nofuckinuse-blog

[nofuckinuse-blog]

Move the ‘X’ to the box that most applies to your character.

[  ] Lawful Good

Acts with compassion and a sense of duty. The type to uphold a sworn oath and will protect innocents at most costs.

[  ] Neutral good

Acts with in a positive manner, although will not value tradition or rules to act as such.

[  ] Chaotic Good

Acts with a rebellious, free-spirited nature but still quite positively. They do the right thing, but are often disorganized and/or not aligned with the rest of society.

[  ] Lawful Neutral

Acts with a strong belief in concepts like honor, rules, and code. Typically places a strong faith in order- they obey or give orders.

[  ] True Neutral

They don’t align strongly with good or evil, nor do they with chaotic or lawful. They usually are undecided between the 4 sections or just gravitate right in the middle.

[ x ] Chaotic Neutral 

Acts with strong individualist nature and they have a very ‘screw the rules!’ attitude. The individual will follow their heart and promote freedom, but theirs comes first.

[  ] Lawful Evil 

Acts with honor, but don’t care in the slightest for the freedoms and rights of others. Very concerned with self-benefit at times, and will twist rules and codes to favor them.

[  ] Neutral Evil 

Acts extremely selfishly with no problems concerning betraying others at a moment’s notice. They typically make allies just to further themselves.

[  ] Chaotic Evil

Acts with no respect for anything except their own desires and selfish goals. They place high value on freedom for the self, but do not care for others’ freedoms. Often associated with chaos and destruction.

[nofuckinuse-blog]

( & LOVE. )

      the sound of his breath hitching in his throat satisfying in a sadistic sort of way, and her lips linger for a moment longer than necessary, inching down his throat dangerously as she presses closer as if as eager to close the distance between them as he is. she can read it in his eyes, the DETERMINATION, the  d e c i s i o n  there, mingled with unadulterated desire. he wants her, and he has decided he will have her, and she is USED to this. she is used to them wanting her. she is to be desired. there’s nothing VAIN about it. it’s not her being conceited.         it’s just a FACT, and she likes facts. you see, she’s never been the PRETTIEST girl in the room, and if she tries she can pick out at least five other girls in this room who are as pretty as she is or more so.  she’s never been the smartest girl, either—she’s not LYDIA, doesn't have an IQ higher than anyone else in the class, doesn't have much of a shot at a fields metal. but she is pretty, and she is smart,  &&  she has worked for everything she has.      there are things she knows. she knows that she knows more about OXYCODON than anyone here. she knows that  zeusophobia means the fear of god or gods. she knows that logan is somewhere else, && that he can’t tell her where somewhere else is, but definitely that he is SOMEWHERE ELSE. and that she is here. she is here. and that is better than somewhere else. that is better than any other  s o m e w h e r e  e l s e  she can think of, except for maybe logan’s somewhere else, but for now she is here, &&  she doesn’t have to LIKE it. she just has to be here.       and she is here, and she is kissing him, and it has nothing to do with him, nothing at all. she tries to remember the color of his eyes, and isn’t able to. all she knows is that he smells of listerine and beer, and tastes like it, too, and it kind of makes her NAUSEOUS, but mostly makes her feel numb, which is all that matters. he’s grinning, and then his hands are moving, moving, moving, and their lips aren't touching, but she feels like she’s swallowed something awful, something terrible, thinks her hands might  s h a k e  if she doesn’t use them the way he’s using her right now, putting on a SHOW for his friends and forgetting whatever fucked up shit that brought him here in the first place.        his hands move QUICKLY &&  ROUGHLY &&  WITH PURPOSE. there is no grazing, no teasing, no lingering. there never is. there is only WANT && TAKE && HAVE and his hands are on her ass and he’s doing an ACT on stage and she’s just a supporting character, if even that. it’s not about her. it’s about HIM. it will always always always be able HIM. even when he’s wearing a different face, even when he’s seventeen or eighteen with a smooth jaw instead of late thirties with a emerging beard, with a different face and a different life. there’s always the ALCOHOL though, always the bourbon or the cheap beer or the chardonnay or any other kind of liquor that makes you people forget their shitty lives.        she sort of HATES him now that she thinks about it, kind of wants to bash his face in until someone pulls her off of him because there is one other way to feel numb, except it makes her knuckles bruised, but the whole point of this is that she’s not supposed to think, so she doesn’t. she just allows him to hold her like this,lets her hands come up to loop around his neck as if to encourage him as she drags her lips up his neck before finally pulling back.       he’s talking, now, and he’s still got a hand on her ass, as if staking a CLAIM, and she almost wants to say, don’t you know that I don’t belong to anybody?, but that’d be a lie, and the last thing she needs is for him to go anywhere. one hand comes up to brush her hair out of her face, and she puts on a show as well, looking up at him with baby blue eyes, lips parted so innocently, back arching into him so that their bodies are still touching, always touching.          something fruity.         she wants to punch him in the face.         she wants to fuck him stupid. 

        ‘  surprise me, ‘ she replies after a moment, voice soft and gentle in all the right ways as she so easily plays into his GAME, lets him believe that he’s got the  p o w e r  here, that he could do anything he wanted to her  &&  she would LET him. a free hand sneaks past his belt buckle, sliding under his pants and lowering so teasingly as she leans closer, breasts brushing against his chest as she does, lips coming to slide against his ear so tauntingly. ‘ i trust that you have good TASTE, ‘ kara says in a lower voice, breath hitching in her throat and coming out in one exhale against his ear before she pulls away, hand returning and moving to rest against his chest. 

         there’s something in the way that she moves beneath his fingers, like they’re not really his fingers she’s moving beneath. that he is not really the one making her buck into his hips with some WANT or NEED or DESIRE or LUST that is just as artificial as they are. cook is n o o o n e to her, to this goddess-like woman doing everything he w a n t s her to do. 

         that’s the first indication.

that she’s doing exactly what he wants her to and therefore none of it is actually REAL because nothing good ever stays with him. not with james cook.

                                                                                       g o d not with james cook.

           cook knows this girl. he knows her from somewhere, he’s met her before. of course in his memories (because she doesn’t exist in his DREAMS, he doesn’t have any. but he thinks that maybe if he did that she might be there... that maybe effy’d be there too or that maybe she’d be effy or that maybe she is and that he’s just too FUCKED UP to know any better.) she has dark, curly, hair that can not be TAMED just as she can’t. and of course that girl’s eyes were red from whatever drug they were scarfing down their throats, and of course that girl’s name was not this girl’s name         whatever name that was. they are not the same , but they are. no, they definitely are. this is part of the show, the routine that that ghost of a woman in his mind followed too. they’re professionals, actresses          the ones that win oscars, not the fifteen minutes of fame tv show pretty faces that come and go with the gales of show business. 

          these are the kinds of girls made out of  L E G A C I E S.  the ones that cripple cook’s mind because they are everything that he WANTS, but they are also everything that he NEEDS and that’s the hard part. cook’s not allowed to need anything, only want && lust && desire until there’s nothing left and all he has is himself. 

( and he’s  e m p t y . )

         see she belongs to no one, so she does not belong to him. and she’s doing exactly what he wants and that’s how he knows it’s not him making her move this way. it is essence and who he stands for because cook could never be ENOUGH for a girl like that         wasn’t enough. he’s greed && sex && sweat and you can tell that’s all either of them want, not what either of them need but it’s what they want. and right now, wanting is enough because needing has always been that much harder. 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                             he can not have her.                                                                 but she could have him in a fleeting second.                                        and that’s why his hands hold her as if she might disappear.                                     because she will inevitably leave him just like the rest of them.                                       because he wants her and that will never be enough for him.                                                                                 but he will try to make it enough.                                                             because cook doesn’t take no for an answer...                                                                 but it’s never really mattered what he’ll take                                                                      because it’s almost never what he gets.

         he is not the only james cook. there are millions of others like him. but there are only so many effy stonems and this girl--- he can tell by how p e r f e c t she is, that she is rare and he can not pass up taking advantage of the only thing that has ever even come close to being what he n e e d s. 

                                    she’s an effy stonem,                                                        and she’s holding a gun to his head. 

she’s a snake.

           and the snake is hissing in his ear, the tip of her tongue flicking against his ear lobe, making the breath in his throat hitch. her hand is teasing the top of his waistband, and it feels like he’s SUFFOCATING her. like she’s a boa constrictor curling herself around him and suffocating the life out of him. it sets him off, call it a survival instinct, cook pushes forward, gripping her by the waist and twisting so that she was back up against the wall again, the boa constrictor from his memories dissipating as quickly as it had manifested and transforming itself back into a girl again... or a trophy, or a tool       his TOY. (he doesn’t want to play with toys anymore though.)

                   “        come with me.” 

        he whispers against her ear through a gritty sadistic smile, like he’s already WONor something. a calloused hand that he pretends is a claw, slides up her hips to grip her arm before tugging her possessively.

[nofuckinuse-blog]

( x. girl )

A ghost of a smirk hovers over dark painted lips before  she  takes  the  cigarette  from  him. O’s  vision is  blurred  and  her  head  is  drunk  from  whatever it is  she’d  smoked in  the  back of the bar–she  didn’t  stop  to  ask.  She  feels   good though,  body  numb, the  steady  buzzing in her  brain  fills  up all  the  silence. Liv’s  got  a lighter somewhere in  one  of the pockets but she’s too lazy to search and she’s  also too lazy  to ask so instead she  blonde  simply  places the white roll between her lips and takes a step or two forward, entirely invading his personal space. She  guides the tip of her own cig to his , puffing until his lights hers.              “Thanks, love.” she mimics around the  object as she blows smoke from her nose.

        james cook is a man of many trades. he’s a smoker, he’s a drinker, he’s a brother, he’s an actor, he’s  a  one-time,  one-shot  class  president, and he’s a felon. but perhaps  most  important  out of  all of those, james cook is definitely, positively, most assuredly a GENTLEMAN.

(when he wants to be.)

        and his fingers had been digging around in his pant’s pocket  for  the plastic bic lighter he’d stolen from the gas station so that he could properly light this woman’s cigarette. but she swept that chance away from him with an easy puff of her breath as she stepped forward to  press  the  tip  of  her smoke to his, a few remnants of ash flicking off the friction.

       a devil of a smirk crosses over his lips.                 “ saw you in the back there smokin’ green wif’ that scrawny bloke. ”         he nods, cigarette flopping around between his lips as he spoke, puffing a few times on the cig easily. baby blues flick over to her mischi -evously as he tries to suppress a smile

                   .“…just to let you know, the grass is always greener on this side of the                    park, sweet heart.”

[nofuckinuse-blog]

( x. distraction )

Blue eyes shift  from the paper clip she’s been twisting and  bending  on the  ground  to hover over the boy that’s joined her in company. The smapp piece of metal instantly falls back to the dirty concrete silently, and stills. Her last cig is nothing more than the butt next to her boot.         “As long as it’s not menthol.” she replied with the arch of a brow. 

         he’s been at the bar for at least two hours or so now, mates bailing on him shortly before he decided to take a smoke break. but he had  boredom  and  tortured thoughts that ran rampant if left  alone  to  keep at bay, he wastes no time. 

         cook shakes his head.               “ nonsense, love. that minty shit’s for pussies. ”          with a trademark smirk, the boy flicks a cigarette her way, extending his arm out toward her with the little white stick wedged between his index and middle finger.

[nofuckinuse-blog]

name: meghan birthday: october 6th gender: female orientation: heterosexual age: seventeen favorite candy: snickers favorite pizza: margarita favorite salad dressing: ranch?? favorite meal: cheetos. end of discussion. best friend(s): catatonicserialkiller (even though she’s a big fat meanie), fatedtoendure (even though she hasn’t seen the cheetah girls), lydiaendures (even though her gpa is higher than my worth)  best relative: brother best pet: my cat.. best celebrity: im all about donald glover rn one random fact about your day: i got out of two week long testing (fuck yes) one random fact about your job/school: my school looks like a prison because its undergoing renovations and i hate it one random fact about your favourite tv show: uhh i dont have a favorite because all my faves hold special places in my heart but rn on spn there is a guy who writes a comic series based off of the two characters in the show’s lives in the show.... does that make sense?... one random fact you wish was a fact but it isn’t: you can have adhd and focus AT THE SAME TIME (impossible feats i know) favorite soda: dr pepper best memory: i couldnt tell ya, but one of my favorite memories that comes to mind is going to pick up domino’s with my dad after dance class and dancing to the music while we waited and getting free breadsticks because the guy liked our performance.  one random fact about you: i cAN USE A BUTTERFLY KNIFE. DAS RIGHT FUCK WIT ME tag five people: *shrugs* idk fuck you you tag five people why do i have to

; munday

[nofuckinuse-blog]

written for phantomstrings

         “ you intrested in a smoke, love ? ? ”

[nofuckinuse-blog]

What if I said I… I didn’t want to die…yet, you know, that I wasn’t ready?

[nofuckinuse-blog]

hey so lil PSA that this is a new blog so i’m still getting my theme and stuff set up, sorry

[nofuckinuse-blog]

Reblog if you’re an indie Skins UK & US RP account.

We are creating a masterlist for every Skins roleplayer.

The list is here. 

[nofuckinuse-blog]

( x. blonde trophy girl )

             she’s incredibly used to this, is entirely unphased by the proximity and how quickly it closed between them. it’s hardly a new feeling,  &&  she’s gotten all too  comfortable  in small enclosed spaces, too accustomed to being   TRAPPED  between boys and walls. it doesn't bother her, not anymore.  it did the first time,  or  the second, but after that, there was nothing  dramatic  about it, nothing  TRAGIC  in the smell of alcohol on their breath or the   t a s t e   of it when they kissed her too ROUGHLY or moved a little too quickly. it’s just a boy and a wall, and his accent does nothing to romanticize it.              ‘ sixty seconds, huh ? ‘  kara answers in response, voice deepening as she reaches for him, fingers threading through his belt loop and bringing him closer  ( c l o s e r  ) to her, feeling both a little bit s i c k to her stomach and a little bit in control, which is really all that MATTERS. he’s attractive, and his words aren't  S L U R R I N G  yet, but she can still smell it, the liquid poison on his breath,  &&  if logan was here he’d have ripped him off of her, as if she was a VICTIM, but she is not a  (  v i c t i m  ), and logan is not here. but she doesn’t want to be the girl against the wall anymore. she wants to push the boy up against the wall—so she does. she uses her grip on him to push him against the wall, fingers still looped through his pants. she leans closer to him, pressing a sloppy kiss to his throat, blue eyes ethereal in the dim light.                 ‘  i guess you owe me a drink now, don’t you, love ?  ‘ 

        cook’s no STRANGER to getting what he wants. in fact, he a l w a y s gets  what he wants. ( until he doesn’t. ) because james cook doesn’t take maybe’s, or okay’s, or no’s for an answer. he is not a sub par man and he’ll be damned if this girl  didn’t  lay one on him in the next sixty seconds

                         because  he’s  james cook.

        and girls pick him over freddy ( except for e f f y ) and girls always wanna fuck him more than he wants to fuck them ( except for e f f y ) and girls pratically get  in  line  to blow him off ( except for e f f y ) and james  cook  a l w a y s gets  the  girl ( except for e f f y ). and the girl that got away is but one  of  the many GHOSTS in his dreams and the only thing that soothes her aching pit of a  memory  inside  his  mind  is booze && pills && meaningless fucking && whatever he can get his  greedy,  grubby,  insatiable hands on.

                                this girl will be no different.

        she kisses him because he’s cook, and cook looks like he’s living the d r e a m. he is. but he’s been asleep for a very long time now, and he just wants to WAKE UP.

        the pretty  blonde  haired  girl’s  figure  moves  below  him  so  that  the  distance between them is so tantalizing far now. bony fingers slipping through black denim  belt loops pulling them closer and he’s grinning like a  m a d  m a n, baby  blues  sparkling in the flashing lights as he bites down on his lower lip. he’s  about  to  rattle  off  one of his cheeky one-liners, but she cuts him off short, the girl’s petite figure pushing  him  up against the wall and dragging pretty pink lips along the side of his neck.

        cook allows himself to revel in it for a moment,  allows  himself  to  choke  on  his own breath and grit his teeth against the warm sensations  permeating  the  barriers  of his flesh, but his hands are more impulsive than  his  mind and they move before he’s even aware of where they’re going, roaming her waist before  craning  his neck to crack an eye open to see the silent applause of his friends across the room. he’s cook  so he sticks out his booze tainted tongue and flips them a  prompt  middle  finger  in  the  air before moving his hand to grab her ass  like  a  t r o p h y.  that’s all women are to him, TROPHIES       to be appreciated && desired && obsessed over && flaunted,  but  also something to be W O N.

                           “ i guess so, love. ” he  smirks,  lifting  a  hand                             to push a lose strand  of  soft  blonde  hair  out                             of her eyes and behind her ear. “ whadja’ like                             love ? somefing’ fruity or somefing’? ”

[nofuckinuse-blog]

[nofuckinuse-blog]

Skins Rise - Episode 1

[nofuckinuse-blog]

; written for shefalters

        “ well hello there love... ” cook began leaning  in  close with his trademark smirk plastered across his lips, placing his palm against the wall above the girl. “ listen,  i got  my  mates  ova’  there sayin’ i can’t get cha’ ta’ kiss me within sixty seconds of meetin’ ya’... whadya’ say       wanna help me prove ‘em wrong ? ” 

[nofuckinuse-blog]

title - example post

header

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut LABORE et dolore MAGNA aliqua. Ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation ullamco LABORIS nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat. Duis aute irure dolor in reprehenderit in voluptate velit esse cillum dolore eu fugiat nulla pariatur. Excepteur sint occaecat cupidatat non proident, sunt in culpa qui officia deserunt mollit anim id est laborum.

nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat. Duis aute irure dolor in reprehenderit in VOLUPTATE VELIT ESSE cillum dolore eu fugiat nulla pariatur.

james cook

bullet

bullet

bullet

one

two

three

[nofuckinuse-blog]

[nofuckinuse-blog]

“One thing I’ve learnt is that you should never look back. The past is dead and buried. You get nothing from living there. It’s all about today. But I’ve been having these dreams. In them, nothing’s real. Nothing’s solid, everything’s fantasy. Fucked. An illusion. In these dreams, I’m a life that’s already gone by. Today means nothing. Today is just a ghost that’s haunting me. I’m at the end of the world, on the edge of things, and I think about letting go. I think about falling. My name is James Cook. I did something once. My ghosts won’t let me forget it.”