#the livelong day

[ejzah]

It’s one of the least egregious things she’s done, but every time I watch Hetty ruin Deeks’ train set, I get irrationally angry. There was zero reason for it. It’s not at all amusing as they tried to play it off.

[total-derangement-of-the-senses]

Song of the Day

17 Mar., ‘25

[mikimeiko]

Albums I listened to in 2023

The Livelong Day - Lankum (2019)

[reckonslepoisson]

The Livelong Day (2019), Fake Lankum (2023), Lankum

What if Swans were Irish? And what if swans were Irish? So many questions, so many. This succulently mopey Irish drone folk stuff comes with heaps of perhaps-undeliberate Pirates of the Caribbean vibes... it’s quite cool, but not that cool.

Pick(s): ‘Bear Creek’, ‘The Turn’

[navree]

"rhaenys could have ended the war by dracarysing all the greens right there" yes because a distant relation to the throne deciding to barbecue an anointed and publicly positively hailed king and his entire family who is well loved within the city and in multiple other parts of the country for the sake of the succession of a far-away princess no one was ever on board with who hasn't been seen by the populace in literal years, her psycho husband, her three obvious bastards, and two toddlers from the psycho husband would go over super well with westeros and especially in king's landing where scores of the still-cheering population were killed for no reason by that same dragon who would do the barbecuing, because when targaryens act unilaterally without thinking of how the people would react there's never any problem, which is why the storming of the dragonpit and robert's rebellion were actually just collective delusions dreamed up by readers who hate rhaenyra and not key parts of the story and house targaryen's history that directly contributed to their demise and are intrinsic to the plot

truly team black stans are made up of only the most genius and media literate amongst us

[remyfire]

Luigi actually let me sleep in for the first time in a few weeks and I keep forgetting what it's like to have a rested brain that works. Like, what the fuck even is this?

[icedteaandoldlace]

There's a very specific, very odd feeling of asexual outrage when you see your fave in a smash or pass poll with majority "pass" votes, and you quickly remember that in a real-life scenario, you would absolutely pass, no doubt about it, but everyone else is saying it for the wrong reasons.

[jester-of-fools]

I’ll be honest, this is a really fair stance. And it’s a good example of when personal preference differs to mass-preference.

I do, however, think it’s a bit odd how your personal feelings on what you personally enjoy writing and the ‘why’s of it were also immediately taken as a personal attack (not surprised tho, as this is the “is this a personal attack” website).

You never said anyone wasn’t a real writer for doing this; you just said you wouldn’t enjoy writing like that personally. You clearly explained it’s bc it’s not appealing or fulfilling to you, and you explained why it felt that way.

Which is honestly fair.

So uh have you written fanfiction before rat man? Like self insert, platonic, anything? I feel like you tried at one point then buried it to never see the light again.

I have never understood the point of fanfiction. I have never cared for any fictional world enough to try, and even if I did care enough, I STILL wouldn't understand writing fanfic for said world. I'd rather dedicate that creative energy making my own shit instead - better that, than slurping off the creative energies of someone else; of a world and story that already exists - one of which you cannot canonically affect.

[kcsplace]

I will never not love Monica's choices for Phoenix's body language. she so unapologetically takes up space, doesn't back down, doesn't break eye contact with her cohort.

When they're in briefings, she's often slouched back, thighs spread, taking up as much space as the guys. she's 5-6" shorter than Jake and Bradley but never backs down when either approach or stand up to her.

Being a woman in the military is hard. Men can make mistakes all the livelong day and that's fine, they get bawled out, but it's fine. but if a woman makes a mistake, all women are blamed. and it gets worse the more specialised and "elite" you are. "taking" a spot a man is "more deserving" of, or enduring accusations you're only there because of getting on your knees or back.

And Nat, especially as a very beautiful woman, has likely heard it all, and it hasn't made her small. instead, despite her petite size, she takes up space, she owns her space and she never backs down, never apologises, never makes herself smaller.

I just really love her and I love Monica's choices.

[carbonfiction]

Soundless somethings

When logan comes home one day to absolute silence throughout your home, he knows something isnt right. He further cements that when he finds you tucked up in bed, struggling with a migraine attack.

This is something a little different for me; fluff not always being my strongest suit. But as a livelong chronic migraine suffering girlie, im always searching for comfort. This was completely self indulgent and i threw it at the wall (notes app) in the midst of getting over this very scenario. i figured I'd share in case theres anyone out there that needs some comfort the way i did when this came to be. <33

Warnings?: mention of migraine attacks, mentions of taking pills/medication, mentions of nausea (but no vomit), Logan being a sweet sweet man, Overall just fluff!

Pictured with origins!Logan in mind but feel free to imagine any version!

Masterlist Words: little over 1.3k

Logan could tell something was off the moment he stepped through the door. the lights are off, all the curtains drawn, enveloping the house in pitch darkness despite the earlier hour.

the sound of the tv doesn't play out, nor the usual music that would softly serenade throughout the house. Instead a deafening silence replaces it all.

His steps are quiet despite his weight; rushed yet carefull- calculated- as he treads to find you. He knows your home, the steady beat of your heart hushed in his ears as he strains to listen. He checks the kitchen and then the bathroom but he doesnt find you in either.

Instead, he finds you bundled up in your shared bed, blanket pulled up to your chin, a bag lined trashcan resting on the floor besides your bedside table.

There's a gentle sigh of relief; that your home and safe, as he pads over. A crease wedging its way between his brows as he Looks your bundled frame over. Your expression- that he can see anyway- is pained as he kneels carefully besides the bed. Slow and gentle to not jostle your body as his hands stabilize themselves on the plush mattress. Logan opens his mouth, question poised on his tongue, but you beat him to it.

"Logan?" you croak quietly, eyes squinted open, like the words hurt you to verbalize. In a way, they do.

"Yea baby s' just me." Logan keeps his voice low as he reassures you. His hand gently coming up and over your covered body to rest atop of your forehead and he smiles softly as you try to snuggle into it without much movement; his palm feeling cool and reliving from his time outside against your skin . "What's goin on hm? M' girl not feeling good?"

"Mhm" you hum back, eyelids falling shut again to block out the dimmed light. "'nother migraine attack".

Ah.. So that explains the quiet darkness filling, what is usually, your bustling home.

"Have you taken your pills baby?" Logan enquires with a sigh, voice low and careful to not hurt your head further as he stands as quiet as he can- save for the clicking of his knees that you'd usually tease him about- instead he finds himself apologizing.

Logan knows how bad these attacks can get, how they can range from a dull ache behind your eyes to a debilitating thump that pains every movement. That the trashcan besides your side of the bed often has a second purpose; for the days when you physically cannot move for the pain and nausea.

He knows how, when these attacks happen, even the quietest noise can make you unconsciously flinch in pain. That sometimes even the sound of your own heartbeat worsens the matching throb in your head. It breaks part of his heart every time, seeing you struggling so hard in your own body, but he'll do anything, often wordlessly to ensure you get through each attack supported with anything you need.

"Took em' earlier.. Didn't help much" you mumble, hushed and so sadly it makes logans heart clench in his broad chest. You hear logans steps retreat from the room, and you shift fractionally in bed. The movement deliberately slow as to not highten the nausea that floats over you in waves.

Tugging the cool side of one of logans pillows atop of your forehead, Its just enough to cover your eyes; to stop any extra brightness breaching your eyelids. The scent of him embedded in the fabric is comforting; but you find yourself thankful for the way it slightly muffles sound too as you listen to logan rooting around in the kitchen.

You know he's trying his best- he always does- his large heavy hands delicately struggling to maneuver around items much smaller. You just barley catch the muttered way he swears to himself as he grabs a glass out, accidentally clinking it next to another other, to fill with cold water.

When logan comes back he does so with his arms full. in one a condensation covered glass filled with water, crisp and cool from the fridge. The other is pressed to his chest and holds a box of crackers- simple and plain- and a packaged strip of ginger cookies to settle your stomach; your medicine carton then sitting atop of both.

You crack an eye at the sound of the packets as he places them down on the bed; apologizing for the rustling as you whimper. The idea of food not being over appetizing in your current state.

logan hides a smile, knowing and apologetic, seeing the grimace that rests on your lips.. "I know baby, i know.." he hushes gently, as he carefully sits himself beside you, dipping the bed as it groans. "but we gotta get something in your stomach before your next meds, y'know that."

You whimper again, pained and utterly miserable because you know hes right. You do need to eat before your next dose; otherwise you know it'll make the nausea worse. He sighs softly again as you whine, helping you rest up against the headboard.

The throb in your skull is louder as you sit straight, your eyes fully open now. the room is dimmed but light still filters golden through the fabric of the curtains. You make a mental note to purchase some blackouts when you feel more yourself.

Theres silence then, as logan watches your every move, occasionally handing you another cracker or cookie depending on what you mumble for. By the third cracker and second cookie a small protesting sound passes your lips, nausea flooding your bloodstream mid bite. Logan's hand finds your back, rubbing up and down softly hushing you through the wave, also ready to grab the trashcan if you need it.

"Just a couple more bites baby, you can do it.." he pushes quietly after a while of helping you steady your breath; urging you to just finish the last half of the ginger cookie sat in your hand. He grins slightly when you continue, bites small and almost sheepish as he places a kiss on your head before muttering into your hair "yea there you go. Good girl, proud of you baby."

For a while then, theres no movement; you sitting against the headboard and him resting besides you. His hand rubbing soothing shapes on your back.

Theres a panicked noise when he shifts, your fingers grasping at his shirt, but like always, Logans quick to reassure you. "Shh s' okay, just grabbing your pills, m' not goin anywhere, Promise"

You hum gingerly in understanding as his free arm reaches to the table, pulling your medicine packet into his lap before stretching again for the water.

You grimace, fingers wrapping around the glass as you bring it up to your forehead, resting it against your warm skin. Its cool and damp against you, making a sound of delight slip from your throat. Logan smiles at it, un-popping the little pills and handing you the correct dose.

He helps tip your head back, his hand resting over yours on the glass, guiding and gentle. Once swallowed he praises you again; lips pressing feather light kisses against your temple when you shift closer to his body.

"Love you lo" he just manages to hear you mumble into his neck. Your tone is still slightly sad; no doubt filled with fatigue as he helps you rest comfortable atop of him, head resting in the crook of his neck.

Usually you'd giggle at the tickle of his facial hair against your skin but for now you settle for an amused huff; too pained for laughter as you nuzzle closer to his scent with your fingers still tangled in the fabric of his shirt. akin to how a child clutches a stuffed toy.

"Love you too baby.." he replies softly, palm coming to rest under your- his- shirt. He smiles, heart stuttering in his chest at the feeling of your lashes fluttering shut. His cool hand soothing up and down your spine until he feels your breathing slow. Soft snores falling from your lips as his motions never cease. "Now, get that pretty little head to snoozin' hm?"

lemme know whatcha think? is fluff something you'd like to see more of?? bc i actually really enjoyed creating this <333

[itonlyhastobetruetoday]

have you asked of yourself the price you might pay? Is it simply a game for rich young boys to play?

DARE I SAY PONYBOY TO CHERRY VALANCE

i’m gonna hold you hand while i say this, just imagine darry singing ~bring him home~ during the windrixville week

[heyimkana]

A snippet from Pillow Talk Part 2:

His tender tone soothes you, but it’s never enough to completely excise your past traumatic memories of nearly losing him. “It wasn’t like the last time, was it? The beast that put those wounds on your chest?” 

“No, nothing like that,” he answers with haste, not wanting you to worry even further (it’s just a stupid game he plays to get your attention, after all). “It was just Beru.”

As if being summoned, the shadow soldier materializes out of thin air, still in the shape of a small, floating head. “M-My liege,” Beru greets, the pitch black, smoggy cloak around him quivering just as much as his voice. He hovers close to his summoner’s face, beseeching him for forgiveness. “I can no more bear this guilt within mine own chest. To make amends for mine sins, I shall taketh mine own life. Though I shall be reborn through thy mystic powers, the anguish must needs be worth the price of thy fair skin I have besmirched with these abominable hands. I shall end mine existence a hundredfold, nay, a thousandfold—”

“Can you not waste my mana, please?” Jinwoo sighs, breaking away from you with a frown. All the romantic tension he’s been building before to sweep you off your feet? Gone. “And what did I tell you about not snooping into my private moments?”

“Mine most humble apologies, my liege!” he panics, flying back and forth as if a part of him begged him to flee. “I hath but come hither to bid thee good night! Naught did I desire to intrude upon thy sacred, amorous moment with thy lady wife, most especially when thou hast longed for her gentle caress all the livelong day—”

Your husband slaps a hand over his mouth, his large palm nearly covering the ant’s entire face, grasping it hard enough for Beru to start mewling under his hold. His smile is nothing but menacing, a warning for the shadow to for the love of God, shut. the fuck. up. 

Read Part 1 here.

Update: the chapter has been released! Read it here!

[dazedantics]

This should work for any variant of Mark, I think (I didn't have a specific one in mind)

But imagine living in hiding, knowing you should fear the aliens flying in the sky.

You technically have nothing personal against them. It's just that they were so overwhelming in their pursuit to take over your planet, the streets a frequently repainted sea of red. You'd seen so much loss, relinquished so much. Your heart was full of guilt, as if you were the one taking over. You knew there was no sympathy for those monsters who used their powers to belittle you. You knew no reason that they should be shed in a different light.

But when you're saved by one?

When you've fallen back into a corner, watching one zip through the sky. A mighty thunder clap echoing behind them. Landing just feet away from you, not yet noticing, not yet caring. Gripping the front of that someone's shirt.

And killing them.

All blood, no grace, laughter mocking through the debris muddled air. The sun streaking down like a God given spotlight, a bright halo where their carnage raved?

You suddenly felt no fear.

None.

Like you hadn't in years.

Instead, watching them smash what once was a skull into the ground, over and over and over again. You felt elation.

You felt awe, pride, relief!

Love.

You were in love.

No, this omnipotent being had not intended to save you. In fact, you were certain he'd planned on destroying you next.

But ever since the invasion, the resident scum of the earth found no reason to hide anymore. They had nothing to hold them back. So they didn't. And made anyone unfortunate enough to run into their path suffer. Perhaps they did not massacre like the aliens, but they did all the rest of the unspeakables. Pursued the weary like maggots on rotting flesh.

And had just about gotten their way with you.

Until him.

Your knight in spandex armor.

How many times had you been fighting to get away from those people? The ones who should've felt heavy gloom after all that your world had been through. How many others of the same type had you been fought and stalked by?

How many would this savior eradicate for you?

You hadn't even noticed you'd moved till you were on your knees in front of him. Hands clasped and words insistent like a filthy beggar as you thanked and prayed for him to take care of the rest.

He was confused, certain you'd start kissing his feet if he didn't stop you. The thought almost made him smile.

You were an ugly, sniffling mess. Beneath him in every way. Yet still looked up at him with such hopeful eyes.

How could he not take you along?

He could use a good pet. Maybe if you kept hanging to him like this he wouldn't have to fret over breaking you, forced to take that glimmer from your eyes. But you wouldn't make it come to that, would you?

You start to follow him along. Smiling as you watch him work, encouraging him. Asking him to take certain people out. Praising him when his work is slow and agonizing. Gazing at him so tenderly all the livelong day.

He was certain there was something awful twisted in you. But he didn't care.

Keep fluffing his angel wings like that and he'd never see a reason to drop you back to the depths with all the other lusterless ants.

And you started to see your people as ants too. The good you once knew simply lumped in with the dirty. It didn't matter from up here. Where you sat at this God's side, heart melting each time he hunted the people you asked him to. With no questions, no hesitation, making you feel so heard. So noticed. More than you had since even before you first saw him in the sky.

Perhaps these hard times are what made you snap. To find joy in such things.

But one thing was for certain.

You'd now have no qualms about watching him lay waste to think people you once fought side by side with.

You'd gladly help spread the name of your savior across the universe. You'd live for the day everyone realized the his arrival was good for them.

For the time praises were sung for the man deemed,

Invincible