Beforus Sollux! Elevated to a government position of great height and splendor thanks to his blatant genius coupled with Her Imperial Incandescence’s fast and loose take on the hemospectrum.

— mamestuck


The Moniitor was not only responsible for the surveillance of what was almost the entirety of the empress’s purview, but also had influence over other branches of the government due to quadrant links: an unabashedly publicized matespritship with the highest law authority, palemates with the Most Benevolent Cullmaster, and making surreptitious pitch movements towards the Candesce?  You’d almost think he planned it…

Disclaimer: I’m making this stuff up as I go along.  These are by no means fixed headcanons and although I’m basing these relationships on the dancestors’ (in the same way that the Alternian ancestors mirror their descendants in some ways), I do not in any way mean to imply that Meenah and Mituna had anything near a kismessisitude.  They just obvs. don’t like each other much and it just seemed like a fun twist on Sollux and Feferi.

Bottom line: blame Splickedy.


Nomad - Kiersten Holine (cover by Rusty Clanton)

Candescent Carnalities

Title: Candescent Carnalities
Pairing: Koujaku / Aoba
Rating: Explicit
Kinks: Voyeurism, Masturbation

With nothing left to do but wait for the birthday boy to come home and celebrate, Aoba is struggling to keep himself occupied. When Ren helpfully suggests he follow his lead and take a nap, Aoba finds himself climbing into bed.

Overwhelmed by the scent of the man he’s missing, Aoba’s mind - and hands - begin to wander. 

Little does he know his lover is a lot closer to home.

This is my contribution to kouao-week (day 3) and is the hippo’s birthday gift.

Edited by arkhamhorror

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Klaine Advent: Fall

Set right after 5x15: “Bash”
(warnings for explicit sexual situation and mentions of assault)

It’s a soft bed, duvet pushed down to the foot and rumpled sheets under him, and Blaine’s hands are on the button of his pants, then rolling them down his legs. Kurt stretches into the touch and sighs. His body is aching and buzzing at the same time, tender-real in parts and endorphin-rushed from his performance everywhere else.

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Ballad of the Linen Closet

This is the story

Of the girl who stayed

And knelt in my corner

When I shivered at night -

Who laid in my bed

Though I didn’t deserve it,

And called out my name

When I wandered alone.

It’s my tale of forgiveness

And the lust for her soul

A prayer from her work-desk

And hymn toward her God.

It’s the rapture in distance

And repair of her warmth

The trail of her decency

And strength of her stride -

A pathway of lifetimes

And stretch of her wish

For the sum of one man

Whose burden was split

Of being in halves

When she knew he was whole.

It’s the impossible season

Of perpetual suns

And dawn of the hour

Whose journey toward day

Was risen excitement

From the hall to her room

Where the night grew candescent

And lifted her veil

From the swell of her bosom

From the heat of her thighs

Into faith, into intimacy

By the oath of their bed.

It’s the mini-vacations

And stops on the road

The losses of highways

And in-between dinners

All the hotel weddings

And wee morning visions

The light in its curtains

On the gown she was wearing

How it pools on the sheets

As she lays there so still.

It’s the laughable fable

Of irreconcilable difference

A formal complaint

And list of reactions.

It’s everything or nothing

And a wealth of extremes

An excuse not to listen

Or an obsession of fear.

Yes, it’s the tirade

And the time that I lost her

When she packed all her things

And fell from my door

Where she cried near the closet

And wept on its rags

As the blankets and towels

Knew of her loss

Wrapped her in softness

And felt her reaction

The sheer inability

To move from that floor.

It’s the final text message

And twenty minutes passed

The unexpected apology

And fact she was waiting

The preemptive “we’d never”

Her assurance she knew

The makeup much later

And ever after to be

The one that she swore

From the second we’d met.

It’s the gospel of “yeses”

And a bible of truths

Plausible miracles

Or empirical ghosts.

It’s marriage

And family,

A book of farewells.

It’s natural

But relative,

A glimpse of unknowns.

This is the poem

I knew I had written

But never admitted

I wanted to read

Or confess in it’s meaning

To be a lyric of yours

As a verse of infinities

That’s forever

In love.

 - J. Pigno 

Wiped The Mirror Fogged With Ennui

Splintered sunlight
on frosted glass pane,
the steady cascade
of steaming water,
incorrect vision a-blur —
Twas as if a hand swept
over a canvas fresh with paint
and all was blend into one:
pain, bliss, fortune, dismay,
blue, red, smite, caress,
hope, despair, distaste,
effervescence, candescence,
and I, held breath,
wet with wonder,
whence a rainbow ribboned
taut round my blue blood-pump.

A Poem about Poetry

What is poetry without passion
without the essence of defining
self with facials and abstractions
without the dancing metaphors
expenditures in confections
words sweet, hot dripping wet
sext? What is poetry without names
flying high across egoic sky
“See Me Fly” so proud of rhyme
or near with time skipping
between letters, sheet spilling
seeds into the garden? Pardon my
flaming fucking flowing POETRY
candescent with whiskey and cigarettes
(in which I partake of neither)
As a geyser
smothering the reader in ethereal
(pleasing beyond mundane) wrapping
this soul in letter form, transform(ing)
I write to write about writing.
Cup after cup of coffee…
What, is poetry… without passion?

King Woman lyrics for DOUBT.


in my childhood

in my lonely rule

in my troubled heart

i have seen something

i know it’s wrong

laying on of hands

demonize a man

fill this place with fear

there’s no great spirit here

so wrong






if your light is dark

how deep that darkness is

you’re living like a loose bolt

spinning at the head

now that you’re glorious death

now that you’re faithless flesh

now that you’re spiritless void

you’re hanging on by a thread

i’m living

so separate

full of hell

judge just waiting

i’m dying

restless youth

full of hell

like i’ve always been

burn after you read

love i cannot keep

only in my sleep

only when i dream

Candescent Soul:

candescent soul


no water

when i saw your blue heart



you know

what you know

honey honey

burn me alive

sometimes i say

your name


to say it

give me

give me

a real high

touch me



you know

what you know

honey honey

burn me alive

burn me up

King Of Swords:


of swords

no love

love is gone

you take



give pain

and you take

and you take

and you take

and you take

and you take

and you take

and you take

and he takes

and he takes

and you take

and you take

and you take

and you take

and you take

and you take

and you take

from my heart

you know

you seem very very far

it’s like i don’t even know who you are

king of swords

no love

love is gone