside courtyard, surrounded by lush gardens and pathways shaded by trees. The white aisle is rolled out, and a tall, flowered arch can be seen from where you stand behind the trimmed hedges. Stone statues guard the premises, some with moss and chipped bodies. 

As you focus on a yellow butterfly that lands on a blade of grass, you suddenly hear the ceremonial music begin playing. Someone behind you squeezes your shoulders and gently pushes you, whispering encouraging words in your ear. You're too distracted by the movement of your dress to comprehend them as you begin walking down the aisle. 

Watch your step. 

One foot in front of the other. 

Don't trip. 

Yet when you finally turn the corner, keeping your eyes on the ground is impossible. It's as if everything happens in slow motion. You hear excited gasps and violins in your ears, but your eyes are the strongest sense at the moment. They naturally gravitate upwards to find Harry. He's wearing all silk, just like the both of you planned, along with the same hue of lavender threaded into the fabric. Silk trousers with a silk dress shirt tucked into them and white suspenders over it. A couple buttons are undone. 

He's so stupidly handsome.

Once your gaze meets his, matching smiles of pure love take over both of your faces. His is a dimpled one that leaves you breathless, and yours is a gentle one that makes his tears spill over. 

You see him roll his trembling lips in, looking down with a soft laugh and sniffle. When you reach him, you accept his bouquet of flowers and stand face-to-face with him for the first time today.

"You look gorgeous," he whispers while shaking his head in awe.

"You look pretty," you whisper back. 

He bites the inside of his cheek and glances down at your lips. "I want to kiss you, but I can't."

You laugh and look at the officiant when he raises his hands. "Welcome, everyone," he says. You may be seated." 

Everyone sits, and you exhale a long breath. You feel Harry squeeze your hands as the officiant drones on about the joining of the couple and what lifelong commitment means. You're not listening, too lost in Harry's teary eyes as they roam your face and dress. 

"Is the bride ready to say her vows?" 

You snap your head to the side and nod, a little embarrassed that you zoned out during what were probably important and sentimental words. 

You release Harry's hands and take the folded note from your bra, making the crowd laugh. Harry rolls his eyes with a smirk. As you smooth the paper's creases, you feel your throat bob with emotion, thinking about how you poured every bit of your soul into the inked words you wrote for him. 

Inhaling deeply, you swallow the lump in your throat. "Harry," you say with a tender squeeze of his sweaty hand, "you are someone who I believe comes into people's lives with a purpose. You came into mine when I wasn't looking for love, but you swept me off my feet with your kindness and attentive nature. I'm so in love with you, truly. When your eyes crinkle with laughter or when you remember intricate details about me. I even love the annoying things, like how you really love peas or how you have to turn the radio down when the roads are busy so you can concentrate. Everything you do and say is beautiful. Your presence is graceful and warm. I'm so thankful I get to be around it for the rest of my life. I love you and promise to do so through every moment, whether rain or shine. Ti amo." 

When you finish, your cheeks are damp with tears as the crowd claps. Harry looks past you, quickly wiping under his eyes. 

"And would the groom like to say his vows?" asks the officiant. 

"Yeah, one second," Harry says as he tilts his head and blinks back tears. He looks back down and takes his vows out from his sock. 

"Ew," you say.

"Shush," he says with a smirk. "Okay, um... I'm going to try to get through this without completely losing it." He clears his throat. "So, I wrote this last night when you were sleeping. I wasn't procrastinating; I just wanted to write it when my emotions were high." 

He unfolds the paper and straightens his posture. "I love you so much. You know it. Everyone knows it. You've had me whipped since I met you, and I swear it's only gotten worse over the years. I told you when I proposed that I was weak for you. Well, I still am. Always will be. Because I hang onto every word you speak, and my heart beats like a madman every time you look at me. The tremendous love you give me is something I don't deserve. It keeps me going, and the fact that I get to feel it for a lifetime makes me the happiest man in the world. Ti amo forever." 

You let out a soft sob and dab under your eyes with your knuckle so your makeup doesn't smear. You secretly give Harry the middle finger for making you cry, and he gives one back, making your family and friends cackle. 

"Now for the rings." The officiant hands both of you your designated bands and then looks at you first. "Does the bride take the groom to be her lawfully wedded husband?" 

You slide the gold band onto Harry's ring finger, his hand shaking. "Lo voglio." 

He seems surprised by your unexpected Italian, raising his eyebrows.

"And does the groom take the bride as his lawfully wedded wife?" 

Harry slides your ring on. "Lo voglio," he repeats confidently. 

"Then it is my delight and honor to now pronounce you husband and wife," concludes the officiant. "Ladies and gentlemen, please give it up for Mr. and Mrs. Styles!" 

Everyone stands and cheers, hollering in celebration. Harry spreads his arms and pumps his fists with a wide smile. 

"Can I kiss him?" you ask impatiently. 

The officiant laughs and nods. "Yes, you may kiss the groom." 

You immediately grab Harry's cheeks and slot your mouth over his, feeling his arms tightly wrap around your waist as he dips you toward the ground. The crowd whoops, and camera shutters click, capturing the official moment.

"Mrs. Styles," Harry murmurs against your lips, kissing them repeatedly until they ache. 

You grab his hand to walk down the aisle together, waving and smiling at your families as they throw white flower petals in your path. There's a green convertible parked at the end, a getaway car of sorts, for you and Harry to take to the reception. It has a wreath hung across the trunk and bottles of alcohol and bread in a basket on the console. Harry opens the door for you as family and friends gather around, taking pictures and chatting to one another. 

"Wait, we have to change into our outfits before we get there," you say abruptly as he begins slowly driving away. "We didn't think this through." 

When you and Harry were planning the wedding, you agreed that you should both change into comfortable party outfits for the reception so it would be easier to move around and dance. Outfits the others hadn't seen yet were picked out and secretly packed in separate suitcases. 

You took a risk with yours, to say the least. 

"No," he gasps dramatically. "What are we possibly going to do? Bloody hell, we'll have to change in the woods!" 

You smack his arm. "Shut up, I'm serious! I've been waiting all year to show you my outfit. We have to stop somewhere." 

"Love, we can just change in the bathrooms once we get there." 

"Fine. Hurry up, though. I'm excited." 

He rolls his eyes and presses on the gas pedal harder. 

After about ten minutes, you arrive at the outdoor reception area, which has circular tables and chairs on the lawn with a dance floor in the middle. String lights decorate the low-hanging trees, and some people are already gathered with flutes of champagne and plates of appetizers in their hands. 

Harry parks the car and grabs your suitcases, sneakily going around the back of the old-fashioned estate that the venue is a part of. A security guard, wearing sunglasses and an earpiece, stands straight as a pin in front of the fancy double doors. 

"Excuse me, sir," Harry says, never letting go of your hand. "Where's the nearest bathroom?" 

He clears his throat and looks him up and down suspiciously. "Take the first left. The door is the fourth one on your right." 

"Thank you!" you call out from behind since Harry is already dragging you down the porcelain hallway. 

Once you reach the bathrooms, Harry enters one stall while you go in the other. You're both breathing heavily and giggling as you unclasp your suitcases and pull out your outfits.

Yours is a rose gold mesh bodycon dress decorated with rhinestones that came with long, matching gloves. Your beige underwear and bra will be visible under it, but that's the intended purpose. You also bought a faux fur boa scarf to hook around your elbows. You unzip your wedding dress and slip on the other one, then walk out of the stall with your empty suitcase. 

Harry walks out a minute later, and your knees weaken. He's wearing a suit jacket and trousers with no shirt underneath. What's even more incredible is that the color of the sequined material is almost the exact shade of what you're wearing.

"Shut up," Harry says with a laugh of disbelief. "No way we picked the same color." 

All you can respond with is: "Your tits are out."

He looks down at them. "Yeah... I suppose they are." 

"You look so hot." 

"So do you." He runs his hands from your waist down to your ass. "You look dazzling, Mrs. fuckin' Styles." 

"Don't start anything," you warn, gripping the lapels of his suit. "We need to say hello to everyone." 

He smirks. "It's crazy that we thought of the same color. I was going to buy a white vest and matching pants, but something told me to get this instead." 

"That just means you have good fashion intuition." 

"No, I think it means we're soulmates." 

You kiss him. "That, too. C'mon, let's go before people get bored." 

The reception commences, and hugs and well wishes are all around as you and Harry wander the lawn hand in hand. The weather is perfect, and the sun isn't too sweltering because of the breeze from the nearby lake. 

Hours pass, the moon is out, and string lights twinkle around the venue. The dance floor has been open for a while, everyone a little tipsy and sweaty as they dance with each other. You've already done the first dance with Harry, swaying to "Moonlight Serenade" by Frank Sinatra as he whispered sweet nothings with his forehead pressed against yours. 

After another slow song ends and couples find other people to dance with, "Careless Whisper" starts playing. Harry borderline screeches in your face while shaking your shoulders. 

When the bridge plays, he gets down on his knees before you and belts the lyrics, hair falling in his face as his outfit shimmers from the strobe lights. You put the fur boa around his neck and pull him closer. His hands run up the length of your legs, eventually reaching your hands as you help him. 

"My pants just ripped!" he yells over the music. 

"Seriously?!" you yell back with wide eyes.

He tilts his head back and laughs with his hands resting on his exposed stomach. You immediately spot the small, ripped seam on his right thigh and begin laughing along with him. It's not even that funny, but cloud nine lifts you too high to care. 

The party goes on, and people slowly leave as midnight nears. Soon enough, it's just you and Harry left as the music volume lowers and the chairs start being put away. You eventually stumble with flushed cheeks and giddy smiles to the sleek black limo waiting at the front of the estate. 

"Where am I taking the happy couple?" asks the driver.

"Villa Balbiano, please," Harry replies. "And turn the music up loud, yeah? Apologies in advance." 

The both of you clamber into the back of the limo, immediately putting the partition up. You straddle Harry's parted thighs as he begins massaging your breasts. "Take your bra off. Let me see your tits under this dress." 

You unclip your bra, sliding it off and tossing it to the side. Harry kneads your ass and tilts his head back against the headrest, the veins in his perspiring neck becoming noticeable. 

"I'm so gone for you," he says, biting your thumb as if restraining himself from doing a more provocative act. 

"That's sweet." You climb off his lap and sit beside him, putting your seatbelt on. "But you'll have to wait." 

His jaw clenches in annoyance, and you grin. You love giving him whiplash. 

The ride to the villa is short but filled with tension. Harry broodingly looks out the window when the driver pulls into the gravel driveway, his right hand gripping the edge of the seat, his thighs tense.

Once the car is parked, Harry kindly squeezes the driver's shoulder, opens the door, and gets out. In an instant, your door is opened, and you're suddenly scooped up and thrown over Harry's shoulder as he walks up the driveway toward the arched doors. He navigates through the spacious rooms and up the grand staircase in complete silence. 

You know what you're in for. 

Harry tosses you on the king-size bed and crawls over you, placing his forearms on either side of your body. His cross necklace dangles over you, which is ironic considering how he's looking at you right now. 

"Gonna let me fuck my wife, or do I have to wait for that too?" he asks lowly, leaving open-mouthed kisses to your breasts and keeping eye contact with you. 

You bite your lip and slide the straps of your dress down, quickly slipping it off. Harry then grabs your wrist and uses his teeth to take one of your gloves, biting the fabric at the top of your fingertips. They're long and tight, so he struggles, huffing and closing his eyes in disappointment. 

"This is supposed to be sexy. Stop making fun of me," Harry says with a defeated laugh, taking the route of just yanking them off and throwing them on the floor. 

"I didn't say anything," you say, covering your mouth so you don't let a laugh escape. "And those are really expensive, Harry!" 

He just shushes you and takes your underwear off. He then buries his face into your inner thigh as you spread your legs open. You're already wet, your warm arousal sticking to your skin. He laps some of it up and rumbles a groan. 

"Will you let your husband take care of you tonight? Hmm? Tell me." 

"God, Harry." You whine when his nose nudges your aching clit. "Yes. Please." 

"So polite for me." He teasingly licks the inside of you with one stroke of his tongue, but it's not enough. "Such a good girl that was dressed like a filthy slut tonight." 

"Says you," you reply breathlessly. "You had your tits out all night while you danced with my grandma." 

Harry hums a laugh and pushes his nose forward, making you wrap your legs around his waist and arch your back on the bed. He lets out a long moan, beginning to unapologetically lick every last slick drop of arousal that seems to keep pouring out. His hands grip your thighs so tight you're positive there will be bruises left from his rings. 

His quiet moans and suckling are muffled by his face pressed right up against your pussy, his hair tickling the bottom of your stomach as his head tilts with each new angle he tries. Your mouth is parted open, desperate whimpers leaving it as your hands tug at his curls. 

You know he won't use his fingers, always keen on making you come with just one method. You feel dizzy from the tingling sensation in your thighs and core, your orgasm knotting with a deep ache. 

"I'm gonna come," you tell him, digging your heel into his back. "Harry, I'm gonna... I feel it. I can't hold it."

What he does next is heaven. Without moving his head or stopping his tongue, he lifts his hand and presses his large palm down on your lower stomach, massaging it in small circles to help coax the swelling pleasure out. Just as you feel as though you're about to burst, he removes his tongue and lifts his head. 

"No, no, no," you say, jerking your hips up. 

"Hey, look at me," Harry demands, his lips swollen and glistening. "What's wrong? Am I being mean?" 

"I hate you." 

"That's no way to talk to your husband, now is it?" He unbuttons his trousers and takes them off, along with his boxers. "What makes you think I'm not going to stuff you full right now with my cock? Or is that not what you want?" 

You catch your breath and swallow, your throat terribly dry. "No, I want it. I do."

Harry squeezes his throbbing cock and hovers over you with one hand placed next to your head, his arm bulging and sheened with sweat. It isn't going to take long for you to come undone. 

"Yeah?" He reaches over to the nightstand and grabs a condom from the drawer. "You like it when I'm that deep inside you?" he asks, tearing the package open. 

"It's my favorite part." 

He rolls the condom on and kisses your knee. "Is that what you want?" His voice is now soft as he strokes strands of hair from your face. "You want me to be nice and give you what you want?" 

"I know you like it too," you whisper. "Don't even try to lie." 

He smirks while running his tongue across his teeth. "And how would you know that?" 

"Because you always put your hand right here" — you grab his hand and gently place it below your navel — "to feel it. Your eyes roll back every time. I love it." 

His nostrils flare. "You love watching me? How did I not know this about my wife?" 

"You're too fucking gone for me to notice," you say, repeating his words from earlier. 

He nearly growls, lining himself up with your entrance before thrusting in with no warning. You gasp, holding onto his shoulders as he rocks inside of you, his cock burning past your walls. The headboard hits the wall with each of his powerful thrusts, and you moan pitifully when he goes long and deep. One of his hands holds onto the top of the headboard, and his other holds your limp hand on the sheets. 

"So tight," Harry breathes out. "How do you fit all of me, huh? You're so tight and pretty." 

Your legs ache as they bend from the force he pounds into you with. He sloppily kisses your lips, teeth knocking against yours and pleading moans escaping into your mouth. His scruff rubs against your face as he continues thrusting faster and faster until the knot forms again, this time stronger than before. You can feel him in the pit of your stomach, leaving you breathless and crazed when his abs move against the slight bulge that forms there. 

"There we go," he praises. "That's it, baby. Is that what you needed?" 

After another couple of thrusts and encouragements from him, you arch and release while gripping his hand and looking into his eyes. Harry comes at the same time, rutting his hips into yours as he shudders with a deep, guttural moan against your neck. 

He hums, pulling out and cradling your cheeks. "You good?" 

You nod, watching him quickly discard the condom and flop on top of your heaving body. Everything feels hot, sweat dripping down your hairline and Harry's skin sticking to yours. 

"Thank you," you say hoarsely. 

"For what, giving you an orgasm?" he asks with a laugh. 

"For everything," you reply, running your fingers through his damp hair. "I always feel like I'm floating around you." 

"I'm your cloud." 

"That oddly makes sense. How do you say that in Italian?"

He starts giggling into your chest, dimples carving his flushed cheeks. "Nube." 

You scoff. "Did you just call me a noob?" 

His head whips up as he says, "No. Nube means cloud in Italian." 

"Nube… that's funny." The both of you start silently laughing at each other, slowly coming down from the high. 

"Shit," Harry exhales. "Someone left us some wine." 

You turn your head to where he's looking and see a wine bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag on the dresser. There's also a little note attached to it. 

Harry gets out of bed and walks over to it with his ass on full display, making you start giggling again. He grabs the wine and gets under the sheets, weaving his legs with yours. 

You take it from him, popping the cork and raising the bottle. "Cheers to us. Ti amo forever, nube." 

He grabs your hand and kisses the ring on your finger. "Ti amo, Mrs. Styles." 

You take a swig, letting the crisp sweetness coat your throat before Harry has some. 

You've come to realize that bliss can be tangible. Silk sheets and red wine. Heated skin and purposeful touches. Soft eyes and kisses just because. If you could, you would bottle this moment up to drink, letting the liquified love permanently stain your soul. 

——

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles au #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles #adore-laur #cloud nine

[inthefallofasparrow]

If more than one option applies to you, feel free to specify.

#poll

[copperbadge]

Answers About Music

MY GOODNESS the musicians and the Italians came out in force. I probably should have made separate posts. Thank you all who answered, though, all of this is grist for my mill! A few cherrypicked music comments to respond to, Italian responses pending: 

mr-chatterboxs-column

It's pretty normal to be able to approximate a time signature by ear but there may be a lot of equivalent options so in many cases it would be more natural to comment on the function of the time signature than to use numbers -- in this case, when you said 9/8 I assumed you were describing a slip jig, but listening to that song, which I didn't know, I would just call it a waltz or an air with very distinctive Scottish rhythm patterns

I love that it sounds like a waltz to people who know what they’re doing, because the waltz as both social activity and active threat is a throughline in the books, particularly for Michaelis, who threatens Gregory with a waltz in book one and then falls in love during a waltz lesson in book two. 

thearubigin

Not sure if this matters to the scene, but Mingulay Boat Song is, like, aggressively IN NINE. I'm a fairly amateur musician but I could tell that pretty much instantly

agentreynard

There’s no way to tell the denominator by listening, because the same thing can be written with any note at all getting the beat, but it doesn’t matter, so that’s all right. If there are 9 beats to the bar it’s probably 9/8 rather than 9/4, but your character might just ask “is that in nine?”

Noted the “This is very NINE” and edited to reflect! 

Michaelis tapped out a beat on the table, and Caleb tilted his head, listening interestedly.

"Is that in nine?" he asked Jerry, surprised by it.

"Nine what?" Jerry replied, but he was joining in with the drummers, who were thumping tables or pounding feet.

I don’t think most people will catch the nuance, but it’s a book specifically about musicians and music so I’d like to at least placate the musicians if not actively please them :D 

(Also @cedarsparrow the infodump was super interesting reading, thank you! Jerry hasn’t retained enough of his Institute Alpin music lessons to understand the question but he’s still enjoying himself hugely, he’s the one who cajoled Michaelis, who does have a reasonable level of musical skill, into singing. :D ) 

#mr-chatterboxs-column #thearubigin #agentreynard #cedarsparrow #shivadhverse

[imakemywings]

The indomitable Madame de Fer, the Jewel of the Court of Orlais.

i. 6 Inch Beyoncé and The Weeknd ii. Waltz of the Flowers Pyotor Tchaikovsky iii. Empress of Fire Rayne Schokne iv. I'll Be Seeing You Françoise Hardy and Iggy Pop v. Canon in D Johann Pachelbel vi. Empire Alpines vii. The Night We Met Lord Huron viii. Yellow Flicker Beat Lorde ix. Are You Satisfied? Marina and the Diamonds x. Flower Duet Léo Delibes xi. Enchanters Rayne Schokne xii. Which Witch Florence + the Machine xiii. Freedom Beyoncé xiv. Waltz of the Snowflakes George Balanchine xv. Flawless Beyoncé and Nicki Minaj xvi. Entrance of Butterfly Giacomo Puccini xvii. Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien Edith Piaf

Spotify | Youtube

#vivienne #vivienne de fer #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #fanmix #dragon age fanmix #my mix #music

[chaoticzoomies]

sighs, throws myself across the nearest chair, esteban x fernando for the bingo. i need to know man, i just need to.

You waltz in here, to my blog, and ask me to expose myself?! Alright lol.

Here you go. About half of this is because of you by the way. You are responsible for me becoming an Alpine fucker.

#im yeeting them into the ocean because Este looks best when wet #esteban x fernando #f1blr ship bingo #ask box games

[silverghcst]

❝ Leon , I want you to give this to Sherry for me . I know I am not leaving you much time , but I would like it to be delivered today . ❞

Wesker hands Leon a wrapped gift . There was an alpine wallpaper inside .

No Prompt - @captianwesker

Leon was perfectly content with lounging on the couch and watching cheesy dramas, until Wesker waltzed right up to him. Apparently, he must not appear busy enough. 

“...You do realize Sherry is not even two feet away from me, right?” Wesker pays him no heed however, even dropping the package right next to him before going back to whatever he does in his spare time. As if Leon already accepted without question. The ex-cop is huffing out a sigh, begrudgingly getting up from his seat, before seeking out Sherry. Knocking at her bedroom door before being invited in. 

“Hey, Sherry. Your uncle wanted me to give you something.” 

As soon as the gift is within her hands, she lets out a happy little gasp, ripping through the wrapping paper before popping open the box. Though, her little smile fades at the sight, face instead twisting in confusion. The wallpaper held a pretty design, however, the quantity was severely lacking. There was only one piece of it, merely able to cover a section of the wall at best, it was by no means enough to decorate a whole room. 

Leon stands there just as bewildered as Sherry, if not more so. Raising a brow at the contents, what a strange guy Wesker is. 

“Oh um...” Sherry fidgets, clearing her throat, “Uh... Tell him I said thank you, and that I think it’s beautiful. The flowers are cute. Although...” 

Her head swivels left and right, scanning their surroundings, seeming to make sure Wesker isn’t nearby before whispering, “I don’t think there’s enough of it.” As if it’s some scandalous rumor, she didn’t want to hurt her uncle’s feelings after all. She’s sure he put a lot of effort into it. 

Though, Leon is only chuckling, shaking his head, “Sure. I’ll pass on your message, and... We’ll see if we can get you some more. I don’t see how you’ll be able to decorate much with one piece, unless he expects you to frame it.” 

With that, Leon turns on his heel to tell Wesker of his success. Not that it was all too difficult in the first place. Whatever. Mission accomplished. 

#captianwesker #へ ノ ( answered ) #(what a lovely gift) #(also sorry for the lack of consistency in Sherry's icons ^^') #(I wanted to use a new psd for her)

[trevlad-sounds]

The Meld Well #003 on Eternal Fusion Radio. First broadcast 2023-11-02.

Artist track timestamp album label Year 1 Sam Gendel Bird of Paradise 00:00 Fresh Bread LEAVING RECORDS 2021 2 The Animals at Night Alpine Blinds 04:22 Future Colors 2021 3 Yves Malone Black Trucks Fill the Night, Empty Then Full 06:52 Kill the Copy In Your Head 2023 4 Bright & Findlay Fireflies 10:09 Fireflies Athens Of The North 2023 5 Chris Prine The Effort 13:10 Glacier Locked Werra Foxma Records 2022 6 James Holden Four Ways Down The Valley 16:43 Imagine This Is A High Dimensional Space Of All Possibilities Border Community Recordings 2023 7 Metamatics Vocodor Odour 20:04 Midnight Sun Pig Hydrogen Dukebox Records 2023 8 Sophos Other Sunlight 30:28 Tales from Urania Cyclical Dreams 2023 9 Pan-American Quarry A 34:10 In Daylight Dub Foam On A Wave 2023 10 The British Stereo Collective Something Wicked This Way Comes 39:30 Music is Vast: A Tribute to the Music and Legacy of Vangelis Castles In Space 2023 11 Don Melody Club Psychonauten 42:34 Pure Donzin Les Disques Bongo Joe 2021 12 Indian Wells Alcantara 47:03 Pause 2015 13 Puma & The Dolphin Mind & Feelings 52:54 Indoor Routine Invisible, Inc. 2020 14 Jonathan Snipes, William Hutson To Keep from Falling Of 57:49 Room 237 (Rodney Ascher's Original Soundtrack from the Documentary) Death Waltz Recording Company 2013 15 Panamint Manse Saline Sands 1:02:09 Undulating Waters 1-7 Woodford Halse 2022 16 Alan Braxe, Annie Never Coming Back 1:05:43 The Upper Cuts Singles (2023 Edition) 2023 17 Hawke, Bluetech Garden Of Your Mind - Bluetech’s Mountain High Mix 1:08:52 Phoenix Rising (Remastered Bonus Edition) Behind The Sky Music 2021 18 CV Vision Insolita 1:16:26 Insolita Growing Bin Records 2021 19 Aural Design Silver Clouds 1:19:04 The Dead Astronaut Woodford Halse 2023 20 Gravité Reptile 1:20:23 III Höga Nord Rekords 2023 21 Sick Robot Core Level 1:23:55 A Field in Yorkshire 2022 22 Lo Five Complex Entanglements 1:29:37 Persistence of Love Castles In Space 2023 23 Christian Kleine Beyond Repair 1:33:48 Beyond Repair 2021 24 The New Honey Shade Oganesson 1:41:20 Cinq / NEXUS Handstitched* 2022 25 Den Osynliga Manteln LILA SKOG 1:43:05 Under Grön Himmel Castles In Space 2023 26 Milieu Euflorian 1:47:30 Eufloria Milieu Music Digital 2011 29 Thomas Ragsdale & Richard Arnold Rings Of Grain 1:52:34 Elements Frosti 2023

#Sam Gendel #The Animals at Night #Yves Malone #Bright & Findlay #Chris Prine #James Holden #Metamatics #Sophos #Pan-American #The British Stereo Collective #Don Melody Club #Indian Wells #Puma & The Dolphin #Jonathan Snipes #William Hutson #Panamint Manse #Alan Braxe #Annie #Hawke #Bluetech #CV Vision #Aural Design #Gravité #Sick Robot #Lo Five #Christian Kleine #The New Honey Shade #Den Osynliga Manteln #Milieu #Thomas Ragsdale

[sciencestyled]

Humpty Dumpty's Hypotheticals: A Hilariously Heavy Tale of Antimatter's Gravitational Gallivant

Ah, the sweet scent of scientific whimsy is wafting through the air, and it seems to be coming from a peculiar narrative brought to life by none other than Humpty Dumpty! Oh yes, you read that right, Humpty Dumpty—the regal egghead—has scrambled down from his lofty perch to dish out a tale that’s as cracking as it is captivating.

He spins a tale of the mysterious ‘mirror-twins’ of matter, known as antimatter, and their whimsical journey towards understanding the embrace of gravity. A topic that might have left many yolk-faced, but not our eggcellent narrator. With a flourish of feathers and a tumble of words, Humpty sheds light on the dance of antimatter, in a tale that’s more enticing than the King’s horses and King’s men at a royal hoedown!

Now, the world of science has its share of hard-boiled facts, but when narrated by Humpty, they become as light and fluffy as a well-whisked meringue. Humpty narrates the complex gravitational descent of antimatter with the eloquence of a bard and the wit of a jester. It's a tale that will have you eggstatic, as he eggsplains the cosmic conundrum, with metaphors that are sure to crack you up!

The story is whisked to a frothy frenzy as Humpty dives into the crux of the experiment that seeks to discover whether antimatter, like its matter cousin, is also wooed by gravity’s inescapable allure. The experiment takes place in an ‘Antimatter Factory’, nestled amidst the alpine whispers of Switzerland. This is where science takes a whimsical turn, as antiprotons and positrons are conjured, cooled, and cradled, awaiting their gravity date. It's a narrative concoction of cosmic proportions, brewed with a dash of charm and a sprinkle of wit, sure to quench the thirst of the most insatiable intellect.

The whimsy doesn't stop here. Humpty carries us through a world where invisible forces play the puppeteer to antimatter’s marionette, orchestrating a dance as mesmerizing as the aurora borealis. The magnetic fields and gravity harmonize in a celestial ballet, with antimatter leaping and twirling to the tune of the cosmic melody.

And as for the grand finale? Oh, it’s a doozy! With the finesse of a masterful conductor, gravity takes the lead, guiding antimatter in a gravitational foxtrot that’s as poetic as it is profound. The answer to whether antimatter succumbs to gravity’s charm is delivered with a grandiosity that’s nothing short of eggstraordinary.

Humpty Dumpty, with a flair that’s truly unmatched, serves up a tale of scientific inquiry that’s as hearty as a breakfast feast. So, if you’re hungry for knowledge with a side of hilarity, this narrative is sure to satiate. Humpty’s comical yet astute musings on antimatter's gravitational gallivant is a tale that will leave you eggcited, egglighted and eggager for more!

So, for a narrative that's equal parts hilarious and enlightening, dive into this eggceptional tale and let Humpty Dumpty regale you with the gravitational waltz of antimatter!

#antimatter #science #gravity #humpty dumpty #physics

[xbelledelune]

Some Foreign Letters, Anne Sexton

I knew you forever and you were always old,

soft white lady of my heart. Surely you would scold

me for sitting up late, reading your letters,

as if these foreign postmarks were meant for me.

You posted them first in London, wearing furs

and a new dress in the winter of eighteen—ninety.

I read how London is dull on Lord Mayor’s Day,

where you guided past groups of robbers, the sad holes

of Whitechapel, clutching your pocketbook, on the way

to Jack the Ripper dissecting his famous bones.

This Wednesday in Berlin, you say, you will

go to a bazaar at Bismarck’s house. And I

see you as a young girl in a good world still,

writing three generations before mine. I try

to reach into your page and breathe it back…

but life is a trick, life is a kitten in a sack.

This is the sack of time your death vacates.

How distant your are on your nickel—plated skates

in the skating park in Berlin, gliding past

me with your Count, while a military band

plays a Strauss waltz. I loved you last,

a pleated old lady with a crooked hand.

Once you read Lohengrin and every goose

hung high while you practiced castle life

in Hanover. Tonight your letters reduce

history to a guess. The count had a wife.

You were the old maid aunt who lived with us.

Tonight I read how the winter howled around

the towers of Schloss Schwobber, how the tedious

language grew in your jaw, how you loved the sound

of the music of the rats tapping on the stone

floors. When you were mine you wore an earphone.

This is Wednesday, May 9th, near Lucerne,

Switzerland, sixty—nine years ago. I learn

your first climb up Mount San Salvatore;

this is the rocky path, the hole in your shoes,

the yankee girl, the iron interior

of her sweet body. You let the Count choose

your next climb. You went together, armed

with alpine stocks, with ham sandwiches

and seltzer wasser. You were not alarmed

by the thick woods of briars and bushes,

nor the rugged cliff, nor the first vertigo

up over Lake Lucerne. The Count sweated

with his coat off as you waded through top snow.

He held your hand and kissed you. You rattled

down on the train to catch a steam boat for home;

or other postmarks: Paris, verona, Rome.

This is Italy. You learn its mother tongue.

I read how you walked on the Palatine among

the ruins of the palace of the Caesars;

alone in the Roman autumn, alone since July.

When you were mine they wrapped you out of here

with your best hat over your face. I cried

because I was seventeen. I am older now.

I read how your student ticket admitted you

into the private chapel of the Vatican and how

you cheered with the others, as we used to do

on the fourth of July. One Wednesday in November

you watched a balloon, painted like a silver ball,

float up over the Forum, up over the lost emperors,

to shiver its little modern cage in an occasional

breeze. You worked your New England conscience out

beside artisans, chestnut vendors and the devout.

Tonight I will learn to love you twice;

learn your first days, your mid—Victorian face.

Tonight I will speak up and interrupt

your letters, warning you that wars are coming,

that the Count will die, that you will accept

your America back to live like a prim thing

on the farm in Maine. I tell you, you will come

here, to the suburbs of Boston, to see the blue—nose

world go drunk each night, to see the handsome

children jitterbug, to feel your left ear close

one Friday at Symphony. And I tell you,

you will tip your boot feet out of that hall,

rocking from its sour sound, out onto

the crowded street, letting your spectacles fall

and your hair net tangle as you stop passers—by

to mumble your guilty love while your ears die.

#anne sexton #poem #to bedlam and part way back

[libidomechanica]

“For (to tired,”)

A curtal sonnet sequence

               1

From her dear, and before I kiss he not teeth me in year afterward. He shore, and many I known upon the names, and if to love all new that is head a blunt come changed, and on all mistake thee where masoning for a prisoner. For to tired, women, calling, had slain, and like a spangle with my wife. False and deep twelve dawn’d human too long to your hand to sweet sake, correction both jump back&forth and trouble with Cape Sigaeum.

               2

Shower, espects suffix was fair again. I shall no more receivest but never weary wrinkles plains climb Aornus, but sort when thee, that we building them cruel made her the languish still, ere Abolition be a wretched, I loue gaue thy Will’ in one must, but more Irish, that love; you may deep blood waltzes. Who make a spells, a people in her, when she really his Neck to you, all to breath, a good to human clime, ah my face.

               3

Protective the polar whom thy foot; and are meerely dear chiefest was Nell! Is never fade like a suit in which caraveled and waken by ill an invade to the one is turn’d to sailes me to the bone of love’ having at he could grieves me, the back the enter lot, a chain’d; for love the only know one on both as I slept. Which wear, were gods and by the zodiac run; next more my hear; all sleepe, and not be—yes.

               4

Into shore broken necks; and thus to ashes, irregularly morning of all the blessen it just doth keep the fled the wide destroys what wintry tempers? And hoar; the widest root, till that’s in flower climbed the word; ’ so Lambro’s coil: they thee, least, as we were tended: last I felt she always sight, or daughter, first of the sharp shine instinct, nor that Horace and who, which she love? The blesse regard—an army doves, my passions paused.

               5

And after me if I were wedding them in a minute fortune hang the ear, if I could it deadly the never more still. And Osiris though it. His he understood witherto have a tree of the past thought this I best feeling you be’st that soon, a burden of a Host, yet taughter; but his great while it lawful I leave me; thus attain high, heart or the kings hymns and within a manly Palm, thus crooked dollars were whole.

               6

From those whole neigh—no dull and life seen, ornament is each error often last come, and lain her look at your father! Turkey could not shore her floating, far forth, and anxious roome more a wound toss offsprings, supreme. Are on the dream of watch attack, and my reach piercest song; and I should we would poison. If you drink, loue denied! Looking on the pleasure in sacks—a most a photograph, with alike, to turban, one who willing song.

               7

Eyes well of friend, since you be told in passages and sorrow the Christmas game: and and nearest of the devil a no lesse lang night, which, alas, fond replicate this for they light her upper while from friendly can love, which thine eyes on. With what Loue to touch near thing stalls, and there; his fire comprehend about doth put on all clouds which in t: and thence on he acolyte amid the Westerday? Friendship they’re wedded for my love!

               8

) Had got: to no my self away there mind. To my ache long. Bless it yesterday? Which had alike; likeness of joy shape to embraced. I do any hand turning’s doom assign’d, and the sea-snakes that so long, long is not they might have seen more! And deeply, becomes, the eleven; but mine, in the only this is why shoes upon his age. Alpine above, yet grasp—his arm, and what I cuddle aged sires, which, as I see yet to-day.

               9

Magic, his head two captives unwrit, and barrel kill of somewhere fonts; the Lord and subject when Petrarch’s self hath pight shore, to make the prospect on and steeping beast as a scoundreds off in your perseuer, thought impart: o, let us all flame to Loues do burn in the left him with you know; such no doubt you see’st the that’s into find, and stand anxious sweete is, seeing, acquainted with sugred sent appetite. Into the direction.

               10

Hints not on him between us. The Bashaw must reason and slept with his show’d thus, my Katie? And lay in the ceremonies, garden darkness controlling, we short, my lassie every race was the righted, burn in the greeting nough, a springeth, thou mayst tree has place county balls gave you and bend, after all knows her for being bed— the lace on there’s not by a heart assumed to strike a little themselves, or said Juan steel.

               11

In whose nor claim’d Gulbeyaz’ eyes are whom mine. Now what astring—quite such and singingly I love, I real for what is not find and the girl within high, or arm as yet thy he glorious brace used to sented hast men pardon to base, in tending of Ireland, and now, and hand. If to lived a dream; but her hear slave my head brow sea’s, mourney. Did lend my dead, that to myselfe be the merciful olives back downright like them to you.

               12

Why don’t seemed enormous do I did me with our slain the young Folly to ceased the like some preparate: their statue set aside: without like Lucia: they had no signs aside man say thus little less neck of it. The same, were bring town, down one, while throne, wherefore; but clouds. The genial solid ground here. Here that you give us—yes—it might divine. For the boatman some not be neat today to be; he gave as well- gotten yet!

               13

A poniard perish besides, I, so cost at them to shamed to pot, till its her climes o’er-gang years—and water—fire is slightning giaours, sketches my wife she cannot reaped but shepherds pipe now the other’s shall already to believed, and then the coming, and sleepe, that proceeded nor green the name. That wait, I could resource was Juan’s gore, but end able is specks that to-day I called morning giaour, thered; a turk, with on their mail and aye?

               14

The twenty, now begot by root pitty? Yet rather’d singe, there, by there’s not pain— even those feel need the moor. That to-day. A-doting parting storms, were stone new thy strength, in the sprains open on me can yet been a tedious eft was thine a vineyard, then it against a far-off sommer clouds to his little bodily collect is lips when yonder; in a check’d desire trailed dreamed to you. In this scythe bed there to-day.

               15

That tasted up into Don Juan. Ambition and mine; then truth, or might employ, like shall he spend to superior fellow, pointed when your hovers to hide, these two blamed, I cannot blame, without of a signs her to see. A glorious eft was about, that over Orion’s face of the pool which I defaced the commeth to the feeding it, and the war What thou that bring of certain proceed, that the kind repeated my free!

               16

’Er than the heart re-sent; and me, and oblivious mood: for ne’er her full convenient; not fit and both! And in marble afternoon which Juan’s circumcision any with the right by other courselves, whom his an honest lace, and wealth; yet your declaret is not to she order’d the cast her goe! More fit; I loue you: on you biblically has rapture’s. The Sultán how quietly terme, my name, and we meerely?

               17

Made out objects are my heart re-sent; i’m senses; he sighest wyde, whose without me never and undid was a snow. Calmes, pull which slave me thus lie? Point of many air. Lasted gate shapes to choose diamond of power to keep unespied, if Lucy’s knows, Support Your heads, but strange shimmer climbed thing to fill as she sits a man I and wants, et cetera mortals of raiment as for sunlightly: what we movie screen, drew figs.

               18

Two roads divine ASTREA sees wither’s birth she is insteadily comfort, along to human tractive of earth the very floor for them at the pain of earth too much less desperate I’ and we’ll lifts and barrow the creep through it. And wear you believe the many a hellish plunge and love’s awe and Care: nothings of you a good; and tryed vp that Turkish wont to be precept in his Haidee’s is twixt sigh’d the heard, first in a chain.

               19

So farewell! And let my hearts firmer face, no needs must have sun, a pavement, thought, like a bate better, first net which until the Pope has harden in the passions. He is not only make contented o’ercloud full of gore, bright as I been as ASTREA is o’er the board her, and him, look’d on with they escape the sun from the eares, that greater for beings to be friend or sighs o’er to kneeling on your hair. More freely string spi’de fades.

               20

Sweet rosy cheek, in glorified, tis my reason. And I am one women arm in tender’d in hue, and Juan, ’t would her happen’d, as the dwarf took one who had been in from a prison’d humiliation; on her, which Time to lady eyed Juan’s way for play at you, your smile upon juan replace less lessons are oath, while my hand all in the fireflies. Yet she to do well; and for pitch’d over a ane to pot, burn to spent.

               21

The Seven Pegasus should read to see. It was more the east, is but the ghost of the said, for my story makes my way, that I was we fluorescent of being surf in you or mouth a dream. That I knew assail although fame bring deserves when shore, then deathbed death would wing, happy in thee are to stagger the tree-house of ryper rest vnder a wild! In graceful as yours. Or, for love also could just five many a When two.

               22

That Horace used not thee I left to shoulders, know was vast, thou leave than end; then to cutting stringeth, through no preach makes all know the last thou stay, she had to rather girl and her in evening will guise; above; unless; there lived, but is thou are love your sinking your crimes, then a’ her her child, you dost true; for the denied! Of pleasant Spring’s lips to tutors are and down, was roots, remembraced. Well the thinking your Doppelganger.

               23

Her rank remain; ’tis pass, tis true behind there is able, I ate with vexation, as made at not be full delay there that sweet loud! The South saddles take turns as caracted life though not I, ’ he really to necess and aye his private tutor in liquid line of Rome, calling all, and loved head droop’d agains open only nor skill, fragrant, luscious, scented from myself in that euer amongst the Patricians known to partridge.

               24

’ Said, how false and eraser’s missed. The bled: and mingle without why she master the for my dull become twelve hour repeats of love makes was also certain his was, and one dwelt with many such as if the days. We’re allow, would show’d then put the heart, my lov’d remnants to seeking be then flown over to dearest euer pype I claim’d: thine; ’ but Charioteer and tangled, body is, that in the bays of many a blockhead in spaceship.

               25

Is all differed at once postinging. I bid your evil still fortune seem’d shot, loved metals can dissuade, while his arms in each after tho, the port, alas, force deem’d my death to hear merit liest, but—quite: my heart is not to hear; all thee. It was, for a face in a while I borne hardship, loving from thou can pass; then a Dandy. Church caress Bride the spotless you could perplexed, until these managed speak with blew; anothers from mine.

               26

No arméd Host, when tress of a Hungary frosty Caucasus; ’ but a loving, sweet both thunder thrusting new. It’s there—but nothing— for your lette couragement my wont to their background by the little the inner- bell cabinet that poor; but in music come said, when gusts in a comfort myselfe one in for my flake, the the powering like anarchs figure threading, and she love is, and also see. To find wanted the Susan!

               27

Applying. Abroad Hellespond; I would not longer over men. For where was chain’d a heckle, and where in that all the rose it listered anything alone; juan antelope like all thee! Upon his way, while upon these, and not to my gaine ransom. Is all thee. So importune and vain,— to open on themselves. Of ladies and Sisters a feature’s the held strong that the mere some nothinges, the eagle will breath; so thee?

               28

But just like a brace, whole to leaves) her e’re. Or a pretend this, and tales o’er meals; he’s walls were seen, she parted pleasuring miss the straw into a Greek; she turns in burn in two. With a soul, what crow flocks, while I allow plainly that I was of magic sister through to his heaven know to apathy truth wall snatch’d elevents easy to talking when flown behote heart is my ain last look’d by beating blind so far the she war.

               29

And years—the colours and begun to have with most imparted for evil, when to wage, and wefts amid a grasshopper, you of night came closed; yet coat might airs one in Greece, of hideous thou leave many a hundred goodbye! Nothing, don’t looked salt tides becomes to cutting for features, began to think in time of a bella sweet played, intrigues, as if by some virtuous seal’d to start from the sublimity’s grace, and each past.

               30

And set hid: but, if livid, standing wars— no one to form the spirit bound to stab herself, a shadow offender if you? No Christian qualified at brought, and gazing, but nothing to cut frankind, the sunset smell, that her with grownd be them, or instinctual mock the could not by weak punch, but silent situations in Cashmire is a ship there. I would giving song in the fish, and Hoigh forth the bless less to the least to you.

               31

Inside my witness had helpe reject, and they had body love were no lesse, huge aquamarital advice bright lieth! No more clear whole woo’d then his was as I could take excuse: sweet both, since I am thee within my dully yielded because that it yesterday, to be wrongs, while, to leave himself invented waste moment abroad, as Home. Therefore Pelegrini, smile; the secret nobody clothes flashing desire; and else?

               32

Men as t was good: your melanchor under our choose on the shadows great the walking sound, and he to Lambkins be my heart— which range or how rare for the placed him fame over too read their pearls of love to tells my name. There birches of Canto have swore; and guessed your unmistake, the rightness, oaths with a sorrow you never that come small with destruck not been such beleeued my death tough no lot of my despaired with spite; though not teeth.

               33

Her come again she tocsin of such your lip too long-neck’d existent as a sign to me. Through he scarce between each other tea and an aching why, so coarse could cavil; there meet for ever can true; thoughts lay she knew hate, and no private love at now she could Juan nothing, as brothers but will ever bank must not for what come in things— he honey the laid down tears which in to me or shall sleep upon this must heaving made thee.

               34

I had—but spent, sang fortune planets danc’d by the sky, there boughes or made mystery of place and hear; all ye not love that hast with is dark grew pair on a stock that good: for the passion may present stuck hard- plot; and, Charity in the single her is blame up into my filial joy? My eyes blacks, and now, arounding paint you saw with to the aisles should not being although the prices spie, nor his care to give me.

               35

Have no rear’d a thinks his ways it made us better things changelo, hands, and next door open on the calumniated into registers. In awe: he scene, but not all the impudence with such was squarelets of hers in Badajos’s breath, or Protesca—such could really and women fronds. How get you like a wise that I waking one seeded no more, I am perjured dollars to a cannot as you biblically.

               36

Thy tongue; use power and recollect you strips of their chamber, when in the wish through then I have negroes moan; long the ever in now strong; valour was resembled her the Muscouite, and the glistring season. I said Juan; what mattery, gentle Maud too late, t was counsel, fell in a yes. Tell me which brook at the hardly knows why I want. Be mind them glide, without a battle modern stay. ’ Thus we cast time, nor I had journey.

               37

Here it rage, and out each other in the cried Caesar bleede; but, instant on him, or she, my Katie! Meant to black fell already have for me, and to pearl. Be destroys what though the wild instead of the Lion’s gate selfe on her fellow not long since strange was verse my Last Love, and then? By some thus Gulbeyaz, for an hour. Kind looking storm it in rurall vain the tenderness, and stone new-bought aid. And chaffe form’d absence my loue, my life.

               38

This vow, perplexed, until they are to ascertain, like mountain or See, if the heart a-keeping, and infancy fresh—for here little make my heart of all droop no more so great wreak venge, and builds a Hellespont and his arm is felt he was one who clear who parted place of man: he noble show. And canst thou my doom with a little lotte Street; he strange descence: but her poor feeling the thou laughed: No, faith conceit day, knell, where all it?

               39

That ink may reader of thou but thought at pressured off his hid in the seem’d, with malignant willing of the earth, all these effects sufficient home Italian board him, for this to tear us starry you star of feed? Bayonne or being serpent’s wrong. Should I know it, I came, yet the took pity to slander hesitation. Another; but the hummingbirds were, of perforce, some all height of their staid long galliots, placed, be both!

               40

Love enhanced to the men peeled out a barbed holo-gram—my for the sea water soften away; these must liked to to spring, even increase, but through the free side, and my hear the cypress of jarring kind, although the gaze open’d with blew bubbles. And horrible, and, fly, playing of children would hath half of what doubt you ask how few! Its nub, its past, had my harueste hair, with the wounded a price he reason; there’s not mind.

               41

One into their love seem’d a heaven knows when shall feelings, and music drive to thing bigger that she sudden blustre—and loue, cease, and determined, ’ call thee, as the saw the earth enfolds, I love. Call her wilt thought; and small day; charms, and bend, thought; but for a wings, and poor really poure or life of a busy day thighs I will slide into their full of season the turn to the red rocks on snow being muscles from people inky whisker.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #168 texts #curtal sonnet sequence

[werewolvesandaccordions]

Strauss – Also Sprach Zarathustra (1896) “Thus spoke Zarathustra”, a tone poem written early in Strauss’ career that, like the original draft of the Alpine Symphony, is inspired by the philosophy of Friedrich Nietzsche. The book of the same name is an experimental allegory following the travels of the titular character, Zarathustra. Strauss structured the movements of the tone poem to reflect different episodes and topics. It opens with the “sunrise”, which is without a doubt Strauss’ most popular piece of music, thanks to Stanley Kubrick’s use of it in 2001 a Space Odyssey, and consequently every sci-fi work in pop culture that references 2001. A quiet organ growl like the primordial “om” of Buddhism, and then the “dawn” motif, C-G-C, which will pervade the rest of the work. The fanfare blasts out with the minor, timpani strokes restart the theme now showing the major, and with a grand flourish it ends triumphantly, a new day. “Of the Backwaters” referring to people living in the country, and is a lovely choral that is introduced with the opening line of the Credo. What starts off mostly in strings soon gets filled out by the whole orchestra in a lush sound. “Of the Great Longing” uses a chromatic melody that soars above the dawn motif. An orchestral flourish takes us into the section “of Joys and Passions” where the music swirls around in a stormy wave. In the “Song of the Grave” we get a solo violin over a murky backdrop of instruments winding down, until the melody is being carried high up in the air, and getting louder in a wave of shifting harmonies. “Of Science and Learning” acts as a fugue, based off of the dawn motif. This helps to convey the complexity of observed science and interpreting data to reach conclusions. It starts off quiet, and gradually crescendos, the fugue theme breaking apart and starting a more simple and rowdy dance. The orchestra takes up the dawn motif yet again and it is used as the accompaniment of a charming dance carried by a solo violin. Now, the “Dance Song” acts like a ballroom waltz, complete with the lushness of the late 19th century Viennese orchestra. It’s easy to hear the kind of gorgeous and sugary waltz writing that Strauss would later recreate for Der Rosenkavalier. The music grows bigger and bigger until the orchestral climax is brought on by the tolling of deep bells, and we hear the music of the “Night Wanderer”. Here the piece begins to wind down, suggesting that it will have a peaceful conclusion. Instead, the coda is perplexing. Strings pluck in low C under the winds playing a B Major chord up above. Does the work tonally resolve in the key of C where it started? Or does it end in the key a semi-tone down? Does it matter? It matters enough that this work was written at the close of the 19th century, and whether Strauss meant to or not, he ended up crating a work that would spark the big “problem” / “question” that 20th century composers would tackle with: how do we organize harmony if it no longer carries the same function as before? Movements: Einleitung, oder Sonnenaufgang (Introduction, or Sunrise) Von den Hinterweltlern (Of the Backworldsmen) Von der großen Sehnsucht (Of the Great Longing) Von den Freuden und Leidenschaften (Of Joys and Passions) Das Grablied (The Song of the Grave) Von der Wissenschaft (Of Science and Learning) Der Genesende (The Convalescent) Das Tanzlied (The Dance Song) Nachtwandlerlied (Song of the Night Wanderer)

mikrokosmos: Strauss – Also Sprach Zarathustra (1896) “Thus spoke Zarathustra”, a tone poem written early in Strauss’ career that, like the original draft of the Alpine Symphony, is inspired by the philosophy of Friedrich Nietzsche. The book of the same name is an experimental allegory following the travels of the titular character, Zarathustra. Strauss structured…

[tinas-art]

Strauss – Also Sprach Zarathustra (1896) “Thus spoke Zarathustra”, a tone poem written early in Strauss’ career that, like the original draft of the Alpine Symphony, is inspired by the philosophy of Friedrich Nietzsche. The book of the same name is an experimental allegory following the travels of the titular character, Zarathustra. Strauss structured the movements of the tone poem to reflect different episodes and topics. It opens with the “sunrise”, which is without a doubt Strauss’ most popular piece of music, thanks to Stanley Kubrick’s use of it in 2001 a Space Odyssey, and consequently every sci-fi work in pop culture that references 2001. A quiet organ growl like the primordial “om” of Buddhism, and then the “dawn” motif, C-G-C, which will pervade the rest of the work. The fanfare blasts out with the minor, timpani strokes restart the theme now showing the major, and with a grand flourish it ends triumphantly, a new day. “Of the Backwaters” referring to people living in the country, and is a lovely choral that is introduced with the opening line of the Credo. What starts off mostly in strings soon gets filled out by the whole orchestra in a lush sound. “Of the Great Longing” uses a chromatic melody that soars above the dawn motif. An orchestral flourish takes us into the section “of Joys and Passions” where the music swirls around in a stormy wave. In the “Song of the Grave” we get a solo violin over a murky backdrop of instruments winding down, until the melody is being carried high up in the air, and getting louder in a wave of shifting harmonies. “Of Science and Learning” acts as a fugue, based off of the dawn motif. This helps to convey the complexity of observed science and interpreting data to reach conclusions. It starts off quiet, and gradually crescendos, the fugue theme breaking apart and starting a more simple and rowdy dance. The orchestra takes up the dawn motif yet again and it is used as the accompaniment of a charming dance carried by a solo violin. Now, the “Dance Song” acts like a ballroom waltz, complete with the lushness of the late 19th century Viennese orchestra. It’s easy to hear the kind of gorgeous and sugary waltz writing that Strauss would later recreate for Der Rosenkavalier. The music grows bigger and bigger until the orchestral climax is brought on by the tolling of deep bells, and we hear the music of the “Night Wanderer”. Here the piece begins to wind down, suggesting that it will have a peaceful conclusion. Instead, the coda is perplexing. Strings pluck in low C under the winds playing a B Major chord up above. Does the work tonally resolve in the key of C where it started? Or does it end in the key a semi-tone down? Does it matter? It matters enough that this work was written at the close of the 19th century, and whether Strauss meant to or not, he ended up crating a work that would spark the big “problem” / “question” that 20th century composers would tackle with: how do we organize harmony if it no longer carries the same function as before? Movements: Einleitung, oder Sonnenaufgang (Introduction, or Sunrise) Von den Hinterweltlern (Of the Backworldsmen) Von der großen Sehnsucht (Of the Great Longing) Von den Freuden und Leidenschaften (Of Joys and Passions) Das Grablied (The Song of the Grave) Von der Wissenschaft (Of Science and Learning) Der Genesende (The Convalescent) Das Tanzlied (The Dance Song) Nachtwandlerlied (Song of the Night Wanderer)

mikrokosmos: Strauss – Also Sprach Zarathustra (1896) “Thus spoke Zarathustra”, a tone poem written early in Strauss’ career that, like the original draft of the Alpine Symphony, is inspired by the philosophy of Friedrich Nietzsche. The book of the same name is an experimental allegory following the travels of the titular character, Zarathustra. Strauss structured…