#the shadows. the stars. the fire. the storm.

[kaz-identified]

Titans do not understand the void. They make crude shield to let their enemies break themselves upon. They wield it, they do not feed it. They let their enemies do that for them.

Warlocks think that they do. They think that through all their study and their practice, they understand what it means to become one with absence.

But they do not deny themselves. They do not seek to tear free endless need and want from their bones, absence purely to truly understand it.

But they cannot truly understand it. To use, to study, is not to live within. It is not to give yourself to. It is not to feed. Not to deny yourself sleep and food and drink.

As long as the Titans stay behind their walls, and Warlocks remain in their libraries, they will never understand the Void.

But they could. One day. If they left.

If they left for the far edges, learn to deny themselves everything and become one with absence, drape themselves in the shadow and learn to let the crushing weight of gravity lighten their steps.

But they never will.

They will stomp and flounce about.

They will never stalk.

My kin do not understand the Void. Oh… but they could. If they would surrender their fear. Of it. Of me.

They burn and crackle, laughing and living lives of want, dressed in fire and storms.

None of them will deny themselves.

They still fear it.

I see it in their eyes. When I reach into emptiness, and hold together dusk and moonless nights and black between stars, when I pull together absence into my hands and draw it to a singularity.

They do not see the web.

They do not hear the whispers.

They come in here, thinking of the feasts and celebrations and rest.

I know no such trinkets.

I hunger. I wait. I remain awake.

I walk on the edge of midnight, that glorious endlessness before after dusk and just before dawn.

And I glimpse beyond.

Let them fear me.

Let them stay in their fires and storms. Let the Titans stay behind their walls and the Warlocks in their libraries.

I alone know the Void. Know the hunger and the absence, hear the whispers as I draw denial into arrow. Let them feast on Light I leave in my wake.

I alone prowl forward. I alone know the color of the shadows.

I alone stalk the night.

Let them fear me.

And let my enemies come.

[harriertail]

arc 9 title predictions. The Elders Quest. Shadow and Thunder. Lake of Secrets. Night of No Stars. Darkest Path. The Last Warrior.

[anxiously-sidequesting]

Hey so I'm curious, if y'all have ever thought about this reblog/tags/notes with your favorite spell casting sound (the little music notes/sounds that play as you cast a spell)

[sad-endings-suck]

same person different font

[bambinaax]

antfur

[onigiram]

TAGS. i didn't like the other ones asjbfjbsdjgb

[cloudichaoswarriors]

Firestar's legacy part 1. Firestar's family two generations down. I only included up until his direct grandkids. I intend to make another with the cloudtail line and the rest of his great grandchildren.

[fromshadowstostars]

8: Before the Storm, (From Shadows to Stars Series), FE3H [Ex] - IN PROGRESS

The voices were silent, he noted. Consumed with other thoughts and senses. For the first time since, he couldn't remember when, his heart, so filled with darkness and despair just moments before, was singing. It sang!  "Has anyone filled my heart with such hope?"

While Archbishop Byleth continues her affair with the King of Almyra, her husband Dimitri, the King of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, carries on in ignorance.

However, Dimitri knows something is wrong with his wife and steadily begins to uncover numerous secrets even from the homefront.

Chapter 3 is up. Read on AO3 or Scarlettpeony Writes.

[bookished]

( a collection of starters or dialogue prompts. adjust phrasing as necessary.) feel free to make edits to better suit your muse, but please don’t edit or add on to the original post <𝟑 if you like, please consider supporting me through tips

"You don’t get it, do you? Every time I walk away, the ground pulls me back toward you like I’m tethered to this place, to you!"

"I swear, even the rain mocks me, falling harder every time I try to forget you!"

"Why is it that every time I try to move on, the stars spell out your name like they’re taunting me?"

"I hate how every single flower blooms brighter when I think of you! It’s like even nature is against me!"

"I can’t stand it! Every time I get close to letting you go, the wind whispers your name, like it won’t let me forget!"

"Every time I try to bury these feelings, the earth shakes beneath my feet as if it knows what I’m doing!"

"I’ve tried to walk away a hundred times, but every shadow, every flicker of light reminds me of you. It’s like you haunt me!"

"Even the ocean keeps pulling me back to the shore where we stood. Do you know how infuriating that is? I’m drowning in memories of you!"

"Every time I close my eyes, the wind rushes in like it’s carrying your scent! I can’t escape you, even in my dreams!"

"I’ve screamed at the stars, demanded they stop reminding me of you, but they just burn brighter. They know, don’t they? They know!"

"You have no idea how much I’ve fought against this, how much I’ve tried to tear you out of my life, but even the trees whisper your name!"

"It’s like the moon itself mocks me, shining brighter whenever I think of you! It’s unbearable!"

"I hate how even the fire crackles louder when I’m angry with you, like it’s feeding on my frustration! But I can’t stop!"

"Do you know what it’s like to try and forget you, only for the rivers to murmur your name every time I pass by?"

"I curse your name every time I see the sun set, but it still paints the sky in colors that remind me of you!"

"I tried to burn the letters, the memories, but the fire wouldn’t take them! It’s like the universe won’t let me forget you!"

"Every time I get close to leaving, the stars realign, the air shifts, and it feels like the world won’t let me go!"

"You think I want to feel this way? Even the storms rise up when I try to let you go, like the sky is angry at me!"

"I’ve tried to bury it, to push you out, but even the ground beneath me trembles with your name!"

"Every time I get close to moving on, the world bends in your direction! Why can’t I escape this?"

[call-me-strega]

Dc x Dp prompt #13: Hell to Pay

They say there are only two things certain in life: death and taxes. That’s why even the Joker doesn’t fuck with the IRS.

However, unfortunately for the Joker the other certainty is death and he has yet to pay his dues. Just like how he could only get away with tax evasion for so long, there are only so many times the Joker can dodge death.

Death is coming to collect, with interest.

And the Joker will have hell to pay.

~ A dark green cloud swirls over the city. From it, emerge three oppressive figures:

The one on the far left with flowing hair like white-hot fire. His vambraces made of (what appeared to be) molten glass stopped under his fingers, which then extend into into claws that seemed to drip lava. He had spiked obsidian pauldrons on his shoulders, fastening a luminous, stark-white cape to his shoulders. He wore a coronet of lightning and wielded a flail that appeared to be made of coal chains and a shrunken Red Giant star.

The second on the far right had a helm of dark iron wreathed in a plume of purple flame. His gauntlets and sword flamed with green hellfire. A pure black sheath seemingly made of void and a silver hunting horn were tied to his waist. He wore an armor forged of shadows and proofed with fear. He rode atop a mighty stead. An inky dark stallion with a curved horn and bat-like wings. His form was constantly slightly shifting depending on the angle which you viewed him making him appear larger and more slippery than he was, enhancing his disquieting nature.

The third stood in the middle, smaller but no less terrifying than her companions. Her hair was wild with movement, only just visible because it appeared as if someone had bound the winds to her head. She wore a tiara made of storm clouds and pearls. She carried with her a spear, the shaft crafted of amazonite and the tip of a clear quartz, almost reminiscent of sea salt. At her hip lay a whip made of a restrained gale and a sea glass knife. She wore armor that appeared to be Greco-Roman in origin: a chest plate made of some sort of coral-like material and a battle skirt decorated with metallic bronze feathers.

They slowly descent on the city, bringing down a sense of power and dread. They paused at the top of Wayne Tower, where the city's vigilantes had all gathered in an attempt to create and feasible plan of action to discern what these beings want. The young woman in the middle speaks and the wind carries her voice. She is not loud but it the whole of Gotham hears her words.

"Greetings, Heroes of Gotham. It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Spirit, Princess and Head Diplomat of the Infinite Realms. This is Samhain, the Fright Knight, loyal knight to the king,” she gestured to her right before switching to her left “and this is Prince Wraith, current General in Chief of the Realms. We come to you as the King’s Guard and entourage. We have official business in your city and wish to civilly notify you of our presence. The King will be arriving shortly and your cooperation would be great fully received.”

Batman moved forward to shake her hand and address the situation.

“I’m afraid that we prefer not to have unknowns operating within the city. Would you be able to tell us what business you have here? Perhaps we could reach an agreement?” Batman tried to negotiate as politely as he could. He did not want to risk offending the evidently powerful beings.

Princess Spirit’s smile sharpened as she thrummed her finger against her knife. She spoke again with an unnervingly pleasant tone.

“It appears you do not understand. We are not asking for your permission.” Her grip around his hand tightened. “ We are informing you.” She finished releasing his hand.

Batman withdrew his aching hand and regarded her with the beginnings of a protest on his lips. She didn’t allow him to speak.

“ This is out of your jurisdiction Batman. This is a matter of the Realms and the Afterlife. Whatever worldly rules or morals you wish to impose on those who enter this city do not apply to us. We will do our best to work within them, so as to appease you and to attempt to maintain a friendly relationship but in the macrocosm of the multiverse and afterlives you have no official power over us. Additionally, we have direct permission to operate here however we see fit from the City Spirit herself, Lady Gotham.”

Batman’s shadow seemed to fluctuated. His and his team's shadows moved from beneath them, closer to the Princess. Lady Gotham, though not manifesting, was making her presence and approval known. Batman could not deny what he was seeing. His team shifted uncomfortably behind him. He appealed to her once more.

“ I see that we can’t stop you. We don’t want to get in your way either. Could you at least tell us why you are here?”

She smiled as if telling a joke, “All will be revealed in time”

Suddenly, there was a loud noise that sounded like tearing fabric. The green clouds mixed with purples and blues and began to churn faster. The cyclone emitted a flashes of bright light. In unison all three of the King’s Guard lifted up from the roof and took place underneath the eye of the wind storm.

Spirit holds her spear aloft. With one swift, commanding move she slams the butt of her spear down, creating a platform out of solidified air.

Wraith bellows out smoke and ash onto the platform to discolor it. With ferocious and precise movements his claws to carve in a sigil, leaving a soft orange glow against the black and gray.

Samhain sheathes his sword and pulls his horn from his waist. He wills his dark stead to rear up as he blows the horn, letting out one loud prolonged cry.

The three warriors stand at attention and Princess Spirit calls the winds to project her voice once more.

“ Now introducing the Ruler of the Infinite Realms, High King of the In-Between, The Great One, The Benevolent King, The Peace Maker, The Guardian of Souls, The One with the Cloak of Stars and the Crown of Frozen Light, The Perfect Balance, Ancient of Space and Reality, The Infinite King: Phantom!”

With a flash of white light a figure appear in the center of the platform. Simultaneously, the three knights bow in reverence.

The King has arrived.

As the Heroes of Gotham regain clear vision they are met with a striking figure.

There stood a toned young man appearing both boyishly young, yet wisened and weathered. He had side swept hair the creeped to the bottom of his neck. His skin was pale with an icy blue tint. He opened his eyes to reveal they shone an electric green. Upon his head rest a crown made of a crystalline material, reminiscent of an aurora. He wore a navy blue cloak that had a rich purple hood lined with stark white fur. The underside displayed a shifting galaxy pattern. His under suit was the same midnight black as Samhain’s. He donned golden arm bands and a gold chest plate in style quite similar to Spirit’s. His hand were covered in snow white gauntlets that matched Wraith’s vambraces.

They all stood in awe, beholden to the almost divine figure.

The king sent them a gentle smile. It was warm and comforting yet sent a chill down their shoulders.

King Phantom began to fly down toward the center of the city, his entourage fell into step behind him. He hovered several hundred feet over Wayne tower and looked down at the city. He then spoke in a booming voice, his tone kind but commanding.

“ I humbly greet the Lady Gotham, her champions, and her citizens,” the shadows curled toward him appreciatively. “ I am grateful for your cooperation in our effort to rectify a great injustice. As High King of the Infinite Realms it is one of my duties to preside over the afterlife. To bring guidance, peace, and justice to the souls under my jurisdiction. Recently, it has been brought to my attention that there is a soul among you who has not only dodged death, but caused great strife to a vast number of souls who call for justice.”

On the roof of Wayne Enterprises Jason and Damian both stiffen, but remain firm in their gaze toward the king. The king looks out at the city and sparing them the quickest of glances. He continues onward.

“ The man formerly know as Jack Napier, now called The Joker. He has avoided death on many an occasion but his life should have ended moment he fell into a vat of chemicals. Since then he has sent hundreds more to the afterlife. He has long yet to pay his dues. That is why on the behalf of justice, restoring balance, and of my subjects I officially condemn Jack Napier.”

“Jack Napier, you have been allowed 24 hours turn yourself into our custody in order to be put on trial for your crimes in the Infinite Realms. Should you fail to turn youself in, we shall take that as an admission of guilt and acceptance to be punished for your actions. After the 24 hours are up, Samhain shall use his horn to summon The Hunt and we shall track you down.”

His gaze passed specifically over Red Hood, one of the Oracle’s drones, Nightwing, Signal, Red Robin, and Batman before he spoke his next words.

“All those souls who have been wronged by the Joker, both living and deceased, who wish to have a hand in their justice have been invited to join The Hunt if they so choose.”

The king lifted his hand, calling the swirling green clouds to his gather in his palm. The clouds swiftly rearranged themselves into a smokey timer hanging in the sky.

An impish smirk graced King Phantom’s face as he let out a malicious laugh and gave his final decree.

“ Your time begins now!”

[hana-no-seiiki]

Hay sorry to bother you but could you please do another Gotham batfam and villains with a very powerful magical girl reader that is also shy and meek with OP power please

MOON PRISM POWER!

(romantic) yandere batfam x magical girl! reader

You never wanted this power. Nor the responsibility. Nor the the fame that came with

Unfortunately for you, the universe could be cruel at times.

It chose you—not out of kindness or fairness, but necessity. You were the only one who could bear the weight of its hopes and fears, the only one with a soul strong enough to wield such immense, unforgiving strength.

And now, as the stars burn brighter than ever before, as the shadows loom larger and darker, the choice has already been made.

You can run from it. Deny it. Curse the heavens for their indifference. But the power will remain, waiting for you to decide.

All it took was one night for the weight of it all to show

All it took was one night for the weight of it all to show. The burden you had ignored, the cracks you’d tried so desperately to hide—it all came crashing down like a tide you couldn’t hold back.

The first sign was the silence. Not the comforting kind, but a suffocating quiet that pressed against your chest, heavy and unrelenting. Then came the visions: fractured moments of a future you couldn’t understand but were certain you were meant to prevent.

And finally, the pain. Not physical, but deeper—an ache in your very soul, as if the universe itself was forcing you to feel its despair.

You tried to hold it together. Tried to tell yourself that it wasn’t your fight, that someone else—anyone else—could do it. But the truth is, no one else can.

The stars are watching. The shadows are stirring. And you… you’re caught in the center, whether you’re ready or not.

In any case! To the headcannons!

As a native Gothamite, you hated the fact that you got these flashy powers that stuck out like the sorest of thumbs amongst the dark knights and decrepit villains.

You’ve always wanted to blend in with your folks. To be a drop in the ocean. You were satisfied with that life but the ocean had other plans. It dragged you to its depths, revealing secrets you never asked for, truths you weren’t ready to face. You weren’t just a drop—you were the storm waiting to rise, the current that could change everything.

You fought against it, clinging to the life you knew. The quiet mornings. The laughter of your neighbors. The simple, mundane moments that once felt like all you’d ever need. But something inside you stirred, restless and relentless.

It whispered in your mind when you tried to sleep, tugged at your heart when you tried to forget. A pull toward something greater. Something terrifying.

You could pretend all you wanted, but deep down, you knew the truth: the life you wanted was already gone. And the one ahead? It was bigger, darker, and far more dangerous than you could ever imagine.

Damian Wayne, blood son and so called demonspawn, your opposite in all senses of the term was the first to fall into the depths of infatuation.

It wasn’t immediate, nor was it graceful. For someone raised in the shadow of assassins and forged in the fires of discipline, emotions like these were alien, unwelcome intrusions on a meticulously crafted persona. But you? You were chaos to his control, warmth to his cold calculation, and it unnerved him in ways even the deadliest adversaries couldn’t.

He hated it at first—the way his thoughts lingered on you, the way his pulse quickened when you spoke. He told himself it was a weakness, one he would crush the moment it surfaced. But no matter how hard he tried, the feelings only grew, taking root in the cracks of his ironclad walls.

Damian was no stranger to obsession, but this was different. You weren’t a target to conquer or a problem to solve. You were… light. Maddening, blinding, and completely beyond his control.

And for the first time in his life, he let himself fall. Not gracefully, not without resistance, but with the same intensity he brought to everything else—because Damian Wayne doesn’t do anything halfway.

Dick Grayson and Timothy Drake were next, both eager to find out the truth behind your identity and even more to be at your side. To bask in the light of your suffering so that they may ease their own.

For Dick, it was instinctual. He had always been drawn to broken things—not to fix them, but to share in their weight. Your quiet resilience, the way you carried your burdens without complaint (maybe because you were to meek, too weak willed to share in your thoughts and troubles), reminded him of himself in ways that frightened and intrigued him. To him, you were a mirror and a mystery, someone who made him feel seen even when you refused to be.

Tim, on the other hand, approached you like a puzzle, a thousand jagged pieces he couldn’t help but try to assemble. It wasn’t just curiosity—it was necessity. You challenged him in ways no one else did, unraveling the tightly coiled threads of his mind. He thought understanding you might help him understand himself, but somewhere along the way, it became something more. He admired the strength you tried to hide, and in his own quiet way, he wanted to protect it.

For both of them, you were a beacon—not of hope, but of something raw and unyielding, something they couldn’t turn away from. They didn’t know how to explain it, nor did they want to. All they knew was that being near you, even in your pain, made the world feel a little less cold.

Jason Todd and Bruce Wayne were the last, but certainly not the least in terms of infatuation.

For Jason, it was a storm. Fierce, chaotic, and impossible to ignore. He wasn’t one for subtleties, and his emotions had always been larger than life—rage, grief, guilt, and now this. He didn’t fall quietly; he crashed into you like a tidal wave, drawn to the fire in your eyes and the defiance in your every move. You reminded him of who he used to be, of the parts of himself he thought he’d lost in the Lazarus Pit.

But it wasn’t just admiration or connection—it was envy, too. He envied your ability to endure, to keep standing despite everything you carried. And somewhere in that envy was something tender, something he tried to deny but couldn’t help but nurture. Jason never did know how to love softly, and with you, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Bruce, however, was a different story. For him, it was quiet. Subdued. A steady ache that he refused to acknowledge, even as it consumed him. You weren’t just another person in his orbit—you were a paradox, someone who challenged his worldview while also fitting seamlessly into it. You had your own darkness, your own scars, but instead of drowning in them, you wore them like armor. Girly, sparkly and bright.

You were proof that there was strength in vulnerability, and that terrified him. Bruce Wayne, the man who had built an empire on emotional walls and calculated distance, found himself drawn to the way you refused to let the world break you. He saw in you what he always wanted to believe about himself—that the past doesn’t have to define the future.

But Bruce, as always, kept his distance. He thought it was better that way, safer for both of you. What he didn’t realize was that the more he pulled away, the more you slipped into the cracks of his carefully constructed life.

Jason was the storm. Bruce was the quiet. And you? You were the bridge between them all, the thread that tied their disparate worlds together.

Eventually these men will band together to tie you down. Keep that light of yours in a gilded cage, only for them to gaze at and maybe share with the world if they so willed.

But for now you have your freedom

cling to it.

For it will be like the life you had before,

a fleeting, fragile thing, slipping through your fingers before you even realize it’s gone.

tldr: yeah you’re f u c k e d

[keferon]

Titan LL!

Heavens, I love Titan LL.

...You know, since nobody's doing anything, I think I'll try something. Dibs!

.*.*.*.

Lost Light is named after a day of mourning.

He doesn't feel like it.

Perhaps it was a wish made upon the smallest of the youngest batch of Titans, brought online shortly before fires of revolution blazed across Cybertron and it's domains. For the mourning to be the least in the coming times. Perhaps they succeeded, but joke's on them. Lost Light may have been online through the times of grief, but grief does not touch his spark. It's another element of his surrounding, like floating rocks, clouds of solid something, solar winds, the works.

Well, for a given definition of "online", because, he, his batch and some older Titans were moored in random spots in the system, just away from Cybertron itself.

The new batch was mostly stationed in the shadows of Cybertron, in vain hopes of civil war going away quickly. But sometimes, when the fighting peaked and threatened to reach the moons, they were herded away and over to the system's edge, near the border of termination shock. There were a lot of visible stars here. And Primus, there was nothing more Lost Light liked more than those beautiful, beautiful stars.

The first Titans were sparked to carry their Cybertronian brethren beyond the embrace of their homeworld to the stars and defend them on the way. Not all Titans functioned as deep-space transport nowadays, but that was the original idea behind their frametype. Wayfarers.

And just when Lost Light started to go mad between moorings and itched to stretch his warp drive, because Primus and Unicron conspired to punish him specifically for his hubris, the Quintessons struck.

And Titans of Cybertron, eternal guardians they are, stood as the first line. While the little ones below scrambled around and got their priorities and slag-all in order, they stood. And together they withstood successfully. Neither Cybertron nor any planet in it's system fell to the Quintessons. It was not a clean victory, and Quints broke the lines to land incursions, but the Titans weathered enough that the little ones on the grounds were not overwhelmed. They endured the first of storms.

In the end of the beginning, the home system was safe, the civil war was over, and the Titans under the newly united Cybertronian High Command were partially reassigned to the outer fronts.

Now, Lost Light is a tiny Titan. An unusually tiny Titan by Titan standarts. He heard it was because there was a mix-up of vessels for reforging into Titanframes, and his was made from a late shipment two classes below specification.

His largest configuration houses in theory a thousand crewmembers. He prefers his smallest, which should hold above a dozen, but he does not have even a dozen of a crew anyway. He is still a Titan, and can comfortably rip into one, two, three Quint ships, but he cannot withstand a dozen, and Primus below, Quint ships in outer space come in waves and swarm like the squids they are. Instead, in this war he does he does best of what he does - he runs. He is small, his warp drives and bridge generators are the best among his batchmates, and he is fast. So he runs.

There's no Quint blockade that can stop him. Perhaps his cargo hold is not the largest, but if he is given a delivery, he will deliver it as soon as possible, come Pit or high tides. There's no escort craft that can keep up with him (and let's be honest, they are already understaffed enough that they simply can't find proper escort for his size), so he runs alone. If the Prime himself needs an express delivery, Lost Light is the Titan for the job.

He sees a lot of stars on his runs. He is pretty sure some of them are at least unclaimed, and some may be uncharted at all, so he marks them all on his maps. For later! Once the war ends, the beautiful, beautiful stars are his! He amasses a lot of maps, colors and marks them in the brightest hues his software comes with.

And some little ones even ask after the maps. Not like he hides them or something.

So, when the Prime calls, he comes.

Prime waits for him in the hanger personally. Together with the usual retinue, very much less usual very large pile of maps, boards and documents, a Perceptor hidden behind the pile of stuff (Xanthium talks about her favorite gunner a lot, when they have time to catch up), some twitchy engineer and his frequent passenger of express ferry Head Tactician Prowl.

Who has something very tiny enthusiastically crawling on him. Something so tiny, he has to recalibrate his inner and outer sensors for recordicon contact. His optics were hit in bot mode by rocks larger! Which were sometimes crawling with assorted space crustaceans! Come to think of it, thos crustaceans moved similarly...

And, because he is better at acceleration than braking, first thing Lost Light does is voice this observation.

"Prowl, sir, you've got crabs"

...

That was a start of a wonderful working relationship. Once they calm the tiny organic down from laughing, that is. It's name is Jazz, and it needs a ride home. Home which is besieged by Quintessons, and likely is near a fortified outpost, if not a starbase.

Strictly speaking, usually Titans are kept apart from organics, because they are usually very small, and tend to rot and fossilize. But since Lost Light is also very small, he got a direct invitation to an organic planet and immediately engaged his internal environmental system to produce enough oxygen. This is a chance of a lifetime!

Which brings him to his current... Problem?

The thing is, Jazz apparently has comrades. They pilot simulacrum frames specialized in Quint killing, which is very much respectable. And Lost Light's alt-mode's hangar bay may be a little tight in this configuration, but still compatible with them.

The issue is, one of those simulacrums which Lost Light got to shelter, a pleasantly painted one (flame patterns are always in vogue! No matter what anybody says!), appears to have broken down. Which made the organic inside very upset. At least he thinks it's upset, he is not very good at reading organics. Those "humans" do have fields, but they are very dull in comparison to Cybertronian ones.

The little organic with great taste is shouting what appears to be obscenities at unresponsive frame and alternates this with begging. Lost Light is floundering in his processor. The organic performs some indecipherable actions towards a fuel line of some sort with a tiny wrench. He's been at it for hours. None of the others from Jazz's makeshift warband returned yet.

This means Lost Light is responsible as the hosting Titan. Lost Light is usually alone. He does not quite know how to host other Cybertronians for prolonged periods of time, let alone organics. He hopes he maintains a nice oxygenated atmosphere.

He cannot watch this anymore. He has to gather all his confidence in his circuits and do something. Like talk to an organic without Prowl or the twitchy engineer (Swear? Swole? Swire? Swalter?) present. And, well, he'll figure how to decelerate later!

"Little one, do you require any assistance? I do have an internal welder somewhere..."

The organic startles, almost falling from it's precarious perch at the simulacrum's locked elbow joint, catches itself in time, and glances around. Then it glances up. And around again.

"I haven't hit my head that hard, yes? Is there someone here?"

"Well, yes? I mean no offence, but you're inside me"

Silence answers him, quickly broken by laughter. He remembers Jazz laughing. It is a similar laugh. He thinks he likes this laugh more.

"Well, I did not expect the ship to be speaking too. I really should not be surprised after this whole month"

At least the organic isn't despairing anymore? Lost Light thinks he can see a smile on it's face if he strains the camera.

"Technically, I'm a Titan. I'm a ship in the same way Deadlock is a,,, what you call small ground vehicle... Car? If I want to, I can be a building."

"Wait, but if you're the ship... How big do you guys come?!"

"Very. Now, little one, do you want my welder or not?"

Another wave of laughter follows.

"I do have a name!"

"You did not introduce myself"

"Cheeky. And yet, you did not introduce yourself either, big ship"

"My designation is Lost Light, and I'm the best Titan Courier this side of the galaxy"

The organic seems to finally locate his internal camera and so it points at it with it tiny wrench. Lost Light thinks it likes it's smile too.

"Well, nice to meet'cha, Lost Light. Name's Hot Rod. Now, about that welder..."

Lost Light rummages in his inventory for his favorite welder, mountable on a cargo manipulator. It is surprisingly elusive.

"I have it, I have it.... somewhere. It's been a long time since I patched up myself."

"...You patch yourself up often?"

"Nowadays not much, I'm a very good runner, and... Aha! There it is!"

Hot Rod look very, very happy to see the welder-wielding cargo manipulator. He is so much smaller than the tiniest little ones he carried. He reminds Lost Light of something that escapes his processor.

"Thanks, big ship. I hate ruptured lines. God knows when Ratch and that Swerve guy will be back"

"I'm not that big, you know. And I'm glad to be of assistance"

Despite pointed critique from the organic called Ratchet later on, Lost Light considers his skills with a welder in his internal cargo manipulator arms to be above average.

Hot Rod thinks so too, and ire of a medic shared is misery halved in Lost Light's books.

And then it hits him.

He reminds Lost Light of those beautiful, beautiful distant stars.

Lost Light prepares a very tiny datapad for a very big map.

.*.*.*.

...And here it is. I got possessed. Guest-starring my basic knowledge of astrophysics and bad jokes.

OOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHH I LOVE THIS TAKE ON THEM SO MUCH

[weebslawyer]

Il Capitano x reader (!fem !wife)

ANGST (based on the last AQ more or less)

AN: please excuse any grammar mistakes, English isn't my first language and I worte all this at 3am with blurry vision 😭

Words count: 1716

For five centuries, you had traversed the shifting sands of time, a quiet sentinel to the rise and fall of nations, the birth and ruin of dreams. The world flowed around you like a ceaseless river, its current reshaping mountains and cities, but you remained a stone beneath the surface—weathered, unyielding. Your soul had become a vast archive of echoes: the laughter of lovers turned to dust, the roar of battles etched in crimson, the whisper of civilizations swallowed by the maw of eternity. To endure beyond the reach of decay was not a triumph; it was a symphony played too long, a dance that outlived its music.

Beneath the shifting constellations, you stood as a paradox—unchanged as the stars rearranged their myths above him, eternal yet burdened with the ache of transient beauty. Eternity was not the gift poets promised, it was a weight that bent the very core of his being, a mirror reflecting centuries of loss. He bore it all—the unbearable light, the endless air thick with memory—not as a choice, but as a truth. You were the keeper of an unbroken vigil, a shadow in the unending dawn, a solitary defiance against time’s relentless march.

That's what you were.

Five hundred years passed since the fall of Khaenri'ah. The land still whispered its lament. Blackened spires clawed at the heavens, their jagged silhouettes etched against a sky that had long since forgotten the stars that once guided your people. The cursed earth beneath your feet bore the scars of divine wrath, its once-thriving beauty now a wasteland of sorrow and silence.

Five hundred years since the world forgot the name of your husband, now known as Capitano. Five hundred years since you fought alongside him for a better world, for the sake of Khaenri'ah people, for the safety of the royal family. Five hundred years since you were round and glowing with his children, their essence long gone now, their bodies dust in wind, the only remains are the little stones you created out of what was left, hidden and stored away. Five hundred years since you last touched your husbands soft, yet scared skin, a symbol of all the fights he has been through, always a champion, and formidable warrior. Five hundred years since you saw the face of the man you love so dearly. A man hunted by his past, a man hunted by his mistakes, his regrets. He was a strong man, and you knew that. He knew that. But yet, all you could do was to wrap your arms around him from behind, a simple gesture to show him that you are there, no matter what, no matter where his choices lead him. His hands always finding yours. The wedding ring, still shining on his finger, matching yours, triumphing over the pass of time, the countless battles. You were always there when he was reminiscing of that kingdom, a fragment of its lost glory, cursed with eternal life but stripped of everything that made life worth living. In his eyes burned the memory of the golden halls of old Khaenri'ah, now reduced to ash, and the faces of those he had loved, now shadows haunting his immortal heart.

Yet somehow, after the passing of time, of challenges, of loss and grief, it was only you and him, him and you.

You were a storm wrapped in flesh, the fire to Capitano’s shadow, a presence as unyielding as the steel of his blade. Where others faltered in fear before his masked visage, you met him with unwavering resolve, your eyes a mirror of his endless determination. From the blood-stained fields of battle to the silent corridors of treachery, you had walked beside him—not as a fragile tether to humanity, but as an anchor that steadied him in the tumult of his unrelenting duty.

You had seen him rise, a towering force among mortals, his loyalty bound not by sentiment but by a fierce, unshakable will. When the world turned against him, branding him a monster, you stood defiant at his side, your voice sharp as any blade, declaring his truth to a world deaf to honor.

In the quiet moments between wars and commands, you were the calm that soothed the tempest within him. You traced the edges of his mask with your fingers as if memorizing the unseen face beneath, whispering truths only he would hear. "You are not alone," you would tell him, her words a shield against the abyss of his solitude.

Through victories and losses, betrayals and triumphs, you remained. Even as the Harbingers gathered their might and the skies darkened with the weight of impending fate, you presence was his unspoken strength. You were not merely his wife but his equal, a force as indomitable as the tides, as eternal as the stars.

In you, Capitano found not just a partner but a reflection of his own relentless spirit—a reminder that even in the cold, merciless march of duty, there could still be warmth, still be love. Together, you were an unstoppable force, your bond a defiance of the world’s cruelty, your story a testament to the power of loyalty, love, and unyielding resolve, but no one will be able to learn about it.

The battlefield was eerily silent when the news reached you—a silence that followed the storm, a silence that mocked your fury. Capitano was gone. The unyielding tower of strength, your shield, your partner through centuries of unrelenting trials, had fallen.

Your breath hitched, with sorrow, but also with a rage so fierce it burned away any tears before they could form. They dared to take him from you.They dared to strike down the one constant in your life, the man who had fought against gods and monsters, who had endured a world that sought to crush him, and who had always returned to you.

You stood on the precipice of the world’s madness, your grief transforming into an inferno that would consume anything in its path. The stars themselves seemed to tremble as your voice split the air, a cry of mourning and of war. A war so painful yet so devastating on your soul.

"Capitano," you whispered, your hands trembling as you looked at him, sitting on a throne that held no king, but a throne that held your lover, the man of men, the warrior of all warriors, the man that long ago was holding your children

"I swore I would stand with you through everything. And now, even in death, I will not abandon you." You said as you slowly approached his lifeless body.

You slowly crawled closer to him, pain eating your soul alive, seeing him like this destroying you. You made your way on his lap, a place where you always find comfort through storms and angry thunders, but this time his arms couldn't comfort you anymore, they couldn't wrap around you anymore, soothe you again. You could hear his weak breathes, a body who's soul long left. You looked at him while your tears where washing your face, not seeming to stop soon. Your trembling hands reached to pull his mask off, to see the man. To see your husband. To see the man that promised you eternity.

"You were my strength" you murmured into the night, your voice a steel-edged whisper. "Now I will be yours."

You spoke softly, even if the tears in your eyes made everything so hard to see. You put his mask on your lap, so now your hands can touch his face, feel the cold skin against your fingers. Your touch so gentle, not wanting to hurt him even in death. You took in every detail, like he will vanish the second you close your eyes.

"You promised me I won't lose you too. Not after everything, my love. Not like this." You whispered biting your lip, before speaking again "I don't know if you will ever hear me, if you are even around like a stray ghost, but I promise we will meet again soon. I will hold you again, kiss you, and love you all over again in the afterlife. Just don't forget me until then, my brave warrior. Oh my love, my peace, my place, my forever. This time be my light through the darkness" you said, kissing his cheeks, his forehead, and his lips one last time, cradling at his chest, being close to him like that, your mind slowly calming down, remembering all the comfortable moments like that, where being in his arms and presence where the only moments of peace in your life.

You spend days like this, not moving in the slightest from his lap. Moving away from him would feel like a divorce. But slowly, beside the immense pain that threatened to rip your heart out, anger started to settle in. Was his sacrifice necessary? Was there anyone to even pretent his heroic act? Why did death consider now that it's time for Capitano to join him and leave you here all alone? You had all those thoughts, crying and breaking down every time you remembered where you were. Pain consuming you hole, whispering to take your revenge, to destroy whoever did that, to hunt down everyone who let this happen.

Your fury was a thing of legend, a tempest that dwarfed even the wrath of gods. You would not rest until you knew the truth of his fall, until the blood of those responsible stained the earth beneath your feet. The Harbingers would hear your fury, the Archons would feel your wrath, and the heavens themselves would tremble beneath your rage. They took every from you, they took the melody that lingers in the chords of your soul, his name the refrain in your heart that keeps singing.

And unfortunately, your vengeance was not reckless, it was calculated, cold, and precise. Every step you took was deliberate, every strike a tribute to the man who had fought for a world unworthy of him. You would burn the skies and sunder the earth if it meant avenging him. For you, love was not a gentle thing, and your anger, born of loss, would not be silenced until the scales of justice were balanced—until those who had taken him paid in kind.

[phantomwithbreakfast]

~ Danny Phantom ~

“What does it feel like? To be terrified of yourself—of what you are becoming? The future looms not like an open road but a trap, a dark inevitability. You’re not waiting for it, not watching for it. You’re running. Trying to ignore the whispers in your head, lying to yourself that it’s fine, that it’ll always be fine.”

When the sun goes under the line called a horizon, the night sky comes to life. A silvery moon’s light bathing the eerie glow of an aura, catching the shadow out of the black.

The darkness surrounded him, with little sparks of hope. Stars that couldn’t catch him, neither he could catch.

His veins flowing with cold fire, tingling skin feeling intangible. A mind that’s filled with hollow, yet spiraling in chaos. Split into divergent, until down and dusk.

Why are you doing this to me? You leave me standing here, can’t you see. I was lost in your eyes, this was never meant to arise. You were my hero, always to be. But now you’ve vanished, you’re no longer with me.

We tried to carry on, but it wasn’t right. Forever burned in memory, like a song in the night.

Why does this hurt, hurt so much. It was never meant to be, as such. You gave me strength to stand alone, but now I cry when I’m on my own. Drowning inside, lost in a sea, why are you doing this to me? It makes me weak, a strange kind of ache, you’ll never understand the pain I take.

The memories keep running on, of how it used to be, before you were gone. The hero you were is no longer here, you flew away, so light, like a feather near. Don’t do this to me, please come back.

I still wonder why it had to be this way, so much potential, yet it all went astray. You went a different path, never to be seen, this wasn’t meant to happen, it was too obscene.

It lingers like a song, etched in my mind, it should have brought us joy, a love so kind. Like a song, will you ever return?

When will you be here again? I miss you more with every grain. Forever chained within my heart, I bring you to life through every art. In my memory, you’ll always remain, and beside you, I’ll forever stand.

“I want to cry, I want to scream, but I can’t. I mustn’t.”

The storm raged on, tearing through the night. Shadows of fear and regret clung to her like chains.

“Take my hand,” Danny said, his voice calm, cutting through the chaos.

“Why? So you can watch me crumble? So I can drag you down with me?”

His eyes softened, but his hand never wavered. “If you crumble, I’ll catch you, I’ll follow. Just trust me.”

“You… don’t understand.”

“I don’t need to understand,” he said softly. “I’ll carry you, no matter what happens, I’ll never let you fall.”

Slowly and with a trembling hand, she reached for him. Their fingers met, and his grip was strong, cold but alive—everything she thought she’d lost.

The chaos began to still, and she felt the faint echo of something she thought was gone.

Hope.

Those were random texts I wrote through the years of my own existence.

———————

You can read my Phan Fics on FanFiction.net. PhantomWithBreakfast

———————

Note to myself again…

About the drawings, I was just playing (practicing) with lighting, shading, etc…

Expressions, mouths... Yeah, still working on that. I was too lazy to shade the hair, lol.

Still hate drawing hands.

And the funny thing is, just because I’m drawing every day, I’ll always find new ways to try to improve my art (duh). Because I’m never happy when I’ve ‘finished’ one.

[bpdbeehive]

I made a list of every single Greek god ever

Keep in mind some of these may be different from what you know because they have multiple different stories

Eros- god of love, passion, and fertility

Tartarus- god of darkest part in the underworld

Thalassa- goddess of the sea

Phanes- god of creation, new life, procreation, fertility, and light

Caligine- goddess of creation

Gaia- goddess of earth

Erebus- god of darkness and shadows

Nyx- goddess of night and darkness

Pontus- god of the seas

Hydros- god of water

Uranas- god of the heavens and sky

Achlys- goddess of the death-mist, misery, sadness, and deadly poisons

Aether- god of light and the upper sky

Ananke- goddess of inevitability, compulsion, and necessity

Chaos- god of the void

Cronus- god of time, fate, justice, and harvest

Caelus- god of the sky

Coeus- god of the North, intelligence, and resolve

Hemera- goddess of daylight

Hypnos- god of sleep

Nemesis- goddess of vengeance, retribution, and rightful fate

Thalassa- goddess of sea

Rhea- goddess of motherhood, fertility, childbirth, comfort, and good living

Oceanus- god of freshwater

Tethys- goddess of fresh water and nursing mothers

Hyperion- god of heavenly light and watchfulness

Theia- goddess of sight and vision

Lapetus- god of mortal life

Crius- god of constellations, stars, and the south

Phoebe- goddess of intellect, prophecy, and the moon

Themis- goddess of justice, law, order, and divine will

Iris- goddess of rainbows

Mnemosyne- goddess of memory

Zues- god of sky, weather, thunder, lightning, and law and order

Demeter- goddess of the harvest, agriculture, and fertility of the earth

Poseidon- god of sea, storms, earthquakes, and horses

Hades- god of the underworld and the dead

Hera- goddess of women, marriage, family, and childbirth

Apollo- god of sun and light, poetry, healing and disease, justice, archery, music and dance, prophecy and truth

Artemis- goddess of hunting, wild animals, and the wilderness

Aphrodite- goddess of beauty and passion

Ares- god of war and courage

Hephaestus- fire, volcanoes, blacksmithing, metalworking, craftsmanship, sculpture, forges, and metallurgy

Hermes- God of wealth, trade, thieves, and travelers

Athena- goddess of wisdom and strategic warfare

Dionysus- god of wine, festivity, and theater

Hestia- goddess of domestic life, home, and hearth

Hecate- goddess of magic and necromancy

Aeolus- god of the wind

Asclepius- god of medicine and healing

Eris- god of discord, jealousy, and strife

Pan- god of the wild, shepherds, flocks, rustic music, fertility, spring, and theatrical criticism

Eileithyia- goddess of childbirth, birth pains, and midwifery

Enyos- goddess of war, violence, and bloodshed

Evrynomi- water meadows, fertility, and pasturelands

Psyche- goddess of the soul

Hedone- goddess of pleasure, enjoyment, and delight

Dolos- god of trickery, cunning deception, craftiness, guile, and treachery

Senectus- god of old age

Oizys- goddess of misery, grief, anxiety, and depression

Moros- god of doom

Momus- god of satire and mockery

Tmolus- god of Mount Tmolus

Nereus- god of the sea

Phorcys- god of the sea and the hidden dangers that lurk beneath the waves

Ceto- goddess of sea monsters and other marine life

Eurybia- goddess of power over, and mastery of, the sea

Eurus- god of the east or southeast wind, fall, and storms

Aergia- goddess of laziness, idleness, sloth, and indolence

Eos- goddess of dawn

Astraea- goddess of justice, innocence, purity, precision

Boreas- god of the north wind, winter, storms, ice, snow, and cold

Chione- goddess of snow

Orithyia- goddess of cold mountain winds

Zephyrus- god of West wind

Notos- god of South wind

Euros- god of East wind

Hesperos- god of the evening and the evening star

Morpheus- god of dreams and nightmares

Pasithea- goddess of relaxation and rest

Icelus- god of nightmares

Phantasus- god of dreams that feature inanimate objects

Aigaion- god of violent sea storms

Achelous- god of fresh water

Alpheus- god of the Peloponnese

Clymene- goddess of fame and renown

Eurynome- goddess of water meadows, fertility, and pasturelands

Idyia- goddess of knowledge

Metis- goddess of wisdom and cunning strategies

Styx- goddess of oaths and the River Styx

Helios- god of the sun

Selene- goddess of the moon

Atlas- god of strength, endurance, astronomy, and navigation

Prometheus- god of fire, forethought, and crafty counsel

Astraeus- god of astrology and stars

Pallas- god of witchcraft

Zelus- god of dedication, emulation, eager rivalry, envy, jealousy, and zeal

Nike- goddess of victory

Via- goddess of force and power

Perses- god of destruction

Asteria- goddess of falling stars, nocturnal divination, and the connection between the heavens and the earth

Leto- goddess of motherhood, childbirth, modesty, and fertility

Eirene- goddess of peace

Dike- goddess of fair judgment and law

Persephone- goddess of grain and agriculture

Alatheia- goddess of truth

Asopos- god of the river Asopos

Ate- goddess of blind folly and ruin

Britomartis- goddess of hunting and fishing

Elieithyia- goddess of childbirth

Eirene- goddess of peace

Ersa- goddess of the dew

Eunomia- goddess of good governance

Harmonia- goddess of harmony

Hebe- goddess of youth

Hephaistos- god of smiths

Eunomia- goddess of law, governance, and good order

Kairos- god of opportunity

Aglaia- goddess of beauty, splendor, glory, magnificence, adornment, good health, and the glow of good health

Lakhesis- goddess of life and fate

Phasis- god of the river Phasis

Despoine- goddess of certain Arkadian Mysteries

Macaria- goddess of a "blessed" death

Melinoe- goddess of ghosts, nightmares, and propitiation

Zagreus- god of rebirth

Ploutos- god of wealth, riches, and abundance

Albion- god of the sea

Tilphousia- goddess of vengeance and justice

Phobos- god of fear, panic, flight, and rout

Pothos- god of sexual longing, desire, and yearning

Anteros- god of reciprocal love

Himeros- god of sexual desire and unrequited love

Hermaphroditus- god of effeminacy, androgeny, and hermaphroditism

Rhodos- goddess and personification of the island of Rhodes

Priapus- god of fertility

Erichthonius- goddess of earth

Tyche- goddess of fortune, luck, prosperity, chance, and fate

Horkos- god of oaths and the curse that befalls those who break them

Epione- goddess of soothing pain

Hygieia- goddess of hygiene and cleanliness

Panacea- goddess of universal remedy

Aceso- goddess of healing and wounds

Iaso- goddess of recuperation from sickness

Machaon- god of surgeons

Pandia- goddess of the full moon, dew, and youth

Telesphoros- god of recuperation

Enyalius- god of soldiers and warriors

Phosphorus- god of the planet Venus when it appears as the morning star

Triton- god of the sea

Carpus- god of fruit

Bia- goddess of force, power, might, bodily strength, and compulsion

Narcissus- god of vanity

Cephissus- god of the Cephissus river

Ismenus- god of the river of the same name

Eucleia- goddess of good repute, glory, and honor

Eupheme- goddess of good omen, praise, and acclamation

Euthenia- goddess of prosperity, abundance, and plenty

Philophrosyne- goddess of friendliness, welcome, and kindness

Euphrosyne- goddess of joy, good cheer, mirth, and merriment

Hephaestus- god of artisans, blacksmiths, carpenters, craftsmen, fire, metallurgy, metalworking, sculpture and volcanoes

Delphin- god of Dolphins

Aristaeus- god of beekeeping, cheesemaking, olive growing, and hunting

Electryone- goddess of the sun and morning

Circe- goddess of magic

Silenus- god of forests, wine-making, and drunkenness

Triptolemus- god of agriculture

Lyssa- goddess of rage, fury, and rabies

Soteria- goddess of safety, salvation, deliverance, and protection from harm

Leucothea- goddess of hope

Palaemon- god of harbors and sharks

Pasiphae- goddess of witchcraft and sorcery

Perses- god of destruction and peace

Phaunos- god of the forest

Maron- god of Maroneia

Astraeus- god of stars and planets

Limos- goddess of famine, starvation, and hunger

Benthesikyme- goddess of ocean waves

Amphitrite- goddess of the sea

Kymopoleia- goddess of violent sea storms and storm waves

[sxcretricciardo]

The Monster They Never Saw Coming

The paddock was unusually quiet as you sat in the corner of the Red Bull garage, helmet resting on your lap. You could hear the distant hum of engines and the chatter of engineers, but none of it really penetrated the storm brewing in your mind. It was race weekend, and you were steeling yourself for battle, but not just against the other drivers—against the weight of the past, something you carried with you to every race.

Max’s voice broke through your thoughts, soft and careful. “You alright?”

You looked up at him, his eyes filled with concern. Max Verstappen, the man the world called a monster—the driver with ice in his veins and fire in his heart. He understood. Maybe more than anyone else ever could.

“I’m fine,” you lied, offering a small smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

He frowned but didn’t press. He knew when to leave it, just like you did when he clammed up, the memories of his own childhood surfacing at the worst times. The two of you shared more than just a competitive spirit—you shared scars, the kind that weren’t visible but ached nonetheless.

---

You hadn’t always been the tough, unshakeable driver they knew today. Once, you’d been a little girl with dreams far too big for the small karting world you came from. Like Max, your childhood had been brutal, molded by a father who had seen potential in you and then used it as an excuse to break you down, piece by piece.

You could still remember the worst of it—the day that defined everything. It was a small karting championship, one of the many you raced in. You had been pushing yourself, heart pounding, hands aching on the steering wheel, but something was off. Maybe it was the nerves, or maybe it was the pressure of your father’s expectations. Either way, you finished second, and it wasn’t good enough. Not for him.

After the race, he didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. His silence was louder than any insult he could’ve hurled. You followed him to the car, your heart pounding in your chest, waiting for the inevitable lecture, but instead, he got in and drove off. Without you.

You had stood there for what felt like an eternity, disbelief and shame washing over you. The karting track was in the middle of nowhere, and your home? Almost 20 miles away. But you knew what this was—another one of his punishments. Another way to make you feel like you weren’t good enough.

So, you walked.

The sun had dipped low in the sky as you trudged along the side of the road, the weight of your helmet in your hands, tears you refused to let fall burning behind your eyes. You were 14. Just a kid. But there was no room for softness in your father’s world. He had one goal: to make you the best, even if it meant breaking you in the process.

By the time you made it home, feet blistered and body exhausted, the rage had taken root. Not just at him, but at yourself. You’d vowed then and there that you would never lose again. Not for him, but for you. You would be the best—untouchable, unbeatable.

They called Max the monster that Jos Verstappen created. But they hadn’t seen the monster your father had made you into.

---

As the years passed, you climbed the ranks of motorsport, from karting to single-seaters and eventually into Formula 1. You didn’t just survive; you thrived. Every race, every lap was another chance to prove that you were more than what he’d tried to make you believe. You weren’t just good—you were unstoppable. And yet, no matter how many races you won, how many records you shattered, the shadow of your past lingered.

It was during those lonely years in F2 when you first met Max. He was a rising star in F1, already turning heads with his aggressive driving style and his unrelenting determination. You’d crossed paths at a karting event, a rare break in your racing schedules. You hadn’t expected much from the interaction, but there was something about him—something familiar in the way he carried himself.

It wasn’t long before you learned why.

Max’s father had been just as brutal, just as relentless. Jos had pushed him to the edge, forced him to harden himself into the fearless competitor he was now. But while the world saw only the sharp edges, you saw the cracks, the places where the pressure had left scars.

It was strange, how quickly you two had connected. Two broken souls who understood each other in ways no one else could. You weren’t the type to let people in easily—neither was he—but somehow, it just worked. You could sit in silence, the weight of your unspoken pasts hanging between you, or you could talk for hours, venting about the fathers who had shaped you into the fighters you were.

“I’m never going to treat my kids the way he treated me,” Max had once said, the two of you lying in bed after a long day. His voice had been quiet, but there was a steel beneath the words. “I won’t do it.”

You had looked over at him, understanding completely. “Me neither. I don’t care how good he thought it made me. It’s not worth it.”

Max had turned to you then, his hand reaching out to brush a stray hair from your face. “We’re not them. We’ll never be them.”

---

Now, sitting in the garage, you could feel the familiar churn of emotions bubbling to the surface. Race days always did this to you—stirred up memories you’d rather forget. But that was the price you paid for being here. You couldn’t escape the past, no matter how fast you drove.

Max crouched in front of you, his eyes searching yours. “Hey,” he said softly, pulling you from your thoughts. “You’ve got this. You always do.”

You let out a breath, nodding. “I know.”

But he wasn’t convinced. “What’s going on?”

For a moment, you hesitated, but then the words tumbled out. “I was just thinking about… him. My dad.”

Max’s jaw tightened. He knew the stories, knew the way your father had treated you. It made him angry, the same way it made you angry when he talked about Jos.

“He’s not here,” Max said firmly. “He doesn’t get to control you anymore.”

You nodded, knowing he was right but still feeling the weight of it all pressing down on you. Max stood, holding out his hand to you. “Come on. Let’s go for a walk.”

The two of you wandered through the paddock, the tension easing with each step. You didn’t need to say much—just being with him was enough to remind you that you weren’t alone in this. You had each other, and no matter what happened on the track, you knew that you were more than the monsters your fathers had tried to create.

As you approached the starting grid, Max squeezed your hand. “We’ll show them,” he said, a small smile playing on his lips. “We’ll show them that we’re better than they ever were.”

You nodded, the fire in your chest reigniting. “Yeah,” you agreed. “We will.”

And with that, you strapped on your helmet, climbed into your car, and prepared to unleash the beast they’d never seen coming.