Happy 6-month HRTnniversary to this lil weirdo!🏳️⚧️
To celebrate it, and also to celebrate my follower count reaching literally 4 times the amount of people my home town has (which isn't saying a lot cause it's a really small town, but still wtf you guys) I'm posting this EXTREMELY rare and exclusive picture of me smiling!
(holy shit balls you probably didn't even know I could do that!!!!)
I kinda hate this pic cause I don't really like my faciular area, and I look like a blobby mess but oh well, that's what I look like sometimes and I wanna show y'all that side of me too :3
Thank you to all my mutuals and followers on here who constantly support me and put up with my never-ending bullshit, I love y'all and I don't know what I would do without you💚💚💚
(seriously, y'all mean the world to me)
Now I'm gonna be a bit sappy here and tag some people, not really because I want them to see this or because I want them to interact with my silly little post, but because they're all amazing and have given me friendships and a community I never thought I would have, they're all amazing people and I want them to know who they are <3
In no particular order: @shakukon-to @crowned-lozar @shequotesherself @theprofmoth @whalesharkcat @godless-of-the-hunt @jessica-1103 @crowmance @coelii @lilithtransrights @anarqueeen @glowingemberz @girlthingnova @twiggybeing @pacificglovebox @subsequentlysilly @crystalline-fox-girl @something345
(if you aren't on this list please don't think I dislike you, maybe we just haven't talked a lot or I forgot)
BONUS: extremely silly and cringe picture from when I was like, 1 month on HRT xP
Have a nice day everyone, remember I love you <3
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I find as fandom has assimilated towards a capitalist mindset of consumption, there has been a larger focus on fanart and fanfiction- both in spaces that view creatives as "content creators" and spaces where creatives are seen as writers and authors but lauded similarly to celebrities or deities for gracing the common people with their creations.
This has produced a side effect wherein fanart and, primarily, fanfiction are seen as the Best Forms Of Transformative Works... which means that any other type of transformative work is thrown by the wayside.
There should be no hierarchy of fanworks - every single work is a labor of love (or spite... I see y'all throwing middle fingers to canon 😉) and should be recognized as such. Fandom is a community. It's not a transactional relationship. Everyone contributes and interacts out of shared passions and interests.
If you make podfics, gifs, photo edits, fanvids, fan binding, metas, fiber arts, jewelry, fanmixes, translate fics to another language, run/contribute to a fan wikia or compile lore and resources in other ways: I see, appreciate, and cherish all the hard, love fueled work you put into your creations.
Not to say that fanfic and digital art are over-appreciated (Since I do see that many people are allergic to pressing reblog. It's a community. We're supposed to share and communicate. Lurkers are valid but for the most part, interaction with like-minded people is what fandom is intended for.) but the pedestal they are placed on needs to be lowered. Your favorite artists and authors are real people with real lives. They piss and shit just like you. They work in retail and healthcare and are unemployed due to disability. There is nothing extraordinary about them and they are wonderful human beings all the same. No one is better than anyone else. We're all equals here on this playground.
That said, I think we need to uplift the underappreciated fanworks and creators and give them more attention so they are on equal footing with fanfic writers and fanartists. Reblog the gifsets and tell the creator you're in love with how they colored the gifs, keyboard smash in the tags when reblogging a plush doll someone crocheted of your blorbo, try listening to a podfic on your commute home instead of an audiobook and remember to leave a comment when you get home.
As a final note, I want to give a warm hug to anyone who has sat refreshing tumblr or ao3 hoping that maybe someone will tell them they did a good job. To anyone who has considered quitting their fandom endeavors because their posts or works never get as much attention and love as the rest of the artworks or fics in the fandom tags, your creations are worth making and sharing. Numbers do not equate to quality, nor can they convey how loved your creations are by a given person. Only you can bring your unique sparkle to fandom and your presence is absolutely welcome no matter how big or small, grandiose or inconsequential, important or worthless you think it is.
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Fucked up - Nico Hischier (part two)
summary; Nico Hischier x reader
Part one: click here
warning(s); angst, argument, insecurity, FLUFF , maybe grammar errors
author's note; hi lovely people out there! At first thank you so much for ✨100✨ followers. So many people asked for part two. Hope you like it, like I do!
tags; @hockey-hischier13 🌟 --------------------------------------------------------------
"I'd like to invite you to Switzerland, meeting my family."
This sentence hunts you until now. Two weeks later after getting the news from Nico. Your only reaction was "I'm not sure", secretly you'd jump into a sea for him, if he asks for it. You promised to change your clinginess.
He just sent you the ticket if you want to join. That's it. He did not visit you, he only left a voice message.
Maybe you did the wrong decision to fly to Switzerland and running after a man who feels annoyed from you.
"Babe!", Nico's sunglasses mirrors your face in it, kissing your cheek because you moved your head, that he couldn't kiss your lips. You don't feel deserved to get kissed.
"Hello, Nico", you smile and drive without a conversation to his parents house. It's a cute one, like in one of these Switzerland prospects everyone knows. "Are", he pauses between," are you okay? Like are we okay?", his brown eyes meet yours, him on the driver seat, parked. "We're cool", you nod and open the door.
"I'll take the bags", he smiles and walks into his family home.
You feel way too much familiar in this house. Maybe it's a red flag for him. That you feel too comfortable.
"Nice to meet you!", his mom comes out of the kitchen, hugging you tight, "you are way more prettier than Nico described me", she giggles and looks at you, "I'm Katja!".
You mumble a thank you, until you come in and meet the rest of his family, sitting in their garden. "are you cold? I can give you my jacket", Nico whispers these words through your shoulder after a few hours and the gone sunset. "I'm ok", it's a liar. You're freezing and everyone can see it, like your blue lips. Nico looks confused, you love this clothes. You begged for this jacket for months. "I'll go to bed", you smile thankful in the family round, leaving Nico's siblings and parents behind you.
"I'll go with you", he says goodnight to all and walks into the house with you. "I'd like to shower", you ask for his permission, "you don't need to ask me", Nico observes you, completely insecure, leaving him. You're literally running away from him, like fading apart when he wants to talk with you.
"Hi", he looks at you, smiling seeing you with a towel around your body after showering and him sitting on your shared bed. "hi", you avoid his eyes, random searching clothes in your bag.
Maybe he doesn't like cellulite. Maybe it's a red flag for him too.
"I'm the luckiest man alive to have you, my family loves you too", he smirks in completely chill. "I'm glad you're happy now",comes out of your mouth, your chest hurts. Deep inside your soul. Your soul is shit.
Your soul is a red flag. Without changing he couldn't loving you. Nico stares at your face, aren't you happy? You acted weird for weeks now, he posted a funny selfie just to geg your attention (usually he would never do this for a woman) but you didn't react.
"Aren't you happy?", he asks. "Sure", you bite on your lip, you hate to lie. "What's wrong?", Nico takes your arm, petting it. It's a lovely gesture for a man who feels disgusted about you.
"Can you ever love me the way I am?", you can't blink away the tears anymore.
"Wh-", he looks annoyed.
"You don't owe me anything, I should be happy you're still dating me", you shrug your shoulders. "Wh-", he starts again.
"of couse you're lovable", he gets worried. "I fall more and more in love with you", he explains his feelings, "no you fell in love in someone who I am not! Maybe I'm clingy and I'm annoying and love to spam-", you're sobbing your pain away.
"I miss your spamming and I also miss your real smile", he lovely whipes your tears away from the cheeks, his hands are shaking.
"I stress you out and you don't want to ask me to be your-", you whisper exhausted about the whole situation.
"My mom told me if a woman drives you crazy it's real love", he pets your hair, calming you down.
"I'm not lovable!", you sob, "you are", he promises. "I wanted to ask you tomorrow if you want to be my girlfriend. I'm sorry to let you feel this way!", he clears his throat. "Can you please be like yourself again?", he kisses your hand, holding it in his.
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*putting on a moustache and sunglasses*
So like what’s the deal with ghosted what’s that about
now see the deal with Ghosted is that it's not what happens within the events of the film that captivates me so much, though don't get me wrong i love this film to bits, but rather, it's the idea of what happens after the whole thing that makes me FUCKING NUTS
because the whole thing is relatively cut and dry in the sense that we don't have to guess about what happened before and we don't have to guess about how everybody is feeling in the present. we know (MOST) important characters backgrounds and what they're doing at Falkhill and slowly revealing Paul's context was pretty interesting if not a little abrupt at the end there but its the very last scene of this film down to the very frame that flips the whole hour and a half you just watched over on its head and prevents me from getting a good night's sleep because i can't stop thinking about it
ELABORATING WITH A LOT OF SPOILERS UNDER THIS
explaining the plot of this movie is hard without sounding like im writing a pretentious review and not just talking out of my ass on tumblr but for my followers who haven't watched this movie and dont care enough to: Ghosted (2011) is set in a british prison in which Jack (John Lynch) is a long time prisoner who's wife just dumped him apparently on the anniversary of their sons death (tough break) and is being advised by his friend and cellmate Ahmed (Art Malik) (who does NOT get HALF as much screen-time or plot relevance as he DESERVES,) to find something to put his mind to and be proud of outside of his failures
Paul (Martin Compston) is a prisoner who was just transferred out of a Young Offenders prison AS FAR AS WE'RE TOLD... though its noticeable from the beginning that hes not a very good liar and his story is suspicious at best
Clay (Craig Parkinson) is kindof The Guy of their prison wing whos dealing drugs to other prisoners and assumes the position of authority over everybody else, though compared to other inmates with bigger cliques, his foundations are shaky. the description of this film on letterboxd calls him "the wing beast" and i have never cried laughing so hard reading something in my life
Clay and Jack both hone in on Paul immediately for different reasons. Jack, after his pep talk with Ahmed, sees Paul as a source of "a little self belief, something to be proud of", but Clay scoops him under his wing for being relatively young and impressionable. This puts Jack and Clay at odds with each other.
after some plot, Paul gets into very big trouble with Clay and after An Incident is promptly plopped into Jacks hands, who had requested Paul move into his cell earlier but didn't have a good enough excuse for it. Well You've Got A Bloody Good Reason Now ect ect
Jack and Paul buddy up immediately and its noticable that Paul is sort of filling in the empty space where a son would be for Jack, however we discover that Paul has been lying about his past to everybody, including Jack. he lied about his family and he lied about having only just been transferred from Y.O. and hadn't been telling the whole truth about his sentence. what the truth ends up being, in a nutshell, is that Paul is accidentally responsible for the death of Jack's son, having been the one who started the house fire he died in (we were never even told that Jack's son died in a house fire before this, we are only told this in Paul's flashback at the end of the movie and are supposed to act, like, surprised?? whatever). consequentially, Jack flips his lid and prompts my personal favorite scene in this film in which he beats the living shit out of Paul with his bare hands and immediately regrets it the second the adrenaline wears off, hitting an alarm button within the cell that alerts the guards.
the guards whisk him away and he is put in solitary confinement, which we find out was actually the first sequence of the film where hes shown with an absurdly long beard, and considering every other fucking scene he's in is of him shaving his face, i assume this is to show just how long he's been kept in solitary confinement, which quite honestly was kindof exciting to realize at the end of the film.
and then. the end scene.
after solitary, Jack is put in cuffs and brought to see Paul who looked Extremely Dead after Jack had him, but hes not dead! just almost dead.
Jack is sat next to him and tries to apologize but starts to cry, reaching out a hand to hold Paul's but retracting it regretfully. Paul, having looked unconscious not five seconds before, moves his hand to place it over Jack's...
and then the movie ends. and i am left writhing on my floor in anguish BUT NOT BEFORE I EXPLAIN TO YOU THAT THIS
THIS is what the deal is with Ghosted
the pathetic gestures of "im sorry" and "its okay" are what kill me. sorry is nowhere near enough to justify anything that EITHER of them did, NOR should they be forgiven. AND YET.
and what gets my gears going is the thought of what everything looks like AFTER this scene. after they've bonded so close and after Jack already thought that Paul stopped lying to him, thinking that he could protect Paul from Clay now... after they started to fill the spaces for people they were missing in their lives... and after they've RUINED each others lives. They Have Ruined Each Others Lives and yet Paul probably would have had to DELIBERATELY ASK for them to bring Jack to see him because he just BEAT Paul within an INCH of his life and would NOT !! have brought Jack to see him upon Jack's own request!! Paul would have wanted to see him too!! after all this
what does their relationship look like now... the image of father and son has been all but shattered in each other's eyes, one can assume, but are they still close... does the guilt and responsibility drift them apart or does it pull them inseparably together? Ahmed tells Jack that "there is no such thing as coincidence, only fate" but what does their fate look like... does it end here or does it mean that they're together indefinitely? the end of this film swings the door wide open and i think about it. way too often. unacceptably often, even.
all in all theres no reason that this should be my favorite film but it is. if nothing else it's made me look into the other actors involved and branch out with a to-watch list as long as my arm that will only get longer once i branch out from there. is it the perfect movie? no this film is mediocre at best. have i made a number of my friends sit down and watch it and listen to me yell incoherently about it? of course i have.
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Logan and Max have another talk, or 'does kissing count as free therapy?'
Part 2 of whatever this was. I couldn't fall asleep last night because of how hard I kept thinking about these two. I blame @girlsdads for giving me the brainrot in the first place.
cw: the tiniest bit of implied sexual content
It's another bad race. Fucking 16th, only ahead of the two Saubers, and of the Haas and Alpine that had crashed each other out. There was no reason why his pit stop had to be 4.3 seconds, when Alex's had been 2.7, no reason why he had been fucked over by not one but two undercuts because of shitty strategy, no reason why Alex's side of the garage had to be celebrating 8th place while his was sullen and quiet.
Logan fears he's going to throw up when he steps in and James claps him on the shoulder, saying sorry, next time, as if Logan doesn't know his contract is on the line. Fucking. Next time?!
Logan feels like he's trying to swim with his hands tied behind his back, desperately trying to make it to shore. Nobody cares he's drowning.
He can barely look up during the debrief, feels like he's choking the whole time on the words nobody is saying. As soon as he's free, he escapes, fumbling for his phone as usual. Only this time, he doesn't call his mom.
Are you free?
Max has his motorhome this weekend, and Logan doesn't wait for an answer before heading over. If he doesn't answer, he'll just take a walk.
Yes come over
He's knocking on Max's door before he can rethink it, before all these feelings catch up on him and he decides he's going to break down alone instead. When Max opens his door, Logan immediately regrets it. He's wearing a black t-shirt, hair styled, looking ready to go out. Of course he's heading out, he has a win to celebrate. Unlike Logan. Who should have just gone home.
He opens his mouth, ready to apologize and turn around, when Max's hand closes on his shoulder, his mouth downturned with what would be worry, if it wasn't absurd for Max Verstappen to be worried about him.
"Come in," Max says, doesn't leave space for arguments when he pulls Logan inside, closing the door behind him.
For a long moment they just look at each other, as Logan's waves lap at his neck. He doesn't know why he's here anymore.
"Are you okay?" Max's hand is still on his shoulder. Logan feels like he'll keel over if he takes it back.
"I might be out of a seat."
It's not an answer to Max's question, it's not even what Logan meant to say, it's not something he should be telling to the competition, but really. Logan is barely Max's competition at all, and who wouldn't know that after this season's disaster? Nobody is counting on him to race next year.
He waits for Max to say something, even if it's just empty platitudes, but the other just squeezes his shoulder and nods, and suddenly it's much harder to hold back his tears.
"I just..." he breathes in, willing his voice to not crack, "I don't know what I am doing wrong."
It comes out more desperate than he meant it to, but he's just so tired and upset, and nobody is seeing him drown. Why is nobody paying attention?
"You have a shit car, get bad strategy calls, and have a teammate with years more of experience. You are not the one doing it wrong."
Max says it so matter of fact, as if he's the one driving the shit car, the one with the better teammate, the one having to fight through the back of the field with no success, and suddenly Logan is angry. He shrugs Max's hand away, fists clenching. What does Max know about being the second driver in a bad team? How dares he say he knows Logan's hunger?
"Fuck off," he spits, wrapping his arms around himself to hide the way his hands are trembling. He shouldn't have come.
"You have potential, you are not doing it wrong," Max says again, stubborn and bull-headed as always, jaw set and eyes clear. Logan's anger spikes again. Max Verstappen, the prodigy child, talking to him about wasted potential? This must be a joke. He scoffs, ready to turn around and leave, but Max grabs him again, gets a hold on his elbow and keeps him where he is.
"Why are you angry?" he asks. And yeah, this must be a joke, for sure. Why is Logan angry? Why is he angry?!
"You don't get to..." he starts, but Max interrupts him, squeezing his elbow.
"No. Why are you angry?"
"The team..."
Max takes a step closer, narrowing his eyes.
"Not the team, I do not care about the team. Why are you angry?"
As if there was a right answer to the question that Logan isn't getting! It's his own anger! And Max doesn't care about the team? Of course he doesn't, it's not his team fucking up! Why can't Logan be angry about the team?!
"Alex gets..."
"No. Why are you angry?" Max interrupts again, steadfast in a way that grates on Logan's nerves.
They're too close now, and for a second Logan entertains the idea of punching three times world Champion Max Verstappen. Anger burns in his chest, and suddenly, without knowing who closed the gap, they're kissing. It's not a nice kiss, all teeth and spit, and it almost feels the same as the punch he hasn't thrown, until Max moves his hand from his elbow to his waist, the other one coming up to cup the back of his neck, turning his head slightly. Gentling him.
His anger is back in his lungs, but it's no longer anger, it's back to salt water, and Logan is drowning again. He breaks the kiss, gasping, but Max doesn't let him go.
Logan doesn't remember the last time someone held him like this, like being here matters.
"Why are you angry?" Max asks again, breath soft against Logan's bitten lips. He smells vaguely like minty toothpaste.
"Because..." he hesitates, but at this point he might as feel say fuck it, and give it all. All his fleshy insides in Max's hands, bleeding on the floor between them. "Because I could do better, but I can't do it like this."
This time Max nods. "You could do better."
And Logan knows his parents and friends have said it before, have kept saying it for years. Knows his time in Formula 2 speaks for itself. But it's different, to have Max say it like that, so surely. It's a different kind of validation, and a different kind of heartbreak, because they both know his time to prove it is running out. It's hard to breathe again.
"It is good to be angry. It makes you want to take it," Max says, maybe mistaking the way his breathing has gone funny. But Logan doesn't feel angry anymore. He's tired, and scared, and lonely. He drops his head on Max's shoulder, who moves to card his fingers in his hair, bearing his weight with ease. Logan wishes anything would come easy to him instead.
"I don't know how to be angry," Logan confesses. He doesn't want to say it, doesn't want to disappoint Max, but he disappoints better than he lies anyway. What's one more person.
"That is of course still okay," Max says, instead of some sort of rebuke Logan is expecting. For a second, he thinks about the stories of Max's childhood, of angry men and steel hands. Max's fingers are gentle in his hair.
"What do you want right now?"
It's too big of a question. Logan wants his seat to be safe, he wants to end in the points, he wants a good car, he wants to not feel so distant from everyone else, he wants to go home. He wants someone to tell him it will be alright and mean it.
He shakes his head, forehead dragging against Max's t-shirt. Disappointing again.
Max holds his hair a little tighter, uses the grip to pull Logan up, to make him open his eyes.
"What do you need?"
And it's the same, but it is different, and Logan needs...he needs...
"You can take it. What you need." Max sounds so sure of it, Logan can almost believe it. Maybe Logan doesn't know how to take, doesn't know how to fix it, but here, now, he at least knows what he needs.
"I need to be better," he says, words bleeding out from his split-open chest. "I need to be good."
They both know what Logan means, because the thing with Max is, that it's always about racing, even when it isn't, and it is also always both at the same time.
Max nods, letting go of his hair, and Logan pushes him around, back against the door. Gentle, because he needs to be, but firm, because he wants this.
He eases himself to his knees, and feels Max's hand cup his cheek. His raspy voice isn't disappointed, or pitying, or even sad when he speaks, only fond. A little proud.
"Good boy."
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