#A. M. Klein

[canadachronicles]

"Who knows it only by the famous cross which bleeds into the fifty miles of night its light knows a night—scene; and who upon a postcard knows its shape — the buffalo straggled of the laurentian herd, — holds in his hand a postcard. In layers of mountains the history of mankind, and in Mount Royal which daily in a streetcar I surround my youth, my childhood — the pissabed dandelion, the coolie acorn, green prickly husk of chestnut beneath mat of grass— O all the amber afternoons are still to be found. There is a meadow, near the pebbly brook, where buttercups, like once on the under of my chin upon my heart still throw their rounds of yellow. And Cartier's monument, based with nude figures still stands where playing hookey Lefty and I tested our gravel aim (with occupation flinging away our guilt) against the bronze tits of Justice. And all my Aprils there are marked and spotted upon the adder's tongue, darting in light, upon the easy threes of trilliums, dark green, green, and white, threaded with earth, and rooted beside the bloodroots near the leaning fence— corms and corollas of childhood, a teacher's presents. And chokecherry summer clowning black on my teeth! The birchtree stripped by the golden zigzag still stands at the mouth of the dry cave where I one suppertime in August watched the sky grow dark, the wood quiet, and then suddenly spill from barrels of thunder and broken staves of lightning — terror and holiday! One of these days I shall go up to the second terrace to see if it still is there— the uncomfortable sentimental bench where, — as we listened to the brass of the band concerts made soft and to our mood by dark and distance— I told the girl I loved I loved her."

--The Mountain, A. M. Klein

Reading this beautiful poem by A. M. Klein, it reminded me how only a week ago, the girl I love took me to see a mountain in her home-town. Not to climb it, she took me to the beach to see it, tall and majestic against a brilliant blue sky, and as I gazed up at her, the mountain, whilst the sun descended onto the sea, and our feet cooled in the waves, I told her that I loved her!

[letgomypartypiece]

joost save me.....

save me joost klein.....

[glamournessmygod]

Joost getting his M tattoo

[thebluesthour]

from A Practical Field Guide to Mystery (by arsspoetica)

[ghostsslutss]

you leave now and call me telling me your sorry.

kinks/tags : cigarettes burns , toxicity , cigarettes , hard dom , slapping , bruising , hickeys, bites

pairing: f!sub x joost!harddom

authors note: here u go.

“you want gentle? Wrong fucking address”

He hissed, his jaw clenching together biting on his cigarette and bending it slightly. Joost fingers curled inside you penetrating your sweet pussy toughly. The Dutch took one last drag, down at you. Your face begging for forgiveness and for him to stop. But he wouldn’t. Joost blew the grey smoke into your face, your pathetic moans cut off by coughing the smoke out. His fingers penetrated you deeply, hitting your sweet spots.

“spread more of your legs, slut.”

You compiled, anything to get away from this stupid stupid punishment. You decided to be bratty towards him earlier. Shouting at him, and being rude in general. He dragged you towards the bed, Not caring how many bruises or hickeys or even bites you would get from him. Now you were crying and pleading. You felt like you were seeing stars, begging for him to stop. Until.-

You whined loudly, your legs shaking trying to move away from him. But it wasn’t working. The cigarette touched your skin. Burning your inside thighs, oh my god. It was too much. He fingered you until you were speechless and then he burned you with cigs. Amazing. Joost inhaled deeply, watching you fidget and squirm beneath him.

“j-j..joost-..ah.”

You moaned loudly, your back arching and his fingers pushed up to your highest point. You gasp, letting all of your sweet juices out. Getting all over his own branded boxers.

“pathetic. pathetic slut.”

He threw the cig into the ashtray. You watched his hand throw away the cig, his hands swiping your cheek leaving a harsh mark.

“you’re a dirty fuckin’ girl, aren’t you?”

He pulled your legs over your head and then your arms with one arm. He pulled down his boxers, letting his hard veiny cock free. Joost grabbed both of your arms together. You felt the curl of pleasure in your gut get together with each of his heavy thrusts. Joost slapped you one last time as he quickened his pace. The bed moved against your movements as you both climaxed at the same time.

[demonicseries]

Giving a presentation on Möbius Pegged for my sculpture class tomorrow

[ahshim]

Hey! I just want to share my 2023 favourite book/manga

and my favorite character in each book/manga

[the12thnightproject]

(Sound up on vid)

Event: One Suitor, One Prompt, sponsored by @violettduchess

Suitor/Prompt: Clavis / Water

Clavis vs Emma, Yves, Rio, Licht, Keith; with an assist from Chevalier, as witnessed by Cyran

Title: The Rube Golderg Escalation

Logline: One prank leads to another... or... does it?

Genre: Chaos Fic

Warnings: There might be a pun

Word Count: ~3000

Precisely at midnight, in a room fortified by three different fail-safe traps, Clavis instantly falls asleep. The moment he face-plants on his desk, the top of his head knocks over the first domino in a line of tiles that snakes across the room. This sets in motion a chain reaction as the dominos topple one by one, until the final tile nudges a marble, which rolls down a ramp and plops into a basket attached to a pulley. The marble’s weight causes the basket to descend and a platform to rise. At the top of the climb, the platform flips a lever, and a dagger pops up to slice a string, releasing a mallet that swings down and knocks over a jar full of tiny silver balls.

The balls whoosh to the floor and rebound in a symphonic clatter.

At the noise, Clavis wakes up and leaps to his feet.

He looks around… checks his traps…

Then he corrals the balls, resets every stage of his device, and settles back at his desk again, determined to stay awake.

At 12:48 a.m., Clavis’s head droops, and as he falls into slumber, he again face-plants on his desk-–

We’re going to pause here, for this scenario will repeat another five and a half times, until 5:29 a.m. The five hours until that moment will be far less interesting than the hours that drove us to this point.

So, let us go back in time a bit…

“Haha, I know you have fallen in love with me. Even though you first set eyes upon me only moments ago, you now are so truly madly deeply attached to my person, that you’ve dropped your plans to conspire against me, your one true love.”

Further back.

“Do you want a cupcake?”

Keep going.

“You want me to instruct you on how to achieve revenge on Clavis.”

Not quite there yet… keep going.

“Congratulations. You have a son.”

That’s … too far.

Two days ago, just after ten in the morning, Yves and Licht fell prey to a pit trap. This in itself was not an out of the ordinary occurrence, as sometimes it seemed that Yves and Licht only existed for the sole purpose of falling into these traps. In fact, they had blundered into so many traps that Clavis had been forced to invent new and exciting ways to make them even more fun for his brothers, to ensure that they did not become bored with the whole enterprise.

Therefore, this particular Thursday morning, the trap had been filled with water, and –

[Right. It has been pointed out to this correspondent that “filled with water” is an inaccurate description. There was indeed water in the trap, water that Clavis himself had poured into the trap, but only to a depth of about two feet. There was not enough water to drown anyone hapless enough to fall into Clavis’ trap. Moving on.]

Where were we? Right. Pit trap… water… Yves and Licht.

Splash!

Sploosh!

Squish.

Casualties of the trap included Licht’s boots and Yves’ entire outfit, for he, unfortunately slid down the muddy sides of the pit and landed inelegantly on his otherwise elegant rear.

Normally, that would have been the end* of it, but when the muddy victims made their way back to the castle, they encountered Emma, Rio and Keith, who were out for a morning stroll among the roses.

Yves’s condition elicited immediate sympathy from Emma. Meanwhile Rio vowed that should Emma become a pit trap victim, Clavis would need to travel past the islands of Kogyoku to escape his wrath. But it was an uncharacteristic suggestion from Keith, offered in an uncharacteristic tone of voice, that toppled the first domino. “Perhaps you should get even with him. Teach him what it’s like to be the object of a prank.”

Yves paused to wring out his cravat before answering. The sight of the muddy water dripping onto the ground caused him to flinch, and Emma was tempted to hug him. However when he finally spoke, it was to shoot down the idea. “I have more important things to do than to get involved in a war of pranks.”

Then he squish-marched his way into the castle without another word.

Things might have ended there, were it not for the unlikely assistance of Chevalier, who nudged the marble forward.

(Yes. Chevalier. Really.)

His advice was quite possibly unintentional. After all, the petty pranks of his younger siblings had nothing to do with him, and there was no incentive for him to step in and help…

“You’re blocking the light, Simpleton. Also. No.” Chevalier did not look up from his book, even though Emma had been patiently waiting for him to speak to her. The eventual acknowledgement wasn’t especially flattering, but she was interrupting his reading time, which probably accounted for his mood.

[Ed. Note: No it didn’t.]

“You don’t even know what I was about to –“

“You want me to instruct you on how to achieve revenge on Clavis.” Chevalier set the book in his lap, the open pages signaling that he expected this to be too short a discussion to bother shutting it, too short even to keep his finger in to mark his place. Not that he would have done so anyway**. “It’s not worth my breath. Besides, a man who expects an attack will never let down his guard enough to be surprised.” He picked up the book again, a clear signal that the conversation was over and Emma had again become invisible to him.

“Expects an attack…” Though Emma had spoken aloud, Chevalier did not react. There had been a considering tone to her voice, as if an idea had occurred to her. It was only after she left his private library that Chevalier looked up, with half of his mouth quirked up in a tiny smile.

Perhaps the idea of a private Chevalier smile is artistic license. This correspondent will leave that decision up to the reader.

The following morning, a strategy session took place in the secondary kitchen. Though Yves had professed disinterest in revenge, he had been lured to the meeting with the promise of a recipe from Jade that Keith swore was an heirloom from his Grandmother’s kitchen. And since he was already there, he supposed he could hear Emma out…

“… what is so perfect about this idea is that we actually don’t have to do anything.” Emma went on to detail her idea. “If we set it up correctly, the prank will just work on its own.”

It was simple.

It was deceptive.

It was devious.

It was a surprise that this devious plan had come from Emma.

“You’ve been working too hard with the Bossman.” Rio examined her for signs of nervous exhaustion.

Emma decided it would be a bad idea to mention that the impetus of this plot had come from Chevalier.

Even after they all agreed that the scheme was really quite workable, they might not have ever come up with the nerve to deploy it. That was when fate stepped in, kicking that marble down the ramp.

“Dearie me, you’re having a secret breakfast meeting without me.” Clavis put his hand to his heart. “I can only think that you must be putting together a surprise for my birthday. Let me guess – we’re going to have full day to fete me? A Celebration of Clavis, as it were? Or… Carnival of Clavis! I am touched.”

At his words, the five co-conspirators immediately displayed the shamed faces that only people unused to subterfuge can do. Emma blushed. Yves cleared his throat and fiddled with his earring. Keith stuck his hand in his coat and stared at the wall. Rio looked up at the ceiling. Licht looked down at the floor.

A more guilty looking party you couldn’t find outside of a political convention.

Instantly alerted by their reactions, Clavis gazed at this gallery of rogues. “I sense a plot is in the works.”

“Eep.” Emma could only squeak.

“Nothing.” Licht’s denial was mumbled at sub-audible volume***.

“My mistress would never dream of such a thing.” Rio turned and winked at Emma.

Casually… perhaps too casually at this point – Clavis stole a pastry from the tray and popped it in his mouth. Only after swallowing it during a silence as uncomfortable as a lukewarm bath in winter did he speak. “If I were a suspicious type, one who did not believe his family loved him, I might think you all were planning a dastardly trick on me.” He added a disbelieving laugh at the end, and waited for them to deny things.

A chorus of not terribly convincing “Of course nots,” arose, after which the original members of the tea plotting party suddenly recalled that they all had tasks that immediately needed accomplished, and made their escape.

Only the dregs of their breakfast remained, and Clavis was left gazing at the space where they had been. They truly were up to something. A game… a plot… a… revenge?

Maybe… maybe filling the pit trap with water had been a bad idea?

Hm.

He resolved to be on his guard for signs of surprise attacks. Not that they could possibly come up with a revenge that rivalled his own pit traps and other experiments.

The marble had fallen into the basket, and the platform was on the ascent.

Upon exiting the kitchen, Clavis noticed Emma had paused to talk to Cyran. When Emma glanced over her shoulder and spotted Clavis, she bit her lip and scurried away.

“You too?” Clavis’s words weren’t loud enough to reach Cyran’s ears, but he had already seen Clavis peering out of the kitchen, so he greeted the Prince accordingly.

“Good morning sir.” Taking in the remains of the conspirator’s food, he added, “Did you make breakfast for Emma then?” This was said in the guarded tones of a man who has eaten Clavis’s cooking and barely lived to tell the tale.

Ignoring the question, Clavis gestured to where Emma and Cyran had been talking. “Did she try to recruit you to the cause?”

“What cause?” Cyran said outwardly. Now what? (He said inwardly).

“Dear me, there are multiple causes. I knew it. For they will need to attack on simultaneous fronts in order to best me.” All five of them were independently working on plots against him. “Thank you for confirming the existence of those dastardly plans.”

Cyran sighed. “I said what cause, not which cause.”

“Ah ha!”

“Ah ha?”

“Ah ha ha ha.” And with that, Clavis strode off, leaving a truly confused Cyran in his wake.

A short while later, Clavis discovered Emma furtively creeping out of Sariel’s office. She held something shiny in her hand that she tried to hide when she spotted him. “We meet again, my love!” He bowed over her hand, inspecting the object. It was a key. Flashing her a dazzling smile, he said, “Hahaha. Sariel gave you a key? It won’t open the door to my room, so if you plan to wait for me there on a bed of roses, it is all for naught.”

“What? No!” Emma blushed and thrust the key behind her back. “It’s for the hidden gazebo in the garden.” Her face still bright red, Emma edged away from him, then zipped down the hallway.

Once she was out of sight, a frown crossed his face. Had Sariel managed to make a key that would unlock his room? Clavis had designed that lock to be impossible to break… but just to be safe, it would be a good idea to increase the protections in his room.

As a precaution.

And thus… the dagger sliced through the string, and the mallet swooped down, releasing over the course of the day, a series of suspicious incidents, conversations and near misses that bounce through his mind like tiny silver balls…

Item One – a serving tray full of Yves’s freshly baked pastry. Just before Clavis could take a lavender-bergamot flavored cupcake, Rio rotated the tray. Had this been a suggestion he wanted Clavis to take the cake now closest to his hand? Or maybe a diversion that was aimed to ensure he took the purple frosted one he had originally been aiming for? In the end, Clavis decided he was safest depriving himself of the treat altogether, and went without tea.

Item Two – Emma and Keith (and perpetual tag-along Rio) invited him on an excursion to that previously mentioned secret gazebo. But… were they nudging him down a specific path? Clavis could not see any evidence of a newly dug trap… but danger didn’t only lurk below. He eyed the line of hedges, looking for a suspended net or hanging bucket… and in the process, stubbed his toe on an unevenly placed stone on the path. Giving up on the trek, he returned to the main garden, and perched upon a warm sunny bench in an open area where he would be able to see if anyone approached. A slight sunburn was his reward – but at least no one attacked him and no net landed upon him.

Item Three – At a party that night arranged for a delegation of visiting nobles from outside the capital area, Clavis took note of a lovely, long-legged lady who eyed him with overt appreciation. Ah… another instance of love at first sight. He would permit her to lay her heart at his feet. However, before Clavis could reach her side, the lady was temporarily waylaid by Emma and Yves. He was too far away to hear their conversation, but … what if this unknown lady had been hired as part of their revenge prank?

Alas, for Clavis, the woman was completely innocent of any conspiracy, and his less-than-subtle questioning of her only resulted in a –

Slap!

At this point, Clavis called for a tactical retreat, barricaded himself in his room, and set up a complicated alarm to help keep him awake past midnight, in order to ensure he could instantly repel a pre-dawn revenge raid.

This brings us to 5:27 a.m…

Clavis has once again fallen asleep at his desk. Regrettably, in his exhaustion, he neglected to correctly reset his ‘Clavis Personal Sleep Interrupter™’ and the dominos ceased falling mid-stream. The marble stayed at the top of the ramp. The dagger never cut the string to release the mallet. There was no cascade of silver balls across the floor.

Instead, at 5:28 a.m. there is a crash, followed by a yelp of pain outside his room, caused by one of the maids colliding with a castle footman and dropping her dust pan... on the footman’s foot****.

Awakened and alarmed by the noise, Clave jumps to his feet, grabs a weapon, and runs to his door, determined to confront an invasion. Given his mostly sleepless night, it should not come as a surprise that he forgot his own booby traps. Therefore, when he throws open the door, there is a BOOM as an explosion of pink dust fills the room. This is followed by a sploosh when a bucket of honey (stolen from Luke who will not be happy when he realizes it is gone) falls on his head. Then finally a floof, when the honey-blinded Clavis trips over a rope and falls into mini-pit full of feathers.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

(The Maid, upon seeing the pink honey and feather colored beast emerging from Clavis’s room).

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

(The Footman, deeper voice, same cause).

At 9:42 a.m. a freshly cleaned, de-honeyed, de-pinked, de-feathered (except for one tiny feather stuck to the side of his head), very tired, sunburned and slightly feverish Clavis finds and confronts the gang of five, who are, this time, enjoying breakfast in the rose garden. “What a sorry looking cabal of conspirators.” Five “innocent” looking faces greet this statement. “You’re planning a revenge prank are you not? Ah hahaha. Have I not proved that I am equal to anything you might throw at me?”

As he spoke, that one tiny feather finally loosed itself and drifts harmlessly to the ground.

After a moment of silence for the kamikaze feather, Emma, who has somehow been elected speaker, shakes her head. “Prince Clavis, no one here is planning a prank on you.”

One eyebrow rises in disbelief.

“It might be more honest to say that instead… we convinced you that we were going to prank you… and…” She waves her hand in the air. “Then you pranked yourself.”

There is a long moment of silence while Clavis ponders the ramifications of that.

Longer…

“Ah hahahah haha” Clavis throws back his head and laughs into the sky. “I knew it! You all love me! Nothing else could have motivated such a brilliant plot. Emma… Rio… Keith… and my beloved brothers… I’m overjoyed.” Indeed, it does appear that Clavis is shaking with excitement. “Only people who adore me and respect my genius could have realized what was truly necessary to trick me. Because of course, the only person who can successfully prank me is,” he pauses for dramatic effect, “Me! How deliciously intriguing.”

The conspirator’s momentary relief that he appears to be taking this so well, changes to worry at Clavis’s next announcement.  “I cannot wait to show you all how much I love you in return.”

(The end.... or is it...?)

*Pun intended

** Not that would Chevalier ever stoop to leaving his finger in a book, turning it upside down or commit the heinous crime of folding down the corner of a page. He has no need to as he always remembers his exact place.

***More sub-audible than usual

**** Though this uproar is incredibly well timed and placed, it is actually just an unfortunate coincidence. Emma, Rio, Yves, Licht, Keith and Keith were all asleep in their respective beds when this occurred and had nothing to do with the maid/footman collision. Sometimes an act of fate is simply that.

Thank you @violettduchess for a lovely event that forced me way way beyond my Sengoku comfort zone.

Also thanks to Lorei helping to ensure this isn't egregiously OOC.

[itsallmadonnasfault]

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

Calvin Klein is so much better at depicting the way in which Jungkook can be sexy and interesting, not just boring sexy (Seven anyone? No? Yes? Anyway).

I never knew I needed the image of the biggest slut in the 80s who has a special pass for backstage, you know? Unlike Penny Lane, he is a groupie and less of a band aid.

[miano-oscarwilde]

Finally a Collab with mairuma and ware ware da together 🥺❤️ zom looks so good 💗

[unveiledvagabonds]

location: keagan's home open to: open to anyone*

*keagan has been in alexandria for five years. we can assume our muses are friends, simply know of each other, or this was their first time meeting. anything goes, anything is fine relationship wise, but this will have been the first time they slept together. basically they got drunk at a bar last night, keagan gave them head in the bathroom, and then they wound up back at his place where they really made a mess... and now it's morning. keagan's info

mornings were never keagan's favorite, whether he had company or not. he would have preferred to sleep until noon every day if he could but sometimes his mind liked to betray him and keep him awake; or, in this case, wake him up before the sun had even crested over the horizon.

lazily seated at the island in his kitchen, wearing a pair of tight boxer briefs and a shirt he had grabbed off the floor, he nursed his third cup of coffee as he stared at the clock on his microwave as if it had committed heinous war crimes that it needed to answer for. he really wasn't a morning person.

wincing as the kitchen lights flickered on, the witch looked over at the man that had just been asleep in his bed and offered a sleepy apologetic nod of his head. "hope i didn't wake you. couldn't sleep." he mumbled, half in defense of himself and half in explanation. "i think this is yours," keagan added on as he looked down at the shirt he was wearing. "i just... grabbed it. hope you don't mind..." mornings were always uncomfortable, especially the morning after.

"last night was fun... coffee?"

@unveilstarters

[ashethewitch]

I’m working on a playlist for Damien klein and this playlist appeared in my reccomended

Idk about you but I think this says a lot about where his character arc is going

[0ystercatcher]

who the fuck is dave grohl

[onlylonelylatino]

Bob Phantom by Bernard Klein

[moodr1ng]

some people on here would cancel me if i described my oc klein too much on my art blog lol. like klein is this really pathetic self-effacing guy who tries really hard to gain the appreciation/validation of people around him in a way thats pretty funny right. i make fun of him for being white a lot (anti-white racism). i make fun of him for being a 34yo man whos roommate and best friend is a 19yo girl who just lives w him bc its cheap and definitely doesnt think of him as that close a friend (ageist that i make fun of him for being besties w a teenager). most problematic of all klein self-identifies as gay because he finds it easiest to fuck men, thinks its easy to have meaningless sex w men so it doesnt require him to actually put himself in an emotionally vulnerable position, is terrified of women in a bizarre way, and has internalized shitty heteronormative ideas of what m/f relationships must be like, so he thinks he couldnt be with a woman both bc hes insecure in his masculinity (bc hes a small, thin, somewhat effeminate guy who cant grow a beard) and also bc he assumes being w a woman would require assuming a leading/dominant/assertive role that he doesnt actually want in his relationships. and he has done no work on any of this so whenever hes attracted to a woman (and hes specifically attracted to masc women) he brushes it off as "well its not real attraction, my brain probably just reads her as a man.." and he feels awful about it and it further reinforces his fear of approaching women. not sure if this would be construed as homophobia or biphobia or both or something else but im sure some people would be very mad abt this