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YOU’REㅤNOT ㅤA ㅤ𝕲𝖔𝖉, YOU’RE ㅤJUST ㅤᴬ͟ᴺ͟ᴼ͟ᵀ͟ᴴ͟ᴱ͟ᴿ͟ ㅤ𝗙𝗨𝗞𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗥 .ᐟ

[fukstar]

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ★

[fukstar]

Oh, you wanna send me memes and/or plot with me so baaaad.

[famebitch]

𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗧𝗛 𝗥𝗔𝗧𝗧𝗟𝗘, EDIT ONE. @strfckersinc

[fukstar]

i'm so goddamn sick of myself. -- nicolette/cillian

EVERYONE'S A STAR, ACCEPTING ( ... ) FEATURING CILLIAN ROSEINGRAVE & NICOLETTE LANGFORD-MOREAU.

The  truth  was  pressurized.  Always  leaking  out,  always  mere  seconds  away  from  exploding.  It  wasn't  something  that  could  be  contained.  This  was  a  hard  pill  to  swallow,  and  it  often  got  stuck  on  the  back  of  your  tongue,  threatening  to  crawl  back  up  your  throat  like  a  viscous  vomit.  It  was  something  he  could  understand.  When  everything  around  him  was  falling  apart,  when  everything  he  touched  turned  to  shit,  the  only  real  common  denominator  was  him.  The  push  and  pull  between  feeling  entirely  in  control  of  your  own  self-destruction,  and  simultaneously  grappling  with  the  idea  that  maybe  all  of  it  was  simply  beyond  you  anyway.    No  control,  no  authority,  no  restraints.  God's  least  favorite  child.  When  you're  stuck  in  that  tailspin,  continuing to spiral  down,  down,  down  …  well,  it  was  easy  to  get  sick.  Sick  of  yourself,  sick  of  it  all.  He  was  sick  of  himself,  nausea  erupting  in  the  pit  of  his  stomach  anytime  he  tried  to  formulate  a  conception  of  who  he  was.  Maybe  it  was  the  fear-induced,  anxiety-injected  physiological  reaction  to  not  remembering  who  that  person  was  anymore.  He  didn't  know.  Worst  of  all,  he  didn't  care.  Not  anymore.

❛  So  change  it.  It's  all  a  performance  anyway,  none  of  us  are  really  who  we  say  we  are.  ❜  Cillian  speaks  in  a  quiet,  matter-of-fact  tone  with  smoke  curling  out  from  between  his  lips  and  a  cigarette  perched  between  his  fingers.  His  eyes  are  locked  on  the  distant  skyline,  and  the  pitch  black  night  polluted  with  the  light  of  the  city  reminds  him  of  a  poem;  one  where  the  dusky  blue  hung  like  a  curtain  in  an  immense  arched  doorway,  fastened  together  with  silver  tacks.  Behind  them,  the  rooftop  party  raged  on,  though  it  could  hardly  be  called  a  rager.  Rail-thin  models  oozing  with  androgyny,  schmoozing  bastards  floating  around  with  champagne  flutes,  all  sneaking  off  to  do  bumps  in  darkened  corners  as  though  they  were  in  competition  for  the  world's  worst  kept  secret.  He  fucking hated  it  here.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ❛  You  can  do  what  you  want.  Fuck  it  all.  ❜

[vanpeltgfx]

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.

[mythshire]

°✧*:·゚   𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐘𝐋 ··· a collection of 1970s rock & roll romance, band drama, groupie culture & backstage heartbreak roleplay sentence starters. genre: 70s music scene, sex, drugs, and rock n roll, touring angst. 

• The label wants the album done in six weeks. We can barely be in the same room for six minutes. • You're high again. We go on in twenty minutes. • I heard the demo. You changed the lyrics we wrote together. • This band is falling apart and you're too stoned to notice. • You slept with [insert name]. After the forum show. Everyone knows. • I can't write with you anymore. Every song turns into a fight. • The tour manager found the coke in your guitar case. • You dedicated that song to someone else. On stage. In front of ten thousand people. • Your girlfriend showed up at soundcheck. The one you said you broke up with. • I'm leaving the band. After the European leg, I'm done. • We can't keep doing this—fighting all day and falling into bed together all night. • I saw you leave with [insert name] after the party. Don't insult me by lying about it. • Remember when we started this band in your garage? When did it get so complicated? • You're drinking straight whiskey at noon. We have a radio interview in an hour. • The new song is about me leaving, isn't it? • I can't tell if you hate me or if you're in love with me, and I think you can't either. • They offered me a solo contract. A real one. With Mercury Records. • You missed the bus. Again. The rest of us waited for three hours. • Stop looking at me like that when we're on stage. People are starting to talk. • I heard you in the hotel room next door. With someone who definitely wasn't me. • The vinyl's pressed. The album's done. And we barely spoke during the entire recording. • You want writing credit on a song you didn't even show up to record. • I'm not your muse anymore. Find someone else to bleed into your lyrics. • We sold out Madison Square Garden and you look absolutely miserable about it. • I rewrote the bridge. Without you. It's better now. • The groupies wait for you after every show. Like you're some kind of god. • I can't tell what's real between us and what's just good for the image anymore. • They want us to fake date for the publicity. For the album release. • You OD'd in Phoenix. They had to cancel three shows. Do you even care? • I'm sick of being the stable one while you get to be the tortured artist. • The documentary crew asked why we don't write together anymore. What did you tell them? • We have to duet on this track. For the single. Can you manage that? • You haven't looked at me since that night in Laurel Canyon. • The Grammys are next month. We'll have to walk the carpet together. Smile for the cameras. • I heard you through the walls last night. Crying. Playing the same chord progression over and over. • You're twenty minutes late to your own album listening party. • I kept the polaroid from Woodstock. The one where we actually looked happy. • They're calling us the next Fleetwood Mac. Guess they know a beautiful disaster when they see one. • You can have the master tapes. I just want out.

[fukstar]

I'm putting it out there now, if anyone is interested in writing any of the (unclaimed) NPCs on this blog, feel free. Let's have fun with it. You can change the face, the name, go buckwild with it, breathe life into them. You could even say, hey, I think this pre-existing original character of mine would fit in well here, and I'll be like, hell yeah, let's do it.

[fukstar]

#FUKSTAR, BY JACKKNIFE. EXPLORING  THE  PITFALLS  OF  FAME,  THE  HORRORS  OF  THE  ROCK  &  ROLL  LIFESTYLE  THAT  GETS  PLASTERED  ON  THE  COVER  OF  EVERY  MAGAZINE,  THE  LOSS  OF  IDENTITY  &  SENSE  OF  SELF,  AND  WHAT  THE  REAL  PRICE  OF  SUCCESS  IS. THIS IS YOUR BACKSTAGE PASS.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ★

[milkmemes]

Idk sometimes shit just be happening and I just gotta shrug and say "c'est la vie" like I know what the fuck that means.

[phosgore]

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