#alternative answer: not enough

[ghoul--doodle]

how many wings of fire books do you own??

10 main books, two prequels, 5 graphic novels, an official colouring book and a ✨write your own story✨ book

And a signed copy of one of the main books (book 14!) because it was a birthday present

Most of them!

I’m waiting for the 11-15 box set

[aroaceleovaldez]

goofy fierrochase doodle hours

[aardvaark]

im so glad that we never get a clear picture of sophie’s background in leverage & i hope we never do. however i also really like making up various, often conflicting backstories for her in my head. perhaps they’re all backstories for an alias of hers, ones she laid to rest back in season two.

[farming-for-affection]

It's a page from someone's diary...

[maxybabyy]

literally losing my mind over your frat boys au klllllljkkljkllkklljll

please know it has been living in my mind since yesterday, so here's part two, aka what i actually thought about when i saw the original ask (@gaycrunch) ...

part i (re: this)

He finds him outside, hunched over on the porch with his phone in his hand and a half-full bottle of vodka open between his thighs.

“What’s a pretty boy like you doing out here all by himself?” Daniel asks, teases as he drops down to sit next to him. “If only there was a party somewhere, with like, good people and shit.”

Max grunts, barely moves as Daniel hooks his knee over Max’s. He brings the bottle to his mouth, swallows a mouthful of vodka as his free hand comes to rest on Daniel’s knee. “You know already probably, this is why you are here,” he says, digs a finger into the scar on his kneecap, the faded line from when he cut himself on a beer can.

Daniel does, was pulled aside by at least five different dudes who told him where Max had gone, “But I’d rather you tell me, Maxy.”

Max pours another shot into his mouth, keeps the bottle by his lip as he talks. “What even is a rose? This makes no sense, Daniel,” he says, and to his credit, he does sound frustrated. He’s a little drunk too, always is these days when the night falls, but Daniel doesn’t know if it’s cause or consequence.

“It’s an old school thing,” Daniel relents. He steals the bottle from Max’s hands and takes a tiny sip just so he won’t keep drinking. “Reckon I’m plenty sweet for the lot of us, yeah? Don’t need a lady to tell me how to act.”

He didn’t know frats still did this kind of shit, thought they were all past it now, that men could be graceful and charitable too. Hadn’t even thought to mention it to this year’s pledges, but then maybe, Max could have used the lecture anyway.

“Did you really tell her to go suck a bunch of dicks? Because if so, Maxy –“

Max huffs. His leg shakes underneath Daniel’s knee, jostles loose the slide he wears on his foot. “I of course did not say this,” Max says, snappish, taut. “She said she was the best at sucking dick, and I said, ‘this probably is not true’. She showed me this thing she did with her tongue, with her straw you know, and it did not look good, Daniel.”

Daniel chokes down a laugh, relents easily when Max reaches for the bottle again. He watches with unbridled want as Max pretends to suck off the lip of the bottle, interrupted too frequently by his own commentary on the technique.

Daniel reckons he’s right, the tongue is too much, barely touches the bottle at all. Not like Max had done that night, lips heavy around his dick, his tongue firm against the underside of the head.

“So like, you didn’t tell her to suck a dick?”

Max jams his elbow into his side, jolts when Daniel clams his hand around the top of his thigh to keep him in place. “Always this was not – Daniel, I would not say this,” he says, glares at Daniel when he doesn’t relent. “I said maybe that she had to practice more. I have of course sucked a lot of dicks, if she wanted to be like me, then.”

Daniel laughs, loud and surprised, and suddenly Max laughs too.

The Kappa Alphas are dicks anyway. They wouldn’t lose anything if Daniel took them off the social calendar, isn’t really a party if the entire frat can’t go, is it?

“Why didn’t you go home?” He asks after a while. The lid has been put back on the bottle of vodka, and Max has been fed whatever was left in his cup of water.

Two weeks after officially becoming a pledge, Daniel had found Max passed out in a pool of tub juice, white tee soaked in sticky sweet alcohol. He hadn’t vomited – Daniel doesn’t know then if he wouldn’t have just left him there – but Daniel had dragged him upstairs and into the shower. Had scrubbed the marker off his face but left the blue marker in his hair to watch the botched, fucking dip dye his hair had held onto for almost a week.

Max had slept in his bed that night, does it at least every two weeks now, cuddled up between Daniel and the wall. They haven’t fucked since that first time, since Daniel realised Max would be pledging the frat. But sometimes they kiss, and it’s. It feels nice, feels easy, breezy even.

“I have to wait for Carlos,” Max says, shrugs.

Daniel had elected not to pair himself with Max, chose instead one of the legacies who seemed to find power in whatever fucking hazing ritual Daniel threw at him. He kinda regrets it now, knows how shit Carlos must be at this big brother stuff. Knows he left more than an hour ago with Max’s friend from the lacrosse team, apparently without saying shit to Max.

“Nah, Maxy. You’re fine,” he says, squeezes his thigh again when Max hesitates. “Let’s go back to the house, yeah? Maybe Carlos is waiting for you there or like, we can send him a text or something.”

Max doesn’t look convinced, sceptic, like he’s the one who’s on his third year in the frat. But he takes his hand when Daniel gets up, pulls him to his feet. “Lando has the dorm tonight,” he says, shows him a picture of a sock on a doorknob.

It looks fake, but Daniel hasn’t actually seen it for himself ever. Like with the rose, doubted it was even done anymore. But then, Lando’s always been an odd guy.

“There’s always the couch if you want,” Daniel offers, shivers. “Or like, there’s also my bed. Probably the best if you don’t wanna wake up when Scotty gets home.”

Daniel doesn’t hold his breath, he doesn’t, listens instead to the crunch of the road underneath them. It’s no more than ten minutes until they’re home, Greek row almost condensed down to one block.

“Okay, Daniel,” Max says, quiet in the dark night. His hand brushes against Daniel’s, and he tries not to jump, stays still in case Max does reach out. “I think that would be very lovely.”

[sergle]

pov you’re scrolling through my inbox from tonight

[lost-in-fandoms]

Re: your tags: “they were together the whole time and we didn’t get photos”

Besties come close while I tell you something….there WILL be photos, Daniel is just saving them to post in an Instagram dump after the RBR announcement 🤫

CANON TO ME!!!!!

your brain: wrinkled and gigantic!

[discjude]

I think I should focus more on the link between Rafal and Japeth in TCY because I was typing out a joke post that went something along the lines of "TCY is so funny because the whole division between the two Pens comes down to "omnipotent omniscient harbinger of fate" vs "some snake guy" under the assumption that the scim that was Lionsmane was just one of Japeth's, but I realised I didn't have a source for that so checked flesh and blood again and what do you know Lionsmane is apparently "made out of my father (Rafal's) spirit.". I was aware of the reference to 'Rafal's spirit' mostly because it's a concept never mentioned by name again in the series but somehow never noticed that Lionsmane WAS just. Rafal. which has horrible consequences for the Japeth Lore

Basically. It seems very important to me that the "Storian VS Lionsmane" duo can be boiled down to "Fate VS Japeth", given that a lot of Japeth's motivation comes from his desire to be able to control fate, stating in Flesh And Blood "soon I'll be fate's master, with the power to take love back (where he's talking about Aric)." . Saying that he IS Lionsmane ties into that nicely, given that he'll write his own fate with the pen that Is Him. This also fits into the "Past is Present" prophecy, given the last line of "Until you change it", being exactly what Japeth aims to do.

However, Japeth does not 'change it', because he's not the one writing his fate, because He's Not Lionsmane. RAFAL is. The fate that Japeth thinks he's creating for himself isn't the one he wants, but is Rafal's fate instead... which is exactly what ends up happening to him, given the second fratricide incident. This also works with Past is Present, because Past IS Present, given it's the same fate. Which also works as a lovely little reminder that Japeth has absolutely no control over his fate in the slightest, reflected by a few other pieces of book 6 information: Rafal's message to him (that happens before book 4) instructs him to remain loyal to his brother, and to always put his brother first. He doesn't win a single one of Arthur's Trials. It is literally stated by Rafal in a flashback that it was LITERALLY IMPOSSIBLE for japeth to end up being One True King. what I am Trying To Say is that there was absolutely no way in hell Japeth could ever have "changed it", ever. Anyway because of all of this I firmly believe that Soman should've put at least a couple of vague references to the TCY twins in the prequels given that Japeth and Rafal might have the most interesting link between them in my opinion

[fisheito]

I really like the idea of just yakumo being able to change to type every snake. he can go from a big python taking up the whole kitchen to a tiny little worm hiding in the library shelves until his sobs give him away

i really like the idea toooooooooooooo if man's gonna have the range, he's GONNA have the RANGE!!!! MORE RANGE! I am bestowing upon him;;; -- further range.

serioslusly what's the fun in having yokai transformation powers if you can't get shapeshifty according to your daily moods and needs

[tswwwit]

Will bill or dipper still love the other even if one of them is a immeasurable cosmic eldritch being that is capable of swallowing galaxies with no great effort or maybe an earthworm? :]

Compared to Bill, Dipper basically already is a worm! (He is beaten with a pillow for this response)

But if Bill asked the question, Dipper tells him that he'll put him on a hook and use him to catch a better merman husband. And Bill is very >:(

[the-golden-ghost]

Does anyone know how to exercise without hurting yourself

[braisedhoney]

please tell me about the pigments i would love nothing more than to hear you talk about that one shade of red you like and the process it took too recreate it

... oh, op. you have no idea what you've unleashed.

alright. here we go.

OKAY SO THE RED PIGMENT. pr206. my beloved. my dearest friend. it was an absolute bastard to find because there are so many of these. however many you think there are, there are MORE, and that's only if you don't count the many many scenarios where colors are known to be multi-pigment mixes, usually varying in tone/shade/intensity depending on the brand and manufacturing style. some colors are more consistent than others, but there are situations where a color can be named the same and contain the same pigments and STILL look wildly different depending on the ratio, binder, and paper you use. and that's not accounting for the way the pigment is processed. some pigments (like pv19 for example) can come in so many shades it's frankly kind of ridiculous.

anyway, my quest begins when i am, admittedly, in an edgier phase. i want a blood red, but not specifically because of that—no, i want it because it is THE IDEAL COLOR (to me) for a perfect, warm, slightly muted but still intense shade to add to a muted autumn watercolor palette. and... if you look at my whole theme, you probably know how much i love warm colors. i want to paint mushrooms. i want to dim down some of the brighter greens to make them autumnal. i want the perfect red to put as an undertone.

the search starts in earnest.

the immediate issue is this: reds (and purples and pinks) have horrifically bad lightfastness. not all of them, mind, but many are NOTORIOUS for fading under uv light, which means they will also fade if exposed to sunlight even in passing should it happen often enough. and—in especially bad cases where they're essentially working with dye and not pigment—they can even fade inside your notebook. inside of a drawer.

so not only are we working with an unfortunate pigment base (i'm simplifying here, there's way more nuance to this but shh) but we are working with one that skews heavily toward floral pinks or oranges. the red i'm searching for is warm, but not orange. dries dark but not brown. is transparent, not opaque. that last part is agonizing, because i also desperately do not want a color that will fade on me or generally destabilize, and most of the stable dark red pigments are EARTH pigments like red ochre (pr101) or the like. which, while fascinating because of their historical usage in things like pottery and even cave paintings that last to the modern day, are VERY OPAQUE. this is an issue with my preferred style of watercolor painting specifically, because opaque pigments tend to lift easier off the page and limit layering.

the search continues. pigment after pigment breaks my heart for one reason or another, drying too close to the cooler purpleish-red tint of wine at best. i think i find it in perylene maroon, but the drying shift (the difference between how a color looks wet vs after it dries on the paper) is so extreme that it loses the luminosity AND it's more opaque than most. i languish.

for a while my search turns to creation. i try and mix as many of my single pigment colors as i can into something that vaguely resembles what i'm looking for—so i take quinacridones and mix them with napthols, with nickel azos, with dashes of ultramarines and burnt sienna. everything turns out either just a bit too opaque, just a bit too muddy (that happens with multi-pigment mixtures, and is why so many people swear by single pigment colors. it's personal preference, really, great art can be made either way.)

still, nothing works. failure haunts me. i sit before a pile of used up watercolor paper that is literally covered edge to edge in nothing but similar red squares with various gradients and blooms as evidence of when i tried and failed to convince myself my efforts were close enough. i admit defeat.

in the meantime i shift my focus. i try and appreciate different color palettes and profiles, experimenting with things like fully transparent palettes (personal favroite) to fully opaque ones that function more like gouache. but despite finding appreciation for it, i still think about the damn red that i could never recreate. it kills me.

and then one day, a youtube video. a pigment is being discontinued, and the watercolor community is distressed. this happens a lot, because pigments are actually not always popular because of artists—sometimes beloved colors are put out of production because larger markets like car companies no longer find them popular enough to invest in. this time, the casualty is pr206, aka brown madder, aka quinacridone burnt scarlet.

let me tell you a little about quinacridones. they are genuinely remarkable colors. they have their own cult followings because of how bright and abnormally stable they are under uv light. they're transparent. they're luminous. they come in mostly shades of red and pink and purple, though there are a couple oranges and yellows in there. (there are no quinacridone blues, as far as i'm aware, but the phthalo blues have that category covered.) they also rewet beautifully, so you can put them on your palette and let them dry and not worry about it turning into a useless little rock of color that you can't get any pigment from anymore.

quinacridone magenta (pr122) is probably the most popular of these, the most often used besides maybe quinacridone violet (pv19). a few years prior we suffered the loss of quinacridone gold (po49) and since then people have been On Alert when it comes to losing these colors. i am one of them, because i never got the chance to even see po49 in person, and now the tubes are so stupid expensive that even the student grade versions go for Ridiculously High Prices on ebay, and the professional brands are being hoarded like (ironically) gold by anyone lucky enough to have a tube left over.

but back to our main character. not me, the pigment. pr206. i have legitimately never heard of this one, which to be fair is probably because i try to limit the random colors i fixate on since the hobby can easily get VERY expensive if you aren't careful. but it's a quinacridone, and that catches my eye.

i open the video.

now, i'm sure any artist out there will be familiar with the fact that screens don't display color consistently. it depends on your device, but most can agree that something that looks cooler on one may be warmer on the other, it's just what happens. but i see this color being swatched, and my brain implodes.

it's almost a perfect match.

it could work. it could. years of thinking that same thought have left me bereft and mistrustful of this specific quest marker, but the thought refuses to leave me. probably because the 'discontinued' label flashes like a neon sign.

i resist for about six months, and then i cave. at this point i have genuinely been trying and failing to find this color for upwards of five years. i am desperate, and the color might not be available anymore soon anyway, and apparently i am weak to sales pitches. (note: the color IS now unavailable in some brands, but others bought a decent supply and should have it available for at least a little while, alongside po48 which is quinacridone burnt orange, a favorite of mine and probably one of the only oranges i use regularly. both are discontinued officially, but they'll still be on sale till those supplies run dry.)

the color arrives. i grab my favorite brush. i pull out my stash of paper that i save for special occasions.

it's almost perfect.

i mix it with quinacridone burnt orange.

the result is, i swear, a perfect match for what i have been searching for.

it's warm. it dries dark but not dark enough to look brown. it keeps its luminosity (thank you quinacridones). it's fully transparent (thank you quinacridones). i genuinely feel the urge to weep, but i don't because i am clinging at last to the dredges of my sanity and also salt makes watercolor pigments behave differently and i will not risk this glorious moment. finally, after all these years, bill cipher has a gun i found the goddamn COLOR.

i mix it with warm yellows and with my favorite blues. with the pinks, just to laugh. life is beautiful and i am painting its sunsets, and i do not care if they look ridiculously messy. i have won.

the moral of the story is to never give up. or maybe it's to remember you never actually know everything about even the fields you love the most, because this color totally blindsided me despite being much more common than i expected. or maybe it's that i seriously needed to chill out for a while.

but yes. that is the tale of one (1) of the colors that has taken up residence in my soul. i hope you don't regret asking now lmao.

[slothquisitor]

Hiya I just recently found you and i gotta say I love your work

Idk if you do requests/fic suggestions, (feel free to ignore me if you do)

But to continue on from Rattle, Liv, and Astarion haven't really talked since that night

They go to confront Cazador, astarion is forced into the ritual and the fight begins.

After he is freed and Cazador is defeated he goes to carve the symbols on his back when he notices Liv lying on the floor not moving, gravely injured in the fight against Cazador

He would drop everything and rush to her side

Nonny, thank you for the delicious angst fodder. You really are a real one. Apologies for the delay on this. I'm a high school teacher and this week was the end of term, and it was a mess of students begging for better grades and long hours of grading. I enjoyed exploring this alternative to what might have happened in Haunted House, and I like to think that with this scenario there's a bit of internal horror because he doesn't rush to her side immediately. You know, because power. Anyway, I hope I did your prompt justice, thank you for sending it my way <3

Magic and Blood

Astarion x Liv, 1.6k, angst and spoilers for BG3 Act III.

________________________________________________________

With one last thrust of his dagger, Cazador dissolves into mist, and Astarion is triumphant. Shadowheart’s orb of daylight still hovers above the platform, casting grotesque shadows around fallen ghouls and werewolves and bats. But he is so close to victory, to power. The air is thick with it, a heady mix of magic and blood and promise.

There is but one last step, one last thing he must do in order to snatch this ritual away, to best Cazador. He wastes no time going to Cazador’s sarcophagus and pushing it open, revealing Cazador’s resting form. 

“No, no. No healing sleep for you. Wake up!” He rips Cazador from his sleep, throwing him to the ground. The relative ease of the movement is intoxicating. He is the powerful one now. 

“Get your hands off me, worm,” Cazador spats. 

“I’m not the one in the dirt,” Astarion sneers, picking up Cazador’s dagger. “One last thrust and I’ll be free of you. I’ll never have to fear you again. But if I finish the ritual you started, I’ll never have to fear anyone, ever.” He is so close, so, so close to freedom, true freedom. He will take the power meant for Cazador and he will make it his own. He will be the most powerful vampire to ever live. 

There are seven thousand souls on the line, but he doesn’t have to consider them, he didn’t gather them, did he? That was all Cazador’s doing. And they must die, they are wretched miserable things, begging for death anyway. Why shouldn’t he use them? With this sort of power he could help save the city, be a real hero. He could protect Liv from their enemies, from her family. He and his companions would be more than successful against the elder brain, they would be triumphant. 

Cazador grins. “You think me a fool? That I would allow anyone to usurp me, speak the words, and ascend in my place? Mmm? The runes I carved into your flesh bind you and all seven thousand souls to the ritual. Complete it and those bearing the scars will be sacrificed - you included. You are simply a means to an end. I made you to be consumed!”

“I am so much more than what you made me!” Astarion says leaning over Cazador before turning to his companions, to Liv. “I can do this, but I need your help.” Only, Liv isn’t there. Behind him, Shadowheart kneels beside Gale, hands glowing with healing magic. Lae’zel is limping to them, clutching her side. But where is Liv?

At the beginning of the battle, she had freed him. Dispelling the magic that held him bound. It had been chaotic, spells and arrows and claws, but she had appeared out of mist-like magic and immediately began unraveling Cazador’s spell, saving him like she had so many times before. Once free, he hadn’t hesitated to wade into the fray, and she had been right behind him, casting spells and throwing up shields. She’s probably fine; she’s always fine. She’s always been good at getting herself to a safe vantage point and casting her spells. She’s always been so good at protecting herself and others. She’s fine, and he’ll find her after he has taken care of Cazador, after he has ascended. 

He just needs to link his tadpole with one of their companions, see the runes on his back and carve them into Cazador’s. It’s so simple, it’s so close, it’s so easy. Lae’zel is injured, but he’s sure she’ll help him. He just needs to ask. The words are on the tip of his tongue, and he’s already shoved Cazador further to the ground when he sees Liv’s unmoving form. 

It’s no wonder he missed her before. She’s half covered by what remains of a werewolf. She’s covered in blood, but from this distance he’s unsure how much of it is hers. He can’t tell if she’s breathing, if a simple health potion will be enough to rouse her or if she’s going to need Shadowheart’s divine magic. He knows that it’s a ticking clock either way, revivify is only an option for a few moments. The longer it takes for someone to help, the higher the chance they lose her. Gods, he can’t lose her. 

“Liv needs help!” he calls out, but one glance behind him tells him that his companions aren’t in much better shape. Shadowheart is still working on Gale, who somehow looks to be in even worse shape than Liv, and Lae’zel sways in place, using her greatsword to balance. 

Gods. He can do this. He can do this. She’ll be fine. He can ascend and then go get her, and it will be fine! Cazador is right here, sprawled on the ground at his mercy. He has waited for a moment like this for two hundred years. Two centuries of using his body, at following every fucking command that Cazador gleefully made, and suffering either way. The end of this is so close, perhaps if he can ascend, become more than this, more powerful than Cazador even, all that suffering will mean something. He wants it to have meant something. 

Lae’zel is moving towards Liv, but not quickly enough. It becomes more and more apparent that he must be the one to go or risk it….risk her. There are some prices even he’s not willing to pay. An ascended vampire will have may powers, but the power to bring Liv back isn’t one of them. 

“Damn it all! Lae’zel get over here! Kill him if he so much as moves the wrong direction,” Astarion yells. He waits just long enough for Lae’zel to limp over, holding her sword out to Cazador’s chest.

She seems steadier for the order, and that’s the only reason he feels like he can turn his back on Cazador in this moment. 

“It is done,” she growls.

And then he’s running across the bloodstained platform to Liv’s side. Now that he’s here, no longer looming over Cazador, he can see just how bad her injuries are. She’s covered in blood, and there are deep, jagged cuts across her abdomen and arms. She’s lost a lot of blood. He lifts the werewolf off of her, careful not to jostle her as he does.

“No, you can’t die! Get up, damn you!” he yells, hoping that simply getting her free might be enough to rouse her. He has no means of healing, nothing on him, his bag and supplies all stripped away and Gods know where now. But Liv always has healing potions on hand. He reaches into her bag, fingers frantic and soaked in her blood. His other hand rests on her neck, searching desperately for her pulse because no healing potion can restart her heart. Gods, he wasted so much time getting over here. 

She can’t die, not here, not now. They haven’t really spoken since the other night when his siblings came to collect him. She’d been so disappointed in him and his lies. It had only compounded here, wading through this house, with every shameful deed of his on full display. She’d looked so glad, so hopeful when he’d promised Sebastian they’d be back, only for that hope and belief in him to sputter out the second he mentioned ascending. She’s never wanted him to complete the ritual anyway. 

His fingers close around the small, tapered bottle at the same moment he feels the light fluttering of her pulse, it’s faint, too faint. He doesn’t hesitate to pour the potion into her mouth, and watches with profound relief as the worst of her wounds stitch themselves closed, but barely. She was far closer to death than he’d thought. And he had stood over Cazador contemplating vengeance while she was bleeding out.

Liv’s eyes open in what seems like an intense effort, and she is a bloody mess, but she’s here. He could leave her now, just for a moment, just long enough to take care of Cazador and ascend. Lae’zel would help him, and Liv will be safe, right?

Liv takes in the scene, looking around with wide eyes, at Shadowheart healing Gale, at Lae’zel holding her sword at Cazador and he can see the second she decides there is more work to be done. She tries to get up. “We have to finish this.” 

Of course her first thought after nearly dying is to help in whatever way she can. Liv would set fire to herself if it meant keeping others warm. And his first thought upon seeing her bleeding out was that he could still have power. That she’d be fine. A sick, roiling feeling has settled in his gut. 

“You’re not getting up until you’re properly healed,” he gently presses her shoulder back, to keep her down. 

It’s a testament to how hurt she is that she doesn’t fight him. “I…alright.”

But then, Shadowheart is there, hands already glowing with healing magic and he draws back to give them space. Gale and Lae’zel stand over Cazador, still awaiting his judgment. He’s not alone in this. Not anymore. 

He had been so ready to sacrifice everything that truly mattered for power. He is the only one who gets to decide who he becomes now. He doesn’t want to become someone who would be willing to ignore the pain of someone he cares about - no matter how much power is on offer. 

He can be better than that. He is better than that. 

He approaches Cazador and picks back up the dagger. “I am better than you,” he says. “But I’m not above enjoying this.”

[dnangelic]

"Do you want to take a selfie together? I realized that we haven't, but I want to make some memories with you... Wait, can we do this as a trio, though?" from Renge for both of u <3

@incandescentia

' eh ?! selfie --- wh , with me ?! ' a finger points upwards towards himself as he stares at her , his eyes practically as wide as plates . wasn't he better off completely out of any sort of picture ? stiff shoulders , rigid posture , a nervous sweat and strained smile practically begging for mercy : that's the sort of thing renge would end up getting into the frame !

( unless ... you transform into me . )

easier said than done when he felt ten times more nervous than lovey-dovey ! the niwa stays flash-frozen in front of his company for an instant , but then a single blink seems to thaw him --- ' a ... trio ? ' meaning dark at one end and himself at the other ? although it was somewhat simple to imagine , wasn't it practically impossible ?!

( no way . it's only a picture , daisuke ! i can already think up a few simple solutions , and a photo with the three of us sounds interesting , doesn't it ? )

well , sure , but ...

' um , i guess there might be a way , actually ... ' although it might have only magnified any absurdity . ' wiz can stand in for me ... er , i mean --- dark . it's probably the easiest way to do things , but he's not ... um , ' quite as intelligent as his master was ?

if renge's ever-confident and charming selfie ended up with an incredibly awkward boy at one side and a world famous phantom thief smiling as if there wasn't a single thought inside of his head on the other , wouldn't it have only ended up a ridiculous memory , and a photograph to laugh at ?

( --- and what's wrong with that ? the happy smile and laugh of a girl is worth the entire world . )

... figures he'd say something like that .

' if you're really okay with it , renge-san , um ... i can call wiz ! '

[hertwood]

so.... how does one get into racing

hi!!!! SO many different ways, there's no 100% right way but here are some suggestions for some entry points!

there are a few docuseries on racing, for formula 1 there is drive to survive on netflix--this does have some criticism from fans, as it is dramatized somewhat and doesn't always paint a complete picture, but i DO still think its a great starting point to get a feel for the structure, the drivers, etc etc.

for indycar there is also a mini docuseries called road to 500 which is for free on youtube. this is much shorter and in my opinion not as well made as drive to survive, but if you'd prefer to get into indycar and are looking for something free to watch, i definitely recommend it!! i would also go to @champagnepodiums for more indycar questions, she knows way more than me :)

for formula 1, a free option i recommend is inside story, a series on youtube (and f1tv) that goes over particularly dramatic or interesting races! my favorties are: sakhir 2020 (sergio perez), hungary 2021 (esteban ocon), & monza 2020 (pierre gasly). there are more inside story episodes on f1tv for free as well~

i know this isn't the best ~get into racing~ list because i only seriously watch 2 series and i can only speak to what was great for me to get into the sport! there are a lot of good f1 for beginners videos on youtube if you need more help with the basics, and i'm totally willing to answer more specific questions! if anyone would like to add more suggestions in replies/reblogs please do!!

[castielsprostate]

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