PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
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@dayplayers
#𝙳𝙰𝚈𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁𝚂 ... actors hired on a daily basis and not on a long-term contract, usually only on set for a day or two. a low activity multi-muse focusing on muses with fleeting & fluctuating muse. CAMERA'S ROLLING! AAAND . . . ACTION! directed by felt (she/they, 25).
CONTRACT / 2. CALL SHEET / 3. MAIN BLOG
hello happy pride everybody! we are now in the month of the Big Annual Work Event for me so i will be even busier and harder to reach than usual probably as i work overtime every single day to prepare and then also deal with the entire nonstop week of the event itself im sorry for my absence & i love you all!! i am blowing everyone kisses and thinking fondly about everyone even if i don't manage to find the time/energy to reach out to you in a timely manner please know that i am always thinking about you all and wishing i could just quit my job to play barbies with you all ♡.ᐟ
EVERYONE'S A STAR (FULLY EVOLVED). writing prompts from the album everyone's a star (fully evolved) by 5 seconds of summer. contains references to drugs, alcohol, and suggestive dialogue. feel free to modify pronouns as needed.
that's the story we'll tell.
who made you the preacher?
baby, it's a dream.
you're something superior.
everything is better when i don't know what it means.
i feel invincible.
we can pause for now, i think i said enough.
hey, give me a sip of it.
it's one in the morning.
i said i love you, but i didn't really mean it.
i thought it, wrote about it.
good things come to those who wait.
okay, okay, okay, it's just not my day.
you're just uncomfortable being with somebody who's good for you.
she says it's just my nature, and she says it like i'll never change.
i've been thinking, do you miss me?
do you wanna kiss me?
this one's gonna leave a scar.
when i'm dead and gone, bury me in stardust.
now i only feel alive when you're looking at me.
please, just tell me it's alright.
tell me i'm your type.
everything i need's right here.
god, you make me feel alive.
i'm dying for a little bit of your affection.
i can't fall asleep, it's like i'm in a dream.
i know that new york makes you sick.
every bed is could without your body in it.
everywhere i go, my skin is crawling.
what if i can't close my eyes without you in my head?
i'm scared i'll never sleep again.
i was thinking this would never end.
i remember things only you would know.
i still feel the same.
your heart's beating different.
show me nothing's changed.
kiss me like you mean it.
you sound like me when you're drunk.
i picked you up off the street.
some lady screamed, 'jesus can save him'.
i don't want to go to sleep because i'm afraid of what i'll see.
i can't look you in the eyes because i'm afraid it looks like me.
wish i was somebody else.
nothing else helps.
i'm so goddamn sick of myself.
i can't look myself in the eyes.
where are you sleeping tonight?
i need you, i need you tonight.
please, stay.
you keep on saying that i gotta get my soul right.
i wanna get high, i wanna get drunk.
when you gonna grow up?
i wanna get fucked.
don't get me wrong, i know it's hard to love me.
chill, baby, chill.
i'm just late to the party.
i face regrets and plan revenge.
i'm on one hell of a dive.
don't you get sick of it, living in isolation?
i can tell you're lost.
this is everything i didn't know i wanted.
i know every light on your street. i could find my way over with my eyes closed.
i know every sound when you sleep.
watching you is the only thing that i know.
don't leave, i don't wanna start over.
are we telling the truth?
you don't ever have to worry.
hey, i'll find you.
i'm sorry that i took so long to get there.
"Everybody… everybody blames me for his death, don't they?" "I don't."
A KNIGHT OF THE SEVEN KINGDOMS | 1.06
like this post to plot with ladus i am thinking about ladus my everything ladus klaark
EVERYBODY BECOME EXTREMELY INTERESTED IN MY LADUS KLAARK RIGHT NOW
I HAVE LED A TOOTHLESS LIFE, HE THOUGHT. A TOOTHLESS LIFE. I HAVE NEVER BITTEN INTO ANYTHING : ladus klaark & breaking free of the life that was destined for him ♡˚₊
catching up on this month's rocketeer issue and continuously pissed off about it for a) well all the lazy objectification of women in the big year of 2026 which while yes has been an element of rocketeer comics since its inception, is also something that other writers of his comics have subverted very well in the past and b) the also really extremely lazy and easily fixable continuity errors that don't need to be there and could be fixed without actually having to change any single part of the story at all if the writing staff or editorial actually bothered to pay attention or read other rocketeer issues even once
does anybody want to write tom branson from downton abbey i will pay you $1 it's all i have to givr
theyre literally in love forever and ever you guys................................
" i'm- " a frustrated groan interrupts, and her fist comes down on the metal of the walls hard. the pain is new, shooting in every direction in a way that she's not sure she's ever felt before in her life. tasha's been on fire, and even that didn't feel like this. but as the pain curls around her, squeezing, she spits out only a, " fine, " gritting her teeth, it's not an optimism, or a lie, that colors the tone of her voice, but something crossed between fact and determination. the ship tilts down, then suddenly and violently back up, bringing her eyes back to the fumbling pilot.
" come on ladus, eyes straight ahead. " she's not a teacher. far from it. she takes pride in her ability to lead, sure, but usually though her flyers already know how to fly. they fall into formation in the sky, they've flown with her for hundreds of hours. ladus . . . ladus is up there deciphering one button from the next. tasha slides down against the walls into a seated position. one boot shoves into the net too, something she hopes might tether her to the spot. eyes shutting as she increases the pressure on her own wound, her mind races trying to figure out the re approach. " it's easier than you think. " voice softening, even letting through the cracks in her voice, " put one foot up on the ledge, feel the ship. keep your hands locked on the yoke. don't pay attention to the warning lights. " it'll do them no good to keep running repairs, force ladus to split his attention. if they lose something, so be it. " come on, ladus. "
the space between natasha's "i'm" and "fine" lasts an eternity, everything slowing around him and breath held until he gets the confirmation of that fine from her. his brain conjures up a hundred scenarios in the interim -- he thinks of red spilling over fingers, gushing; mottled purple bruising and flayed open flesh; angry, fevered hot skin around the wound; hands pressing down against it with little use; shallow, labored breathing, and then breathing no more -- all his experience fighting being weaponized against him with too-real images of the blood and destruction that has surrounded his entire life superimposed onto natasha in the back. he grits his teeth and bares the experience and forces himself back to the situation in front of him, because what else is there to do?
the direct command from her helps. it's instinct, almost, to listen. his eyes snap forward. he relaxes imperceptibly at the sound and tone of her voice. he moves seamlessly through the instructions she gives like it's what he was born to do: his foot moves, the grip of his hands against the yoke eases up into something usable rather than strangling, his vision tunnels in on only what he needs to see.
he breathes. he follows orders.
some of the terror bleeds away. the ship evens out.
fine. he holds the single word like a promise. as long as she remains that way, then ladus can do the rest. there's no point in convincing himself that she's just another injured soldier that he needs to carry back to safety with him because he's good, but he's not that good. it would never work. not when his heart beats for her. instead he speaks his own promise and hopes that the tremble and terror and ache in his stomach like he's going to be sick is enough to get them out of this. “i've got you.” the words are ground out from behind his teeth and left in the air with no clear recipient. himself, the ship, her. it's a promise to them all—a commitment.
carefully he tips the yoke forward and (for once, finally, obediently) the ship dips down at an angle that ladus can actually control. he takes them underneath the worst of the debris field that's been slamming rocks and bits of space junk against their ship until everything smooths out. nothing feels any easier, but in the emptiness where the onslaught of rocks used to be, ladus shudders in one heaving breath and exhales forcefully. “i'm gonna get you home.”
somewhere between the front door and the one into the girls' room, ashley's shoes are abandoned. he's relieved. he parts with clem right in the doorway, assuring her he'll be in just after a couple of goodnights and bed checks. his hand slides down, staying till she's stridden too far from his reach. he can't take his eyes off her, even after he's spent the whole night doing just that.
sliding into the girls' room, he keeps true to his word -- bed checks go quick. a kiss for each head, an adjustment of the blankets, and then he's off to the next room to do the same for micah and sasha. he's rushing in and out, down the hall and to find his source of solace. " five heads in five beds, mrs. weyermann. all soundly sleeping. " he gives a tug to his sleeves, trying to roll them back down as he crosses over into the warmth of their bedroom. ashley's head perks up at the lack of response, or rather, the muffled one he's given. hand flying over his mouth, he tries to hold back the laugh.
@dayplayers, CLEM : “ ouch - ouch , help ! i can’t get my costume off ! ” shippy autumn memes
" oh dear, " the laugh tumbles just as soon as his mouth opens, " how- " he rushes to her side, trying to search for the problem, " how did this happen? " the one hair pin is just poking obviously in the air, her hair still in it, the fabric of her costume on it too. " let me, hey, shhh, let me- "
the feeling of being stuck, her dress tangled up over her head and pinning her arms, is overwhelming and scary in that instinctual sort of way that happens even occasionally for things as mundane as a piece of a halloween costume stuck over someone's head. her arms pin together by her side, trapped by the tight waist of her dress that she tried to tug over her head and the neck hole tangled up in her hair that she hasn't taken down yet.
“oh!” a breath of relief punches out of her now that he's here. as much as his voice used to irritate, now it soothes. he's laughing at her; but she'll be alright now. “i tried to-- it might not be unzipped all the way.” her shoulders had relaxed when her beloved walked in, and that bought a little more wiggle room just from the release of that stressed tension, but still not enough to pry herself free. “and now i can't.. oh please help.” her sounds are all muffled by the fabric bunched over her head and it's not an issue of breathing, but it is disorienting and moving back towards overwhelming and uncomfortable in her pinched up position. it's been five-ish minutes now since she's seen the face of her love. she kind of misses him.
The balance between journalist and human is always a tough one to strike; with the photographic medium much could be done with angles and shadows to give an impression that still carried meaning, but it's harder with words. At least that's always been Lix's experience. So in a way, she's also doing her part. Filling in the gaps where some guy would be, feeling the tiniest bit guilty for enjoying it, just in case the hypothetical journo doesn't make it back in one piece.
For a second time she meets the man's gaze; this time something unspoken crosses the space between them, and she nods. That doesn't mean the hunger is sated, but the meal doesn't have to be a public affair. Her lips curl at the corners in anticipation of her next words: "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me. What do you take me for, an American?" The BBC will be happy enough with yet another addition to their parade of inspiring newsreels that show the best and none of the worst. "What have you been doing?" And maybe if there's still time she can ask her own questions, off the record.
he barks out a laugh, surprised and relieved and probably a bit too sharp to really be quite pleasant. the tension bleeds from his shoulders at the understanding that she's just made very clear to him: he's safe. it's so hard to find that feeling in the war that he's forgotten how to wear it, where to put it. it kind of gets lodged in his chest somewhere, stuck.
“which me are you askin'?” he lifts up his helmet slightly where it's still dangling in his hand, pointedly. a question and an offer: who, exactly, does this reporter think she's interviewing? but also, who would she like to be interviewing? there are plenty of airmen in this war to be interviewed, but there's only one rocketeer. a rocketeer who's just been rumored to be here, caught only in blurry footage and sightings reported on the front pages as awe-inspiring hope for the papers back home. maybe this miss storm can't interview cliff secord and the rocketeer both, but in the face of her kindness cliff can offer her a different interview in return—confirmation of the rocketeer's presence in this war.
the crew member walks off. with his departure, the boy levees his nervous blink toward a woman. (she ain’t throwing him from premises. good sign.)
his face, thin and timid, was littered by band-aids.
he pushes his notebook at her. in childish penmanship, a page lists,
auggie’s backpack inventory
1/2 a granola bar
1 bottle of water
1 cold weather beanie, torn
2 bottles of advil
8 band-aids
and underlined in blue crayon:
ask sesame street for help.
“alright, let's see...” dana tends, just by nature of who she is, to give off a very approachable vibe. people tend to trust her. which is smart because she is in fact both trustworthy and very smart. need someone resourceful to help you out? ask anyone: dana is your gal. “auggie?” she reads the name off the page.
her eyes lift up and back to the kid in question, a hand coming up to her chest in her own greeting, “well, it's nice to meet you, i'm dana. and you've come to just the right place — i think we can help you out.” a cheerful click of her tongue against the roof of her mouth. no doubt about it that she's gonna help this kid. auggie. she stands, wiping her hands lightly on her jeans before offering a hand out to auggie to hold if he wants. “lets start by fixing this half a granola bar situation with a full granola bar. then maybe we can tackle the beanie. how does that sound?” how she's gonna tackle the beanie . . . and the fact auggie doesn't seem to have an adult . . . are problems she's not sure how to solve yet. but something to eat (and something for the road later) can be solved with a quick trip to crafty.
THE MARTIAN ( novel by andy weir ) change as necessary !
mankind reaching out to send people to another planet for the very first time and expand the horizons of humanity blah, blah, blah.
i’m pretty much fucked.
they got the parades and fame and love of the world, i got a firm handshake and a hot cup of coffee when i got home.
i would only be “in command” of the mission if i were the only remaining person.
what do you know? i’m in command.
it wasn’t your fault. you did what you had to do.
in your position i would have done the same thing.
it was a ridiculous sequence of events that led to me almost dying.
everyone thinks i’m dead.
ok, i’ve had a good night’s sleep, and things don’t seem as hopeless as they did yesterday.
i won’t be able to whip something up with tinfoil and gum.
fear my botany powers!
but hey, time is the one thing i’ve got.
i wonder if they'll ever find out what really happened.
i’ll spare you the math. the answer is _________
bleh. i’m going to bed
my life depends on you
i played a lot of dungeons and dragons.
i have an idiotically dangerous plan
i suppose i’ll think of something. or die.
the answer is: i don’t know.
all i accomplished today was thinking up a plan that’ll kill me
also, i have duct tape.
after a search of everyone’s personal items i found my answer.
that was sarcasm, by the way.
this all sounds like a great idea with no chance of catastrophic failure.
do you have any idea the magnitude of shitstorm this is gonna be?
how come aquaman can control whales? they’re mammals!
i expected it to be cold, but jesus christ!
now, on to my next task: sitting around with nothing to do for 12 hours.
i ask for a picture and i get the fonz?
the whole world’s been rooting for you.
really looking forward to not dying.
please watch your language.
sorry we left you behind, but we don't like you.
you're sort of a smart-ass.
your request for “anything, oh god anything but disco” is denied.
no. you’ll fuck it up and die.
i took it apart, found the problem, and fixed it.
i don’t see anything... i can hear it, but... it’s down here somewhere, but i don’t know where.
the subtle and refined “hurl my body at the wall” technique had some flaws.
named after the greek goddess who traveled the heavens with the speed of wind. she's also the goddess of rainbows.
i'm not giving up. just planning for every outcome. it's what i do.
your poster outsold the rest of ours combined.
why are you such a nerd?
you should try to be more cool. wear dark glasses and a leather jacket. carry a switchblade.
you started my training by buying me a beer.
so now i have to do boring-ass experiments with test tubes and zzzzzzzzzz....
frankly, i suspect you're a super villain.
just once i'd like something to go to plan, ya know?
no? ok... what was that!? oh, nothing? ok...
for now i just want to go home.
there's always hope
are we just watching a tragedy play out?
you’ll survive this. i don't know how, but you will.
i've defiled enough historical sites for now.
tomorrow night, i'll sink to an all new low!
tomorrow night, i'll be at rock bottom!
be a smart-ass to a guy seven levels above you. see how that works out.
i remember when you were shy
the attitude comes with the job
and by “enjoying” i mean “hating so much i want to kill people.”
there aren't many people who can say they've vandalized a three billion dollar spacecraft. but i'm one of them.
what's our role in all this? if something goes wrong, what can we do?
how do you come up with this shit?
i admit it's fatally dangerous, but consider this: i'd get to fly around like iron man.
i need you to come back in and make a bomb.
i knew that guy was a mad scientist!
i think we should just go with my iron man idea.
well if you won't let us then- wait... wait a minute... i'm looking at my shoulder patch and it turns out i'm the commander.
give me a minute. you're the first person i've seen in ______.
i think about the sheer number of people who pulled together just to save my sorry ass, and i can barely comprehend it.
i represent progress, science, and the interplanetary future we’ve dreamed of for centuries.
they did it because every human being has a basic instinct to help each other out. it might not seem that way sometimes, but it’s true.
yes, there are assholes who just don’t care, but they’re massively outnumbered by the people who do.
@midvales / ladus klaark & kara zor el ... continued from here !
he doesn't recognize the blonde woman. but he recognizes a red cape: the cape of a soulsword. even if he hadn't, ladus has spent enough time on battlefields to have become fluent in the language of fighting and he recognizes the cruel, vicious grin that's speared across the attacker's ugly mug as something he wants to put a stop to.
there's hardly time after that to think, so he doesn't, sword moving as an extension of his arm as he swings in an upward arc. it slashes the guy from torso to collarbone which sends him reeling back a couple steps and, more importantly, forces a tell out of him as he has to recenter his weight before he can throw his punch without falling on his ass. it's okay, ladus is a nice guy: he'll do that for him. ladus ducks under the swing to grab the guy around his middle and, steady on his own feet because he actually knows how to think more than one step ahead in a fight, picks him up and hauls them both back to slam the guy over his shoulder and onto the dirt. they scrabble in the dirt like that for a minute, ladus catching a stray fist to the underside of his jaw for his troubles, before the attacker stills and quiets and ladus is able to roll off of him.
last he'd seen her the blonde woman had been on the ground, but now she wobbles where she stands. there's blood running down her side and smeared all up her arm—from where she tried holding herself together, he guesses. “you are okay.” he holds his hands up like he's trying to approach one of the warhorses because although they both wear the color of the soulswords, he doesn't recognize her and he's not sure what she can recognize at all in her state. in the dirt many paces away from them both is his sword. he leaves it there. “it's over now.”
headcanon . . . PHYSICAL EFFECTS OF USING THE ROCKET
hearing issues in both in both ears from repeated close exposure to loud explosions and bangs. he wears a metal helmet, smack that thing like a bell i dare you. punches or other contact to the helmet usually protect him (somewhat) from concussion, but it still rings his head pretty badly and often leaves his ears ringing. bullets will bounce off (unless from close distance) but the sound is unbearable
chronic neck & back pain from prolonged usage of the rocket at high speeds. the speed, altitude, and quick/sudden movements puts a lot of stress on the body
various breaks and aches. he's broken his nose multiple times from sudden stops/crashes/hits that cause his face to slam into the front of his helmet. he also broke a couple of his ribs during his very first flight when he collides with the wing of a bi-plane. there's no stabliziers, inertia dampeners, or impact absorption built into any of his gear. he's experienced limb hyperextension or fractures multiple times from hard landings/landing on his legs wrong. and so many concussions
generally quite physically fit. cliff is readily able to carry a person while flying, can push a falling car back into a bridge using the thrust of his rocket for help. he has abs of steel from the core strength required to keep himself upright while flying
quick reflexes in maneuverability with the rocket & fine motor skills for rapidly pressing on/off the trigger at his thumb and the minute head movements required to steer while flying
