Been in a slight art slump lately, but I’ll be okay.

Please let Cal at least have one cup of Earl Grey tea..

And here's Iris's rival aka doppelganger, Nerissa Kiana

Doppelganger

Elias Otha Bates, better known as Bo Diddley, is considered a pioneer of rock'n'roll, wrote countless blues anthems and liked to tinker his own guitars. He added a self-made tremolo device to his first Gibson in 1947 with parts from a clock and a used car. He produced his music himself and invented the typical rhythm "Bo Diddley Beat". He was less creative with his album titles: Bo Diddley, Go Bo Diddley, Bo Diddley's a Twister, Big Bad Bo, Hey! Bo Diddley, Bo knows Bo, Bo-Jam, Bo Diddley is crazy etc. I don't care, he put a lot of Bo in the charts.

Anakin Skywalker - Drunken Doppelganger Discovery

Summary: You're drunkenly rambling to a stranger that you don't realize is THEE Anakin Skywalker, and he makes sure you get home safely. Timeline is roughly Clone Wars ish.

Word count: 965

Content Warnings: Drinking, briefly one creepy guy

The heavy beat of the music in the club pulsed through your body as you danced. Lights of every color flashed in time to the rhythm, accentuating the movements of the other dancers around you. Their silhouettes swirled in your vision, no face ever clear enough to see, just a blur of dark then colorfully bright then dark again.

Realizing that your glass was now empty, you turned to make your way back to the bar. Your destination in sight, it took all of your focus to concentrate on successfully walking toward it. Your body swayed as if on a ship at sea, but you simply leaned into it, letting the feeling make you giggle in amusement.

You plunked yourself down on a stool, waiting for the bartender, who looked like a walking booger. He seemed to be too occupied filling the multiple orders of others to notice you, so you decided to get comfortable and get to know the person seated next to you. You turned to your left to look at him and were immediately struck by his luscious long curls and chiseled jaw.

“Holy shit, you’re hot.” You say, not entirely sure if it was out loud or in your head as you had intended it.

The blond man turned to look at you, clearly taken aback at your comment. The slight curve of a smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth as he considered if you really just said that to him.

You looked him over, taking in his leather outfit now too. “Hey you know who you look like? Oh what’s his name- that, that jedi… uhh… Anakin Skywalker!” You said, pointing to him, thinking how uncanny the resemblance was. You then turned back to locate the bartender. “Hottest jedi in the galaxy.” Finding that the bartender was now pouring a long line of shots, you turned your attention back to your neighbor. “You know I always thought the jedi were just born old. You know? Like it just feels like they’re always just a bunch of old men. Old religious men I suppose. Yeah, not normally my cup of tea but that Skywalker?” You laughed, “Pretty sure anybody would take a cup of that.” You began waving at the bartender, trying to get his attention, but nevertheless continuing your drunken rambling. “You know I heard they can’t get laid. The jedi.” You clarified. “But if you ask me, I think that’s just because a bunch of old men were pissed that a hottie like Anakin fucking Skywalker could just come along and not only steal their thunder with being better than them at their woo woo force shit and their voom voom lightsabers,” you said, gesturing with your hands for emphasis “but he also literally could get anybody he wanted.”

By now that slight smirk had turned into a hardly contained grin of amusement. You didn’t notice though as you finally locked eyes with the booger bartender and he made his way over to you.

“Finally.” You complained.

Anakin’s gaze darted from you to the bartender and back.

As he arrived, you started your order, “I’ll get a-”

“You just want water.” Anakin cut you off, waving his hand.

“I just want water.” You said to the bartender, who obliged.

You drank from the glass, thirstier than you’d thought. The ice tingled your lips and cooled you as you swallowed. You blinked a moment, staring into the glass and wondering how you ended up with water instead of the cocktail you’d craved earlier.

“You’re going to go home now.” The voice to your left said.

You thought of your home and how comfy your bed would be right about now. “I’m going to go home now.” You said, imagining your soft pillows, feeling like there was nothing in the world you wanted more right now. You stood, approaching the exit.

“I’ll come too,” a nearby Devaronian growled, eyeing you in a predatory way as he went to follow you.

Anakin jumped from his seat, stepping in front of the Devaronian. “No, you’re not.” He stared threateningly, flashing the hilt of his lightsaber.

The Devaronian grumbled and walked off.

Deciding he needed to ensure your safety now, Anakin exited the club to find you. Luckily, you hadn’t made it too far as he found you sitting slumped on the curb, pouting.

“I thought you were going home?” He asked.

“I can’t.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because my shoe is broke.” You held up the broken heel to him. “Now I can’t walk anywhere.” You let out a dramatic sigh. “I guess I’ll just have to stay here forever. I live here now. This is my home.”

A moment passed as you stared sadly at your broken shoe, and Anakin stared at you. Seeing no other alternative, he scooped you up into his arms and began carrying you down the street. 

“Where do you live?” He asked. 

You smiled, pleasantly surprised to be held in such muscular arms, you almost forgot to answer his question. 

“Oh, just past the mini mart.” 

He gave a nod, confirming he knew where that was.

You stared a moment longer at your hero’s face. “I like you.” You said, playfully poking his nose with your index finger. “You saved me from shoes. Maybe you don’t save the galaxy like your look-alike but you’re still nice.” You let your head lean back against him and closed your eyes, beginning to feel very sleepy. “And pretty. Very pretty.” You added.

His chest moved against you as he softly chuckled. 

“Mmmm,” you hummed, trying so hard to fight off the oncoming sleep, “what’d you say your name was?”

“I didn’t.”

As the sleep began to take hold of you, you hardly heard the last thing he said. 

“It’s Anakin.” 

(K)night Rhythms AU: Quaternion

banner by me (using 4D fractal art by Elsamuko)

Dreamling (drummer/dancer AU + king/knight AU) || Rated E || complete

Alternate Universe (fantasy), dancer!Dream, drummer!Hob, King!Dream, Knight!Hob, dom!Dream, sub!Hob, top!Hob, bottom!Dream, bet you didn't realize this was all in the same universe, established relationships, doppelganger, doppelcest, foursome - m/m/m/m, is fucking someone who looks like you masturbation or narcissism?, asking for a friend, BDSM, harness, bridle, pony play (eh, kinda), anal sex, dildos, anal plug, cock rings, cock & ball torture, rope bondage, orgasm delay/denial, orgasm control, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, exhibitionism, cock slut, ass to mouth, deepthroating, overstimulation, cowgirl position, rimming, cum eating, swordplay is foreplay, blow jobs, oral sex, rough oral sex, public blow jobs, finger sucking, coming in pants, additional warnings in author's notes on AO3

Read on AO3

For the Centennial Husbands Big Bang 2024! @the-centennial-husbands-bigbang Including FANTASTIC STUNNING ART by @ambarden for the Bang and more GORGEOUS AMAZING ART by @flaielis that was commissioned and completed last fall. I am overwhelmed by these works and I adore them to pieces.

REASONS I THINK CHILCHUCK KNIT HIS OWN COWL/NECKWARMER:

knows how to mend clothing. doesnt find it weird to casually mend his own clothing. he starts sewing up his vest in the mimic episode IMMEDIATELY after it gets ripped.

father of three. again, experienced clothes mender, and possibly maker. could have picked up knitting for/from his family, or just for fun.

one of his daughters could have made it for him, so he wears it out of sentimental value; HOWEVER, I don’t know if he would bring something that important into the dungeon. something his daughters taught him how to make, however…

I think he let one of his daughters teach him how to knit. certified girldad.

lockpicking and knitting (and sewing and crochet) have really similar principles, which is “take small stick and use it to move other things around until something happens”. it’s mostly based on feel and rhythm. similar skillset!

i feel like chilchuck is a very restless person. hence, knitting idly. you know what people do in their downtime while sitting around a fire or to stay awake on night watch? some idle activity, like woodcarving. or knitting.

it’s not a scarf, it’s a COWL. chilchuck is at least fully aware that it’s not a scarf. he brings it up in the doppelganger episode. cowls are way more fun to knit than to actually wear, because they’re easy and versatile. 99% of popular ravelry patterns are cowls. knitters love to make cowls. theyre really fun, and usually pretty mindless.

chilchuck is also extremely stubborn, which means that if he went through the effort of making a cowl, he will wear that thing out of spite as much as humanly possible, even when it doesnt match his outfit at fucking ALL. it’s the ONLY colourful thing in his outfit. with a turtleneck and/or button up shirt. he literally never takes it off.

I will literally wear socks that I have knitted, which are a sensory nightmare, because they are SOCKS that i MADE.

someone’s gotta wear it, or itll have been made for nothing!! i cant just let it sit in my closet forever!! thats a waste of a perfectly good cowl!!

Sleep

(Send me a pairing and a prompt)

Send me a "Sleep" and I'll write a drabble about one character watching the other sleep.

((TY for the prompt! :D You didn't specify a pairing, so I'm going with BG3 of course, and originally I was just going to default back to Hector/Karlach fluff since I'm such a sucker for writing that lately. But I decided to go off in a bit more random direction this time instead. XD Def welcome to request a more specific pair if you wanted one though!))

------

The camp is cold and full of strangers. Boo is fluffed up against the chill, and his small beady eyes peer out from the haze of golden fur into the darkness.

The Rashemaar is asleep, and Boo's vantage point subtly shifts up and down with each rise and fall of the man's chest. Is the hamster relieved to be back in his company, after their separation by the doppelgangers? Is there comfort in the warmth of his human flesh, steadier and more solid than any nest of shredded paper and straw?

Who can say? Boo keeps his own counsel.

Sometimes the Rashemaar shifts, rolls over in his sleep. Boo is quick to adjust, walking along the man's shoulder and side and coming to rest again on his back. He does not fear being crushed; he is nimble and quick and alert, and they have traveled many long years together. Perhaps Boo has come to learn the subtle shifts of breath that precede a shift in position; perhaps the hamster's very life is tuned to the rhythm of the man's heartbeat.

Or perhaps not. He is only a beast, after all.

A soft skittering sound breaks the silence. Boo's head twitches, his eyes piercing the dark and identifying the scuttling shadow of a rat crawling up from the dockways. A danger, maybe. An interloper certainly. Slowly Boo uncurls himself on Minsc's body, digging his claws into the human's shirt for leverage. The fluffed out silhouette of his fur compresses into sleek lines.

The rat draws nearer. It casts a long shadow in the lowering moonlight, a twitchy and unstable shape. It has scented the food in Minsc's pack, and it suspects no danger. It is a city creature that knows the meaning of a sleeping human.

It believes it is safe. And it is... from Minsc. But not from Boo.

The hamster leaps, without warning, without a sound. Though Boo has been known to echo his companion's battle cries with a loud squeak, his natural mode of attack requires no announcement. His claws sink into the rat's back and the rat squeals in sudden terror and pain. Its body lashes sideways; Boo holds on tightly at first, then deliberately releases his grip, allowing himself to be launched a foot or so away and land lightly on the cobblestones.

As the pain eases, the rat calms; it turns and glares at Boo with a hatred that, rodent to rodent, needs no translation. Boo stares back unblinking. The message is clear. The rat has stumbled into a territory not its own. If it knows what is good for it, it will leave.

The rat's long, muscular tail lashes as it briefly considers attack. But, despite having no tail, Boo's force of presence is much the stronger, and eventually the rat's head dips in submission. It turns and scuttles off into the darkness, back down the wall that leads to the wharf.

Boo squeaks softly, satisfied, triumphant. He kicks off from the stone floor to land on the mountainous bulk of his companion's body. Minsc stirs, mumbles something indistinct, but does not wake; with a soft grunt he rolls again and Boo makes another leap to avoid being pushed back to the ground, landing this time on the human's bald head. He is careful with his claws now, adjusting his weight so the points do not sink into the skin.

He settles down in this new position, his fur fluffing up around him again. And his eyes once again fix out in the dark, like a guard dog resuming its post.

Is it a gesture of protective loyalty to the man sleeping beneath him? A knowledge of kinship and camaraderie and the battles that lie ahead and behind, and the need for rest while the hour allows? Perhaps. Or perhaps it is merely the territorial instinct of a dumb beast to watch for threats when the sun is hidden.

Who can say? Boo keeps his own counsel.

The night ages gracefully submitting to dawn

Not without protest, shadows cling lower and in vain

Colors unseen except for transition emerge

Purples /orange /reds all paint the horizon

The moon I revere lingers long into light

Reminding the rising orb of fire the earth needs her too

Goliaths that stand guard together yet separate in their lore

Many wake take in the new day, relish the sunrise

Routines built on the habitual, highly planned transition

To most their start, new day, new breath, time on a schedule

I bend my days, twist time, tomorrow does not happen till I wake

As most get dressed and plan

I disrobe and decompress

Roadways become clogged

My driveway remains occupied

My doppelganger on the other side of the world and I,

May share the same schedule, wake the same time

Thoughts for another day

You don't need do drink blood to be a vampire

The sun while bothersome does not burn me nor make me sparkle

I close my blinds and end my day, lay awake, slow my brain

I live in an environment opposite of my rhythm in life

Challenges occur

Misunderstandings whether multimedia, business or family ensue

Messages sent In their normalcy, assumption of immediate action

Silence to some too impatient to understand, variations in us

Same moment, same time, same day and same environment

Yet they reach in the middle of my night

Unaware I am the opposite reflection in their mirror

They reach, they wait/I sleep, unaware

Often I can measure character based on use our mutual time

Impatient vibrations run rampant, when their timeline isn't met

They reach, they reach, they reach, they assume I ignore

I dream, I wake, I rise to sift through their aftermath

I respond, they are in a state of feeling ignored

I respond to a thread and find selfish impatience, inability to look

beyond their own window view, often leaves me with...

*this tumblr can't receive messages*

To which lends me a sigh of relief, as I dodged a bullet

A random stranger, that randomly reads a write, that randomly identifies with my blood and vulnerability I lay on my page and because I was not there at a snap of their fingers when they randomly compliment or say hi, that it's inconceivable to them I may have a different life, I get blocked

OK. I smile. I do... And whisper fuck you too

Again bullet dodged

My favorite, every business, app, company I do business with calls, texts, sends push notifications, because In their realm I am awake and they desire to interact.

The ones I unfortunately am waken by or I have to interact on their terms, I may be under concrete and a bit lethargic as I first interact, often they think I am stoned or impaired in another way, I stay polite, I interact, I am not rude, I patiently wait to the end of my interaction and then mutter... Fuck, and look at my clock, time to get up or sleep more?

So as I watch the symphony of lights, the melody of night submitting to day, the artistic transformation that many unfortunately rush during as they start their day, I end mine, I take in the free display of beauty and pull that energy into dream

'The Timeless Child: It was the retcon that shook one of the oldest sci-fi fandoms in history. And, per the latest 60th-anniversary episode of Doctor Who, it’s here to stay. But by reckoning with its recent past, Doctor Who might be finally allowing itself to evolve in a really exciting and unexpected way.

Doctor Who’s most recent 60th-anniversary special, “Wild Blue Yonder,” is a terrific return to form for the show, with a tense, horror-tinged hour that drew from paranoid sci-fi classics like The Thing and the show’s own all-time great episode “Midnight.” While it was mainly a one-off adventure (the more cynical might call it a filler episode) that allowed the 14th Doctor (David Tennant) and Donna (Catherine Tate) to get back into their old rhythms, the episode made a few offhand references to the previous era under Chris Chibnall that suggests a significant new approach for returning showrunner Russell T. Davies’ era going forward...

Penned by Davies and directed by Tom Kingsley, “Wild Blue Yonder” follows the Doctor and Donna as they crash-land in a spaceship floating at the edge of the universe. When the repairing TARDIS suddenly takes off without them, they’re left to ponder the spaceship’s many strange mysteries: why is there a rusty robot moving very slowly down a very long corridor? What is that mysterious routine clanking sound? Where did all the life on the ship go? And who opened the escape door three years ago? When they find themselves facing off against sinister doppelgangers of themselves who seem intent on copying every aspect of their identity, the Doctor and Donna have to come to terms with their years apart, and the shadowy part of his past that the Doctor has been hiding from Donna.

But we, the audience, know what the Doctor has been hiding. The 13th Doctor discovered the real origins of their past in the extremely controversial 2020 episode “The Timeless Children,” which revealed that the Doctor was not in fact a Time Lord from Gallifrey, but an alien from an unknown region of the universe whose ability to regenerate was exploited to turn Gallifrey into the powerful empire that it became. It was a retcon of the Doctor’s origin that was so ill-received that the BBC had to issue an apology to upset viewers (an apology that doesn’t undo the damage of turning the Doctor into a Chosen One hero, but we can argue about that later). Many fans even speculated that Davies might do away with the Timeless Child origin altogether when he returned as showrunner, but the reference in “Wild Blue Yonder” not only cements it as canon, it makes it a pivotal part of the Doctor’s characterization going forward.

The reference takes place after the Doctor and Donna get separated while fleeing from the doppelgangers (who had grown to gigantic size in the show’s rare instances of true body horror), and the Doctor encounters Donna again. Or, at least, a Donna. While attempting to figure out whether either of them are real, Donna lets slip that in her brief transformation back into the Doctor-Donna in “The Star Beast,” she was able to access all of the Doctor’s memories over the past 15 years (we’re guessing this doesn’t include the four billion years spent in the confession dial in “Heaven Sent”). This includes the Doctor’s discovery that they are the Timeless Child, and the

“You don’t know who you are, do you?” Donna says, tapping into the Doctor’s biggest fear. Though this Donna was soon revealed to be the doppelganger, that doesn’t change the fact that this mysterious origin is something the Doctor is running from.

But the Doctor is forced to contend with the consequences of the Timeless Child again, when it’s revealed that this empty part of the universe resulted from the Flux, the cosmic weapon unleashed by the Doctor’s adoptive mother Tecteun, destroying half the universe. This is an intriguing bit of continuity for Doctor Who, a show that always took canon as more of a suggestion than a rule. If half the universe is destroyed, and the Doctor carries the burden of not having stopped the Flux, what could this mean for the Doctor’s characterization in the new Davies era? We saw Tennant whip out that good old angsty scream in “Wild Blue Yonder,” but could this mean that this guilt will carry over in Ncuti Gatwa’s 15th Doctor? And will the Doctor continue to go on adventures where he’s faced with the consequences of universe-altering events like Flux?

It’s an exciting prospect, considering that every new iteration of the Doctor has rarely felt like the same character — simply wiping the slate clean and moving on to the next adventure. And it’s an intriguing challenge for Davies, to deal with a universe that is decidedly smaller than it is and may be hurting from the Doctor’s failures. Everyone may not be happy that the Timeless Child is really, truly canon, but if it means that the Doctor has more emotional and cosmic challenges ahead of him, that might make it forgivable.'

Dark Samus Smut Piece

A/N: You're a wounded bounty hunter (not Samus, but part of the 3 samus joined up with in MP3)

Blood rushed to your side, impaled from an earlier fight, you felt dizzy in the cock pit of your ship. You heard the door to your ship open, with metal clad footsteps approaching your part in the ship. You knew you were fucked, it was the end, and you take notice of the phazon empowered being stalking towards you. It offered a hand, and once your visions blurriness started to fade you take note it was Samus' dark phazon infused doppelganger. You feared death you feared pain, you're not sure what this eldritch power could offer you, but you'll take what you can get and so you placed your bloodied hand in hers. The armored helm lowered itself Infront of you and cradled your face in a singular rough skinned hand before you felt her channel light traces of phazon into your bloodstream. Your labored breathing choked and intensified as your wounds stung, but they were closing, the shrapnel in your side slipping out of the wound. You can hear a distorted female voice crackling from inside the helm I can take away your pain if you'll let me take you in return. You vigorously nod, you have clue into her intentions of adding you to the hive mind, but it's a better fate than to be chewed up my space pirates. Dark Samus tilts her visor willingly then, curious. She rests her hands on each side of her helm before lifting it off of her head. What you were expecting was the half formed phazon monstrosity you'd heard samus fight the first time, but now before you is a woman of pale blue skin, dark veins running just under the skin. The under side of her black hair glows bright in phazon energy and her eyes, all three of them lock on to you. You tense up, your breathing accelerates, Dark Samus takes notice and leans in close, her glossy black lips pressed against your ear shhhhhh, I'll take care of you, mine now. Her lips trail down the column of your throat leaving wet sucking kisses against your skin. Dark Samus is quick to peel your armor off, her clawed fingers forming into smooth hands that run themselves through your hair soft her distorted voice trails off in fascination. Her thigh wedges itself between your legs and pressed firmly against your body suit right in the juncture of your thighs. Your breath picks up and you can feel the doppelganger's mouth tighten in a pleased smile. She moves her thigh, the thick alien texture of her suit rubbing you in a way you couldn't describe.

You feel your body suit tearing and take notice of the alien eldritch tearing your body suit with her hands. She curiously dips a finger into your arousal before bringing it up to her mouth, leaning back her face comes into view and you see her open her mouth in a brief flash of fang she pops the arousal coated finger into her mouth. Humming curiously her hand returns to that spot between your legs and sinks it in deeper, before curling it tightly. Your back arches breath hitching, you reach for Dark Samus to pull her in by the shoulders to get a firm anchor on reality. Dark Samus tilts her head curiously before joining her lips with yours, swallowing one of your shocked moans as she adds a second finger to curl alongside the first. She thrusts them in a jerky rhythm that has you shaking on her thigh curled against her front. Her glowing tongue prods at your lips and you let it in without a fight, earning a teasing hum from the other woman. Her tongue seemed a bit longer and much hotter than a typical one, and made its way across your own tongue and lathering it in metallic phazon saliva. You can feel the corruption take over you, slowly being absorbed into your body. You can only suck on her tongue and let out keening moans as her fingers thrust unrelentingly inside you and curl into that spongy bit that has you screaming into her mouth. She retracts her alien tongue a bit to kiss you normally (as normal as a radioactive eldritch being can get) before watching you come undone in her arms. A small smile pulls away at her lips, her yellow eyes flashing in hunger and fascination seeing you crumbling into a shaking mess in her arms.

Dark Samus wasn't finished, her body slinked lower as she lowered herself to place her head between your legs. You catch a glance of yourself in the ship's mirror, bright blue essence leaking from your mouth and spilling over your breasts. Your head feels fuzzy, the only clear feeling is the sensation of her tongue sliding past your folds delving farther than her fingers could go. You take a sharp breath as Dark Samus drags her thumb in slow circles around your clit, the overstimulation of your previous orgasm giving you a whole new feeling of shaky. Your thighs quiver around the alien's head, and she just lets out a haunting laugh, sending vibrations between your legs. Her tongue twists inside you, undoubtably lathering your walls in phazon infused liquids. You begin to reach a peak again, rocking your hips against the doppelgangers face, voice cracking with drawn out sighs, grunts, and moans of pleasure. You crest over the edge, waves of pleasure slamming you through and through, and you grip the woman's hair and pull her even closer between your legs her tongue thrusting through the after shocks before pulling out. Dark Samus makes her way up your body, taking each nipple into her mouth and hand briefly before meeting your lips in a kiss. You taste yourself on her lips as her tongue brushes yours. Another glance in the mirror shows phazon leaking out from between your legs, a weirdly satisfying feeling emerges from that sight alone. Dark Samus Pulls your shaking body into her arms, as you begin to lose consciousness.

Rest, you've earned it, my loyal pet.

A/N: Listen, late night monster fucking. I'm sexually attracted to becoming part of a hive mind stfu

LeaF household.... Like all LeaF rhythms just have one massive house to live under together?

(that sounds really nice ngl)

Ye, bc there are times in BOF events where LeaF solos so might as well group ‘em together :^]

The only exceptions are Heavensdoor, who lives in Fragrant Sanctuary (a given), Armageddon who is who knows where, and Ka whom is… nonexistent.

Tho, Marenol tends to live between the LeaF household and the Team Herbicide base.

Rosali — Bite Down (Merge)

Rosali Middleton experienced a lot of change in the lead up to recording her fourth solo album, Bite Down. She relocated to North Carolina and changed labels to Merge Records. Some constants remain. Her collaboration with Mowed Sound, a group of players who work with a number of artists, continues. The recording is also augmented by keyboardist Ted Bois, who melds well with the rest of the musicians.

Rosali’s interest in experimentation, which she has explored under other monikers, has gradually infiltrated her solo work. She goes the furthest to date towards it on Bite Down, which includes noise elements that distress the edges of songs that could easily be successfully presented in more straightforward contexts.Pinpointing Rosali as rock or folk or country is overly reductive. She takes things song by song, with varying styles and approaches.

The album opens with “On Tonight,” featuring briskly overlapping rhythm guitar riffs, some by Mowed Sound, but Rosali plays guitar as well as sings. There is an arcing  melody in synth strings and, a signature for Bite Down, multi-tracked vocals. Rosali’s voice has an impressive range, from low alto to dulcet soprano. “Rewind” is a love song with lyrics about seeking stability in a romance. Its chorus provides a memorable hook: “I love you, And I know you love me too, Be the same you, I’ll rewind for you.”

“Hills on Fire” is one of my favorite songs on Bite Down. Country adjacent, it features a keening vocal melody and East Nashvillian arrangement. The extended slide guitar introduction is succeeded by a winsome vocal and several solo breaks. This is Rosali’s voice at its most gentle, cooing in her upper register.

The title track is something of a feature for Bois, whose electric piano sets a mid-tempo syncopated groove buoyed by the rhythm section, and synths that add sustained tones ghosting the vocals. Mowed Sound particularly distinguishes themselves here. Biting down is taken here as grasping at what’s real, with which the narrator struggles. There’s also a veiled reference to Virginia Woolf’s suicide: “I keep on walking, Putting rocks in my pocket, I’m drawn to the docks and Eternal Life.” Ultimately, we learn that it is a plea for help from a beloved: “Everything has a price, What’s it worth to you?” The music belies the sobering subject matter, but also lets us know there remains a suppleness of step that, we hope, will afford the narrator the courage to turn away from the water. “Is It Too Late” depicts the murky mornings of depression, with a resolve to keep going. Here, the moody guitar riff and florid singing match the challenges depicted in the lyrics.

Rocking out is on the menu, particularly evident on the penultimate track, “Change Is in the Form,” a doppelganger of a Neil Young song with attractive layered backing vocals juxtaposed with an inexorable groove and duo guitar solos. “Hopeless” has a strong backbeat and a number of instrumental breaks. It is about accepting the end of a relationship while remembering its previous laughter and joy. “Slow Pain” immediately follows, and its musical vibe and lyrics suggest it is a companion (estranged companion) song: “​Have you seen my grief? Hold it so I don’t spill out, Keep quiet and wait it out.” It has one of the most extended guitar solos on the album, which closes the song with verve and virtuosity. Such plaintive lyrics occasionally make bopping one’s head to the memorable tunes seem like a guilty pleasure. The connections between pleasure and pain seem to coalesce in much of Rosali’s work, and it is the better for it.

Bite Down ends with an extended song, “May it Be On Offer,” which clocks in at five and three-quarter minutes. It has a slow paced, loping rhythm, once again with overlapping guitars, both acoustic and electric, that presents a stark contrast to “Change Is In the Form.” Its vocal melody, again country adjacent in construction, sits in the mid-register, sung with a repeating melody in speech-like declamation. The lyrics depict contemplation of the struggles that have come before on the recording, with a pointed question asked by so many that serves as the album’s enigmatic close: ​​”And I’ll sit for hours, Gazing at the light, And I do wonder, If I waste my life. No, I don’t wonder, If I waste my life.”

This is for certain, no time is wasted listening, likely again and again, to Rosali’s compelling emotional journey on Bite Down.

Christian Carey

*

The door bell went and Elena breathed in to still the butterflies that had ruffled up.

 Opening the door wide open, she bit a gulp back and muttered "Elijah"

"Elena" His voice light and musical, accentuating her name with a loving tone.

"Hey -come in," Elena said and as he walked in, she went straight to the point, not able to keep all that was whirling inside her any longer, "I'm sorry that I ran away like - a crazy woman yesterday. Everything was -"

"Unexpected?" Elijah suddenly jumped in, his nerves getting the better of him, concentrating now on jumping of her heart, trying to deflect from his own. 

"Well - yeah - no - so you think it was unexpected?"

"No - I mean - I - Elena, can I be frank?"

"Yes."

"In truth, yes. As you know I -" For the first time in a very long while he felt like the nervousness got the better of him. He, who has always been most eloquent one, now couldn't find the correct words to say what was nestled deep inside of him.

Lately when I look into your eyes, I fly

You're the only one I need in my life

Baby, I just don't know how to describe

How lovely you make me feel inside

You give me butterflyz

Got me flyin' so high in the sky

I can't control the butterflyz

"You are still not ready for anything. and I get you. So - we brush it like it's just one of those things - that happen." Elena made a little hand clap, feeling her stomach flip over with an unexplained disappointing hurt burst in.

"I do not wish to brush it off - in all these past months I have come to - admire you more than ever. And this admiration has grown into something that I have felt for - a very long time. Elena, I feel very profoundly for you. I always have done. There are no number of mistakes that I have made, but kissing you last night was not one of them."

"No, it was not a mistake. It felt good and right." Elena felt her heart bloom open like a rose. 

"Yes. Oh, Elena" Elijah stepped forward, closing the gap between them, cupping her face with his hands. He leaned down and drew Elena's lips to his. She trembled, a feeling euphoric warmth rushing through her. His lips were gentle, warm, fervent.

Pulling slightly out of the kiss, the Original looked for confirmation in the Doppelganger's eyes"You want this?"

"Yes, I want this." Elena's eyes shot back at Elijah now pulling him back into a zealous, demanding kiss.

Elena felt a smoldering heat deep within her as Elijah's grip tightened slightly, crushing her body to his, gentle yet firm. She slanted her head further, deepening the kiss.

Enveloped, Elijah sped them up to the sofa. They slowly peeled their clothes off inbetween kisse, twisting and gasping together as they worked the buttons, hooks, zips with unsteady fingers, until the last impediment slipped away.

Breathless with delight as he showered her with gentle, soft kisses, each with its own flicker of warmth, Elena shook, feeling the heat spread all over.

And then in the warmest rhythm of her flesh, both shuddered with the overwhelming sense of this was what they needed, wanted. Her body writhed under his smooth kisses, losing themselves completely in one another, he was only dimly aware of her whispering his name, egging him on. There was nothing but obliterating sensation, thrilling and swelling, and the sound of skin on skin as their limbs slid across each other in this sensuous meeting of two bodies, souls, hearts. 

You and I are destiny

I know that you were made for me

Somewhere Up Above [Homecest]

If only Doppelganger had been savvy enough to roleplay Mirrorlander instead adoring!worshipful!fan cosplaying as Homelander, they’d still be alive. And gotten some.

“Like what you see?”

Homelander freezes on hearing his own voice behind him. When he finally turns, he blinks in disbelief at the sight of himself squeezed into the cheap black lingerie the real Madelyn would probably never have deigned to wear.

“Oh don’t tell me you don’t find me attractive. There’s nothing as pathetic as self-loathing.”

Homelander’s mouth is so dry he can barely get the words out. He gulps, embarrassed that his voice stutters as he says what his mirror image wants to hear. “I-I do. I like what I see.” Does he really though? He’s too afraid of what will happen if he admits that he’s somewhat repulsed by what’s probably coming next.

“Of course you do, you lonely little slut, you’ll take any love you can get, even if it’s just from another version of you.” The mirror image approaches him and Homelander strains to stay still and not step back. “Nobody else will really love you like I can, after all. Now, get down on your knees and suck me off.”

Homelander doesn’t even hesitate, drops to his knees on obedient autopilot, and pulls up the hem of the black lace teddy, hands slightly trembling. His mirror image is completely soft. He glances up and immediately regrets it, because all he sees is his own face, twisted into a cruel sneer, staring down at him.

“Do you suck at blowjobs as much as you suck at every other kind of sex?”

Homelander shakes his head vigorously, even though he’s never sucked cock before in his life, he’s bound to be bad at it, and he’s going to get an earful about how bad soon enough. It’s just his own cock at eye level, but it looks different from this perspective, unfamiliar and intimidating. Its softness is mocking him, his mirror version so skeptical of his talents that he can’t even get excited in anticipation. Homelander wishes the lingerie was long and wide enough that he could just pull it over his head. It would feel better to hide from the cold judgemental gaze above when he’s doing this.

He takes the shaft in his hand and starts stroking, craning his head down and gently sucking on the balls. At least he knows what he likes, and that’s a start. He hears his own voice moan somewhere up above but doesn’t look. When Homelander takes his mirror version’s cock in his mouth, it’s downright soothing. It’s not all that different from sucking on Madelyn’s fingers. The cock is larger, and warmer, and heavier on his tongue, of course, but it’s not bad. There’s a salty, heady flavor he’s not used to, but he closes his eyes, accepting it as his own, and just continues to suck, trying to tease the underside of the head and the slit on each pull backward.

He’s in a groove, one could even say he’s enjoying this, but he’s snapped out of his rhythm and can’t avoid glancing up when his mirror image brushes his hair back and traces a thumb along his eyebrow.

“Look at yourself. Ready to suck dick at the drop of a hat. That’s all you’re ever going to be, at this rate. Just talent. A whore. You’d probably suck Stan Edgar off if he asked you to.”

Homelander starts shaking his head before realizing he’s going to need to let the dick in his mouth drop out to protest and say “No, only you.”

His mirror image shakes his head and Homelander can’t stand the look of disappointment in his own eyes. “You’re not a good liar either. You’ve got no spine, nothing but a pretty face going in your favor. A pretty face Stan Edgar can offer every senator who wants to jizz on it or sit on it, just so Vought gets the political moves they want.”

His mirror image starts jacking off at a quick pace. Homelander doesn’t have time or presence of mind to decide to move away before jets of come get painted across his eyes, cheekbones, lips. Wiping it away gives him the brief opportunity to discreetly get rid of tears that started to form before his mirror image notices that he’s crying.

“Would you let me fuck you if I asked?” his mirror image asks.

Homelander shrugs, and moves his head in a way that’s noncommittal between a nod and a negative headshake. He doesn’t know what the right answer is anymore.

“Would you let anyone else fuck you?” This question is easier to answer and Homelander decisively shakes his head.

“Then why do you let Vought make Stormfront their new golden girl? Why aren’t you figuring out a way to get rid of her?”

“I am,” Homelander says, dismayed that it’s very obvious that he’s crying from the way his voice shakes. “I’m just thinking about how to go about it.”

“Glad to hear, sport.” His mirror image cradles his jaw, tilting his face upward from the downward angle Homelander keeps wanting to assume. “You’ve still got cum in your hair— don’t forget to wash it out before anyone else sees you.”

fufu ~ ... we look up to your blog so much … ! i wanted to ask … how long have you been playing muse dash , what level are you , what is / are your favorite song( s ) to play ... and skins … i don't typically see other muses out in the wild … ~ @shuwarin

Oh - ! Thank you ~ We never thought we'd get to the point where others would look up to our blog .. ! We've had Muse Dash for I believe ... over 2 years .. ? But we have only started playing frequently quite recently , due to us getting a controller .. ([ We cannot play rhythm games with our keyboard , motor issues , I think .. ]) We are level 224 currently .. !

We are still working out favourite songs due to getting the DLC only recently .. We tend to enjoy the ones in the Dynamic category .. But ! Our favourited list is ;;; Cthugha , Fireflies , Gloomy Flash , Snooze , Invader , Gimme Da Blood , Doppelganger , Out of Sense , Ira , Blackest Luxury Car , Irregulyze , Nisegao ..

We usually play with ;;; Christmas Rin , Sailor Buro , The Girl In Black , Neko We also enjoy ([ Ones with S are used with Silencer ]) ;;; El_Clear , Yume , S ; Sister Marija , S ; Sleepwalker Rin , Idol Buro

We usually use Lilith elfin if not Silencer ~

And .. I know right - ! I love Muse Dash so much ... It's so lovely to find others who enjoy it .. ~