#muck and the mires

[b3crew]

No Borders No Race: The SXSW 2023 Showcase | B3 - Boston Bastard Brigade

The annual South By Southwest Festival is just around the corner, and King Baby Duck's got you covered! Over a dozen Japanese acts (and a couple of Boston ones) are on display, with the where's and when's people can see them live in Austin, Texas! (Although there are a few that were, at the time of the recording, still to be determined!)

PLAYLIST (with album/single links):

the tiva - Go back our home (from The Planet Tiva part.1 EP)

Haru Nemuri - Seventh Heaven (from the album SHUNKA RYOUGEN)

VivaOla - Runway (from the STRANDED EP)

Kami Lyle - Much Too Young (digital single)

POT - Beginning (from the album Journey)

Chihiro Yamazaki+ROUTE14band - Fairy Tale (from the album Oto no Sekai)

BackDrop Cinderella - Bond Girl Sugu Shinu (from the 3rd e.p)

GracieHorse - Crustaceans (from the Gracie EP)

NTsKi - Kung-Fu (from the album Orca)

Otoboke Beaver - YAKITORI (from the album Super Champon)

Yogetsu Akasaka - Heart Sutra (digital single)

Snøw - Wxrds (digital single)

NEMOPHILA - Seize the Fate (from the album Seize the Fate)

YAYOI DAIMON - Sin Miedo (from the MY OWN BOSS EP)

CHAMELEON LIME WHOOPIEPIE - LaLaLa (digital single)

Muck and the Mires - Beat Revolution (digital single)

DYGL - Under My Skin (from the album Thirst)

Wez Atlas & Seann Bowe - The Plot (digital single)

YU-KA - Hoshizukiyo (digital single)

Click here to listen!

[hashketchum2]

i am so behind on everything and i feel like calling it quits on trying to get an adhd diagnosis. the nhs too busy letting their own staff jump to the front of the queue. my brain is just Like This and that's that, i guess.

[scumbag-the-hedgehog]

(I went into this blog with the idea of "ooh Scourge gets a little better, fun!" and now every plot I come up with is "turns down every obvious chance for redemption, ultimately ruins all the relationships he has, makes others worse intentionally or unintentionally" and I can't stop)

[dweeeeeb]

Motivational Music in the Morning ... #BrownBird, #MuckAndMire ... From the Album #TheDevilDancing [Official Audio Track] (2011) #MMitM1

[keydekyie]

Hi there! I mostly wanted to poke in and say, well, hi – I recently dragged my blog back from the depths mainly to be able to interact with people outside of my usual circles some more again, and I just wanted to let you know that I've recently re-read all of TMatB I in anticipation of TMatB II... and I can say that after reading Book 2, it had absolutely been worth the wait – it just hit all the right spots all over again just like back in 2020. Thank you for providing monster-likers like me with dorky beast-people 🙏Can't wait to see more about this setting and the characters!

[triiscuit-fr]

aberrations my beloved (aka some random doodles)

ft. younger grilled & cheese being found by mire & muck, and grilled & cheese currently with cheese napping [:

+ grilled & cheese's and his sister's familiars

[maryvivianpearce]

in one second you can be screaming into an empty parking garage full of rage and the next you can be on the road to seeing the love of your life ain’t life funny like that?

[sbnkalny]

*screams at justice* where the water melon grows, It can slowly spread into drier conditions, forming larger mires, both raised bogs and blanket

iral-craz

[thomas--bombadil]

Even in muck and mire, an egret is an expert at spotting a meal.

[kpoptrashlord-007]

The spray bottle squeaks out a few more splurts of all-purpose cleaner onto the kitchen counter. Just another thing for the monumental list of tasks you’ve acquired today. Taking a few paper towels, you scrub the quartz as if it personally victimised your entire family. There’s no laundry detergent either, not after all the bedding loads this morning. Did you turn on the dishwasher? It was loaded and you remember adding the tablet but there’s no tell-tale whirling nor incessant gurgling filling the room. 

“Shoot, shoot, shoot!” you grumble, turning on your heels. 

Steam escapes the machine’s vents – the drying cycle. One less thing to worry about. Though you didn’t have quite enough space to include the juice pitcher, for which you need to buy a few more instant tea packs. There’s a shopping list for all this, a simple way to give your mind a break, but then there’s also the counter. The spray is oh-so-patiently waiting to be wiped down. 

On autopilot your feet carry you to the fridge and the scrambled list clipped to it. In a scrawl near illegible you add what you remember: detergent, carpet cleaner, oh!, regular cleaner too, toothpaste, and…

What was the other thing?

“Honey,” Yunho calls, his voice breaking through the muck and mire of your overactive brain. His arm wraps around your waist as he presses a soft kiss to your temple. “Are you okay?”

With a clap you add ‘tea’ to the list. “Ah, you’re a lifesaver!”

He snorts. “I don’t know what I did but I’m happy to be of service.”

Slipping free of his embrace you return to the counter and the war you’re waging against it. After a solid minute it sparkles. Most of the kitchen does by this time of day, though it never lasts long. Dinner is right around the corner so the dishes will inevitably pile back up, and wouldn’t it be nice to bake some cookies for dessert? If only there was some–

“My little hummingbird”—large hands clasp yours, holding you in place before you can flit away once more—“let me take care of it.”

“Oh, it’s fine, really. Now for dinner I was thinking–”

“I’ll take care of it,” he insists, gently pulling you to his chest. Once more his arms wrap around your frame. Warmth encases you as he rocks you back and forth. The buzz slows and dulls, allowing a sense of serenity to wash through you. “I’ll take care of you.”

[radioiaci]

@infernal-blaze ⧐ liked for an upsetting starter.

How many times had he circumvented this exact thing from happening only to be mired so deeply into it at the least convenient time?

Alastor had told Fizzarolli that they two would take some time away from the hotel - away from all responsibility, really (a rarity, for him) - to simply go for a private walk to both clear the imp's head of recent incidents with some of his more ornery fans. He'd simply needed to take care of a few things first and refresh himself in his room before he would meet Fizzarolli in the lobby in an hour or two - but his routine had been so violently interrupted, that the radio demon did not quite make it down there.

Instead, he was still in his own quarters, sitting with his back pressed against one of the willow trees that loomed over the bayou he'd manifested for himself with hopes that the hanging branches above would provide some sense of familiarity and comfort but all they were doing now was reminding him of cloying, reaching hands that raked over his flesh and scored marks anew. Hands were scratching excessively at his throat, leaving angry red abrasions that he was having a hard time letting be - eyes fixed forward in a manic stare as he buzzed with fervent distraught energy.

His clothing was rumpled and slathered in muck from a nearby puddle of swampy water; he'd clambered through it in a panic trying to seek some sort of shelter from her. And at present, he did not care what he looked like. Not when he was not even certain he felt like a person just then - not when all he could see was red, lingering eyes.

Not when he felt like he could not breathe.

Had he ever been able to?

[ddarker-dreams]

What do you think yandere Scara and/or Wanderer's opinion on making out with his darling would be? Would he see the situation as "NoOoOo I must keep my love pUrEeEeEeEe!!!" Or right off the bat would not care and just go for it?

according to his voice line on the tsaritsa, he thinks love is a sin, so imo, purity would never be what he aims for. he'll gladly embrace himself in the muck and mire if it means dirtying you in the process. scara and wanderer would both have somewhat different philosophies

scaramouche sees it as an act of dominance, a way to enforce his will over yours. it’s rough, a clashing of teeth and tongue, unrefined yet immensely pleasurable for him. he’ll try to act indifferent, like this base expression of carnal desire is below him. the urgency in how he bites on your lower lip and growls when you try to pull back gives him away though. he relishes in the disarray of your hair, the bruising of your lips, how your frail mortal form heaves to refill your lungs with oxygen. he thinks you’re oh so cute and he’ll be sure to tell you, ensuring to use that coy voice of his you loathe so deeply. he kisses you like he’s trying to make a point. whether it’s to you or himself, you’ll never know for certain. what you do know is that it’d be nice if he learned to keep his tongue to himself. he tends to get a little eager and forget that you do, in fact, need to breathe. hmph. such petulance on your part. 

wanderer wants to imprint his existence so deep into yours that not even tampering with the divine tapestry of history could let you forget him. he wants to remember it as well, every last detail down to the most seemingly inane. for this reason, he’s slower, ravishing your lips with intention that draws the session out longer than his former self would’ve permitted. kissing is a vulnerable act — he recognizes this and embraces it. for if he is vulnerable, then that must mean you have to be as well. he keeps his eyes open throughout most of the act, which is rather creepy, but he can’t waste the opportunity to see you up this close. it’s intimate in a way few other acts are. 

[borom1r]

ok as per the usual reblogs are off but im gonna tag this like crazy lol

Anyways. hiiiii i FINALLY finished Faramir's route!!!! sooo Faramir is Fully Done, Boromir is abt 2/3 done, Éomer is NEARLY FINISHED like 85% and Théodred is roughly 1/3 done. if you would like to preview the silly LotR text games + provide just. comments i would GREATLY appreciate it, bc we are solidly mired in the "i have been staring at these words for so long that they look Terrible" muck (dw abt grammatical stuff, but if there are any glaring command errors that would be good to know about! Boromir IS missing a 2nd date currently so if it skips you straight from his first to his third date That Is To Be Expected)

EDIT: there is a screwy command that will cause the end of Éomer’s route to lead into Théodred’s, I am aware + this will be fixed in the final game!! there is also a known issue with Faramir’s route missing the opt-out for one of the NSFW scenes

EDIT 2: LINKS HAVE BEEN REMOVED. leaving this up for the feedback in the replies! we’ll see if I can’t get some good work done over the weekend

Date a Gondorian 🪽

Date a Rohir 🐎

@rivers-for-me @theshakespearetrash tagging u both bc you liked the first post i made abt this sjkdfhjksdf

[queerpyracy]

merry fucking christmas we had our oldest cow go down and get mired in the muck and she still hasn't stood up. we've got her dug out and in a dry spot in the barn. we don't think anything's broken, she's eating hay and had enough spirit in her to be pissed off about the calcium and magnesium supplement we got down her. hopefully she's just tired and cold and when someone goes out to check on her in a bit she'll have stood up but any good vibes for annie the cow would be appreciated

[jangmi-latte]

𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆... ʕ calamities always causes disasters. disasters are the mainstream of danger — and danger causes pain. To define such instances, would your apology suffice the grieving guilt that’s eating away your soul despite being granted with the ability to breathe for another day? This is a rhetorical question, and yet if it wasn’t, would you have the answer as you sit in his chambers in silence…? ʔ

𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑: BIRD BEASTMAN!ROOK HUNT X READER

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: near death experience, angst if you squint, hurt and comfort, emotional breakdowns, overthinking (reader), descriptive mentions of wounds and blood, the concept of being hunted down and chased (outside party), whump.

while the warnings say otherwise, this is pure fluff with no signs of character going against the reader. Gender!neutral reader. rook hunt has wings. rook’s siblings/family are/is mentioned. all description of family affiliations is purely HEADCANON

i can make a part two...

𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒

h-h-hurt and comfort while rook's being overprotective yet injured like the man he is hahwushhahah that unique magic of his does shit to my eyeballs. also because i'm having a breakdown over this half bird theory after the tamashina mina event harharhar (⁠ ⁠ꈨຶ⁠ ⁠˙̫̮⁠ ⁠ꈨຶ⁠ ⁠)

𝐑. 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭 ʕ 100% loading...ʔ

The pitter patter of the rain held nothing against the endless ringing of your ears while medics ran in and out of his bedroom. In the heart of a storm, everyone should’ve been within their safe haven — a home, some shelter, a person to seek for. Sunset Savanna was supposed to be a lively country.

The blanket held no warmth, no matter how thick or how it covered your hunched body. It felt too clean; you shouldn’t be this ridded of impurities. Save for the mire and muck that tainted your arms and legs, it still felt so unjustifiable that you were still… unharmed. All you got were cuts (that has already clotted and was patched). Your hair damped of grim and sweat, not like it even bothered you at this point.

It felt like a sin, a curse, to only have this kind of stain. The room felt empty — despite the presence of another male across from you paced back and forth.

It was cold.

Too cold.

 His blond hair held great resemblance to him, his eyes held more of his mother than his father — in comparison to his brother who got their father’s slender eyes. You heard his pacing slow down and felt his eyes settle on you; looking all fragile and scared.

“He’ll be okay,” he said, his voice holding the same comfort and tone like how Rook spoke it to you merely an hour ago. You’ll be okay.

You did not respond. You continued to stare at the leaves — that entered through the window from the restless wind — that danced on the bedroom’s floor.

“y/n…” he called, sitting down beside you.

It hurts, it’s not like you wanted to be this hurt in the first place. It’s not like you wanted him to be hurt at all. It wasn’t either of your faults and yet you truly felt like it was yours to bear. If only you didn’t run through the woods, if only those hunters didn’t see you as a potential prey; let alone they shouldn’t even have seen you. You were an innocent civilian wanting some fresh air before the storm settled in.

He saw you. He used his unique magic on you. He made sure you were still safe. He protected you.

His family was a group of hunters too — he, himself, an adept one but that doesn’t excuse that he wants you to be hunted down. Albeit let it be a simple game between you two, no outside parties allowed. Now where was he? You’ve never heard him so panicked, like he was scared (even though he tries not to be). He wasn’t scared for himself; he was scared for you.

Because, compared to your little game, he could not control your safety.

“…Do you want to see him?” Rook’s older brother — the second oldest — asked.

“Please,” you replied instantly, desperation and distress strangled your words. Looking up at the man before you, you would’ve commented at how similar they both are to one another, to compliment how handsome he was, too. Now was not the time.

He had an arm laid on your back, a hand holding on your other shoulder. His eyes, that used to hold the same exuberance as Rook, only held worry and stress as the weight of being both a brother to his other siblings and a pillar of strength was getting to him.

“I’ll come with you.”

And here you are standing in his bedroom. What used to be a room full of life, smelled of nature, and the occasional scatter of bows and arrows, now held the scent of blood and petrichor, added with the aching smell of antiseptics. Bandages, swabs, cloths, endless of them scattered across the room. It looked like a mess— no, it was a literal mess.

Not the mess you would often see.

Now broken arrows made your heart ache instead of making it race with glee, no teasing laughs, no voice cracks when he spoke so fast as he showed you a good hunt. It was so quiet.

And on the bed, Rook laid quietly with his wings spread out. If it wasn’t for the bandages on one wing, you would’ve run and snuggled on those thick and white feathers.

White feathers…

They were red and taut now. It made you wince as you remember. You remembered so vividly.

Those wings—those beautiful white wings—

“I can’t guarantee that he’ll be able to fly. At least for a while.”

Your eyes burned, your nose was itchy, your skin crawled. It’s like pins and needles butchered your scalp down to your palms. You didn’t even know the head medic was there.

“Otherwise, no vital organs were hit. Most of the damage were on his wings.”

“How severe was the damage?” asked his brother.

Five. It was five arrows that hit his wing. And two of those hit a membrane.

It was repeating again — the rapid beating of your heart that echoed repeatedly through your ears when he saw you, the relief in his eyes, when he welcomed you in his arms. The grip he had on your body when he released his wings that he valued so much.

“You’ll be okay. I’m here. I see you.”

The solace when he took to the skies in one big swing, battling with the strong wind as the rain was starting to fall, until one arrow shot straight to his wing. It pierced so deeply that it stabbed through the other side, immediately painting his feathers red and for him to yell in pain. A yell you never, not once in your life, imagined would come from him.

And to the Great Seven you beg to never hear again.

The rest became a blur, when he began to lose control, when he swerved and held you tightly, and when it hit that membrane around his inner wing did, he toss you away when you both crashed to the ground. The rain already soiling you both in mud and water as you crawled towards him. Deaf from your heartbeat, the rain, and the yells of hunters from the distance.

The impenetrable darkness that blurred your eyes — whether it was rainwater or your tears, you didn’t know. You counted the five arrows that ruined his wing, you don’t know how to remove them and logically he will not be able to fly.

His blood was being washed away by the rain when you hulled him to a nearby cave.

“Rook,” you sobbed. He was heaving and gritting his teeth, despising his current state of vulnerability at the moment.

“I’ll...be fine…” he groaned.

Only then did you realize that you were close to the Elephant Graveyard and was found by a search and rescue team.

You shivered when you closed your eyes to rid of the image of his blood caked wings. He’s safe now, sleeping in front of you; but it didn’t settle your heart.

“Thank you,” you heard his brother speak behind you while you slowly approached Rook. They removed his shirt and laid him on his stomach so his left wing was tucked while the right was stretched out, the whole thing was bandaged yet soaked. Upon closer inspection, you saw the damage those arrows did.

Your eyes stung as you laid a gentle yet shaking hand on the sensitive wing, feeling his heart beating steadily through the bandages and the warmth it emitted to your hand.

“Rook…” you whispered, inhaling quaveringly.

“I’m sorry.”

A sob made its way up your throat as you sat down next to him. He didn’t wake up this time, not when he was utterly exhausted from both the pain and the energy he had to exert while flying and to keep himself from fainting.

His brother watched you in pity, feeling guilty that he wasn’t able to save his brother in time either. He knows he’ll be okay, but as a wing-bearer himself, it would nonetheless be traumatic to lose the only thing that kept his whole identity.

It is a part of him, his family, and his strength. He prayed that he truly will be able to fly again.

“Rook.” You combed your fingers through his hair and cupped his cheek, watching his parted lips take in even amounts of air. Your tears soaking the sheets and sniffling as you placed your lips on the side of his head.

“Great Seven please let him fly again,” you prayed against his head. Not a rustle on his other wing either. He was out cold.

You believed it was really your fault. If you hadn’t gone that deep into the forest, if you didn’t argue with those hunters, he would’ve been safe. You should’ve taken the damage, not him. He was innocent. Now the consequence was too much to stomach.

“We’ll…” inhaled his brother, “We’ll find a way to help him fly again.”

“I’ll help.” You didn’t move from your position, “I…I’ll look for a medic somewhere o-or a wing therapist— anything…” you wept.

For it will break you too if you saw him sitting on the porch while his siblings flew without a care in a world. Even if those lips of his smiled at the freedom his siblings have, deep down those skies are his home as well. If he wouldn’t be able to touch the clouds again, losing a part of him that’s part beast man is like skinning an animal alive.

The hunter was hunted.

© 𝐣𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐦𝐢-𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞 2021.