fistmade - Tumblr blog

[fistmade]

matching length does not bother me one bit. but matched enthusiasm and commitment is desired. if you have no muse for the thread then please drop it rather then give me a reply with no love or feeling or thought.

[fistmade]

  hello it’s ya boy here with a post on why you shouldn’t use a certain picture and i’ll explain why because holy shit it is awkward, i’m uncomfortable and very tired.  this is uncomfortable.  but before this disaster begins, it needs to be known that this… isn’t a callout or a vague ???  since every incident has been settled before.  this is just regarding  AN ACTUAL PICTURE OF ME  that has been used a few times in the rpc and i want it to stop.

first off, here’s the picture  (  resized small bc i feel awkward enough as it is  )  and you can find the original on my archived deviantart HERE.

so you’re possibly like   “whoa it’s just a picture, once things are on the internet they’re there forever, don’t you know?”   and the answer is yes, i do know that. i know that, regardless of copyright laws or whatever is supposed to protect artists / photographers alike on the internet, there is always gonna be someone who uses something of yours. it sucks. and there are times when i might not mind, but here’s the thing:

I WAS FOURTEEN WHEN I TOOK THAT PICTURE.

i’ve seen it on many other sites besides tumblr. it’s been used in vampire fanfiction from poland to wehe/eartit boards. it’s on pinterest, it’s probably on places i haven’t seen, it’s even been used in some sound/cloud artist’s album art.  it’s everywhere.  i know this.

but what pisses me off the most is that i’ve seen it on blogs that also host nsfw content, particularly ones who write smut and other…….various things. 

i was fourteen.  A MINOR.  i’m not gonna list laws because i don’t actually know what exact law might protect photos of minors so i’m not gonna throw out some fact that may not even be right, but i know there’s gotta be one out there  (  if you know what exactly it is, feel free to tack it on  )  that tells you not to put stuff of minors near nsfw content and like… common sense.  yes there are no signs that tell you how old i was, it’s not even my full face, but now you know.

 i don’t want it used.  i know i can’t go back and change it to have never been taken, but i can and WILL ask you to please not use it and if you see someone using it, give them this post because like……. i’m uncomfortable. i’m allowed to be uncomfortable with it. there are personal details pertaining to shit that happened to me as a kid that make me unable to truly be okay, let alone with pictures of myself from around those times.

and think about it :  if someone used a picture of your face, would you be okay with it?  it’s that easy.

TL;DR:  PLEASE STOP USING THIS PICTURE FOR ICONS / PROMOS / ETC. BECAUSE IT IS LITERALLY A PICTURE OF MY FACE.

[fistmade]

i just high key want a group verse with like .. . all the drama and pain of an rpg .. .. but minus the stress of meeting activity checks / ignoring ooc life

[fistmade]

𝐥𝐢𝐥𝐚.

Her first instinct would have been to apologize if she was anywhere near sober; it was the drinks, mostly, that had her hands shaking at this point. One too many than she was used to anymore. She was always a good drunk when she went in with the right mindset but tonight had not been one of those nights. Tonight had been a bad night from the start and now as a result of it’s progressively worse turn of events her hand now THROBBED from the impact it had with his chest. Lila felt it shake. A mixture of anger and panic from her encounter with one stranger and now, embarrassment running up to her cheeks to stain them red because of this. Of course it wasn’t his fault and it was wrong to take out everything on him… even as she tried to bite her tongue and make an apology form on it her emotions got the best of her.

“ I don’t n- need anyone t’check up on me. “ She hisses, inhaling the words back with fervor; trying her best to maintain a sense of calm and failing quickly as she blinked back a blur salty tears. “ M’fine. “ A lie. “ H- He… i- it’s… fine. “ The words are forced out through staggered breathing. Trying to slow them down with a technique she’d learned in therapy. Fingers taping against her thigh; eyes squinting shut; counting beats. “ Fuck. ” It wasn’t really working; her palm pressed against her leg. “ I’m FINE j- just- go away, I don’t n- need your f- fuckin’ help. I don’t… I don’t even know you. “ She takes one step back and her side bumps into a stranger- it startles her despite how crowded its. She tenses up. It would have been impossible to leave, or even get into a hallway without bumping into anyone. Her hands ball up into fists; bringing one up to forcefully wipe away at the tears that’d now overcome her. She needed out; of this crowd, of the bar. But instead of shoving her way past the mass of bodies like she so desired Lila could only feel weight on her legs, like giant concrete bags latched to her ankles that kept her in place. All she could do was cover her face; wiping as much of the tears off her features as she could until she figured out how to move again.

In no way had Lincoln meant to be demeaning, and had that been the implication he’d extended, he wasn’t sure what of all he’d done he should have changed. All he could really do was thank the heavens he wasn’t nearly as quick-tempered as his mother, and keep himself still as she stuttered through her commands. It wasn’t completely unlike him to pause his night for the sake of a stranger, and how anyone really could with a single glance in the pink-haired girl’s direction was beyond him. “ I’m not, like .. trying to take you back to my place, or whatever, but  ─  sorry to break it to you  ─  you’re very obviously not fine. ” He gave their surroundings another once over, quickly rifling through all of three ideas that had popped into his head before his gaze again fell upon her. 

“ I’m gonna touch you again, ‘lright? ” he made sure to preface before his hand even remotely shifted in her direction, a few syllables rolling together or dropping off entirely from the alcohol that had clogged up his own normally calculated line of thought. “ You don’t have to talk to me, but I’m not gonna up and leave you in the middle of this bar. Sorry. Just not the sort of person I am. ” Whether or not she could actually hear him beyond the music hadn’t proved to be a concern until Lincoln began maneuvering them through the crowd, numerous apologies having to force past his lips before anyone thought to shift out of their way. His hand was kept solid around her arm, just above the bend of her elbow, although Lincoln made sure his grip was only tight enough to keep hold of her lest people not realize two individuals were trying to ease their way through. He let go once the nipping air of night hit them, hands once more halfheartedly lifted in a surrendering motion. “ That’s it. ”

[fistmade]

𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞.

     if there was one thing sage missed about her old apartment, it was how much it felt like a home. there were plants everywhere: in the kitchen, in the living room, in the bathroom, and in her bedroom. the furniture, with the exception of a few pieces, was used and worn to the point where it was comfortable. there was art on the walls, and the windows always let in just enough natural light. this new place, on the other hand, felt cold. the furniture was stiff to the point where she almost didn’t want to use it, and the house in general was drab and cold. she wanted to liven things up if she could, but there was also the matter of what her husband would’ve wanted, and there was no telling where they would end up after having a conversation like that. she nodded when he turned her down. that was fine by her. if she was honest, she wasn’t even sure they had breakfast meats in the fridge. “ okay. “ she brought the rest of the food to the table and sat down, gesturing for him to join her. only if he wanted to, of course. it was lonely, being in a situation like this, so she wanted to be able to bond with him if she could, as best she could, but she would never force him to spend time with her. she wasn’t completely sure how he felt about being her, or about her, and she didn’t want to be a negative influence in either respect. “ no, i just don’t like it, “ she replied, shaking her head. that wasn’t to say she didn’t face a moral dilemma every time meat was on the menu; she hated the idea of any living creature having to die so that she could eat, and even more so the adverse effects it had on the environment. however, she found herself unable to commit to a fully vegan, or even vegetarian, diet. “ i’m more of a fruit and grain kind of girl, at least when it comes to breakfast. “

     there was a split second of hesitation. yes, lincoln was supposed to pretend this literal stranger was his wife amongst neighbors and co-workers and everyone alike. yes, he was meant to act like there was some deeply rooted adoration for her whenever there was a chance anyone could see them. yes, it was all for the sake of his life. but beyond the front door, when the shades were shut and his phone remained dry? lincoln didn’t have to pretend anything. but his feet carried him in the direction of the table anyway. ( maybe some last ditch attempt at anchoring himself to something humane. ) he couldn’t bring himself to sit, though, and instead remained still at the side of the table adjacent to hers, fingers halfheartedly curled around the back of the chair. “ never really heard of that before. my mom’s a big breakfast meat fan. never really went a morning without out, ” his lips parted with the words. again, lincoln could’ve almost said he wasn’t at all in control of his actions anymore. everything seemed to happen three seconds before he’d realized, muscles twitching beneath skin with the uncomfortable realization of unlayering himself before her ─ regardless of how minute. there’s a hefty pause before he thinks to speak again. “ feels a bit weird in here, doesn’t it? kind of like you can feel how manufactured it is. ”

[fistmade]

[fistmade]

im an intern at the rolling stone and you’re the problematic asshole pop star who i have to interview one on one because nobody else wanted to do it and /fuck/ are you always this difficult (or alternatively the one where the problematic asshole pop star finds the intern to be much more interesting than the interview itself)

[fistmade]

hearing the girl you like calling you baby in a soft voice is like having your heart fall down 7 flights of stairs and exploding

[fistmade]

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬.  guilt isn’t a good look on him. it keeps his eyes hooded and contours a rigidity into his shoulder muscles. lincoln is certain he’s a sight for sore eyes right now, hands anxiously rubbing together as his feet take a mind of their own and pace the length of the living room. and maybe it’s his own damn fault ─ for going against everything that he held fundamental, the mentality of perpetual honesty he had worked to abide by. ( there’s another twinge of guilt in his fingertips ; a personification of the whole scheme he’d agreed to go along with. acting as if there wasn’t someone else waiting for him to come home. ) all movement stops, his fingers loosely entwined with one another in what could almost be depicted as a symbol of plea. maybe more so than the way his voice softens in preface, rounds out the vowels of words he has a hard time forced up and out of his throat. 

“ i think .. we’re just on two different levels. ” it’s the right thing to do. “ and i don’t necessarily mean that in a bad way. i adore you. i always will. ” who was he to think he could carry on with this hoax? it was a miracle he’d managed this far. phantom disdain crawls up the entirety of his spine. “ ─ but i think .. there’s some things i’ve got to sort within myself. ” generic cop out. he pauses for another moment ; his line of vision is tempted to meet with hers and feel out the atmosphere but his conscience keeps him from doing so. too scared of whatever emotion might be reflecting across her features. “ this isn’t working. right now. ”    @fcllenpetals​

[fistmade]

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐧.

| a lil test muse honey! based on the third to last bubble.

he was jealous. it was extremely obvious, he was jealous. they had made the adult decision to attend the party alone, so no one would get any ideas. but did they really think that they would be able to act like - well, nothing was seriously going wrong? autumn finally got the new addition to the group to walk away from her. ‘i’ll be right back,’ she spoke up, to really no one in particular. hopefully, they wouldn’t come looking for her after her comment to where she was going. if they were going to keep this a secret, they had to be smart. 

“you’re jealous,” she spoke up, her footsteps following his. autumn had no idea where they were going, but she followed anyway. “can you stop so we can actually talk about this?” the female called out, keeping her voice soft but assertive to let him know she really meant business. 

his whole body was stiff, like he’d been dipped in a bath of concrete and lincoln could feel every inch of it drying. any variation of lying hadn’t ever been his forte. even when he was six and trying to weasel his way around a second bowl of ice cream, lincoln wasn’t made to rely on dishonesty. and he would have done away with it now had she not been an exception ; had this not been the only way they could seamlessly function. his right arm rolled at the shoulder, a halfhearted attempt at loosening up some taut joints. ( and maybe to give himself another second to iron out the frustration that poisoned his tone. ) 

feet halted, followed by another four whole seconds before lincoln turned to face her. a sigh pressed to the line of his lips, pausing his breathing patter and ultimately exhausting itself through his nose instead. his eyeline stayed just to the right of her face, as if the mild disconnect would help erase the weight on his chest at all. “ what is there to talk about? ”

[fistmade]

you wanna kiss? a fucking smooch? a godfuckingdamn peck on the lips? id be happy to oblige

[fistmade]

𝐥𝐢𝐥𝐚.

         @fistmade liked this.

The commotion that led up to her shoving at him was… blurry to say the least, also in her defense… accidental. But it was less because of the noise, the crowded bar, or the gawking eyes that’d really begun to get to her. She’d spent the majority of her teenage years maneuvering the same situations over and over again. Drunkenly maneuvering, but maneuvering all the same. The fact that a man who had been gawking at her had tried to feel up her dress was- in the worst way normal for her. She stood out, even more than the younger girls who had just gotten past with fake id’s because of her cotton pink hair and jet black dress created attention and attention led to the same exact situation. Over, and over. Only this time instead of playing it off like she was GOOD AT there was no way she was in the mood do any such thing, Lila may have had one to many drinks to keep the ticky marks on her sobriety calendar going tonight because she hadn’t been drinking to have fun. She’d been drinking to forget.

                   “ Get the FUCK off’a me! “ Her shout was somewhat dulled between the beats of the pounding music, but she did have a mouth on her. A few heads turned. It was beyond her to notice; her breathing was already starting to grow short. fuck. The heels she wore turned on a dime, wanting nothing to get AIR and try to stop the soft panic that’d begun to bubble; an after effect of one to many stupid men doing the same thing to her, one too many times. But the anger was always stronger; a hand on her shoulder moments after KICKS the instinct in again. Fight or flight. The twist on her heels almost breaks them - she chooses fight. It had always been the wrong move for her. The pain that shoots from her balled up fists when Lila turns to shove whoever touched her was more than enough to distract her from her wavering balance. The pain distracts so much so it’s barely in her to realize the anger that’d risen up had her blindly targeting the wrong guy. It doesn’t sooth her panic from before; or her anger either, the only change in her is the stain of burning blush that rose up on her features as she met his gaze. “ Don’t fuckin’ touch me, “ Her hands fall back to her sides even as they throb in pain, not in the least cut out to be hitting anything with them, let alone someone who double her size and height. 

The absence of seconds between Lincoln’s train of thought and his actions was probably going to be the death of him ; have him tossed him into some story line he’d never be able to drag himself out of UNSCATHED. It’s the lone reason for the way his feet carry him to follow after pink hair, the hand that reached out to graze fingers over a foreign shoulder. First, there’s guilt. Pounding away at the center of his chest in time with the low hum of his heartbeat in his ears. Who the fuck was he to put his hands on someone he’s never met before? An act of consolation and prefaced security or not. Then follows wariness, the instilled front of an eye roll and a quick swivel of heels. There’s a breath that leaves him, short and heavy. A sort of restart for whatever sentence might’ve been teetering on the tip of his tongue. " Sorry. ” Always introduce on an apologetic note, his mother had always told him. Two defensive people uprooted little more than miscommunication. 

His hands remain where they are at his sides, no intention of reaching out for her again because Lincoln might be a little bit inebriated and all his head can really piece together now is the shattered atmosphere and a fundamental discomfort. Both hands then loosely lift to align his fingertips with his cheeks, palms up in a standard surrendering motion before his voice can carry on. “ I was just checking up on you. Seeing if you were alright, ‘nd whatever. ” She’s small, but Lincoln doesn’t doubt she could pack a punch. There might’ve been some space between them to leverage his quick reflexes, but not ENOUGH. The unspoken question floated over his features and blurred brown irises ─ even if only for a second. “ So .. are you? ”

[fistmade]

- ̗̀ STARTER CALL. like this for a lengthy starter based off something on your wishlist. 

[fistmade]

𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐢.

open to m/f/nb → i’m an overachiever, you’re a slacker, and we’re paired up for a project worth 25% of our final grade OR we’re both stubborn overachievers and we’re gonna butt heads until the minute we present !

     lorelei’s not a fan of group projects. when she’s not doing all the work herself, she’s feeling stifled by group members with bigger personalities and half-brained ideas. at least when she’s working alone, she doesn’t have to worry about a disproportionate workload or some dimwitted big shot killing her gpa. however, this particular professor seems awfully fond of setting students up with each other. this isn’t the first group assignment of the semester, and from the looks of the syllabus, it won’t be the last. all she can do is hope that these next two weeks will pass quickly. when class is dismissed for the day, students are left to link up with others, the task being to build a nation based on the concepts they’ve learned so far. it’s not horrible, considering lorelei’s already done something similar in a previous class of hers, but since it’s largely creative work, must be presented by both of the group members, and is worth a quarter of her grade for the semester, she’s concerned about how it will go. she doesn’t have any friends in this class, so she scans the room for other stragglers. her eyes fixate on someone on the opposite side of the room, and within seconds, she’s standing in front of them, the smile on her face resembling that of a beauty pageant contestant or a presidential candidate. “ have you found a partner yet ? “ she asks, gripping one of her backpack’s straps. 

common misconception would label him a slacker ; riding the tailcoats of his peers to high A’s on projects worth a chunk of his overall grade because football is demanding and his only real concern. ─ the dilemma is, lincoln doesn’t follow that mindset. one doesn’t hold any weight over the other, his parents made sure to instill as much into him. there’s no use in being on a turf field on a sunday afternoon if there’s no education to back it up, no secondary plan when the inevitable high of the sport wears on aged bones. the ideology behind group projects is one lincoln could never wrap his head around. how shoving unfamiliar work ethics and mindsets was supposed to, in any way, do anything more than emit stress was beyond him. brown eyes scan over the lingering students anyway, though, his posture slouched into the back of his chair with two fingers tapping the edge of the table absentmindedly. there’s a split second where he thinks to throw caution to the wind and do the whole thing by himself when she’s standing in front of him. she’s no more familiar than a few answered questions during class discussions ; a few valid points and clean lines of a silhouette.  “ not yet, no. ”  it’s sluggish leaving his lips, following alongside an ironing out of his own posture.  “ not exactly excited about the whole idea of group projects throughout the whole semester, honestly. ”

[fistmade]

𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬.

               dainty fingers are playing with the ends of freshly dyed pink hair, twirling it between digits.   her lips purse together for a moment, head tilting slightly to the side, allowing curls to rest upon left shoulder.    peaches takes a moment to look around the bar, make sure no one else needed serving before she carried on the conversation.    “   you sure   ?   “    she really can’t help the nosey side of her peeking out, right now.     “   anythin’ ya like   ?   you’ve been sat here a while, not even had a drink    —   you can’t be here for the sights, surely.   “

                   his muscles ache.   a faint screaming between deltoids and calves, but he doesn’t say a word for it.   sitting is enough.   welding his silhouette into the quiet commotion of a random bar is enough.   his eyeline shifts from down the line of people to meet hers, even if only for a moment.   “   people watching is an excellent pass time.  ”   as if she isn’t already aware   ;   as if lincoln can’t assume the common bustle of working behind a bar counter isn’t entertaining in its own right.   ultimately, he relents.   “   what d’you recommend ? not really trying to get smashed, but.   ”   some warmth in his belly would do him some good. 

[fistmade]

[fistmade]

I don’t know if it’s just me, but I feel electricity when I’m with you. It’s as if all the nerves on my body jolt when you touch me. So don’t leave me, for I am yours and no one else’s.

The love of my fucking life (via latenightrendevouz)