#what did i do here

[dyrewrites]

"Oh, what the hell, why, what sick bastard wrote this?" I ask, while reading the story I just finished writing.

[mcl4r3n]

dando + 2? 👀

“Why are you mad?” “I’m not mad, I just think you can choose better people to kiss.”

This got way longer than I intended so I'm putting this under the cut!

List of prompts here :3

---

Daniel doesn't get Lando sometimes. Given, it's tough to adjust to new teammates. But it's been six months of being partnered up with Lando and Daniel still keeps feeling like all he does is take missteps around him.

He thought that they were getting somewhere, honestly. He's done his best. Is it jarring to not be instant friends with Lando? Yeah, fuck, he can admit that to himself.

But he thought that doing things like trying to invite him out for dinner, just—fucking, finding common ground considering that Daniel doesn't give a flying rat's ass about golf or gaming, would maybe help some.

It's bad enough that he can't get to grips with the car, and that his race engineer can barely remember his fucking name most days. he needs someone in his corner, and for some reason, his brain has decided to latch on to the one person who seems most adamant about not wanting to be his friend.

The thing is that this dinner, where he's taken Lando to one of his favorite little spots in Monaco to celebrate Lando's podium, was going along pretty nicely up until just a minute ago.

He decided early on that maybe coming out to Lando would help put him in his good graces—to show that he trusts him, to show something there was more to Daniel than just joking around and racing, maybe.

So he tells Lando a few little anecdotes about his attempts at dating since Lando asked, and he's in the middle of talking about this one guy who, well, hasn't been that great, really, but he's nice enough, even if he sometimes gives Daniel shit for his very busy schedule.

(The NDA Blake had to draw up for him had to be airtight. It was a whole thing.)

But now Lando's got this pinched expression on his face, and Daniel kind of breaks.

"Okay, Norris Lando, what gives?" Daniel finally asks.

It feels like he's about to fall apart, like every little hurt he's squirreled away inside the box in his head marked "do not open" is about to explode.

"Are you—like, is all of this making you uncomfortable? Why are you mad?” Daniel asks. He feels a little helpless, which is never a feeling he enjoys.

Lando's expression shifts, his eyebrows shooting up.

"What?"

Daniel puts his beer down, sighs, rests his forehead on his hand. he's so tired, all of a sudden. It's been a shit season, a shit year, and all he wanted to do was be Lando's fucking friend.

"You're—you're looking at me like—mate, I don't even know. You asked me about my dating life and so I decided to share it with you and now you're looking at me like I pissed in your drink, so what fucking gives? Why are you mad at me?"

Lando's face colours, and then he looks away. Daniel watches him, watches the way his breathing changes, the way the blush creeps high onto his cheeks.

“I’m not mad," Lando says quietly. He fiddles with the straw in his iced tea, already so diluted all the ice has gone. "I just think you can choose better people to kiss.”

"Oh yeah, why, are you offering?" Daniels asks before he can stop himself. He's kind of had it with Lando. Had it with the attitude and the cold shoulders and the fucking—whatever this is.

Lando looks at him sharply, then, before he frowns, and then looks away again.

"I—" he starts. He swallows. He takes a shuddering breath.

Daniel's heart hammers an entire drumbeat against his ribcage. He's not quite sure what's happening here, but his body's decided that it's high time to panic.

"Just forget about it," Lando says. "Please, can we just forget about it—"

"No, what—mate, I don't know what the fuck is going on right now, and I don't understand what you have against me, just fucking talk to me, it's all I've wanted you to do all year," Daniel finally says.

He exhales. He can't believe that this is all boiling over now.

They were supposed to be celebrating Lando's P3. Daniel swallowed his pride to take him out, instead of staying at home to mope around over his P12 finish.

And finally, Lando looks at him again and his eyes are pleading.

"I'm—I'm sorry, DR," he says quietly. "I'm sorry I've been a cunt."

Daniel lets out a little tch between his teeth. He's not exactly sure what else there is to say, after that.

"It's—you don't know how hard it is to be in your shadow, and to like you so much," Lando says. Which. What?

What the fuck?

"Like me? Coulda fooled me there, mate."

Lando's picked up the paper that his straw was sheathed in earlier and now he's twisting it over and over in his fingers like a nervous tick.

"I like you more than you can even imagine, Danny," Lando replies, his eyes downcast. "I've been trying to—fix it. Stop it. So I've just. . . sort of swung in the opposite direction to try to—" he shrugs, and Daniel's entire body feels like it's about to dissolve into ash. "To get over you. But hearing you just fucking—settling like that when—when there are so many other people who could treat you well. It just."

Lando swallows audibly, and finally looks up.

"I'd never give you shit for your busy schedule," he continues. "But then again, we'd have the same one so, it wouldn't be an issue. Y'know. In a hypothetical situation where you did actually see me as more than just—" Lando waves his hand around aimlessly in the air. "Whatever. A kid. Your teammate."

Daniel feels completely unmoored, but also like fucking laughing at the ridiculousness of this entire conversation.

"You—you're telling me you like me? Like, like that? You've spent most of this year being prickly and mean and now you're telling me you like me, and you also want me to stop seeing you like a kid?"

Lando looks so caught out at that, so shocked by it, that Daniel knows he needs to fix this before he screws up even worse.

He reaches out and takes Lando's wrist in his hands, feels the hummingbird pulse there, ten kilometers a minute. Warm, of course, just like how Daniel feels right now.

"Hey, hey," Daniel says. "Can we maybe start with friends first, and see where that takes us?"

His heart feels like a hummingbird too, now.

Lando gives him a small, hesitant smile. "You don't hate me?"

Daniel feels every tense muscle leave him.

"Of course not," Daniel replies, relief and hope blooming inside his chest now. "Couldn't even if I tried, and boy, did I try. Actually I think you were better at that than I was, by the looks of it."

Lando kicks him under the table, but Daniel barely feels it. He just grins instead, and true enough, Lando smiles back.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Hey now, Let her cook!

[joshuamj]

Hero.

[brainrotcharacters]

the easy grip on the knife. the leg over the seat. the hand over the other seat. the sassy "come get it" move. you know the bitch is smiling behind that mask even as he said the line.

[hinamie]

quick itfs sketch page

[time-to-write-and-suffer]

I love how on Tumblr, "media literacy" has become "Um, just because someone writes about this doesn't mean they're endorsing this. I hate all these media puritans ruining everything."

I'm sad to inform you that knowing when and whether an author is endorsing something, implying something, saying something, is also part of media literacy. Knowing when they are doing this and when they're not is part of media literacy. Assuming that no author has ever endorsed a bad thing is how you fall for proper gander. It's not media literacy to always assume that nobody ever has agreed with the morally reprehensible ideas in their work.

Sometimes, authors are endorsing something, and you need to be aware when that happens, and you also need to be aware when you're doing it as an author. All media isn't horny dubcon fanfic where you and the author know it's problematic IRL but you get off to it in the privacy of your brain. Sometimes very smart people can convince you of something that'll hurt others in the real world. Sometimes very dumb people will romanticize something without realizing they're doing it and you'll be caught up in it without realizing that you are.

Being aware of this is also media literacy. Being aware of the narrative tools used to affect your thinking is media literacy. Deciding on your own whether you agree with an author or not is media literacy. Enjoying characters doing bad things and allowing authors to create flawed or cruel characters for the sake of a story is perfectly fine, but it is not the same as being media literate. Being smug about how you never think an author has bad intentions tells me you're edgy, not that you're media literate. You can't use one rule to apply to all media. That's not how media literacy works. Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! Aheem heem. Anyway.

[clownowo]

been replaying the Portal series I think this is where its heading

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

[bacchuschucklefuck]

class swap design masterpost for convenience (from top to bottom: bard!riz, cleric!gorgug, sorcerer!kristen, barbarian!fig, artificer!adaine, and rogue!fabian)

[cozylittleartblog]

Columbo and the Knight (1984)

put me in the universe where Columbo ran through the 1980s and had a crossover episode with Knight Rider. I think they deserved it, and I am not just saying that because they're my two favorite Old Shows. @telebeast wrote a little fanfic blurb about it and I HAD to visualize it into a comic (which is also the longest comic I have finished thus far at five pages...), so writing credit goes to them.

Autism W!

[lucabyte]

On autonomy, and what it means to be Obliged to Help.

Bonus:

[iwasbored777]

Wolverine's reaction when Deadpool got Nicepool killed is one of the funniest moments to me. He knew that Deadpool could fuck things up but this was so huge that even Wolverine couldn't believe that just happened

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I'm not going back to Gusu with you.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[brainrotcharacters]

makes me giggle to think of X2 Logan meeting dp&w Logan when this is a thing

[hinamie]

sry i have chronic only draws megumi disorder the doctor said it's terminal :/