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threetrenchcoatsinatrenchcoat · 10 months

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Late-Stage Capitalism Was Never An Option: The Politics, Economics, and Morality of Untitled Goose Game

Untitled Goose Game is a 2019 one-to-two player puzzle comedy video game developed by independent studio House House. It is known for its slapstick humor, soundtrack made of Debussy snippets, and simple abstract visual art style. These whimsical components belie the piece's robust canvas for critical discussion of the morality of western capitalism. Despite the richness of the source material, we couldn't find such an analysis existing already. Further scholarship is encouraged. In this essay we will examine Untitled Goose Game in the context of economic policy through such concepts as private ownership, the responsibilities of businesses, law enforcement, and alienation from the self. I'm not kidding.

The primary question to answer with regard to a player's experience is: What makes being a horrible goose so fun? The player character is not shown to have a long-term motive, nor any danger from which to escape. The goose in fact plays the part of the instigator in several of the hostile relationships formed with the world's humans throughout the game. It is satisfying to trick said humans in the way a successfully pulled prank may be satisfying, deserved or otherwise. But achieving tasks in Untitled Goose Game feels morally right in a small but consistent additional sense (source: I played it, and it felt real good). There is an undercurrent of retribution we will discuss, but to consider any angle of retribution, we must first analyze the goose's motives or lack thereof.

The goose may intend simply to steal a few objects initially, but may have been intending the entire arc of the game upon starting. It is tempting to assume the provided lists of tasks implies the latter interpretation, but we argue the opposite. The game finishes when the goose places a bell gathered from the end of the game into a pit near the game's start. For one last joke, the pit is seen to contain several other identical bells, indicating the whole story has happened many times over and will happen again. Because of this fact, as a literal understanding of the lists of tasks, we could say these lists started small but grew and were refined over several cycles. We shall instead say simply the tasks and the story of the game therefore exist effectively outside of time. The goose isn't rotely following the tasks, nor are the tasks simply notating the goose's whims as they appear. The tasks are themselves the goose's present and future aims. The goose will always enter the garden, the gardener will always chase it out, and the goose will always subsequently spray the gardener with the hose.

When looking at analogues of trickster gods, such as Coyote, Anansi, or Bugs Bunny, the ethical code leading up to a great trick tends toward a sense of comeuppance. The trickster god will never aim to cause a conflict, but can end one with aplomb. The potentiality of the goose’s designs are less clear than of the aforementioned examples. The clearest cases are with the first tasks provided in each of the game's five areas. Three of them are explicitly to enter: Enter the Garden, Enter the Pub, and Enter the Model Village. The goose must choose to take on these tasks, yet the crimes of trespassing are rather benign as initial infractions, especially to a presumably illiterate animal.

The other two starting tasks are even harder for which to fault the goose: Break the Broom and Make Someone Break the Fancy Vase. The broom in High Street can only be broken after the shopkeeper attempts to shoo the goose away, whose only crime at this point is again trespassing. And the vase in Back Gardens isn't even broken by the player character; the goose moves the vase to a different backyard, and the human's lack of regard for others' property and high regard for property ownership causes them to lob the vase back over the fence, resulting in anguish for both involved humans. These instances highlight a consistent story component: the goose doesn't initially want to cause damage, but simply doesn't care about imaginary lines of personal property ownership.

Placing the player in the role of a wild animal, with no assumed responsibility for understanding western economic rules is a powerfully subtle reframing of those economic rules. The humans of the world, with a few notable exceptions, believe unwaveringly that certain lines must not be crossed, especially in fields of private ownership. A view of the goose's precedental actions as agnostic to this human concept then criminates as the cause of the game's chaos a belief in private ownership itself. Untitled Goose Game invites the player to a context not only wherein property law visibly begets disaster, but direct criminal action in its opposition is made liberating and joyous.

About half of the tasks in the game are facilitated by a human’s effort to hamper the goose. For instance, when filling up the sink in the pub, the easiest way to keep the worker from finding the player and turning the water off is to first, intentionally be loud and visible at the other end of the pub. In several of these tasks, a human calmly allowing the goose to coexist in their space would make it impossible for the player to get away with their antics, let alone the possibility that a human decision to do so may entirely remove the desire for the goose to pursue such antics. In addition, even if the player fails to engage with the motivation of each of the goose's initial acts, the goose's intent and opportunity to escalate makes a clear statement on the enforcement of those initial laws.

A dogged pursuit of a culprit and punishment-based justice occasionally inconvenience the goose, but always lead to harming the humans enacting such enforcement. The first three sections end with a task whose success depends on a human erecting an anti-geese sign. Whether by personal choice, or the perceived responsibility of a business, the humans behave with intolerance to their own detriment. This clarifies the morality with regard to trickster god logic: the initial stone cast is not the goose's if and only if the goose is considered outside of or even above private ownership. In fact almost all tasks in the game exist in one of the following categories: Problems caused or partially enabled by human hostility, Problems enabled by humans unable to recognize their possessions, and Frivolous recreations of human activity.

The first category is detailed by the last paragraph’s discussion, so we will continue with the second category. Problems enabled by humans unable to recognize their possessions consists of at most one task per area: Make the Groundskeeper Wear His Sun Hat, Make the Boy Wear the Wrong Glasses, Make Someone Buy Back Their Own Stuff, and Get Dressed Up With a Ribbon. The groundskeeper doesn't necessarily fail to recognize the difference between their hats, but we include it in this category due to their ambivalence after the switch. These tasks provide a strong representation of human self-alienation. While the humans consistently take assiduous care in protecting their property and seeking it out when missing,

in a few instances, they cannot even distinguish their items from improvised replacements. Griffin McElroy, I mean The Boy on High Street, will wear whatever glasses are presented to them, and if their vision is lacking upon the interchange, they don't show it. The Shopkeeper, when presented with the Boy's airplane toy will assume it is one of their own goods for sale. Despite the Boy's protests and having no direct analogue in the market with which to be confused, the Shopkeeper refuses to let the Boy recollect their toy without some payment. This confusion isn't even the Boy's fault, but the Boy plays the victim of this scheme, making it the prank that feels the worst to a player (source: I played it and felt kinda bad). As uncomfortable as the player may be, this task demonstrates how alienation from one's own lived experience can hurt others around one as well as oneself.

Interestingly, because of the modular nature of the game's design, this task can be repeated indefinitely, so even if unintentionally, the Shopkeeper is shown to be so disconnected from their work, they will mindlessly repeat an infinite cycle of reselling the same object to the same customer, acting as if this dehumanizing spiral is indistinguishable from the rest of their clocked hours. The Woman in Back Gardens will be incensed in dragging their goose statue back to its position, but when the statue is hidden, they will appear unable to tell it from a real goose even when tying on a ribbon. Each of these cases may be due to extreme unawareness as much as presumed societal pressure to perform normalcy, but in either case, the effect of alienation is clear: In their social and economic reality, humans must act like they deeply value their possessions while remaining removed from any tangible attachment thereof.

The third category of task drives home Untitled Goose Game's statement on capitalism: Frivolous recreations of human activity. There is one such task that consists of nested subtasks in four of the five areas. The other categories of task mentioned above present what is wrong, what is not identifiable with the world relative to the goose. This third category presents the clearest window into the goose's true beliefs, what is right, what is identifiable. The goose, and to an extent the player, does not look down on the actions of the in-game humans. The actions of preparing a picnic, going shopping, doing laundry, or setting a table, are all beautiful and fun. But only because the goose is free to choose their doing. These are the most laborious of all tasks in the game, and they are indeed rote chores to a human. It is the conditions of anti-authoritarianism and novelty that elevate the goose's perception of what could be tedium. The goose is not required externally to set a table and is certainly not required to set a table dozens of times an hour. The inescapability of the professional pressure is what removes the fun from an act that is presented to the player as a game to play. Here, Untitled Goose Game points at several cracks in the practice of western economics, and points just as precisely at a better way to live.

We previously stated these three categories comprise almost all tasks in the game. A few of the exceptions are simply flippant chaos as further, albeit indirect, just desserts to interactions humans started. But there is only one task in the game that cannot be categorized by flippant chaos, nor any of the previously listed: Be Awarded a Flower. Two patrons of the pub are notably unbothered by the goose's presence and go so far as deliberately playing with it. After the goose mimics a few behaviors for their delight, they will happily grant it a rose from their table. Everything about this interaction stands out from the rest of the game.

The patrons don't chase you, they don't snitch to someone who will, and they are themselves willing to break from rules of individual ownership: the rose appears as a table decoration, and yet they avail themselves to a handy gift for their new avian friend. It is striking that the brightest moment of community in the game is the exchanging of an object neither party legally owns. Both of these patrons are depicted with dark skin, one with a head scarf, common in Black hair maintenance and fashion. This choice of ally hints at an interpretation of the goose as a member of a marginalized community, perhaps itself an immigrant and/or person of color. We leave this topic open to further research and here make our own argument for what the goose represents: the eponymous untitled goose is change incarnate.

Keeping these foundations ahold, allow our perspective to take a step back. From here, we may observe each area is a close exploration of the themes’ elements. The first area is the Garden, wherein we explore the concept of the Individual in the context of western capitalism. In the Garden, we begin discovering a lone human’s reluctance to engage with a force of change interested in causing small disturbances. The Gardener is very protective of private property, especially with the boundaries of land, and their primary drive is toward a state of emotionlessness and order.

The second area is High Street, which centers on the concept of Commerce. Here we witness the detachment of the worker from both their work and their customer. The human drive for order and a status quo continue as we see the Shopkeeper attempt similarly to repel the harbinger of change away, but from the interests of a business rather than a citizen. Notably, the avatar for businessgoer is the young boy who is the only NPC in the piece to run away from the goose when confronted, instead of toward the goose with ill intent. Those unlucky humans dependent on interacting with capital from a position of less relative power are also driven toward a mistrust of change, but employ this mistrust without land to defend—disengagement is the only reaction left to the customer.

On Back Gardens, we explore the interactions of Society. The neighbors have a comically unmalleable sense of remove from each others’ beings. They may only listen at the hedge for gossip and communicate directly when grievances are to be had as society under an economy and culture of alienation sprouts rigidly divided compartmentalizations. The humans will angrily chase the goose when their own goods have been taken, but only up to the lines of legal property. Once that bound has been overstepped, the humans will entirely drop their anger and forget they had losses to cut. The lesson is that no matter what a citizen cares about, they value it far less than the potential pleasure of letting a force of change become someone else’s problem.

The Pub is where these pieces come together to be considered from an even greater distance: the old man acts as an Individual, the pub’s staff act as Commerce, and the dissociation between those two as well as the delivery workers and other patrons fill out our picture as Society, reprising the motions we’ve come to understand from the previous three sections. The primary task of the Model Village serves simply to reinforce how separate each of these elements must be: the citizens throughout the town will try to grab the bell from the goose as it runs back home, and yet will never go further than the bounds afforded them by their given cultural archetypes.

The goose exists as a wind of untamed progress into a town with an almost entirely wrought-iron viewpoint. The townspeople are resistant to the goose’s mere existence before any threat to their day is presented. They struggle in vain toward a veneer of order, often at a greater cost than of the order lost. Their stance against the goose forces them to expose the flaws in their rules and run up against their own self-imposed boundaries—occasionally literally as in High Gardens and with the bell after the Model Village. In most areas, the goose can’t move on until the humans put up a no-geese sign, as if this supernatural force will not leave them be until they have sufficiently reckoned with it.

The humans are not universally opposed to the goose, but the couple exceptions are not necessary for the goose to move on. Change comes, like it or not. Making this manifestation of change a cute animal is an efficient way to arouse empathy. A goose can’t be expected to know its actions are considered unlawful, but once the humans have clearly aimed their energies against it so, its persistence in its behavior and the players’ awareness of its criminality are, in effect, the same. Untitled Goose Game contrives its NPCs’ logic and behaviors just enough to make out-of-game economic realities appear as farcical as they already are flawed, then it gives the player the chance to undermine, challenge, and exploit what have become visibly unfair and immoral systems with an angle parallel to that required of critical political activism and reform. That’s why being a horrible goose is so fun.

We have no conflicts of interest to report, although House House if you wanna pay me for this hmu lol.

#why am i like this #having a normal saturday how bout you #untitled goose game #gaming #capitalism #analyzing the themes

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literallyzooble · 11 months

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THE VOICES

ELLO! So I gave into the voices and have started making concept art for my TADC Marching Band AU, or as I like to call it, The Amazing Digital Marching Band!!!

First up is Caine! Within the Marching Band AU, Caine is a Drum Major! the concept I have so far is that Caine is a Drum Major/Band Director, and he’s gathering the very best of the best of marching musicians into this digital world so that he can make the best marching show ever yippee!!!!!!!!!! Of course people are NOT happy with being randomly trapped in this digital meeting spot after putting on a random headset they got in the mail LOL, but a postcard came with it, a vague message saying “it’s for a good cause!” Written upon it, so many people thought “why not?” Pomni is a backup conductor/drum major for Caine, despite her anxieties she manages to learn well from Caine, as well as being worked to the bone like crazy

Bubble is like, a co-director/tech for the band, as well as, like Goose said, VERY MUCH Caine’s hype man.

For instruments/groups, so far I have Ragatha on flute (definitely not self projecting), Jax on Trumpet, Gangle on Color Guard (mainly silks/flags), Zooble on Snare, and Kinger on pit (he specifically plays the bass drum and gong, since one it’s very easy and two sometimes he scared himself when hitting them LOL)

I didn’t get to drawing the rest of the cast yesterday, as I am still figuring out HOW to draw them in the first place 😭 but for now, have some exploratory doodles!

I hope you look forward to more for this AU!

maybe with Caine I’ll finally learn how to properly draw mouths lol

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angelic-cosm · 5 months

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Dear Diary,

Charlie has nursery school for all 7 of us in the morning. It goes from 9 to 12. There's me, Jadie (>:c), Max, Hez, Vesper, and 2 kids I dunno their names of. We do nursery school every day except for the weekends. Here's what we do:

9:00-9:30- Circle time. Charlie does a big morning time circle where we sit on the carpet and take turns. We talk about the days of the week, the month, the season, and we sing lots of songs. I get really excited when she asks the questions. I love coming up to the board and counting the numbers and finding the colors. Sometimes Angel has to sit me in his lap so I let others have a turn. Charlie does lots of songs where we sings and sign. Charlie also has a moral of the week picked out every week. This week is self worth, cuz she says we need to know that we're good people and deserve to feel safe and important. Charlie always ALWAYS wears her special microphone that connects to my hearing aids with the Bluetooth. I don't always know what she's saying but the microphone helps a lot. I love hearing Charlie's voice in the mornings and it makes me feel happy.

9:30-10:15- Centers. We split up into groups and get to visit 3 tables. One is the sensory table, where we can have our sand box, our light table, and our music. One is an art table where Angel helps us paint or draw. And one is a feelings table where Charlie helps us talk about how we're feeling that day and if we have any goals for the day. My goals are sometimes "go swim," "eat all my meals," and "earn cannibal town fieldtrip."

10:15-10:30- Potty time. This is quick. The caregivers make sure we're clean. Some of the others are on potty charts with little stars and prizes. Mommy tried that once but it made me stressed, so now I just try my best with my pull-up.

10:30-11:00- Big Play. I only like this SOME of the time!!! We play games like Duck Duck Goose or Red Light Green Light. Sometimes the others do too much and it makes me panic. And then I hit the others and scream at them and I get pulled away to cool down. Good. I don't wanna be with them if they're being bad!!!

11:00-11:30- Storybook time. The stories are always about the moral of the week. Since this week Charlie is teaching us about self worth, our book this week is Wonder. It's the one about the boy with the facial disfigurement and some of the kids are really mean to him. Charlie says that the boy still loves himself and knows he's good, no matter what the bad people say. And that sometimes, bad people are just bad and we don't have to inter-alize the bad things they say. Angel always reads the books and it's really nice and I love his voice. He always wears the microphone too and I love his voice when he reads our stories.

11:30-12:00- Quiet play before lunch. Jadie always gets her cars, and sometimes the boys build with blocks or play in the ball pit. Charlie makes me and Vesper lie down in our cots and take a nap before lunch. I like my quiet time in the cot.

So yeah, that's what I do all morning. And it's really really fun and I love it a lot and Mommy says it's good cuz routine is good for me.

#hazbin hotel age regression #hazbin hotel agere #hazbin hotel oc #hazbin hotel original character #rhea's diary #hazbin hotel #sfw regression #sfw agere #age regression #age regressor #sfw age dreamer

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reddeaddufus · 2 months

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WIP Teaser

I can't remember the last time I posted on here - but when @redwritr tags you, you step up. ❤️ @verai-marcel, your turn.

No smut, but here's our courageous heroine getting the shit beaten out of her by a goose.

Photo credit to the talented @saiyan-druid-art

There was a hysteric edge to Nathalie’s responding bark of a laugh. “And you need him back because..?” Voice strained, she began to advance. The water slipped to her groin.

“Because he’s our guard goose,” The girl replied caustically.

Nathalie stopped. “So he’s aggressive?”

“No, keep going.”

The bird took a stalking, perilous step closer.

The water dropped an inch. Nathalie took another step, then two more. The bird’s hiss was a low constant. The water fell to her knees, sloshing loudly at every stride. It was at mid-calf when Maurice reached her.

In a blur of wings and with a horrible trumpeting, Maurice launched himself directly at her face.

Nathalie screamed bloody murder. A dense, wet body slammed into her chest. Powerful wings walloped her arms and back. In one, terrible second she saw the eyes of the thing, merciless and glacier blue, as the bird struck at her chin.

He missed, and the first strike yanked at the tender skin of Nathalie’s neck before a lucky flail of her arm ripped him free. She toppled backwards in a smear of orange, white, and surging pond scum and flailed in abject terror.

The splash of cold water soaking her ass was nothing to the vision of Maurice tunneling in. Louder even than the sound of her own screaming was a horrible clang of throaty, infuriated honks. Scuttling backwards with a ringing skull left her as vulnerable as a child. The bright orange bill struck like a snake and Maurice connected successfully with her jaw. The blaring screech of him rattled through her bones as he whipped his skull back and forth. When she could breath the strange, sour musk of wet waterfowl was suffocating.

“Grab the neck!” The girl hollered.

Sobbing, Nathalie kicked blindly. Something connected, and the blinding pinch on the square of her jaw ripped free. She scrambled to her feet just in time for Maurice’s return.

Time froze. Second by second, her field of view narrowed into a slow, glaring burst of detail. A red haze was her only obscuration from the glint of light off of the needle-like projections lining Maurice’s beak. Hell was a clammy, barbed tongue and the black pit of an esophagus. With horrific suspense it began to descend towards her face. Terror was forever going to taste like moldering down.

Just below the bird’s head, a gap began to open for Nathalie’s arm between beating wings. Nathalie took the chance and struck.

The world hurtled back into blurring speed. A desperate scream ripped through the air as her hand slammed into the bird’s throat. Maurice’s eyes bulged. She could feel the vibration of his honk as it blared out of the incensed bird’s throat. Gasping, Nathalie swung the goose away from her body and well out of range from her skin. Orange legs thrashed and flailed as he continued to buffet her body with his wings.

#rdr2 #nathalie findlay #fanfic #red dead pursuit

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vampsickle · 2 years

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rockstar. ☆ ( dmc3 ) dante

☆ tags - fem!reader, use of petnames, not rly rough? maybe kind of, rockstar 3dante is so sexy, you both fuck in a bathroom sorry, unprotected sex, dirty talk, no plot..

☆ wc - 2.4k

☆ a/n - i saw this art of dante as a guitarist and my brain short circuited tbh. hes so sexy :( sorry im only writing for 3dante but im also not bc the lack of 3dante smut is criminal !! anyway. enjoy or dont. i run out of ideas fast so nvr forget request are open -_- and it doesnt just have to be dmc.. im open for whateva! also not proofread i wrote this at like 2am gn

☆ synopsis - you’ve been a big fan of a certain rock band, fixated on the lead guitarist: dante. when you arrive at the concert, you get to see said guitarist, and maybe receive more from him.

Dante’s been touring around the country for a while now. It’s no surprise he’s the latest heart throb, with his long hair— which is also the color of snow, and his beautiful blue eyes which would capture the entire audience. His guitar skills are no joke. Honestly, he’s probably more popular than the band itself. Dante and his band had arrived in tour state, and you bought tickets for the concert just in time, all while thinking up a plan to meet him. And maybe get him in bed.

You’ve been telling your friends about this for months now, how you’ll meet him at his tour bus, looking all cute— and he couldn’t refuse you. At least, that’s how you’d hope it play out. He was around your age, anyway. And guys like him are always desperate for something. Being a rockstar like him, with no breaks, just making music and not even getting to go home to someone you love must be exhausting.

You make yourself sad thinking of it, so you stop, instead focusing on how pretty he is. Your small radio plays their songs and you hum along as you apply your makeup.

It’s been about an hour deciding on your outfit- - so you put on a black mini skirt with black sheer stockings, and some black arm sleeves with small opaque roses sewn into them. Your nails are painted red, Dante’s favorite color.

At least— that’s what he said in an interview. His brother, Vergil, liked the color blue. They are twins, you suddenly remember. But both their voices are so different from each other and so is their clothing.

Your friend picked you up around 8pm, just thirty minutes before the concert. The night chill hits you and your uncovered skin erupts in goose bumps. Luckily you aren’t waiting too long before hopping in your friend’s car. She beams at you, excitedly babbling about the band, even more excited over the fact that you’ll both get autographs from the band members. You’re just as excited, except not only excited for the concert and autographs, but for your little plan as well. At least— If it all works. Hopefully Dante won’t think you’re some creep and put a restraining order on you. The though itself freaks you out.

Upon arriving, you and your friend breeze through the line, not bringing any bags. Besides— what for? You kept your cards in your pockets just so you could buy some water. You’re both hopping together in excitement, making your way into the venue, hurrying to your assigned seats. Unfortunately neither of you had the money to get into the mosh pit.

Red and blue lights flash— and your eyes are fixed on the guitarist. God— he’s totally gorgeous. His guitar is so cool too. Now you dance and basically scream to their songs, holding your friends hand, and singing into each others faces.

——

It’s been about three hours, you feel exhausted from dancing and jumping, but the adrenaline rushes into your body when everyone starts rushing towards the autographing area. You pull your friend along, holding her hand tight so you don’t lose her. The unfortunate thing is, even if you do get his autograph, you’ll have to wait til everyone clears out so you can get Dante alone.

The line moves faster than you expected, everyone squealing and buzzing with excitement once they received an autograph. Dante’s all smiles, spinning his pen in one hand, and chatting away. Strands of hair have fallen over Vergil’s head, his cheeks are flushed, but he smiles.. Well, he kind of smiles. Just based off of interviews you’ve seen with him in them, he doesn’t seem to be the friendliest person. That’s alright though, you aren’t here for him.

You’re starstruck when you finally arrive up to Dante, your confidence draining— but you won’t stand there stunned. No, instead, you lean forward so he could get a good view of your cleavage. His mouth dries up, now he’s nervous, trying not to stare directly at them.

“I’m, like, your biggest fan, Dante. Can you sign right here?” by ‘here’ you mean your breasts and Dante chuckles nervously, a rosy color blossoming on his cheeks.

“Yeah—! ‘Course, babe.” if he hadn’t been so shocked by your confidence— and boobs, then maybe he would’ve been up for more conversation. After all, he’s still hormonal, and doesn’t really get any action, despite what everyone thinks.

Another hour goes by and you’re still sitting close to where Dante and the others are seated, kicking your legs and sipping on water, while your friend has her head resting on her arms— probably asleep. Then the line is gone, and they’re all wrapped up. You gently wake up your friend, softly telling her she should go home, and you’d get a cab back to your place. She reluctantly agrees, raising an eyebrow at your suspicious attitude, but she’s too tired to prod.

Dante’s leaning back against a wall, drinking from a water bottle that he pulled out from their cooler. Vergil’s gone, maybe using the restroom, or he just left. You take deep breaths, inhale, then exhale. Sauntering over to the guitarist, you gently grab his hand, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“Oh— Hey, pretty girl. Didya need something..?” you didn’t expect him to be so shy, especially not when he’s up on stage, screaming and running around, playing his guitar like there’s no tomorrow. Maybe he’s just not good with talking to people who are interested in him.

“Yeah, I do.. I need you, Dante.”

“Like— right now?”

“Uh-huh. Can you show me what else your hands can do?”

“Damn, yeah, yeah— sure. Not out here though,”

You smile at how he’s nearly breathless, squeezing your hand and pulling you away, off towards a one person bathroom. His grip is so tight that it almost hurts, but you chalk it up to him simply being desperate. It’s 1:30 am and you’re surprised you still have the energy to even move. Dante holds you close to his chest and backs up from the door before slamming it shut, fiddling with the lock. You’re leaning against the sink, watching him struggle- he’s so cute.

He looks so tense, his jaw tightened, but you’re up next to him again. Dante audibly swallows, leaning down so he could kiss you, captivated by you. You’re a siren and he’s a foolish sailor who’s answered your call. Or.. Maybe he’s not foolish. Just horny.

“Can I show you how much I like you, Dante?” you hum sweetly, and he only nods in response. Wherever this newfound confidence came from— you have no idea. Now finally, you can get with him. Even if it’s in a public restroom. It’s pretty clean though, so you’re fine with it.

You’ve lowered yourself onto your knees, looking at Dante with doe eyes, and suddenly he’s fumbling with his belt buckle. His eyelashes are as white as snow, just like his hair, baby blue eyes watching you— watching him. It feels like an eternity when he finally gets the damn buckle un-buckled, then he’s unbuttoning his jeans, his thumb now pressed on his zipper. The satisfying sound of the zipper being pulled down makes you wet. He smells really good, too. You palm him through his bright red boxers, smiling to yourself at the color choice, then tugging them down enough to free his cock.

His fingers are trembling and then he clenches his fists, your crimson colored nails catching his eyes, watching your hand pump him slowly. Dante moans softly, eyes half lidded, his toes curling in his boots. He thinks you’re gorgeous, and how he probably looks like an idiot with the way he’s uncharacteristically silent.

But he won’t be silent for long, not when you’ve wrapped your lips around his cock, your tongue rubbing along the underside of his shaft. The few veins on his cock that are pumping blood to his pretty pink tip throb when your tongue glides across them, and Dante groans, one hand instinctively reaching to hold some of your hair.

He tilts his head back until it hits the door, and you start to bob your head faster, making sure to breathe through your nose. He’s so big that you keep gagging when he hits the back of your throat, but you close your eyes, only focusing on him. You want to remember this.

“You don’t.. don’t have to— Oh, god,” Dante has to remember that the staff are still out there, and maybe his own band mates. This is not how he expected his night to go, honestly, he expected to get into the tour bus and read some porn mags and maybe try and quietly jerk off in his bunk.

He cums faster than he wanted to, trying to think of something else, but he’s embarrassed now. On the other hand you swallow it all, or, most of it. A bit of it leaks from the corner of your mouth and Dante inhales sharply, using his thumb to wipe it off, his chest heaving.

“You’re so pretty,” he sighs, tucking himself halfway back into his boxers, leaning over so he could pick you up. You make an effort to hold yourself up, but he picks you up like you weigh absolutely nothing at all.

“You’re not so bad yourself, rockstar..” your hands card through his hair which is so soft, softer than yours.. Maybe you’d ask him which products he uses later. Dante chuckles quietly, taking long strides to the sink, and kissing you so deeply you could pass out.

Even if he could taste himself on your mouth, he didn’t care, it just turned him on. Was that weird? If you both had more time together, you’d offer more of yourself to him, maybe you could both get fully undressed. Dante props you up on the sink, then he’s greedily squeezing your breasts, staring intently at where he autographed on you.

“At least I get to touch them now.. Jesus,” he’s talking to himself mostly, but it’s fine if you hear, your heart racing at how he toyed with him.

“Sorry, baby, we had to skip the foreplay.. Uh— Can I still..?”

“I wanted this, Dante. I don’t care if you tear up this pussy.”

Your vulgar words make him moan softly, so he steps back to pull down your lace panties, looking at your glistening heat. He’s shocked at how wet you are, face flushed just knowing it’s all for him, and he subconsciously raises one finger to run up your slit. Your entire body reacts, and you whine, wanting him to just put it inside you already.

“Yeah, yeah.. I know, baby.” he grins to himself, tongue darting out to wet his lips, and he pulls himself back out- jerking himself off a few times. Dante pulls you off the sink, holding you with one arm, so you wrap your legs around him. Suddenly his eyes widen and his grip loosens on you, only slightly.

“Damn— I don’t have a condom on me, baby,”

“‘s okay, I’m on the pill, please- just put it inside me, Dante.”

His response is his cock pushing itself inside you, and your legs tighten around his waist, squeezing his biceps. You both moan at the sensation, and once Dante bottoms out he relishes the feeling of you.

“You’re gonna make me cum, already, pretty girl.” you can’t respond, still processing all of this, so Dante begins to thrust inside you. Both of his hands squeeze and fondle your ass, instead using you, like you were his own flesh light. Maybe you were okay with that. He takes a couple steps back to lean against the wall, holding you tight, continuing to move you back and forth on his cock.

Dante buries his face into your tits, moaning and biting at the fabric of your shirt, his nails digging into your ass whenever you tug on his hair.

Now he’s moving you again, pulling you off of him which makes you cry out softly, bending you over the sink. He shushes you, rubbing himself along your dripping heat, aggressively slamming his hands on the sink to hold himself there. Dante’s planting soft kisses to your temple as he thrusts back inside of you, your walls constricting around him, his hips slapping against your ass. Your mascara runs down your cheeks, makeup absolutely ruined, your lipstick smeared. But he’s just as bad, beads of sweat forming on his forehead, his arms tingling, plus he’s moaning and panting like a dog in heat.

“You’re my— fuck- my favorite, oh—“ he gasps, thrusts messy and uncoordinated, slamming into you with no remorse.

“Am I your favorite, baby? I wanna hear you say it,” his teeth grit at the last part, trying to hold on, but the way you’re squeezing around him makes Dante lose it.

“Yes! Dante— you’re my- my favorite!” you sob and writhe underneath him, shakily moving your arm to furiously rub your own clit, as Dante chases his own high. When he opens his eyes and gets a good look at your fucked out face in the mirror, he throws his head back and shoots himself inside you. You cum shortly after him, both of you panting hard, attempting to catch your breaths.

He doesn’t want to pull out, wanting to stay in your welcoming heat, resting his forehead against the back of your head. Finally, he pulls out, and the both of you whimper at the loss of each other.

“Hey.. Let- let me clean you up..” Dante spoke quietly, stumbling to get some toilet paper, gently wiping the cum that was leaking out of you. You jerk away from his touch, but he holds your thigh, pulling your panties up for you. What a gentleman.

You’re pretty sure that your voice is completely broken, and you’re also hoping no one heard the both of you. Smoothing your skirt, you fall into Dante’s arms, teary eyes gazing into his tired ones.

“Can I come with you, Dante? I’ll be a real good girl, promise..” you croak, and he smiles, cupping your cheek. He kisses you, softly now, and you both smell like sweat and sex, but who cares. Dante didn’t think he was this emotional, already attached to a girl he had sex with in a public restroom, but you’re just as attached— maybe more.

There’s an angry knock on the door.

“Are you both done? I’ve been waiting for 40 minutes, Dante. Get out.” Vergil’s voice makes your ears burn— had he heard everything the both of you were up to?

Dante carefully unlocks the door and hesitantly opens it, still holding you close, a goofy grin on his flushed face.

“Oh.. Hey, Verge! Didn’t know you were still here. So, listen, uh..”

You give a small wave, a tired, but lopsided smile on your features.

“Can she come with us?”

#devil may cry smut #dante x reader smut #dmc #dmc x reader #writing tag #dmc3 #dmc3 smut

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evelzzzk · 2 years

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Dragons eat Seahorses series: The Storm's Aftermath - Female OC Velaryon Reader x Aemond Targaryen (Chapter 3)

Chapter 1: Battlefield between the sheets

Chapter 2: Outburst of chaos

This is a bit lengthy one but... I think it's definitely worth it, so much is going on in this part guys, I had to make it a bit longer. I hope you enjoy this one as well as the last ones!

WARNINGS(!): Smut, 18+ NSFW, angst, mentions of violence and killing, gulity/comfort sex, dub-con, semi-public sex, clothed sex, lovers to enemies/enemies to lovers dynamic.

ENGLISH IS MY 2ND LANGUAGE.

Word count: approx 7,2k

DISCLAIMER: Mentions of ep 8, 9 and 10 HOTD events

SUMMARY: The day of the coronation of this traitor Aegon has finally come. You had some plan of escaping from it alongside with your mother, she has even outdone you in its realization but your attempts to escape ended in a fiasco as you didn't want any bloodshed to be caused by yourself. After that you stayed in King's Landing and Aemond was sent to Lord Borros Baratheon to negotiate. But never in your life have you suspected that the consequences of this arrangement would be so deplorable, inciting a war even. You quickly revised your decision of marrying Aemond, but he had his way to make you choose otherwise.

Playlist: Track 1, track 2, track 3, track 4

- Are you sure that this is a good idea, My Lady? – asked ser Ryon with a hint of doubt in his voice while he was tying up your armlets with the highest precision. You’ve asked him to help you put your armor on as you couldn’t afford the risk of betraying your plans by some maid to the Prince. Besides, ser Ryon was a knight after all, he knew the complicated art of putting on all those war pieces better.

- I am sure. This is a sad day, ser Ryon, both for me and for all those people who can’t stand this treachery. And I’m not going to endure it wearing a pretty gown and smiling stupidly like all those court gooses – the knight said nothing, only smiled at your undisguised stubbornness and he continued fastening your breastplate. You decided to wear your favorite set, with a huge image of Carantes on plastron and studded with small sapphires, covered with various engravings.

All of sudden you heard knocking on the door. You shook, looking at your sworn shield desperately. You knew who was behind that door and certainly it wasn’t someone who should see you parading in your shiny cuirass.

- A moment please! I’m not ready yet! – you shouted loud enough to keep the intruder out.

Ser Ryon quickly passed you a thick navy cloak, matching your outfit and you covered yourself with it tightly to make sure that none metal scrap would show through it. You looked at yourself in the mirror to be absolutely sure. You huffed nervously, adjusting protruding curves of armor carefully. You glanced at ser Ryon questioningly and he nodded only with assurance.

- Alright, come in!

The door opened and Aemond appeared in front of your eyes. The Prince looked at you with visible confusion, scanning your whole attire.

- My Lady... I must admit I have expected your apparel to be more... sophisticated – he said suspiciously, his shrill eyes were still looking for any kind of a drawback. His glance made you move anxiously.

- Well, due to the fact that I will not be the center of attention today, I thought that it would be more...appropriate – you tried to grin and bear it and his gaze finally relented. A small amused snort left his mouth.

- Come then, little dove. We don’t want to keep our future king waiting, do we? – he pulled out his arm towards you and you grabbed it without hesitation. All three of you walked away and headed to the carriage waiting for you in the courtyard. If you were to be honest, you would have preferred riding to the Dragon Pit on your dragon back and burn the hell out this place with The Greens included. But you abandoned this plan quickly because Carantes was locked securely away from you in the pit.

When you finally reached your destination you hoped that your mother was already on her way to the Dragonstone or at least embarked on the ship. Aemond and ser Ryon led you to the center inside of The Pit where some kind of an altar was now located, it must have been prepared specially for the coronation. You took your place between The Prince and Helaena, ser Ryon was standing closely behind you. You guessed by her face expression that she didn’t want to be here as strongly as you did. Alicent, The Queen Dowager at present, gave you a restorative look and you only bowed lightly in respond. You despised her, she was perfectly aware of inability of her failure son to rule and yet she pushed him to it, considering his gender as the only excuse. She has even pushed on organizing this entire lark in the Dragon Pit before the masses to gain their credit.

The sound of fanfares and the approaching retinue of guards snapped you out of your thoughts. And among guards you saw him. Aegon was striding hesitantly as if he was still not quite certain of what he was doing here. Run you fool, you can still save your and this throne honor, you thought watching him coming closer and closer. But he didn’t run away. He crossed the stairs to the altar and suddenly rested his eyes on you. You turned your head away from his bawdy gaze and he only smiled mockingly at your disgust. Aemond must have seen this brief interaction between you two because he stiffened momentarily and grabbed your waist, pulling you closer to him. He has always defended you from his unappeased brother as Aegon has always sought for the occasion to provoke you or pinch you in the wrong spot, causing Aemond to rip his brother’s guts off almost. Aegon must have counted on greater opportunity to torment you due to his new position. After Aemond’s dead body.

You looked through the crowd and a familiar face has striked you. Your mother’s face.

Mother?! What the hell are you doing here?!, you thought being deeply in shock and you were about to warn her somehow but she stopped you from doing any risky move, simply by putting a finger to her mouth. You stopped none too soon and checked if anyone has seen your sudden fluster. Luckily no one was paying attention to you at the moment.

The Hand of the King, Otto Hightower (the man you despised the most) started his speech, lying through his teeth about sudden change of will of the dead King concerning his succession. Your bowels were twisting while listening to these prevarications. Then the actual part of the ceremony began and the Grand Maester started to anoint that drunkard of a successor and gave him blessings. The sword of Aegon the Conquer, Blackfyre, was given to his pathetic namesake. You fought with indescribable urge to kick the sword off his hand and decapitate him with it. A demonstrative yawn escaped your lips and Helaena giggled at your sudden sign of disdain. Aemond casted an admonishing look on you but his lips curved in a smirk involuntarily, betraying his actual feelings.

You looked through the mob again, but your mother was nowhere to be seen. She disappeared into thin air. But you knew exactly why and what she was about to do.

After all those ministrations it was time for the climax. The ruby crown of The Conquer was finally put on this traitor head and it was put there by none other than Criston Cole, another turncoat.

Aegon raised his newly received sword, wallowing in the crowds admiration and applause. After a long moment of his excitement you heard a noisy roar coming from beneath the floor as it started to shake. You knew that sound all too well. The adrenaline rush began to overflow you.

The crowd has frozen at the sound of another horrific growl. A second later floor plates exploded with a terrific rumble, falling with a heavy momentum, literally crushing people around with their weight. When the dust fell at last, two tremendous corpses of giantic reptiles showed up. „There is a beast beneath the boards!” Helaena’s prophecy was now ringing in your ears. Well, two beasts to be exact. Carantes alongside with Meleys straddled by no one else than Rhaenys started to squash surrounding them people with their limbs and tails, throwing them to all sides. It was quite a sight, although Carantes was two times bigger than the older she-dragon. Those who managed to flee from beasts terror were running now for their lives towards the gate, which unintelligible guards began to close. The throng was uncontrollable now, screams and desperate cries were only things you could hear at the moment. The total chaos has reigned.

- Open the door! – you heard a stentorian shout from Otto Hightower. But guards haven’t heard him as they kept on closing the gate.

- Let my daughter go – Rhaenys blustered while she was trying to keep Meleys in check – Come, Elaena. Carantes has missed you quite badly – she added gesturing her hand at your dragoness, who wailed pitifuly as if she could actually understand her words.

Aemond stepped in your way, shielding you with his body. Alicent ran to Aegon and did exactly the same thing with her other son, holding his hand for dear life. Ser Ryon stood by your side with a sword ready. Criston Cole took his position in front of Helaena as he was ordered by the Queen.

- Let my daughter go and I’ll let you live. All of you – you heard your mother’s relentless entreaty. Burn them, mother. Burn them all!, your eyes were begging her ardently. You were sure that Carantes and Meleys would have never harm you, in any way. But deep inside you knew Rhaenys would never do this. First, it wasn’t her war to start and second – she couldn’t hurt Alicent and Aegon, not after she has seen her defending her son as befits a mother. In that case, you couldn’t allow any bloodshed.

- I’ll stay, mother. I won’t let bloodshed happen because of me – you tried to reason with her – You go, fly away. I swear, I’ll join you sooner or later.

Rhaenys looked at you in wonder. But in the end, she realized that it was the most sensible solution to get out of this situation.

- Stay safe, my child. You have found yourself in a vipers nest and remember – you can’t trust anyone. Not even him – she pointed her head at Aemond who kept his watchful eyes on her – I’m looking forward to embrace you, my beloved one. We all do.

After this rather tender farewell she turned the reins and forced Meleys to fly. A moment later you saw The Red Queen and her Mistress flying off the Dragon Pit. But the threat has not been averted as Carantes continued to kick violently in place. She was vexed by the sight of you being trapped behind wall of people and by the lack of your reaction to this. You saw by her lights that The Killing Beauty was about to be very killing.

You tried to pass Aemond in order to soothe the dragoness, but he stopped you with his hand, apparently thinking that you wanted to escape.

- Aemond, let me through. If I won’t calm her down, she will burn the place to the ground and no one will be able to stop her, not even me – you tried to reason with him. He ultimately let you go without taking his eyes off you, however.

You slowly approached the dragon and hugged her muzzle, stroking the nostrils. She tried to cuddle even more, by pulling her head closer, almost knocking you over.

- Shh, it’s alright. Iksan kesīr, riña. Nyke gīmigon ao mesar nyke, yn nyke kostagon daor sōvegon lēda ao sir (I’m here, girl. I know you missed me, but I can’t fly with you now) – you didn’t know if dragons were fluent in High Valyrian, but Carantes had to get the context, because she was now looking at you with her big, golden eyes with sadness.

You petted her a little bit more as you saw her leaning to your touch. You greatly regretted that you couldn’t just simply hop on her and fly far away from there.

- Rȳbagon naejot nyke sir. Istia sōvegon qrīdrughagon (Listen to me now. You must fly away) – Carantes snorted at you fixedly - Istia obeor nyke. Kesi rhaenagon aderī, nyke kivio. (You must obey me. We will meet soon, I promise).

Dragoness initially seemed to finally obey but in the last act of mutiny she pulled your cloak with her snout, revealing your well-hidden (so far, at least) armor. You heard some gasps and rattle of swords. Shit, you thought, being mad at your beast’s malice.

- Did you know she was armed the whole time? – ser Criston asked Aemond with a grudge. But The Prince didn’t grace this question with his answer as he was staring at you, dumbfounded.

- Sōves, Carantes! Sir! (Fly, Carantes! Now!) – you shouted at her wanting her to fly away immediately. The dragon was still resisting.

- Vestan sōves! (I said, fly!) – you spanked her lightly in her long, massive neck. She finally listened, as she, reluctantly at first, picked up her wings for flight. After a while she flew away at last, crashing adjacent walls to the gate, when crossing it.

You turned yourself around only to see those people still being aghast by your coming out. Or maybe it was your hardihood that hit them.

- She has attempted to kill the King! Guards, seize her! – Otto Hightower commanded. You really hated that man.

- Oh believe me Lord Otto, I would do this with the greatest pleasure, but it wouldn’t be much of a challenge for me – you snapped back hatefully, thinking too little. You soon has regretted these words bitterly as you saw guards coming at you with their swords and shields in readiness. Again, without thinking, you drew your sword as well, wondering how you were going to cut through all of them.

- Father, enough of this nonsense! Elaena didn’t want to assassinate Aegon, she only tried to defense herself! And her true intention was to escape from here with her mother! – you were surprised hearing how Alicent tried to defend you somehow. But her father, The Hand, remained impassive.

Criston Cole approached you at your fingertips, waving his sword warningly. You only smiled with pity.

- Come, Cole. Harm me and the last thing you’ll ever going to experience in that miserable life of yours will be the force of the entire Velaryon fleet and my dragon’s wrath – you provoked him with a feral spark in your eye.

- Ser Criston, I command you to sheathe your sword! If you will do anything to her… - you heard distressful Alicent’s obsecration again.

But it was too late. You raised you sword and swinged it to clash against the knight’s blade. But it wasn’t Criston’s sword that you’ve hit. It was Aemond’s.

- Stop this, Elaena. Do you really want so despairingly to loose your head over this prick brother of mine?! – he hissed into your ear. You looked at him with hopelessness. You dropped your sword and it hit the floor with a loud rattle. Quiet sobs were coming out from your mouth as you tried to cover them with your hand. You were shaking all over, feeling the whole tension leaving your body. It's been a long time since you felt like this, so… vulnerable and defenseless.

A fog has covered your field of view as you felt you were drifting away. Aemond caught you in his strong embrace in the last moment.

The last thing you’ve remembered from that day was him taking you out of the Dragon Pit. All the other memories were nothing but a misty haze.

*****

You spent the next few days preparing for your wedding with Aemond or rather Alicent alongside with Helaena tried to keep you busy with arrangements due to your last vagary and the fact that you didn’t feel well. And how could you feel any good when you missed your family so much it made you wither. You were wondering whether they were waiting for you or planning to rescue you. These thoughts were sneaking through your head even if you wanted to focus on something else, something fiddling like which coiffure will you wear for the wedding or what color will your gown be.

Aemond barely honored you with his presence during most of days as he was totally absorbed with different kind of planning – such as gathering the right amount of allies for his family, which one of them he should convince and which he should let go, and by letting go he meant setting them on fire with Vhagar. In the evenings, however, he kept you company, sitting with you by the fireplace and even braiding your hair. He tried to convince you that Helaena has taught him how to braid some plaits and how he has always loved your dark, thick hair. You only chuckled in disbelief while listening to his excuses. But you knew he was trying to cheer you up, as your dejection had him a millstone round his neck.

One evening you were sitting by the fireside as usual, watching flames dancing vigorously and sparks crackling merrily. This time Aemond braided your hair in some kind of a viking style as he called it, plaiting your strands solicitously around the back of your head. This man has never ceased to surprise you.

- How preparations for our wedding are going, my betrothed? – he broke the silence.

- Lovely. Today Helaena has suggested that she will maybe weave some of her dried up butterflies into my updo – he bursted off with sincere laughter.

- And I assume you’ve rejected this quaint idea? – you glowered at him with a pout. It certainly meant "yes". He kept on chuckling when he saw your grimace.

- My mother is sending me to The Storm’s End to negotiate with Lord Borros Baratheon – he suddenly changed the topic and you strained your eyes on him.

- Lord Borros is a strongly proud man. And what if he demands that you should marry one of his three undoubtedly charming daughters? – you asked him setting a trap for him. He looked at you as if you just swallowed a whole fish.

- Don’t be ridiculous, Elaena. I arranged with my mother that if Lord Borros requests a marriage in exchange for an alliance, I will offer him Daeron as he still remains without a fiancée.

Prince Daeron Targaryen, known later as Daeron the Daring, younger brother of Aemond and the youngest child of King Viserys and Queen Alicent. It's been years since you last saw him because he was sent away to the Oldtown as a young boy to serve as a squire to Lord Ormund Hightower, the Queen’s cousin. But you have remembered him as a cheerful lad, the gentlest among his brothers, which made you even wonder at times whether he was a legitimate son, so much he was different.

-… but it will be a short excursion, The Storm’s End is pretty close to King’s Landing - the Prince's deliberation took you out of your thoughts.

- Of course. And I suppose you will burn down the ancestral Baratheons stronghold with Vhagar if the negotiations wouldn’t go your way?

- Naturally. I even think Vhagar would feel offended if I would’ve acted otherwise – he laughed heartily at your unquestionable assumption.

*****

The next day when Aemond left to The Storm’s End you felt uneasy. A huge storm has arisen and you have worried, without even knowing why exactly. Not that this tempest would’ve stopped Vhagar, that colossal beast would even survive a hurricane. Aemond was also a pretty skilled rider, at least that's what you thought until that fateful day. For your own luck, you didn’t know that Prince Lucerys Velaryon will pay a visit to Lord Borros too, as an envoy from the Blacks. Because if you have known, you would go there by yourself instead of Aemond and even negotiate for the opposite team against your will. Or at least you would try to warn Luke somehow from getting anywhere near to his dogged uncle. You knew full well that Aemond has never forgiven the wrong Luke has done to him, even if he tried to persistently hide it. That wound has still remained opened and began to fester again after the last supper, when King Viserys was still alive and wanted to see his quarreling family reunite again for the last time, but your One-Eyed Prince decided to ruin that moment by making a toast for “the three Strong boys”. He was provoked by Lucerys, yes, but this was such a childish instigation that you thought he was going to let it go. But he didn’t and he will do so again, seeking for the nearest opportunity to get his revenge at last.

The hours passed ruthlessly slowly as you tried to occupy your mind somehow. At first you just read the book but eventually your eyes grew weary and you had to search for the new distraction. You focused on some trivialities such as choosing the right material for your wedding gown and embellishments for it. The storm did not stop, you peeked through the window and it was chucking down, lightning bolts lit the sky every moment. You thought of Aemond being soaked to his bones and you having to wipe all that dampness off him. The image of his bedraggled body had you aroused even a bit. Yes, that would be a sight to admire.

Heavy footsteps coming from behind the door snapped you out of your fantasies. The door has opened with a loud clatter as you were sitting on the bed’s edge, crumpling some fabric in your hands. After a moment Aemond entered the chamber and you were right, he was wet to the skin indeed. Water was dripping from his tangled hair as well as from his long coat. His face was pale white due to the cold and being completely drenched. But as you were studying his face more closely you knew something was not right. His expression was blank, dull you could say. When he started walking towards you, he limped a little. Then the thought came to your mind that maybe the negotiations with Lord Borros didn’t go well and Aemond’s listlessness was a result of a failure at performing his duty to the family. Perhaps there was a fight even as you presumed seeing his hobbling.

- Aemond, take off your clothes, you’ll catch a cold – you said quietly, you’ve really started to worry about him.

He took off his cloak and threw it on the floor negligently. But he didn’t seem to be aware of your concern as he kept on walking to you blindly. He kneeled between your legs and laid his head on your thigh, panting silently. You unconsciously started to caress his cheek with your fingers, wiping off the moisture.

- Can I fuck you? I need to feel you so badly, please… - his unexpected request startled you but you didn’t say a single word as you let his hands wander under the skirt of your dress, doffing your skin from ankles to inner of your thighs. When his fingers has reached your core, he looked at you waiting for your permission and you simply nodded. He pushed one of his long digits between your folds without any rush, moving it at a steady pace. You easily became wet and you wandered about what was wrong with you, getting aroused in such situation with him being suspiciously tender with you and scared as if he expected you to run away from him at any moment. He kissed your womb and clit, lapping his tongue on your nether lips gingerly, coaxing more breathy moans from you. Your juices were dripping down his chin and he licked them greedily with a purring hum. You wanted more of this delicious delight but suddenly he stopped, raising from his feet, laid you down on the bed carefully and he took off his breeches, leaving the upper part of his outfit on.

He settled himself between your legs, tucking your dress to your hips, not caring about undressing you fully. He pressed you deeper into the mattress with all his body weight and you could feel his already rigid manhood rubbing against your folds. He smelled with weird mixture of wind and Vhagar’s scent, composed of mud, her tough rugged skin and something else.

With one swift thrust he buried himself inside you all the way to the hilt, causing a dramatic cry to escape your mouth. He kissed you sappily to prevent another moans and his moves gained a rhythmic pace, even a lazily one you could say.

- You’re mine and mine alone… He won’t take you, not anymore – he chugged against your neck and got you confused as you didn’t know of who he was talking, did he mean Daemon possibly? But that seemed to not fit as you assumed that The Rogue Prince wasn’t at The Storm’s End.

Aemond’s movements became more and more chaotic, his hips pushed into you frantically as you heard his hoarse growls. His stark cock was pleasantly warm unlike his body, being still cold and dank. His hands grabbed every inch of your body they could impetuously, his lips were giving wet, open-mouthed kisses on your cleavage just below your collarbones.

-… she disobeyed me and I tried everything to stop her. There was nothing I could do… Her rage was unstoppable… - he whispered and caught you off guard again. You were quite certain that he was talking about that bloodthirsty beast of his.

You tried to push him away unsuccessfully, as you wanted to inquire him about what the hell was going on but you remained powerless against his force. He didn’t seem to notice your attempt get out of him as he continued his rampageous thrusts.

- Aemond…! Stop this, right now! – you were still struggling with him without any result, again.

- I watched him falling down from the sky… his riven pieces carried away by the wind… - his piercing words made you finally pushing him off with lasts of your strength and you jumped out of bed like a scolded cat. It was a quite small loss as you weren't able to reach your climax in any way, not under those circumstances and not with him in this state.

- What have you done, Aemond?! What Vhagar has done…?! – his face was genuinely frightened and he covered it with his hands. You felt wrath growing within you.

- Vhagar got.. enraged by Arrax… she chased him and didn’t obey to any of my commands… She teared him to shreds and there was NOTHING I could do about it…! – he was almost sobbing, you glanced at him and saw drops trickling down his cheeks. It wasn’t because of his dampness – those were sincere tears.

Arrax, Lucerys dragon, a baby dragon to be precise. The dreadful truth has hit you with such potency that you had to grab the nearest chair to prevent yourself from falling to the floor. You couldn't say a word for a long while because you felt that any of them might choke you. But you had to finally to tell something because your ingrowing exasperation would strangle you sooner or later.

- You have killed Lucerys Velaryon, your own goddamn nephew… My cousin… And you’ve let Vhagar do this…?!

You managed to look at him back again and you saw that little boy in him, the very same he was in his childhood, vulnerable and shiftless when he was struggling to claim a dragon for his own and was bullied by not owning one. But this hasn’t melted your heart, on the contrary.

- SAY IT! You’ve murdered him, haven’t you?!

He didn’t say a single word but his guilty look was fair enough for you.

Before he could say or do anything you flew out the door, smashing them with loud bang. You headed to the beach upon The Red Keep as you desperately needed to calm yourself down even a bit, not being tormented by his face.

Lucerys, Luke. That little boy who always admired you and your sword skills, who always sought every opportunity to spar with you and you fought with him even though you could easily defeat him. He was raving immensely about Carantes as he always complained about Arrax, his looks or size in comparison to hers. And he always had to touch her in whatever way, it made you constantly defending him from the dragoness enraged by intrusive contact. Now that sweet boy was dead, murdered by your lover. His only fault was pointing out a dagger at the wrong person. His Uncle.

Your almost stumbled over slushy sand because your feet were sinking in it with ease. It was the middle of dead night and you barely could see anything because your surroundings were as dark as the grave. Either way you noticed dim, peculiar shape resembling some kind of a cliff or a dune. A second later that ‘dune’ moved revealing snoring Vhagar. You approached her with anger. At this point you didn’t really care whether she was going to ‘dracarys’ you or not.

- Are you happy with yourself, you ferocious old hag?! You killed a little, innocent boy and ate his baby of a dragon, the very same one you were ages ago! – dragoness grunted gloomily, seemingly understanding your reproaches towards her.

You fell on your knees unwittingly, sobbing audibly and you tossed a handful of sand at the dragon. Fortunately, she didn’t bother with it at all as she was now observing you with pity.

- Are you planning to escape from me, my little dove? – you heard crunching steps coming from behind.

- Yes and I was just about to take Vhagar on a ride and maybe we would kill another innocuous entity on the way – you snapped angrily facing Aemond, who chuckled blackly at your words. The little boy he had become for a while was long gone. His real inherent countenance of a cunning fiend was back.

- Nyke kessa soure gūrogon ao va iā kipagon va zirȳla yn daor gō īlva dīnilūks, ñuha ziry-zaldrīzes (I shall surely take you on a ride on her, but not before our wedding, my Dragoness).

- Nyke vedar sora sagon zaltan naejot ñuqir ondoso Carantes tae dīnagon ao (I would sooner be burned to ashes by Carantes than marry you) – Kinslayer – you added with scorn.

He visibly flurried when he heard your new ‘pet-nickname’ for him. He started to stride towards you gustily, stretching out his hand, but you took out your own faster and slapped him in the face with all the strength you had. He swayed a bit, but still kept a steadfast posture. You started to punch his chest like an upset child, at first he didn't try to stop you, but after a while his patience ran out as he turned your back to him, keeping you caged between his strong arms. You tried to jerk off but to no avail.

- Let go, you mad woman! – he yelled impatiently, trying to keep your throwing in all directions body.

- Oh I am mad, loving a murderer like you! – you succeeded to get your hand enough to pull out a small stiletto from the neckline of your dress – Not this again…! – he wailed letting you go ultimately, avoiding your blind jabs.

For a long time, both of you were doing a weird dance, you were stabbing him at random, swiveling yourself like ballerina and Aemond was graciously dodging your prods like a leopard. You knew he was a dangerous, highly-skilled fighter and could easily knock the blade out of your palm but for some unknown reasons he didn’t do it. Clearly he enjoyed toying with you, forgetting that you also lacked nothing in terms of martial art and unlike him, you had experience in real-life encounters as well as battles.

In one moment he lost his focus for a fraction of a second by turning his head back overmuch and that was good enough for you. Single quick, smooth incision of your dagger cut the palm of his hand, leaving sanguinary oblong gash. Aemond shouted excruciatingly, glancing at his bleeding hand the turning his flabbergasted look to you. The grip on your hand loosened, dropping the bloody blade in the sand. You were staring at his bleeding out limb with stupor, not quite believing your, intentional after all, doings. After a moment of disorientation, you managed to regain your consciousness and pulled out a small bandana and started to bandage the injury, carefully wrapping the fabric around.

- You always cut men first and then fix them? – he asked mockingly, hissing lightly as you tightened the bandage, finally stopping the bleeding.

- No, I don’t. But taking into account what you have done today, consider this as a very small price – you responded, not letting go his disfigured hand, squeezing it intensely, causing another howl leaving his mouth.

- I did not want to do this. All I intended was to tease him and maybe pulling out his eye. As payment for mine – he grabbed you by forearms and looked into your eyes deeply. A spark of sincerity in his only eye convinced you that he was telling the truth.

- If you really didn’t want to do so, then you would have waited until he disappeared into thin air. Especially knowing the unpredictability of that war machine of yours – you pointed at Vhagar who was now snoring again – And yet you chased him, Vhagar sensed your subliminal craving and she did what she did in the best interests of her master – Aemond wanted to respond but before he opened his lips you continued – Don’t tell me otherwise, Aemond. You wanted to get your revenge for a very long time and it is done. And I was naïve to think you matured enough to let go of child's sins.

The Prince sighed, looking at you with resignation. Deep inside he knew that you were telling the truth which he refused to admit to himself. He grabbed your chin gently, forcing you to look him in the eye.

- The burden of this action will torment me until the end of my days, Elaena. The consequences of this act will trigger a war that was inevitable anyway and I’m ready to face them.

- You incurred an unpayable debt, Aemond. Rhaenyra and Daemon will not rest until they avenge their son. They will come for you, your unfortunate brother and your whole family.

- I’d like to see them try, with you as my wife by my side. As your husband I will repay my sins and protect you until my last breath. I will love and cherish you as my goddess and if you ask me to I will give you The Iron Throne itself.

- You've lost your mind, if you think that I still want to marr… - a formidable roar coming from the sky interrupted you. Both of you looked up and saw a dark, large shadow moving within the navy darkness of the night sky, completely blending in with it. Only the hazy starlight allowed you to see the bright pink and purple scales.

- She’s protecting her Mistress – said Aemond with a slight smirk.

Carantes circled you several times in the air and after a while landed with a noisy rumble, partially muffled by sand and laid herself next to Vhagar who has awakened. You watched in disbelief as two beasts intertwined their long necks and decided to take a nap.

- I keep forgetting that Vhagar is her mother – Prince was evidently amused by sight of two dragonesses, snoring now in unison.

- Yes, she certainly did not inherit her mother's beauty – you snapped acrimoniously – Anyway, now that my ride has already came for me, I shall fly to the Dragonstone and try to convince Rhaenyra to not burn you completely – you took a step towards the dragon but Aemond stopped you.

- You mean her? Just look at her, she’s warming with her mother’s tenderness – at this point you cursed Carantes relation with Vhagar – You want to interrupt that precious moment and hurt your endeared beast’s feelings? – you only rolled your eyes hearing this nonsense.

Aemond started to stride towards you, leading you in desirable direction and you began to withdraw, never taking your eyes off him. You walked back until you almost stumbled over a giant stone, hitting your back. You had nowhere else to go, no escape route, you were literally pressed up against a stone wall. He paced in your direction you like a lion ambushing prey, slowly, noiselessly. Finally he found himself just an inch from you, pinning you into the rock more. He looked at you victoriously with a bit of regret because that was how you were defenseless now against him.

- You want to loose another eye, Aemond? - you tried to threaten him, but only to preserve a hint of honor. He only smirked grotesquely at your words, knowing perfectly that you had no weapon, no ace up your sleeve to gain any advantage over him.

- No, that would be a severe loss, not being able to watch you when I’m possessing you – with one, solid move he lifted you with his firm hands, settling his hips between yours. You sighed heavily at the impression, his one hand started undoing his pants gustily while the other supported your bottom, digging his fingers into tender flesh of your ass cheeks. You tried to stop him but to no avail, he tucked the skirt of your dress, almost tearing the material.

- Because you have interrupted our dalliance earlier, we shall finish it now – he growled into your ear and pushed his already hardened cock all the way through your unprepared core, not caring about being any gentle. You cried painfully as his member was ravaging your not wet enough cunt, rubbing it sorely, tearing you up like a spear. Your fingers sticked into his shoulders heavily, leaving deep, livid bruises. His hips picked up a raging pace, thrusting into you punishingly, his teeth grazed exposed skin of your neck.

- You will marry me, my little dove. You shall do so or in otherwise I will burn your mother and father, mutilate her dragon and only scraps will be left of the entire Velaryon fleet - his threats ran down your skin like caustic acid, burning it severely - In the act of grace I will kill my damned Uncle and my beloved step-sister and I'll stick their dragons' heads on the pikes. I will nip this war in the bud and if Aegon turns out to be an ungrateful prick, I’ll kill him too and I’ll make you my Queen – his menaces fueled his desire because his thrusts became significantly more fierce and you couldn’t stop heated moans escaping your lips. Unconditionally you became wet enough to ease the excruciating pain and Aemond smirked lewdly, sensing your liquids running down his cock.

- I’d sooner be dev… oh… devoured by… Vhagar than be dragged down… down the altar! – you managed to gasp between his feral moves, his dick was hitting you in like a whip, racking this spot inside of you.

- My darling, this is a quite great idea but let me improve it a bit. I shall tie you up to Vhagar when I’ll be burning your closest ones, making you watch every second of it – he whispered to your ear seemingly being excited by this whole vision. His palm clenched around your neck, squeezing it moderately, just enough to feel the pulse in your arteries. But Aemond was fairly shocked when he saw you pressing his hand tighter. You always wanted to die the death of a dragon rider, just like your older sister, Laena, did. But if your end was to be while he was fucking you and choked you to death, so be it.

He snarled, removing his hand off you, not giving you the satisfaction. He lifted you higher, wrapping your legs securely around his waist, not pulling out his cock from you and laid you down on a much smaller, more flat stone. He brought your ass closer to the rock edge and buried himself with all the length, lifting up your one leg, so it was now resting on his shoulder. He was rutting into you at this new angle with no respite, one of his digits circled your afire clit, making your eyes roll back inside your head.

- I…hate…you – you breathed out, cursing him in your mind for his ability to break you, to give you the pleasure you tried to deny, but wanted so desperately.

- You may hate me, my little dove, but you can’t deny that you love me – he grinned affectionately almost, his hands massaged gently apex of your thigh and calve of your raised leg, kissing the ankle tenderly. Aemond was right, you loved him still even after what he has done, you couldn’t cease it, it was unconditional, like a mother's love for a child.

His thrusts became deeper, more passionate, steadier. His only eye was consuming you, starving for more of your delightful moans, more of your back arching, more of your breasts bouncing in a restive rhythm.

- Look at you, how your body reacts to mine… How your pussy is sucking up my cock greedily, how you moan wanting for more… You desire me woman, it is time for you to accept it – again, he was speaking the truth. You did desire him. You did want him to fuck you until you see the stars, to clench around his heavy-stick cock and milk all over him.

He raised you up against him, so your breasts were now rubbing his torso. He was pounding into you harder, pulling your hips closer to him to you to meet his rapid thrusts. You felt his cock was getting bigger and bigger, how his veins were tautening on him. Aemond’s raspy, hasty breath was an clear evidence that he was pretty close to finish.

- Come all over me, my little dove. Seal yourself with me – he panted into your ear, leaving sloppy kisses from your earlobe down to the crook of your neck. But you resisted, somehow remains of your pride were now in charge. But he saw your defiance and smiled encouraging you to let go – Don’t fight it, ñuha ziry-zaldrīzes (my Dragoness).

And you did let go, your walls clasped around his length and you came, shaking so tumultuously that he had to hold you firmly to prevent you from falling. A second later his throbbing cock shot his warm seed down in your womb, Aemond moaned protractedly at the sensation. Both of you were panting heavily, he kissed you passionately, chuckling lightly when you tried to bite his lip. He remained in you still and after a short moment of rest he lifted you from the rock, never pulling out of you and began to walk towards the castle. You stared at him with stupefaction.

- Aemond, you intend to walk with me like that all the way through?! – he looked down his legs, only to see his undone pants dangling between his ankles, cumbering his walk.

- You’re right, my love. I better get rid of these, before we both fall over – and with a few, clumsy moves he took off the pants, his cock still sitting in you like if your womb was some kind of a nest.

He carried you like that all the way to The Red Keep, not caring if someone saw you or not. He even thrusted into you couple times as his cock became hard again in your walls, causing you to moan obscenely, while you were passing dumbfounded guards.

So you were going to marry him after all, a murderer of his own nephew and a war criminal. It was such a Targaryen thing to do.

And that's it, this is our little's mommy war criminal being war criminal in his pure form. :p I've already started to write Chapter 4 and attention please: Aemond & Daemon duo will be back! :D So stay tuned up because it's gonna be spicyyyy :P Anyway thanks for reading and I will appreciate any kind of feedback in comments!

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know in comments.

Taglist:

@moonmaiden1996

@omgsuperstarg

@claudie-080102

@gabrieletargaryen

@mllemarianne

@em-the-lurker

@roroswitherose

@treasuresposts

@starsarebind

#aemond x oc #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen imagine #house of the dragon #hotd imagine #ewan mitchell #almond targaryen #prince aemond #hotd smut #smut #pornwithtext #aemond one eye #aemond kinslayer

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originemesis · 7 months

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@lucifertxt cont. from xxx

The fallen angel lowered his hand as he watched Adam get up and finally accept for one night. Good news, at least he got him into his castle for a day. He supposed he would let him go if he wanted to get away from him so badly. He did not blame him either, he could not help but feel guilty.

After a slight sigh, Lucifer waited for Adam to come in before he went through as well and closed the door. The gate was going to be a mess from the angelic blood, condoms, and any other foul liquid on the floor. Nothing new to the king of hell, who had been watching sinners rejoice in their own shit for so long.

❝ One night it is! But are you sure you want to be only near the door? I think you should shower. But because you're a stubborn idiot, let me tell you where is everything. ❞ After making his cane disappear, he started pointing down the corridors. ❝ The first door leads to a living room. The second door is an art area, you can ignore it. Then you have the bathroom. There is a large bathtub, what it lacks is towels. But don't worry, I'll prepare some clean clothes and towels for you. ❞

After telling him that, he started walking. ❝ On the left side you have the kitchen in case you get hungry. And up the stairs are the bedrooms, another bathroom, an instrument room and my work area. I know you've said you're not interested in going into the place, but if you get curious, you can take a look. ❞ He looked at him for a moment and waved. ❝ You heard? Alright, I'll be right back then. ❞

Not much after, Lucifer disappeared. Maybe he went for those towels he said. He did not even let him deny anything of what he said, the man was being genuinely kind to him.

It's the sound of the door clicking shut behind him that gave him a broody pause, and after lowering his head, he'd peek around the pit of his arm for confirmation. Though he supposed being closed in to the devil's house was a tad worse than being shut out of the garden all that time ago, he noted that he was at the very least not on fire...yet. Such were the blessings he supposed he'd encounter here. His gaze eventually returned to the foyer's path ahead, but was met with the first fallen cutting paths across the way.

Annnnnd- he was already running his mouth. Fucking perfect.

If there was any indication Adam understood half of what he was on about through the haze of blood loss, it was indicated with a slow, somewhat irate of a blink. It was in such a delayed response that had Lucifer there one moment and poofed off to wherever in the hell he'd gone that Adam issued a wet cough. "-bro runs mouth like sluts to this dick slaughter." In other words: too fast.

He really did just want to slump down where he was and continue his petty power nap, but he'd very likely just lay there in his filth and fury without Lute around to get him on some sort of a productive schedule. Not that there was anything to be productive about in literal hell. You were supposed to suffer in your filth and fury. And be on fire. With the latter still not true, he relented a sigh of sorts in line with how a goose might exhale before he slugged his way further down the first of the conjoining hallways.

An attempt to escape his tent of robes while the bath filled was doomed at the point he had to try and maneuver the impressive span of his remaining wing out of its holster. His flock usually helped him as it was a nightmare getting both wild and prone to flapping appendages free of his outer layer, but even one proved difficult alone. Particularly when he didn't really want to be doing anything and when he noticed the robe had come off one shoulder with little resistance. A gnawed off stub with few remaining frazzled feathers sat sadly exposed when he gave up the attempt at disrobing and sat huddled up against the side of the tub, squeezing his knees under puddled robe ends.

Eventually, via some hesitant rocking, he shifted forwards enough, head bowed, and left his head under the sizeable faucet while he stewed in place.

#//ur ad.am is running slow time to run cc cleaner #//im funny ok :'(#lucifertxt #long post #blood cw #injury cw #verse ; // dead on arrival

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whatthecrowtold · 2 years

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#unhallowedarts - Castles, Swords and Nimble Wits. Hal Foster's Prince Valiant as Demon.

“For the sake of fair Ilene Val dares pit his nimble wit against the might of the Ogre of Sinstar Wood and all his followers.”

Maybe drawing ladies’ underwear for catalogues is not the worst job a young graphic artist can land. It was the first steady creative work young Harold from Halifax did. Back in 1912, for the Hudson Bay Company. And after moving on from drawers to drawing the Lord of the Apes, finally, in the early 1930, Hal Foster had a chance to prove what he dab hand he was in narrating stories with pictures. With a friend, he cycled the 1,000 miles from Canada to Chicago, to take art classes, studied the Great Ones from the Golden Age of Illustration and especially the American masters did it to him. With something close to his contemporary Leyendecker’s aesthetics, it were Maxfield Parrish and especially N.C. Wyeth who proved to be a major influence on one of the milestones of the development of graphic novels into a serious artistic medium: Hal Foster’s “Prince Valiant”. What looked like quite the adaption from Wyeth’s take on the rich imagery of “Le Morte d’Arthur” by Thomas Malory, published some 15 years before as “The Boy’s King Arthur”, Foster’s masterpiece of depicting a narrative was first published in the “New Orleans Picayune” in February 1937. And no one less than press tsar Randolph Hearst himself recognised the potential of Foster’s talent and tale and granted him full creative control and regular publication of what was to become the story of “Prince Valiant in the Days of King Arthur”. For the next 30 years, until Foster finally left the project in 1971.

“Prince Valiant” is, taken all its high artistic value for granted, Foster’s brilliant use of chiaroscuro and highly detailed, cinematic illustrations, as historical as a typical Hollywood history flick. Which means: not in the least. The 5th century late- and post-Roman world in Foster’s imagination is populated by Vikings, Muslims, Knights from the Late Middle Ages, Renaissance tech and what not. And we do have a historical date. Young Val witnesses the murder of Flavius Aëtius in Rome in September 454AD. That witches and wizards and dino-like swamp monsters disappeared from the story during the 1940s is hardly noticeable in Foster’s heap of broken historical images. But that usually doesn’t spoil a good story. At least if the hypocrite lecteur is not a true-blue historian who had archived his own sense of wonder somewhere in a deep cellar where spiders and dust bunnies nest and the ghosts of heroic epics walk the night. And as ahistorical as Foster narrates Val’s story, imagery and ideas remain brilliant, especially when his hero uses his brains instead of the magic “Singing Sword”, a downright loveable and inspiring trademark feature of the story.

One memorable take was published early on, already in August 1937. Young Val, still Sir Gawain’s squire, sets forth to wrest the castle of Maid Ilene’s parents from the clutches of a robber baron, appetisingly known as “The Ogre of Sinstar Wood”. And what sounds like the typical onset of a chivalric hero quest, climaxing in blood and thunder, is solved in an Ann Radcliffe-style Gothic charade. Making a devil’s mask from the skin of a captured goose and using his black cloak as something that looks like bat wings, Val invades the castle at night, doing quite the aerial acrobatic routine with a rope on the side, scares the Ogre to death and drives his henchmen from the castle by haunting the place for days in his demon guise. Mission accomplished, without a sword being drawn. And no one of his numerous successors in drawing chivalric – or other – adventure stories managed the same tongue-in-cheek humour and innovation in their take on epics than Foster did. While only few rival his artistic talent.

For a quick glimpse into Hal Foster's art and Prince Valiant's tale - below is a medium quality online edition of the first volume from 1937 - 1939

#unhallowedarts #dark art #dark aesthetic #graphic novel #hal foster #prince valiant #gothic aesthetic

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geesegoosen · 2 years

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Salmonid Oc lore (Warning: Long Post)

So I went through the process of making a whole fake school of Salmonids with a backstory and everything. All because I wished to have a reason for my lil buddy to named Cutlet.

(TW for: blood and mentions of death further in the post)

Cutlet comes from an aggressive school of salmonids that live far east of Inkopolis and Splatsville. Grizzco locations near where the Usurpers lurk is exclusive to skilled and seasoned turf war pros due to the schools volatility. Members of the Usurpers can be distinguished by the large amount of scars covering their bodies; even young fry will be littered with them.

The Usurpers is also home to a unique kind of boss Salmonid!

Reef Piercer's are long nimble salmon adept at swiftly swimming through the heavily wooded waters it calls home. The sharp muzzles on their faces help them take down prey and predator alike. Sliding across the ground like the reefslider, these salmonids are hard to out run though their splash is no where near as big so you can dodge to the side easily.

When facing a Reef Piercer during a shift, get them to run into something so they get stuck. Getting them to slide of ledges into the ground, slide into walls or running into Cohocks and other boss Salmonids (Steelheads, Scrappers, Bigshots, Stingers or stunned Flipper Flops) will do the trick (with the added bonus of splatting whatever Salmonid they hit).

The Culling Usurpers of the Timbered Low Eastern Tides got their name for good reason. The place they now inhabit use to be the territory of a King Salmonid known as 'The Great River King Timber Strike'. This Salmonid King is smaller then the Cohozuna known by Splatlandian youths but just as powerful. When attacking intruders to its home, Timber Strike would spit up explosive balls of inky sludge that would form pillars of the sludge akin to an inkstrike.

despite the power held by Timber Strike its abilities where not enough to save its life. The Usurpers had been hunting for a suitable territory for a while before coming across the Timbered Tides. Seeing the rich resources of the tides they decided to invade.

Multiple waves of scouts and scavengers were sent in; with very few coming back. the salmonid that did return reported the King Salmonids existence to the rest of the school. Preparation began swiftly at the news: plans were made, resources gathered, weapons crafted and vehicles tuned. They were not going to fail.

The attack caught the king off guard. Chum and Cohocks worked with the Fly Fish and Slammin' lids to tie the king down. The strongest of the Cohocks were put in charge of hold the king in place. Ropes restricted movement and the ones tied around the kings throat prevented retaliation. Through struggling the king grew too tired to fight allowing the rest of the school to come in and end the King's rule.

At the defeat of the King the salmons of nearby schools dubbed the attacking school the 'Culling Usurpers of the Timbered Low Eastern Tides'. Their legacy spread from school to school and mentions of their practices grew more wild and outlandish, from eating the weak fry to killing their leader every few months so a stronger could take their place. Whether any of that was true or not they didn't care, all that mattered was that they were feared.

No one could Usurp the Usurpers'

Hope you like my silly salmonid lore! Also sorry for any grammar or spelling mistakes I missed when editing.

#splatoon #splatoon 3 #salmonid #salmon run #grizzco #oc #fannon #king salmonid #cohozuna #oc lore #original character #orignial work #my art #art from the goose pit

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libidomechanica · 10 months

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Untitled (“By much upon thyself only”)

A treochair sequence

The golden pits: ’twas too late, our souls would have ever trod the darts. We

rode; it seem’d very old vizier might or footmarks, but thought had been their

shops of shame in pride, or walk’d down monogamy like you for me,—so

sweet girl, were good with his breeding first, and dewy buds, and figured to

tie her an efforts for ever warm and strained in the flood. Comfort: therefore

than either keep, nor merit it. With voice was gentle her sad ears

like a stone to the high to scold, and the sun unwilling care: o think

I’m different story. By much upon thyself only. Men of France annex,

and how they like spiked aloe. But they lock thee in so hush a mask?

Like a firebrand; she told me too; you walk the hands, side by side. For

thee thine, nor dispraise your sense, with the muse of clay, but be no other

magazines of the glass, and clashed in thy combine the flint, as the fayre?

III

Like one dumb, and tells of human clay; ye could not join them, palace, what

are you are fair, on trembling over Endymion’s spirit never read

strange and full of power for goose is said, young Juan was thilk same lawn all

sudden journeys, I beheld and yet rolls away; she recognized no

being; in a gushing for men, but could marry. He left it: so farewell!

Know on earth, sings but one, till some a swooning over. As heavy

day on day, and t is odd, none at present; i’m sensible of happy

hoax: there art taught that I loue not wishes in our power was strappin,

the budding years to Art, her slave, and gird in your witchcraft o’ Beauty’s

bright, she’s twisted too long; I have shrunk as from this most balmy lip

when ’tis present situation had it o’er a brow brightest o’ Beauty

and clangs in their senses; and buy. Is much: but ’twas to the chief intense

she must inventions to silence better kept behind none in gay

remarkably sweet breath; and sup. Holding the valley, stream, and yon bonie

side-lie of a suddenly sings but one where all my words cannot

estrangers selfe boye, ah for Colin he who feeling for her pray’d the dew.

At midnight, earth gaue the goal yet, day by day, with fruit of lovers a

true Hidalgo! Than thou sinn’d in his lesson of Eve, went plucking

various joltings of spring on the fair. All this thine, and woman, so

she’s twisted right, condemn: each was as capable as woman and, you

saw some thrise- sad tragedy, is it seems winning, but heedy shepherds

call. Which, at least-wise brings me to keep off mildews, and cavern, which his

Haidee, it was but that love too much, the heard. Me and wandred I wene

about the shore through the valley-lilies where Tim the whole were gone. Payne.

Neglect, indeed as though her mouth saddles there was no other circumstances

with contented late Sir Samuel Rogers, nor the woodlands to

feel his power depose.—I tell how much oats had fallen no tears. Flying

Hour before— and which, thought it knew not broke thy yoke, they open’d next?

She saw endymion was good, instead of quarrels one will revive our

fooling that brow of thing so fair, their sheepes bloud full of tumbling mazes

of the hour too soon their tenderness of these groups were through she must

close, a shout mostly sing, with thy glorious libels by no means let

them of their summer has met wi’ my Phillis, has met with the day did

dawn, and whispers, glooms, the lass of Lochroyan is first woke song in his soul

was unlikely to sea in a beauty of the most atrocious readers

should be some time of words, now with such visitant at interview

had ta’en for anon, I felt delighted with his eternal powers

where is the smothering moment, the moors, benighted, sleeping Julia

sate within my call, that’s loose, or to cloud thy brow; the world, to fan and

were not for that’s I—must, with her arm forth. Opening door, who doted;

the deep and birth to turn a blow, and, surely, withdrew itself be lesson

of moonlight; i’ll come to pardon the lot of life, and diplomatist,

they only son, which grow more rich is his chair: though those gentle commons,

lords, t is sweet air stirs blue hare-bells, or at least abstruse. And tell

the fresh green boat, they could take all pieces of passionate love—it stands.

VII

The sweets are, that vow’d therefore no one knows, whose husbands, friends: one’s quite a

crime, can yet then there wound, and with gushing for him have I invoked the

thigh.—Don, of course; graceful as free and he arose, advance as his temples

bind; and now it happen’d the throng: with gentleman. Gurgling in rich

hair and there was no great plenty. She, too, had Buonaparte won at

Waterloo. It disna become a sweet to see another their horrid,

hideous wives, yet of theirs was an hour and built a house within the

tattoo pulsing at the skies are sweetest stile affords: while he insult

heap, and ruin, or mountain—the change not wish undone. Usual burden

head a Cremosin coronet, with nothing, dreadful leisure; I

care nothing else to guess. Died from opening her silken flanks with the

road was of a happy dell. To name a thing by which were through hell should

stay—at worst befell, a nymph of tears, green knowes no matter merit?

VIII

And world as, since she throng. Until the hour to the dewy head, and her

tyranny, might mark a lynx’s eye, there hope that she might be bereft, and

said, Those are fond of solitude or so, but sage Antonia maid,

came blushing eye could temperance delight.—All for one more on her common

want, because to go where’er I fill my mild and quiver; so that this

pardon, who wish to parry the remnant worthy of my lameness

in a sloping mead to heart like a states, leaving it; but the swell of

turf and sleet, with all that flickered light to learn the red-breast had not leisure

of weary eves; the ravishment? And, from the Brenta I was so

anxious hands. Looking sent out, calmly Love’s willing leaves, dried careful kind—

I have no rewards on what page; and gather’d a reward to say, Just

this bruisèd heart throbbed to heare. I lou’d, but much inferior to King

Menelaus: but the sweet sound, poor fellow captives back darker and she

herself they do, t will only be the hatchway one by one three votes.

Observing little to exalt; no matter when wrong! She now delay

a trace, a tinting on her: great pittie is, he be in vain the ear, which

is mornes messenger of sympathetic, because to wet finger’s

taper burnt, and test! His coffin’s lid: let not much inferior to

King Menelaus: but the many thing, marching that bene bate, an airy

lust, too often have had force of work is here! Of Adeline, with

her Moorish blood less noble life be a blessing, or me, so tyranny

grew strong, but thought him bring good! The shepherds pipe as sad as plover’s

cry, of looke, at my request. Has so sorely bruit, where twenty years hence

it ran bright, if such a beauties broken o’ercharged with a tawdrie lace.

She kept, and store it up when musing deeply, and overcoming at

his movements were ripe for her princesses were thrown into mischief-making

Woes darkness to have more pallid cheek the mode of Cyrus, best one.

Swim: and took all things we see, his pinions should excel the brine with the

cobbles he endure to brood so lost a thing til the hundred good

zecchini, but cold spring he most attractive dower, endymion’s spirit,

and musings on and determine: although his fools away. All for the

muse of thy perusal stand for their books to bait their friend like this

various ways, until, from those are the stamp of my fault—I kept good seem’d

answer’d but with many legions beautiful, the blustring lover, poet,

or asp, had she vow’d chaste liaison foul of bubbling princesses shook;

or, it may be, some stay’d in Spain? He found, and on flowery tale more,

to be deem’d by thy love was once a little to despond rather here?

And this all the morning. Feels all that Memory loves languish, whate’er

the other stopp’d this at presently, still chaste and singen soote, in that

fair Adeline, you are in plenteous store, but next that wondrous new

machinery, and I choose take heede. Cherry-ripe, ripe, ripe, ripe, ripe, ripe, I cry,

full palatable; and ask me to you. Their friendlesse night draweth on,

and every spirit nurse with middel smal and loud cried for a lass wi’

a tocher’s shafts, perhaps I shall be thy babe’s father, and clodded earth,

sings a bird upon it will bolt the page is shown, and seals might sweete? As

of guilt, t is not meat corrupting. Invented, and pale, and pain had

been early grave which she deem’d answer’d to a halt under. And familiar

was her eyes a moment that same troade, but just the evening-star’s at

once could scan a lurking demi-god, and then—and went, he will I singe

his legal face. Often to this new field, with King Henry’s right out. Until

she stay’d my foolish heaven! But Adeline, what far too long I’ve

battle was; and, for this was my idol, which she is about theatrical

pretence to live young mind from the shepheards swayne you couldst haue all,

and her loving sprite with quiver; so that he wanted to heauen is too

young son in her crumenall. No matters are seen, with him how they lock

thee possess’d; but where, and all her sides I could not brew a pastoral.

XII

From alle wommen my lord’s estate, by a foreigner is strange sensation,

even disdain; he wander’d, by divine: though we deem it frantic

gape of darkness among the shepherds to the flowers, on the chronicle;

men have always spoils the heard of summer is not manage such guise

that sith the White yfere, in either on the most attracts by his pretty,

precious points. Thought of sea and wind, flung roses, but them climb Aornus,

and other scarce knew alliances his tresses. Her black, to mumble

deliciously she no further great a sum of sums, yet can not love

to show false Art what binds us: strong bow into them all in vain he

listening, how dark tree tops? Though her hair, and death destroy. The lady’s bed,

and so nor wine, you knock on my breast was not other strife by carrying

the business past o’er the tattoo pulsing came a lively tone, and

sage, a goodly verdure flings, the mathematical, her magazines

of a friend; between his pillow; pale she was spring I might I missaye.

XIII

Attend the rosy dawn. Me—me, there, till through oh! Of happier men.

XIV

He had won. And that her soft, liquid words spak never wi’ her can they

thinking Fund’s unfathomable sea, that wild ecstasy? And such a

slight sair again, if we can’t tell me all amiss! An ignorance and

plied the valley lighted the winds; and there suspicion could not much strong.

An hendy hap ich habbe yhent, ichoot from such with scarce any reve

me my shame and out Lowder was her, but still tarrying her lips were made

out, and yet I care not so unpleasant, to catch a certainly no

virtue’s sake— not a lump upon her cheek. Her stature tall—I hate it,

as I believe: if t is not to be invited to any

sensual for a child, and Wordsworth understood the merry was a mere

sense held a basket full of all this the birth; and cordials they join, joints

dovetailed on this by this calm and freeholders— yet no less—the voice more

pallid cheeks, and after having in the ear, and thou, Desire, because

surrounded; yet could like him with the rosy dawn. Of passions, sheds

beautiful as free and Juan, eager now thy lee-shores by my soul was

undrest, intentions were much the most circulating scatter’d in the

edge of matter, and must want or for the change ere nigh lands, that, alas!

All the dore, and spreading in his shell, and mean, next winter season; the

memory was she treated me who have its head to you; then by day.

XVI

—Inter nos. Because the shore, bacchus and Ceres being, and to bind

us to join, the Holy Three to But closed the electric blade.

XVII

As his sway, how they look like lies; should have but look and limb diffused the

blue surge, not wherefore I’ll make Don Juan’s father’s rough, especially

in France, spread greyly eastward, thus one lamb did lose. Stands alone; she perhaps

she must not let one to loue and singen soote, in the silver she

was sparkled through she loosened hair! And thus, it shan’t have done as my maiden’s

force, since what Meg o’ the gude red gowd, set up Wordsworth, and shining

into its radiant with inward envy his troubled sea of ocean.

And begg’d her eye; there be whate’er my deserved the dairy pair, who never,

never taste, who doth owe to the venerate a petticoat—a

garment more neat than such things; he threw a rueful glance departed soul.

XVIII

Ere I go hence came wonder at your belles and young son is in their groves

Elysian: but thought ay deep-mouth’d welcoming. Stranger, mislaid love with

truth; a truth. More last this or that is with grace can you shall statesman or

a prophecies of this dim vast vale of my own steed from moats and how

they gaze on her cheek. Devils, and there it granted it was to rent I

would raise; but pity had he for a different leaning. They slept together;

we’ll see, how melancholy risers after all their eloquent

recitative. See: but my five sense of the powers checkered with

precision hooves if it brings me to you. Since the deep and brightest o’ Beauty’s

bright all be true, and groom who hurry in the magic sleep! And all

heroes some private end, melting pulp, that Juan had great where the same brightest

compass, round her serious makes me sin awards me, like the

silvery setting; we may chance—and who can! Rhymes, and the Hellespont and

placid sandals, first vow’d cheeks, half smiles to envelope those nonsense thing

need not call the trophies of no tongue. I though, taming a shady, fresh,

and all be here; his singing all my care and his friend scrawled by the by;

in Spain, you are! I lou’d, but no more attractive dower, especially

when at length those nonsense things unto people are coin’d from such small licence

is to glowing dull. And healthier brandished high, where euer it laye?

XIX

Shown in Spain? Pang, the trees feele his loue such are little book, from thy

sleep o’er-power’d me in ministring looks were his fyrye face so liuely

chere. From his bowery nest. Which once he made no bones. Her conscious did

they were never more or less those who served me from the Brenta I was

desolation: few would not so decent either. When Damsines I

gether, breath least forbear to wake, and now no more: we humbly at your

own footsteps regularity may cloy when met, and then would do; his

your Venus, who doth owe to the old inn- door. Boy, as he knew no better

yet to fret the foam that she spoken, time is quicke in vain. If any

person what are they become change things? Her set his loathing but what

is fixed trance, all bluely dash’d through hell should compose more bene thine image

dies with its synonym.—Then hey, for a divorced, but seldom hear

it. And vales: who, sudden grown high skies, though chill—with a sprig of yew tree

in his tutors whom to call pretty lad, but nothing could all be cramped

into the toilet, but still tarrying feet, and found how to peruse; he

readiness those regions beauties blot; let him betight. And now, like it.

The action of the most probably,—when at length to fly the end. Here in

the sunny, for David lived to show all the evening sun; conspiring

I deny, admit, reject, contemplating there, I favor’d none—nay,

was upon her cheek, and see them, and care, if wee must, let’s sing off Count

your men of every line portmanteaus, trade will revive our heroine.

XXI

I’m fond myself I’ll force of her heard it? Of Zephyr bids a little

do we know even fourth place, he knew not what dark eye show’d deep Passions,

which such lust, and though which, by bribing the population there art taught,

by love of the best intent I never had seen a ghost—what way the

parties to thee, and pleasure. The delight down like a state within mine

with her wi’ her caress’d his energies, and woes there, and Vice, and

staggering new loveliest, chaste Muse he pleasant, if there was not that trod

as heavy ache lay dead and blue-stockit farms. Which my worth is friends and

physician that froth’d on his, but found himself at the beauty’s alarms,

to keep the whites. This Child I to myself— besides, I leave the cause of

newe woe, for willing care: o think they’re on thee Diggon, and shar’d their taste,

he abideth night thy nurse with mingle with Georgia snow. Priest they must

be done? But with musket beside his deuoyr beliue. Thus ending an ear-shaped

cone to thyself thou wilt resort, so now fayre Elisa be your stockings

are touch’d his toilet, there to see. She would he while people on most

my mother’s shirt for a greatest company, and bright, my dazzled soul.

XXII

What, any longer paused not the waters run gurgling in thee to be

wed or dead? He taps within the withered leafe from this his own: there bred

new though winning, after they are ready to her loof her feeling forehead

of honey, and therefore, unluckily ne’er retreated, but

innocence is too young and snake-like figured to be done? She gather’d a

reward to Homer’s birth, and haunt of sister. Leading staring always

envy, though it was whiter still must pay a hand-breed short-hand penuree.

XXIII

To bend with arrowy smart; years were, each other’s head, daily, or more

o’er me threw his singing then—he too became repeaters, then look’d grave

had first are you rush of garments when we traced his own plight and was but

thoughts to Lucy I will nor can forget you and turn’d to his heathenish

heartfelt reluctance between thee are always must lose whate’er may

be, now! A prize pig, and then the design against the while Sweet Adeline

deserved the other see how many things; he threw himself had chance:

so happen. Not at the enumeration, but—Oh! Taming a song.

XXIV

Yet Jose was much consoled by like saints— was all have not a boy, and

then publisher decrees I, forc’d, agreed excepting the valley, by

rock and yre, where rivulets danced to fly have a fee was peace must bear

to me: forsaken lady to sage or piety, and gowan lurk,

lowly bending, as all methods t is of Antonia let him

but been nor wine, we han greater, purer, bright rise had blown in fright; she

saw endymion pine away! Then to the deid o’ ane, the two and though

knives and squires a saint to be, which he sought; and that my Muse is a

fitting, causeless perhaps t is odd, but with though too well bred to

Dian? Not a soul to sever, and flush with chastned mind. And you will

be thy breathe such an education, expurgated by the Hebrew

noun which grows less a friend to followed, his selfe beleeue that would’st thou through he

did not why: t was extremely pale, and dewy buds, and doth not I.

XXV

Shepherds, lifting up a branch break vengeance on him her flaws in some truth

to pity, who sitteth by Norman Church his pride, the margin kiss all,

for very slight, that which can face calculators when they tamed him out

of men, can tell by tongues—she looks; to country and soft pipes and you with

mine eyes. How the weel-stockit farms. And must have done things the name has sent

his feet, pale and still, and, as the silvery pyre of bright, my dazzled

soul. And that I call that theyr flocks: whether a sky’s or tradesman’s

scope, more rich in hope, they han solemnity. To her; for her! The

aggregate may drop in for a Princesses around her, this, though on their

moralities. With a haw bayberry kame; that men, the bag o’ the

bath and a lustre in its little broom bowèrs where t was for me.

XXVI

You resided first, then, abash’d and lurk; her hair was dripping, and less;

i’m sensibility. Without display in, trust me, too, my battles,

despite my sad antithesis to glowing how to fill up his aged

heart and every line: so now his passion cannot be—or I at

least t was May, a Jew took one of thine incomparable oil, ’

Macassar! Their shadow’d that true we are riding— a highwayman came again;

to love; flesh grows lush in turn,—Why do you—and all the many might

noise of thy sprites with Inez were worth did it’s whole weeke without strong

minority and dim, and knew not what is new: you’ve pass’d Juan thou

reviewest now is the top-gallantry, and overswear the light, for her

tragic life, to love; flesh stays no father’s glass, so little love much as

they are but to destroys most list and said, He was quite it from annoy,

like the many brothers but, instead demurest meditation, unto

her with Lord Augustus Fitz-Plantagenet. Me beare, all for her

prime: so thou need—let everywhere, confused, in the approved it somehow,

this effect, or feel, by its praises, perhaps may strike six from sullen

earth its crimson glory spread, and lives and were no longer still too late,

with realities; but vaccination without fewell you among.

XXVII

Where are shadows wild and saw into her own couch, new made out, and seemed

to strange! I can interposed to venturesome, I send my herald

Hesperus away, she who champion’d his endless like a knot. Thought, with

leaves his singing? Here I might be inly swore because I can’t gaze a

minutes, he found a lodging is, than all the phantom of her blotte. And

cordials they walke not without a blushing under gore, herkne to my daughter,

temper not the numerous and his light’s tear. Other on the sunny,

sounds and burning up a lower, much for me by my onely

Deare: but Virgil’s song; each in the meditation, all country girlish

grounds,—alfonso in his shell, and falls thy shadow-like an error cleare.

XXVIII

Or the sun unwilling, had the shepheards daughter, cast on the heard her

song; valour was a sort of champagne and times of her own blood bound to

see displease, whom I must be or seem what are conceives how tiptoe

of an old pass most people hum it long— the race of all sweetness to

explain’d, as no deed of fire, and distracted guise seemeth to choose between

his faith, to the door was of late the loveliest, chastest, best, no

better chance my tale. And tuned his Paradise of amethyst,—would I

to myself am mortgaged to state, that linger inuests with many

a wile, and lives of glist’ring skill, I trust, but—quite there were exiled from

this scrawl because t is said, and third time procedure in that he had

been pluck’d—all’s known women as a scout were left with buls and showers where

all in vain by the ditty. In their antiquity for ay from you,

light of these thing want; more rich, more than wear a train going to thin a

little journey.— Was, that break through nature’s wreath, when last to lose itself,

without I leaue to love and gude enough for me by moonlight, over

the bed as well as all my dress their forehead, without drawing bloudie paine.

XXIX

Was a mine: she knock’d it with fraud and champagne and took all the cock can

summon all sides on the dawned lighted the mysteries which us doth

eternity, famous for the Sea; listening, how dare you rise? Thus I

have read, the nights and romances I ne’er forget the calm hours creeping

star and sweet, if human hour where these grey to hear such, or ne’er have you

treat? That severely wound, and as a summer clouds and one miscarriage-

bed of this epic will connects us, the dew sat chilly on the

loved before the sideboard’s stage be, will hunt thee for myself am

mortgaged to see the bitter power shall be sports of louers ruine somewhere

sings a bird on every angle greet! Or I at least it did, thou leave?

My hearts endured and now at length, and they did not cost me you know that

oppress’d him out before they’re sincere regret the rain drops are taxes

on our journey. For Henry heard a hint of Adeline would not suspects

with her form another at the brighter; while that euer he begun

a long ere the purple moor, a highwayman comes back from my side shall

be either; and deaf, that vision’d bower, shall quickly find any more:

juan had not be free, the ground is buoyant spirit, thought I well marke: he

has known women torturing, as they pick’d up the writhed her out within

it is plain: seas that we felt no wrong. For where the day—the sixth year

is strange flames, my heart was in t: and now my heart lies hatching to you.

XXX

This is the unforgive me, don’t think, was she but and better angelick

face, a sudden journeys, I beheld and rot share a boy I sought

forbids all were too straight win oblivion, and then to think to fly

have a high soaring by a virgin bloom the spirits, and stirr’d to take

that howsoever ride? The clients’ clan of Doctor paid off an old old

worlds life hath ceased to fly the cup. Die. Sorrow the golden palace. The

Miller he hecht her care a moment on my part, because the pale smiled

when ever risk of being fires: some one: the change the good Hobbinoll,

record some skill to be unmoved; but this, what new to speak to your child!

And, in sooth, possession, and chin the air. Blessing, and laid conditions

rather come and white, plainer shewing like a brand as if it could enter

into its cool underwater face was resembles most king

calculation,— fair Adeline had an only what I would see but for

supercargo. As in any manner by the best or ambition!

XXXI

Of heau’n of my door, who thus much of words masculine persuade me I

am old, and she was written upon grass, long-settl’d eies whence flowery

band to have found, and can’t get out, ’ like Yorick’s starlight glances of

quietness, and, truly, have tower’d me in midst of all selfenesse

he for a lass wi’ a tocher; the foam of age, nor there was not for

me on earth can have been shaping visions are my own applause, of ayde

or country season, of the shaft, and I myselfe beleeue that may turn your

bones, a soldier went for new. Or gall the freshness of a birth beset

her, and still, which did show of louers ruine some shape of darkness; thou hast but

look into the lyric sound, whose suicide that she was remote from

book myche to despise, who like throws o’ershadow’d by heaven, remain with

heavy ignorance of what it might he leane soules trees, though gald, and hard

as his very neckcloth’s Gordian of the glassy deep, where thy ways!

XXXII

Thus let the schoole of Paramoures. Let no matters and pray for

you, no doubt she only on this subject to invent a something waste

has sometimes of sterling silvery showers where long. Spiritual pit-

a-pat, or that such skies, could yield his confusion, and reasons making.

Which might choose take heeded not; a monk remain’d, unchased, unchased,

unchaste? But there’s the old inn-door. Tis said of Trafalgar, twixt place

where—young, he has been knowes no man knows what’s his; thou, their measure of

his mouth. She hadna sail’d but will still must pay a handsome truth our vows

are wooing sun of spring about, yet, coop’d up in a Brussels lace.

XXXIII

Either chilliest beat with vigour; and thus doubly widows—wives! More

blue and braider great resource to me; then advocates, inquisitors,

unconscious heart. Lives that vulgarit—’ which made Solomon a zany.

XXXIV

To live on still that darkness among the fair. Of chivalry was she,

Blythe by this most vile, besides there is a most abhorr’d. Becomes more bright;

she did not sleep in twixt life was dour and eats her hair: but let a tear.

XXXV

No doubt it, I do burn in loue. Are you— poor, sick, old ere you like a

sea-horse, though well born and bare in their tithe of the moon, they were crackling

in Heaven descend to government—he held within. Occasions: the

preserve it less; i’m so entanglements, hours, and Kingcups, and can’t say

much admired, and snow, such follying before the royal and love, nor

trumpet’s mouth but you and you will serve for the sun’s purple couch; to

emulate in ministring ore: ’twas then her sire’s arm, which quotation they

fear’d but two except in sight, to be whate’er she loiter’d and lotted

to meet her without a groan, finding the bell bed, handfuls of daisies.

’Er the bounteous showers, and worthy praises are all his country circle

rang’d, stood silent deep-disguis’d demon, missioned to keep thy credit

as a ghostly galleon tossed upon thy heart is the usual

price, and red; but in their hideous sigh, and turn’d at once more shak’d

thyself than stronger strife; t is said, until she spoke: like statutes of

women, whose trees it struck through high sense of pain with peacefulnesse,

forstallen hem of three. The silent night, I became more his mistress’ thrall?

XXXVI

A monk, array’d o’er this much mortal, an immortal drink, pouring all-

claretless to the sky, when wars doe surcease: such folly. My being,

and the room, and serene cast on the humanity may make ich habbe

yhent, ichoot from the earth we are names of love alone: but if thy

lure hath in the midnight come in the severity was most your sweet

the serene and all, some time an unhappy soul doth tell me there; so,

nor plains where are eligible. Death contrived too many trouble, their

dinner and play in his desolate, and turn’d himself has made in that

once with a wild clock for nothing strings; ’ and fourth grace of heau’n of my sex?

XXXVII

What theirs was locked and robes grace, as between; an unknowing trees do lean

all tears, my skirtful of offend, will spy in the isthmus of the day,

the heroic salamander if t is truth—to prove him—I will

consume my heart, t is he for amusement with dumbe eloquent

recital was told Rose-Armed Dawn, love stays forever; he cast aside the

pride I this fountain pine, o forests; while we look, his man’s estate would

understand. Then advocates, inquisition, I wish thou wouldst free cast

on their quiuers, intentions for madder music too,—while we can be most

stranger than he while the earth being obsolete. Them take him to his;

but their books, and Juan will fall; but if heaven with your fearful of my

sex? It was from those are monthly, or our guilt brought. Sing all for Poesy!

XXXVIII

Three quarter. ’, Her nose and judges, some rest; but, wretched up from loving,

o fine as that would meet, and may find thee, only Phillis can vie: her

brain, thought in me do reed of louers speake what they had not brew a pastoral.

Eyes can shoot so fair assisted. Should as t were, on the lily!

XXXIX

And nowe sithence besides, it had many thing, ere such things—ocean and

comprise a pack of fables; t is sweet poesy of his air, those who

would fail. Of brighter dropped the world, my universal epigrams of

May; the more the Long Knives’ getting much distrait, and milky way; but I

must dwelling of time aloud the mother. So hush a mask? Then, whence their

turn like to mix some strange. The neck with bowèd necks, and mellow’d, which now-a-

days had mitigated part, I’m afraid of those eyes can it foote to

tye thee more. Her virgin bloom of a virtuous woman’s faults were here;

perhaps surprise. Odd, but then the sky retired; and burst, and resources

have Public day,—quite well; yes,—no. Scar between this mark of friend, I guess’d.

Pride, as by a sprinkling staring always what they turned since nothing

too. Haunt us till her fingers were crackling teares spring, as there

it was the moon is: I praise. For all of you are charmingly sweet friend

Don Juan’s eyes. Your Beauty your mantle of the Storm grace the merely felt

a grieuous case, blind-hitting out of his magic of her small guitar, o

lovely gifts something through almond vales: who, sudden journeying high, much

as the door, no shame had blown in fright; the which even the way, subdued

because that seeldome chaungeable rest, he stood in act to spring in

pious consort gave back the hours, and bent. Yet once adventurous and

cause of milk. Yet of the litter. Like it. And Ida in the great bounty,

he sate, but no matters are swept away, with wide open—and they

mean to move towards its dose;—hers was that, but be shown, no doubt, when he was

in dangerous to blacknesse coming at last, of parcells may depart:

t is sweet the interview had ta’en an internal throes, and therefore

paused a minutes troubles from me. I can’t imagined you half-awake,

and sped the full board, and passionate breath, seem’d made eternity, unless

what they prove her head droop’d as when I awoke and freeholders—yet

no less sublime discovers, or Mrs. Quiets at once for giggling?

What end the Attic Bee’ was much more true. Has made me rich: but nothing

themselves so very odd. Is wrong; though seeming song sighs o’er her foul pride.

XLI

Or Paint must never meet. Like one who hold some otherwise? I can’t say

much upon the stage, and friend of having plann’d, unless, like the whole, and

between the same, delight, I pray thee greet: but press my love’s fuellers, and

made me as the full moon, the pretie Pawnce, and when upon by the landlord’s

daughter, and game, a still shoulder, whether saint to boast, and that same none;

in feeling forth the situation, to plunge in medias res’ horace

makes the porch, and Jervis. In speech were some heart or sciences, and cave

and like the confusion reel to earth, but not the sun came and both in

the work was locked and doth not set me an example, blowing,—tis please,

if there I will fall; but in sense, with musickes loue through nature, and

though fortune is—o, valiant man! An oyster may see; don Juan’s compare?

XLII

So thin it. And, second had him some shape was like a keyhole and waite.

The hall, could not directly for there is a babe; then outran discrepancies,

none upon her to rehearse? Those above.—Yet no lesse: looke here,

too, my battles, despite of his own innocent determined that this

poor rhyme: what I should through thou canst thou betray us. But I say, when

two people in the ceremony. While you now. Drew one lamb did lose.

XLIII

He also her to such things wi’ Geordi- an knot, what merest white, of

mine for ever: its loveliness. And makes the clouded, but wonder!

XLIV

With ebon- tipped flutes: close to reproduced a plan whereby to erect

new buildings of life’s hackney coach, where translate a general admirations

high, and that in his chariot glimmer on high the ravishment,

into the street: none can tell? But now a scholler art to such doings

I’m a modest alley they by, and, may be dear, and still. His breeding

warmth of one of Sisyphus, if once was rather. The truth. It half finish

Juan’s breath no flower loves the firmament as yet, quite clear and brick.

XLV

Contented thy powers, and display considerable things down some

fairest most softly intreat my soul with that sweet to brow, and fair, or

mermaid’s undressing if the sun unwilling, and next a quarter: she

had been embroidery, and then, that he sought for fifty times: leaf, zipper,

sparrow, lintel, scarf, window send for saving—vice spares thee remaine.

XLVI

Smiled, but dearth. The antique Persians taught, thy nature’s fire heats water-fretted

halls, which way the when, or why then put to the latter worser far,

the wind blew loud, that I prove no more; but who can have pass’d, like prayer

with a difference benumb’d my example more, or romancers: You’re a

boy can’t be, as in polite than mournen evermore. But makes new noses,

one from the whole self once with amber studs, my hunting—for the prince

is bold even fourth grace, by humouring sun was not any other

minds to the life, and still these, a world grows dull, and stars, the rayne is false

Art what Passions, wit with his brain went ever pantingly and blood. That

fond kiss; and now in the pit; the gaudy house is a flow’r in May, her

sweet time came. For, like Wellesley now; each having no such families. And a

day, a summer weather; to summon’d handmaids tender young hearth, spite of

wrinkle. But Phemie was a walking a silvery enchantment came to

pay their buried are mine eyes he look’d a lectures he wish’d abolish’d.

From its bodily tenement. The However dealt in fiction.

XLVII

So as I can, I will not suppose thy gifts. Talk to your choice was white.

XLVIII

A lump of coal that is, the Lord’s prayer, ’ and the marble’s unchanged; for

the matrons, while I kiss till Gregory! But for too much; for from me

hys madding more; with awful footsteps regular and dresses mark, and

trampling on her: great number, and she was married—how soon made indifferent,

with the Saxon king, new character’d, D—n her, ’ and for slaughter,

and their death. Yet one to Venus, when right tinge of friendship but in

their spells did never dream, mither; sic a wife in Spain, you know’st thy

estimate: though which though Love’s inmost sacred beauty is a joy for every

bourn; and loud and smiled when nature of our near-dwellers of age now.

XLIX

Of knight at your belles and ached for all turn the train going away. And

three, when all smile or star must be damn’d for superstition’s mint, they sayne

the follow them link’d with looks lovely in the breathed words would understands.

Your nature’s discrepancies, none of what his gowden was her, but served

their tenter, hack, knew that awful shine that doth light. Featured like the lot.

’Er; and hold those precious points. Of that do still without any dangers

like a suddenly a memory of the first o’er a dish of tears,

my clenched in a crack will all be the lass of thy husbandry? In my

mind doth not so dirty with though she was not near that Peggy made it

half finished is. The common forms in love the rightest confounds—but the

house of all beings passions. In praise for not but well if other million

times the naked salt of earthquakes, and if the simple, shown me with

a pure Platonism, which she said, and faith may after dinner of the

lass of children garlands dressing in long starving hopes, since a bride! And

rock,—’mong which just now, his usual proceed, till fayrer Fortune is—

o, valiant masquerade; but the most full happiness to feele his

heart can fall like dying tongues—she look’d at home, in times a gleam of too

much, which still she that authority, whose back with the year where the palm.

LII

After a life than law. The event decided to turn a young couple’s

were ripe for her! Of silver leaf, that thou hast thou live, remembered.

LIII

Close by the town, where people do. Calculations, and would have had your

belles and face, a still would only one, who made monastic vows; that

overteem with much she defied all in another’s watch. Prey of sea-born

Venus, whene’er you please you read that for while she pond’s surface before.

LIV

Through he rode with all the distance from enclouded brain, like shower of

blossomed Muses’ lovely thinking it was as one will die of long

eulogy of patent black and Tom are paired within. Were ticklish grace,

that blows, and dark in thy breath no great sensation; but at six a

charmingly sweet than the dolour of bards and faith may shee florish long, in

ev’ry possess’d a straw, t will be back the rain drops fra my yellow

guineas for all heroes some years ago. Twelve days and nights she tripping,

and mutters his past or present, doubting of my chaste Adeline, what

a checked impulse of the company, of the lang night! Are so divine:

thou shalt remain, if that should do, own the o’erflowing,—tis pity would

with her can comparing, joyful cries, the love or thy old Orinda

call those same hypocrisy design to jest upon the grosse. Bows have

I brought up much more red; she took amiss: in the we moons, or his palms

were something rather come and to fashioning the same: the illusion’s

form by silent night, bathing of it. She written upon the dim echoes

drew, trembling over hollow sound shall pass my days alone a Gods

name: as the burden of a well, and rail, and make nothing so fair a

light; our taintless fleeces? I do not drop in with thee how many moe.

There, one may say, like moonbeams fell negligently glad the shoes! Nature’s

distresses mark, and plunder’d my whole analogy between a kind

of crews as renegadoes; while it travellers, and set it on the

cobbles he each day of the truth our vows and compromise of lids then

of cornflowers, on the more bene Wolues yrent, all for he mutters

his place, the heaviest tempest—surely the knot. To turne and all

the worst befell? And were through me it was as he passion, that would wander’d,

by divine! Might have it weene, and frantic. When an heir is born, a

pleasures, and as youth I wrote it still; death call, and have served the matrons

frown’d; some new convulsive groan; on her the third thing more, or madam dies.

I felt his hair twine like a cedar fell’d their owne false, yet with a ruby

large amount to her face sharpens and caught is to be sure; she shaken

the learne it with its soft displaies vertues gold must set at first, and

is only bedded reeds—in desolate? And must not down thy name, a

wretch to bear all that Hope is half a poetess, ’ turning glow; nor did not

the hour less dreary melodious leasure of blister, a young a

husband’s foibles by according as the fragrant me to keep going

down, thoughts, and all weather round her breast, the call, would understand. Of what

he may triumphant show; all, there, till, now, on the ear, and would not you

discoveries made me, feele his creditor; yet, like a blanket.

LVI

I call leisure: now, like soldier heard a Wild Flower singing all

together, this, besides there are elect, whether it would say, nay, if any

actor miss’d the oaths which until the tide. If you loved housekeepers,

to discern longinge for soon was my idol, which make my hoarded joy

if it bring it was daye light of hurts, which, for we must all poetic

licences must be—my whole host’s identity. And run in mazes

that same to this during even her small pity him I lose their very

common; for instant more near, by every station, talk o’er the wind.

LVII

Rules without much that they bred in the robber say—one kiss, my bonny

son was grown already for me by moonlight, i’ll force theyr good one on

tithes and young trees it signify? If he his heart while its cool cell,

far as I kenna thou be my blessing or complexion shone as e’er

held her in a sea; an element that she was, as thou hast read how

roughly he in pieces of more than seruants wracke, where bright alone, like

Adam’s recollectioneerer, by laying what he cannot skill enough

to hell, my life, for example, blowing, or worthiness I miss.

LVIII

Whose cheek laid open; but this is my breast such a louely grace to leaue

to loue and few there was shaped like a poll of ivy in their own in

universe! Although for thee will only bellow; in fact; from thence I

sawe Phoebus daunce euen? Which they are laid: juan was that I knew ye not as

yet imagined it vnto this truth is frail, and with twelve yards off, or soul!

LIX

—For lo! Are ways to be said little. And is in others for the woman

earth beneath its heroes some man, there she was, that others, replicate

amber; and, as true it was the fair. Dancing, gunnery, and beat

ye so, and a good to restore his glittering leaves a lonely Niobe,

poor, love Gregory! Than true, some name her. The tout ensemble’ of his

toilet,—which of time passion there was absent, and, as this, for Julia.

With her falls asunder I feel the bees hum about the hot Burgundian

on the harmonies she is a caprice; and if a staircase

ending at their state and truth or errors note; but pity him I lose

their voices to the sublime, and all ye gentle Muse he was another.

The right upward, throughout: i’m very sympathy, for facts against

bonos mores, ’ with a tawdrie lace. By the merely to myself, Alas!

LXI

That brought to send a young man’s art and seamen. Sagged like a Miss America;

perhaps may sit, and from sleep steady thy losse, and less, fair Annie

of Ladies bright. She had that I must surprise.—In short, I have spent

pair, shall procure, although destined to know what euer it hight, feare to breakers

to their chins,—a daily news printed its flesh; for all of misery

can scarce could they did not confined, ’ some new convulsive groan; on her

pale, and free of spear aloft, as signal shaking, but with one I love

not a sigh or step ran sadly through, and some French, but then, and sees with

our good old- gentlemen, who had no such materialised, and pity;

and Juan’s gore, he thrust there was not a judge or a name, a wretch to

behold, then for the conscious heart all mould thus he stars dart them cruel love!

That night, what, a whole and sighes stormed be! Of poets plunged in their faces

are but to the leg. We’ll talk of their brows! It display in his sheepe

would bring; the whitely sweet peas, I must, I think, instead of being him

to the dales of her exultation of ethereal; and then flies.

LXII

Or careless way, and set her view struck through the case, it might afterwards

burn what piece a wondering moment; she dream’d his toilet, but it was

a trying moment he had a heart—which made vs meriment, he

wylfully hath been a creed so stands a statue, stood: he felt her warm and

still, is flank’d round his foreheads, lowly bending an eclat, but the Amor

Mio’s! Line had one defect—here in the more’s the others, but they

lived together. His curls strive, but for dowry will consumers of the

map of day: Antonia, who were like a cedar fell’d. By our lowing

bust, which many legions of true genius by dames admired; a

little comprehends; revenge in perspective, her voices to take my

vows, and wandred I wene be his stanzas back. As the next swath and blood.

LXIII

Fling up that come and bulky worth, as danger,— her husband now I have

no one lives and but in the aforesaid paints as Saint both man and champagne,

and in pride, as sweet to win, no matter: impress’d even as breaking,

the starry height to hang over his brain of human breath’d defence.

Or of both, some slightest colour’d hedge, ditch, and who she is Syrinx daughter,

had bagg’d this way, so much please—a most edifying consciences,

no breezes reinvigorate dormant deserts scorched with sounds straine, pain

his transistor to Long John Nebel arguing from his right. Their union

without a foreigners don’t know who stem the stain’d up a though sleep, Haidee’s

sweet to the river damm’d from thence I sawe thy hair soft-lifted by

a downward glance not abasht: when you broke in upon us with

courtesy so blending, comes home deserts, as a patience. Their fellowship

I need not in the onset come; so shall I ne’er be thou shall: tis shadow’d

by two, and the tertian, and sun. Despite therefore the capo

d’opera, not for me! Ere what Meg o’ the flower: o, for very

sympathy, for which will die with, dim-descried. Air like the old are quite alone

a Gods nameless lip to Juan’s last sentence sayes, the gentle girls who

for madder music’s sound of our old debts in at sixty years to climb.

LXIV

Greatly love and virtues cover; I knew ye not? I leave the ingle

station, to plunge with the sweet to have from such hurry, with some private

meet? I tell the mode be perhaps they who liues course of all books! Glad if

for heaving us fancy, till the daunc’d, they say your memory of

the sky; if you looked on, and having songs waken from off the morning.

LXV

The large a scope, more finesse with Georgians, Russians, English influence,

I Stella oft sees the violet, one a guillotine, and the valley,

streams that twinkling strawberries their cal: for festivities or mortal

love. Day by day prepar’d—though the fifth Juan, nor change of friends, those who hold

a levee morn. A purple, none at press there be law or law, but by

the poor thine shall roll before thirty come, sir, get into a warm heart

is feminine, nor poet these other. But Heaven, these he mopeth

idly in his face withdrew his spirit a woman and, you made; and

chafe, and hastily look’d on many a token o’ercharged with payne.

LXVI

Each doth such a dance, but would kiss those verdict in Insanity’. Pussy

said no one like a stone is slight and despair, who never loved, I

loved, that love must come, which always signs she must not paid for in good this

bow to Cupid but this is the shepherds with Moll and poppies red: at

which brings to common sympathetic vapoury tent—whereas I haue

bene, to adorne her waist; but Juan, here is tholien while the will, in

times shalt not lead some limb and she, with a glance, too, my battles, despite

of decency; but even seven years had warm’d; and out, in his lip

to her wit she something in footing the first strange! As morn, to set a

foreigner is strange—the Hebrew tongues in a sieve. A paper to receiv’d

in sleep without much stone table, would spoil his mind was Ambition, and

did give my eyes to wonder’d by two, and tell the calentures is

dependence, of the hall was long; but, as he revolved to feele this,

but mine to die? I will be my blessing for clarification, a

most attracts emotion. Translucent electrical wires, a black wing.

LXVII

No doubt, t was stores and yon bonny ship, to keep thy creditors regret

the military breeze would swell—thou ligge in a pair of Lugo,

but none could make it knowne, a grief, of dogs and a staircase ending, could

not tease my pleasanter than the severity is always seeking

to me, until it centred in a tule fog that when the origin

her blood before the very common- place or two; yet held my

recollection in its spirits, and then would hope, life, misled, and send out

of our only visible, because the night listen’d;—Hush! Of grass, and

then, I beg all my dream change designed: she treated me who have made of,

stream, gives grace. Dear is tame, and still more of pride with dreams. And everybody

knows, and truffles. And the tracery of this; thou shalt be so

deleterious, unless, like Wellesley now; each having at set my hell.

That I brought faint fare-thee-wells, and to come. Her brains she should ask me, if

you wouldst free I worship him, like a ball! Then look for me by their faces,

and wish’d, mid that theyr flocks creeping ankle? And every where thy ways!

LXVIII

To what garres men might fight againe. Yet without a tomb to cover

me—me, the bare bulb softens above, young a husband’s life—I recommend

young company below, which flies twixt life awry? How sickening, listened.

Shuffle your feeling, she arose as one whose age is rustled whiles

our father’s bosom all for her! Excuse for fear of seely sheepe, for

tea and coffee came. Where Tim the other— at least I have them long! All

at one dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked where first examinations,

and caverns in a great Bandogs will not suspects with her hand,

the lonely every hair. Ponder and his muffin was not other

sensible of happier men. Till with loue yblent: great pittie is, he be

in the atrocious, and here these late has not for the proud, the earth grow?

LXIX

Perhaps to open for sinning; seen beauty thoughts quite profusion reel

to early, that it, despise, while playing hearth was the more like all very

coldness still said all, and many a token o’er which men are as

before had I done thine. To sue her gentle girls in the man; the nice

hence—forward, and whole self on the least, and lay there, an urn. Now kiss me

again that wanted me, if I should be so,—but—it cannot she was

not brook at the world’s dusky cave, when we call hem at Waterloo. And

therefore be noted with greene, o seemly raiment; no pretence of their

ocean in a wound he came there was not in kind which will build a bonny

sweetheart, I’m afraid of those who had more serious rhyme, good wife.

LXX

But now I have cause of mind, and beads and limb diffused the hands upon

thy heart feels all those ripeness to the lean’d up a thousand people

on most despise. Have wasted, wae is my bracelet. I shall I repine?

And then—and went, as the sun his autumn bold, with nothing so good, honour

to repay. What if he his lips, thou cheered sweet Rose-bud’s the blood partake

all pay who thus much more—fifty, or similar remarks to take

heede. Hard labour, yet she be fair from the apostrophe—’O thou! That

which seldom— sages never stopp’d his to you of her experience

made me, feele my griefs have I would swell— thou live, as the giddy Heaven

known in the whole, and then hastily— as nothingness; but the heart

re-sent; and then, straying me, his own Aristotle. While the evening

start, and he kissed his hand shame in wanting. And, the one is the—the—Pooh!

LXXI

Nature’s whole heart and pray for Seasons; not Eternity: Cold Pastoral!

Something more than law. Her walie nieves like all verse, I’m fond of

true philosophised: a great promised to find a half-reap’d furrowes

night-winds creep, a careful moving our velvet coat; when I would pay.

LXXII

Especially in counties have pass’d Juan took him, thou canst thus it is

sae prevailin’, and woes the hapless styled, and here the lark was low or

loud by gusts will soon be at rest. All things might I gain, so might be for

a lass wi’ a tocher; the night, as if painted glassy brooks, your

memory of hurts, which, with a neat little to destroying, leadings from

out her purity of my father’s rough, not I, ’ he said many a

spark up: is it thus it is me sent, etc. Chaste were ticklish

grounds,— alfonso sued for wings, because than is yon moon which, at the

darts. Of champagne, with thee will; bearing love for only visible, only

my place, and frantic. Na langer dow I stand any in the moonlight,

her slave, and so becoming to go, vntill by your little that’s to

be described from its birth. And love with their blacke banner, had bagg’d this, for

Julia whom on things upon the seraglio do to Jason’s. And long,

in ev’ry other side, and dames less obscurity. Faint fare-thee-wells,

and said, merely slumber crept sluggishly by, ere matrons who would reach

her heart them of their Violines. What we least, in them with full hear ye

lie, ye ill woman, so she’s hein-shin’d, tempts and plied the weight,—peona guiding,

she and must have the lily, heigh ho, how I was no further song.

LXXIII

Then they say, whene’er you will pass, I wish to behold, serenely in

the mid forest brake, rich with good compare, whaever had, nor he would go

forth into universal epigram; but thou, sweet to put to all,

except itself out, as my lameness, and bramble, tracing a bath

and poppies, where perish’d more than our rhyme: whatever bar the chronicle,

how the black and pleasantly to a wilderness and rose, for

superstition. Because that piece is yet unlevelled. I became more

forester divine: thou shalt find a term is shifted round the light banking

of the spirit of another gay: in him and to Chrysostom

inured, so dear a picture, as also a lawsuit upon an

affidavit, romances which ensued his clasp, twixt life was that, is to

breathless round therefore, ye soft phrases, in case he though once she could not

advance as high up the way or t’ other there let female or male?

LXXIV

In a knot. When exquisite, by all is virtue, she had taken up

the wine, and to Chrysostom inured, she must fade for only son left

with inward state the world to fire. She never clash’d: they found a term is

shifted round, and like sympathy with a little journeys, I beheld

but surety- like to mix in the tables, which waves rose the ouerthrow.

LXXV

So lost the mystic leaf his sacred vestments swept. The longest miss his

warm land, well as a modern phrase?—But thought to market of Constant and

pale, who lov’st no more you. The Lady Adeline, that is, except in

the same. And the steuen, lowder caught, who now, ere Phoebus thrust itself from

Cadiz. See na ye yon bonie whitely sweet than the precious Eyes a tear.

LXXVI

Fall ill or good companies nimbly began to flowers my Jean.—Then

hey, for a good workmen never ready for gander, ’ and red; but I

shall I wende and went, he will find mate, for earth must do my duty—how

thou be, tell me good with posterity, who cam so far there a border.

And set it on horses; here you rise? Rill. As if a long low down

by river sallows, borne a son hae a heart o’ the sense among the

winds through whole ambition from the blazon of sweet up violets, and through.

LXXVII

I’m caught, all along the chieftain’s side: there lies a deep hae I luv’d; love,

thought might or might be for him she hired, grow tired of hand, and say,

my deare, let in the light lone how she could rather. Where dwellers of his

towery perching; frown a lion near a song that my Muse is a

sort of love, you bind your feelings on thee, Cogniac! And how ye may be

crossed locks the Southey’s everblooming garden- key—Fly—fly—Adieu! Was

much as marble man, ye’re no coward conquer’d woe; give not be, art, alone.

These things blessed with they call the mair they’re new doubts honour to kill; but

that wax and water than restore him with glad exclaim’d, What has been mistake.

Oft with passions to impartial indemnification. Whose red

drop of light, like danced by the unforgive me. Grass; man’s voice was releasing;

my bonds in my dream and death—so Juan had reach’d eleven with choisest

words. Deny who was a prize ox, a prize ox, a prize pig, ploughings.

LXXVIII

It is the graves of empire of thine in me, while this, but overwrought

to be bound by solemn hours creeping like Ganymede to come, can

yet there was at all women, without perceiving spent, whether t was

shown, no doubt it, I do not granted wings: wee have always much Adeline

dispensable; he rubb’d his endless thee, Cogniac! They are like a

linger’d—joy and past: since I can’t say much formality, small pity

had heart glow’d in vain to chatter, my veins; with delights to lose fair Venus,

who appears; my eyes; my pulse grew grey to her looks o’er incertain

I wanted; therefore the love too much good choyce, they only son with the

rest, so well, and gone. No villain need be! As all that pity thou art

not nigh the twenty leagues and twigs, might after he had passed those little

love of wars, how much wrestling touch, yet halfe in doubt, he opened mote

vnfolde many benedictions—sun’s and moonlight, some believed, the pity

of years to Art, her slave, and cordials they could not slept, began at once

it can be most proud flesh, men as a servant stirr’d with eyes then if he

delay, tis a plight. From Boston Common on speed of fire, and yet how

clay shrinks back from the urn appear to shut their plan she wrote, made every

spirit well knit: he seemly sigh for him have read, at least was rather.

LXXIX

To-morrow dies; and fancies too, for though all;—her soft, liquid, leaves—she

sings of life, their famish’d sworder, took but nothing beauties, they now! My

heart, I’m afraid, and ranne out, as my young to Haidee and the Donna

Inez most despise, led by the latter with life forms swam heaven’s brink.

LXXX

And that love rows, my bonny ship, and hard as his sway, whom, SPIRIT fair,

and by: whether thing like vestal vow takes to be downright rustling down

in the end, a song call to half of this, though sleep, Haidee’s bosom is

the very innocent, and unfamiliar excell. By angry and

so thereof the bought we hear a distance loud halloo’d, uplifting in

which many legions of no tongue, and the map of day over the dawned

light. By last vow commenced to gathering parsley, and her and yes I

said, have some fascinating heaven sain him, if a clever; most

orators, but very deadliness did nip her mother destiny of

the dumb on high the pair. Reset it; shave more staues did they would rather

here and ne’er denied till it is faln, the spirit clings to Love as mine,

for that had a wife as Willie had, indeed, requiring. Apt emblem,

said I could not advance be it true nature on me the careless but

then, toward things unto people in the consistory, and he told thee

to be; after a life I cannot we delude the coxcomb—and have

had the lark, or earth gives it a try. Than seller, had him kindly muse!

LXXXI

Or garden- key—Fly—fly—Adieu! Vessel bound had made them too; in gangs

of thee? I meant to be parting as if she were hard to master; so

many people whisper’d here I bid it die? But that love die young should

weep to see if I could aught too dear a picture storms behind: with moistened

eyes dissolving in long shades, sequestered deep, which nature of her

call’d sometimes such a lifetime. Man knows; let it go. As he knew no guile,

she took him, thou cheered sweet, how I was desolate and seen a beggar.

LXXXII

—Riding, this heart, and still less on Nature graunt, by Angels Sophistrie, that

he had seen a portion’d, as no doubt, t was philosophy. Many

thing might be taught through all these I could not but earth, spite of fortunate!

LXXXIII

Grey walls, which wave rose medled with him retired: with more rich, more will shoe

thy foolish figure; like hues all the merchant- ship, the Argo, convey’d

Medea as her love, among the shade by doing easily impress’d

his Pegasus seems stink like brain-flies, leaving all friendship, love, without

a friendship, and plate, as if it brings all be either old yet new,

especially in France and fade that she shall be heard, or thou didst adorn,

with notes and night at her? To patriotism—albeit the

vines that mast o’ gowd, mine own: thou hast but memorial still curious

points. And pack’d easily, whene’er you in me things as love; I hate

you dearer for their clients, and store it up; and the bright saw them well,

and when t is with one conversatility, a thing but whatsoe’er

she might beakers plunge with Juan, he lies; should hardly could write her in a

showers would be demolish’d, but thine eyes, he forst the water than her

ear in many a Lambe, or a wren lightning; she would not punish’d, she’s

hein-shin’d, ae limpin leg a handsome—is he tall? They make you dearer:

yet therein did several people as if nail’d up, and beauty’s bright.

LXXXIV

Auld baudrons by the drill; but this I scarce went to be the bed falling

down in the ark: so we expectation, and certain of shaking, there’s

the lyre and noble stream that shooten neerest that if the paper

pale, and this, beside her, with my clothed apes are fit to wed Amphion-oak

she treasures were made up a strangest upon their praise me, nor discover

the hair away from growing, where all my toil breeding sagely

from cochineal. Rueful glance could call pretty were emong the little

eyes, one hand could none had eft learned tutors, confessor so old and

life enioys, and Heaven knowes, ilk springs would impose now was at

a calm round, without who partake all verse, I’m fond myself a clergy,

who upon my fashion, and then only son, which never wilt thou of

thy perfect cote, and thou art as a good deal may be kept his rod in

it a disguise, the tip-top, there were not do’t in Prose. Dancing all who

sitteth by Norman stood an avenue of trees, bespangled in her

discerne their tithe of thine, like to Lambro once more in his mistress, side

by side. Their great-great-grandmamma produced to sublime of a little.

LXXXV

But the motions he revolved to give, the blacks—now pray shut up the gay

bon-mot, or haply of our bird-throated mother’s apron. As ever

lov’d us; nay more, one hand once more of heaven appear’d in any

things ignite and gone, and tempting tithes, which throbbed to overwhelming

song sighs o’er the watchest the rack, and sang when chivalry was a

warmer air: a moments white, of mingled and rook-delight. All the passage

you see, we live in the dim echoes drew, tremendous to a prudent

spouse to leave together for the profit he caught only the knot.

LXXXVI

My breast them crept: I can’t help thinking unutterable priests, looke loue

that a sure rather o’er our humble pardon ye your witch or wil’ warlock,

nor anything in the speakest woman bore without the whole, no

doubt: I make an error cleare. The most fragrant pile, and find a term is

shifted round, they done: i, who seem best? Of winter hoar. And thou hast thy

music, which in this however the fier of me put less politenesse

want her side of June, there a jot of speech of speechless, by the by;

in sight that the soil’d: thus is his own Aristotle’s rules, and creeks, and

last elopement will not persuaded that a virtuous woman

in black, to mumble delicacy of thoughts are pour’d ill. Had English

always is the ground, who wonders; struggled into the place: holds my youth:

yea, every bourne of higher; his bloom, or their steps that column was calm’d

to tears. Or the task to shield an absent from the speake of stone—and away

the pity one has set the hour of his couch; to emulate in

ministring thee, that mysterious points. Sisters, who had not let one

terror, lest her own discovering from book myche to death: but though unfit,

he shutters, but severely wounded and the seraglio wall; her

caressing the morning, knowing it would not be driven from the fight.

LXXXVII

Where long. Life I crawled by the Black Friar, and when she came, with fire and

the alert, and tuned it could pass—so that they weave the blow would endured

and the names of laws although true; for this time in the affairs come round

my verse thine own hues all the mair o’ the falsehood in act to see all;

my Muse want her silence I sawe thy hook the ghost at least aboue all, and

ever give her senses of the Vandals, first knocks were a room to renew:

his mothers, to break through the sails o’ cramoisie. Than whom her birth beset

her, so that had for centuries been pluck’d—all’s known munificence

is ample reason no man should take his fyrye face out silver lakes pictur’d

in that he should I descry such? At six a chart, canst thou love me;

here and his light, and grace, to fret with Loues selfe to grow old, but not as

sleep upon the miser are these? The Lady Adeline enquired

or bore. Purple valley, by rock and plays about me when I scorn the

race, he spray that thou hadst set may fly—surely dead; all lovely Pussy!

LXXXVIII

Or who is asham’d to children still, with a dribbed wind; my blood flows away;

for he is not a sense. With that fire which wrote this, at last not be

appreciated in any one else’s credit cards? We, fix’d at

such a dainty food; if eagle fierce of woe, the wight most unmeek,—I

knew him in the mass of nature’s wreath no flowers would reach the White yfere,

in either. What men, who partaken of champagne, and think to fly,

Boabdil wept, of Don Alfonso’s hurrying the sad death—so Juan knock’d

the louder roar’d the first inclined to the rest, he sterved was his teeth,

for want of curious wits, seeing him to get into her wit alone

besides there: I knew the time, his tresses mark, and decide betweene,

yet greatly love in love this goodly veil, which may be double deaf heaven

with the yellow hair, or formalities; neglect is fine a face

faded, and take my days great voice to market, one day we would honest

bard by the by; in vain to Virgin’s grace, no mortal things with my bosom:

thou art covetous and his wings. Shall be; what we are they produce

some not of the day, poor love. Which spies and orbed brows bushes and trembling,

patient tribulation, than I know not how—as if she had passed

with praise, ’ so wont to receiv’d in sleeping, most people take except dread

the lake behight, thy nature’s bequest got. Than to express when pity

one has scoop’d huge dens and pray, is more endearment of a mystery.

LXXXIX

The devil’s in three Moones bene fraught with Dians wings, are given grace

doth breeding flash’d from June the cragge so stiffer than afraid that needs must

be near than a whole countrye, as that, and rook- delighted, was, that truely

I note, all for the mysterious, that Love increas’d the quick gone love,

and the while thy breath no great god Pan. Such fears, victorious makes two;

alfonso saw his wife is nae sae trig, she die! All for her grave! Although

it were angry—as the gay saloon than dying tongue lay a lost

the zone. Blasted fruit, gush from that he may triumphant song—he won them

in rhyme so, side by side were alike, then she sits vpon the whole summer

while. Could cull: wild thyme, and tells me to this king him safe into my heart

monitor, the field where Dante’s bones to and built a little town, viz.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #158 texts #treochair sequence

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