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jgracie · 5 months

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⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ SPEED DRIVE!

↳ part two!

ferrari driver!percy jackson x fem!reader

masterlist | rules

warnings one swear word!

on the radio . . . speed drive (charlie xcx)

percy knew it was a bad idea leaving his house without at least a pair of sunglasses to conceal his identity. he was craving cookie dough ice cream, the grocery store wasn’t too far away and it was the middle of the night - who would possibly recognise him at a time like this?

the answer is many people. while percy did love his loyal fans, both tifosi and others, even he had to admit they were a little crazy. all it took was for one to snap a photo and post it on twitter and the rest seemed to immediately spawn all around him

“percy, is it true that luke might lose his seat next year?” he heard one voice say as he attempted to weave through the thick crowd of people. why couldn’t he have one second of peace? unfortunately, percy had made another awful decision that night - walking to the grocery store

this left ferrari’s golden boy with two options: either tough out the wall home with fans and paparazzi alike swarming him, or find someone who was willing to drive him home. with cars on the street in front of him were stationery thanks to the red light, percy made his decision

he bolted for the first one that caught his eye, a car that was small, (ironically) bright red and most importantly had an open roof. percy also had to admit the driver was kind of pretty, at least from what he could see from that far away

the light turned yellow and you prepared yourself to continue driving. you’d only recently gotten your drivers license and this was your first time driving without someone more experienced with you in the car, so you were just praying to end up at your apartment in one piece

just as the light became green and you began to drive, some random guy jumped into the passenger seat of your car, causing your heart rate to increase dramatically and your foot to immediately press on the brakes - out of shock or fear (or both), you weren’t sure

“drive!” he nearly yelled at you. you just stared at him, your mouth agape. it was way too late at night for this. at your state, percy huffed and leaned over to the wheel, beginning to steer for you

this snapped you out of the daze you were in and you slapped his hands away, your brows furrowing in anger as you drove, “who the fuck are you and what do you think you’re doing in my car? i’m pulling over right now, you need to get out.”

“no, please, i promise i didn’t mean any harm! can you just drop me off at my house?” he asked. you didn’t need to look at him to know he was incredibly desperate. who was this guy? as you recalled his face from when he first got into your car, you realised he did look a little familiar, but you still couldn’t figure out his identity

at your silence, percy continued, “i’ll do anything, do you like car racing? i can get you tickets for that!”

okay, so he was rich rich. you didn’t know the first thing about racing, but one of your friends was obsessed with formula one. specifically, a driver called peter jameson (or something along those lines). still, you rolled your eyes at his offer, disliking the way he attempted to bribe you

“no, it’s fine, you don’t have to do anything. where do you live?”

after percy told you his address, the car ride was silent. neither of you knew what to say to the other. you were still shaken by his sudden appearance, and percy was trying to conceal the blush that coated his cheeks. he was right, you were beautiful. the moon made your skin glow and your eyes brighter. from the death grip you had on the wheel, percy could tell you were new at driving. cute

“thanks a lot, you have absolutely no idea how much you helped me tonight,” percy said as he got out of your car. part of you was a little sad to see him go. sure, he freaked you out, but something about him was magnetic - maybe it was those sea green eyes that put all of poseidon’s oceans to shame, or the light dusting of freckles you hadn’t noticed until now

giving him a small smile, you said, “you’re welcome. have a good night.” you stayed for a little and watched as he entered his home, a bittersweet feeling tugging at your heart

once you’d gotten home, you noticed he’d left something on the passenger seat. a strip of paper with a line of messily scrawled numbers lay on the leather

call me. (917) 173-1839 — PJ

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson #percy jackson x fem reader #pjo #pjo x reader #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson blurb #f1 driver pjo #f1 driver percy jackson #f1 driver percy jackson x reader #cynwrites

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idesofrevolution · 3 months

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Cult of Personality

The blistering New Mexico heat bared down on Douglas' '99 Chevrolet Cavalier. The small blue coupe meandered up I-25, enroute from Las Cruces to Santa Fe. The old man quietly sighed to himself, fruitlessly trying to think of a better pitch to sell his Solar Panels to the rich folks up in Albuquerque. Las Cruces ended up being a bust, just as much as Tucson: the damn things were just too expensive up front. Not that the company gave a single damn, quotas are quotas. Thus, still empty handed, he passed the exit sign for Socorro- still an hour until he'd reach his destination.

As he passed the exit, he noticed a bright red glint a bit further up the road. Douglas adjusted his glasses, squinting his eyes to see. He slowed down on the empty highway as the sight became clearer. It was a car. In fact, it was a bright red '67 Mustang; it's owner leaned on the hood as black smoke bellowed from the tailpipe. Douglas looked down at his watch, knowing fully well that he needed to be in Albuquerque before sundown. Though, as he approached the broken down muscle car, the sweltering heat of the Chihuahuan Desert at high noon would be a killer. The young man leaning on the car turned his head, not even sweating a single drop, and stared blankfaced at Douglas as he pulled up.

Douglas hit the brakes, stopping his car right alongside the young man. He strode up to the old man's car, leaning in and resting his elbows onto window ledge. His stoic expression slowly melted into a wide grin, licking his lips before he spoke.

"You headed toward Albuquerque?" A thick Texan accent flowed from the man's lips, his dark brown eyes nearly black even in the blinding light of the sun. Douglas felt an odd twinge of nervousness as the grinning young man casually smiled; it felt off. Behind that handsome visage, something was brewing within.

"I'm headed to Santa Fe, but I can call you a mechanic from Socorro, he'd be here in a jiffy!" The young man's smile didn't fade, he simply shook his head 'no.'

"Phone's got no service out here, brother. I sure would appreciate a ride. It's just a mile or so up the road." He turned, pointing down the seemingly endless highway. Before Douglas could deny the young man his request, the hitchhiker leaned in closely. It may have been the heat, or it may have been his exhaustion, but for no more than two seconds, he thought he'd heard whispers blowing in the wind. Douglas said nothing, and the young man's grin grew wider. "Thank you, brother. I'll hop in the back."

As he strode back to his car, grabbing a duffel bag from the trunk of his car, Douglas wanted to slam on the gas and blitz out of there. An air of menace surrounded this man, despite his magnetic charisma; yet his foot did not press down on the pedal. The passenger side door opened, as the man hopped into the back seat of his coupe. Too late. The door slammed by itself, evidently thanks to a gust of wind he neither felt nor heard. He pulled the car out of park, and off the duo went. He glanced into his rearview mirror, taking in the sight of his hitchhiker.

He nearly took up the entire backseat. The duffel bag sat next to him, his muscular arms tightly holding it against his side. He was easily above six feet tall, likely even more than six and a half. He threw his arms behind his head, kicking his large feet onto Douglas' armrest. Outwardly, he seemed like just another good looking guy- one he'd likely see on his granddaughter's TikTok. But his guard remained on high alert.

"Just keep driving, brother. I'll tell ya when to turn off." His velvety voice was disarming, a carefree confidence just wafted from him alongside the strange heat which seemed to emanate from his muscular body. For about an hour, the two sat in silence as they rocketed down the highway. Each glance he shot into his mirror, Douglas would see the man smirking- his gaze never meeting the old man's. Thus, as the road veered to the left in the distance, their silence was broken. "Don't turn, just keep going straight." He carried a tone of authority in his voice, a natural command that would be highly unlikely to be ignored.

"There isn't a road straight ahead..." The hitchhiker finally stared into the mirror, his eyes locked on Douglas' reflection.

"Go straight."

As if of their own accord, the old man's hands kept steadfast on their trajectory. As the road began to curve, the Cavalier shot in the commanded direction, straight into the sands of the desert. They swerved, avoiding large rocks and towering Saguaros, before the foothills of the mountains started to come into view. Through the mirage before them, Douglas could see what looked like a campsite ahead, just beyond the thicket of green brambles. A crowd of maybe 50-70 people had gathered in the bowels of the desert. For what purpose, Douglas did not yet know. But as he slowly began his approach, the entire crowd had turned their eyes toward the car. Like the parting of the Red Sea, the crowd split in two; leaving a clear straight shot toward a makeshift platform right at the base of the mountain.

"Thank you for the lift, brother. Do me a favor, will ya? Stick around. I have a feeling you'd love what we have going on today." Again, his timbre was less of a request- and far more of a demand. The tone was never raised, nor was it ever aggressive. However, he felt as if one would be wise to heed his instructions. Douglas simply nodded, turning the car off, and opening the door.

The crowd was filled with a diverse cast of people, all of which were fit, energetic, and young. Not a single soul had seen a day over 30, no less than 21. They stared with vacant expressions in silence until the hitchhiker exited the backseat, at which point they erupted in cheers and applause. Douglas watched with confusion and shock as the young man walked toward the platform, shaking hands, playfully punching shoulders, giving out high fives like condoms at a clinic. Who the hell had he picked up? Where the hell was he? As he hopped atop the wooden structure in one single leap, easily five feet off the ground, he shucked the grey tank top and tossed it into the crowd. A young woman caught it, tenderly holding it against her chest as the onlookers admired his chiseled build. Raising his arms, the crowd went silent.

"Brothers and Sisters, today is the day! Are you ready? Are you rearing? Tell me!" The crowd erupted, Douglas stared around the transfixed athletes, feeling entirely out of place- as if he wasn't meant to be there. "For one full year, you have trusted me to build your bodies into machines: daily training, nightly runs, some of y'all are out there doing some of the hardest workouts we have to offer. Look at you now!" More cheers. "When I told you that your bodies were temples, to treat them as such, each and every one of you took my words seriously. I said that each of you had the potential to become something incredible. You said, but Cameron, I can't ever get to where you're at! But guess what? You followed the regimen, you became part of our family, you became a part of something so much bigger than you even knew. And we are here today, your induction into our movement, the final hoo-rah!" Mimicking the leader, every single one of the parroting people began to chant hoo-rah, once... twice... thrice... like a warcry on the battlefield. Douglas turned, searching through the sea of people to find an escape route. Instead, he only saw five men of the same jacked physique of the leader handing out what looked to be bottles of water. Peering closely, the unlabeled bottles carried a milky white liquid.

"What sort of Jonestown shit is this..." The bottles were disperse quickly amongst the crowd, the cheery if not dim young men had seemingly finished in minutes as the leader droned on. Douglas took the opportunity to make his way back toward the car, only for a moment of dread to wash over him. It was gone. In it's place, a line of tire tracks came to an abrupt end, no vehicle in sight. The old man felt a hand on his shoulder, turning quickly to be face to face once again with 'Cameron' himself.

"I wanted to thank you for helping me, Douglas. I'm more than happy to reimburse you, you've saved the day." Whispers again started to rise around him, incoherently babbling a language far outside of his own knowledge. "Today, my friend, your journey begins." Douglas tried to pry his eyes away from Cameron to no avail. The deep brown eyes seemed to swallow any thought, any desire, any need. Cameron's pupils started to pulse, mimicking the old man's heartbeat, growing larger and larger, until the inky blackness had swallowed his entire iris & sclera. Cameron smirked as he watched the old man's posture fall forward, his shoulders drooping and his jaw hanging loosely. "Mmmmmmm. Good, fall deep, vessel. For your assistance today, your reward is to be one with me, just as all in my inner circle have done."

The black-eyed stud gently guided Douglas away from the crowd, who were busy downing the contents of their respective bottles just as moans and groans started ringing out from the poor fools. The five members of Cameron's inner circle followed suit, their eyes flooding black and mouths curling into devilish grins. The group soon arrived in a clearing of the thicket, circling around a pile of filthy clothes strewn across the dirt. Douglas was slowly guided to them, entirely unwavering in his stonefaced obedience.

"Well, my children. You continue to serve me well. I admit, this body must be hard to say no to. He is a joy to wear." The five goons chuckled menacingly, one or two of them groping at their bulges through their running shorts. "Today, as you all did before him, Douglas aided me in my time of need. On a momentous day as this, such acts must be rewarded. Today, you welcome your new brother." With a swipe of his hand, Douglas' corporate clothing dissolved into thin air, burnt ash flying into the desert wind. He stood there in the nude, the group watching in anticipation as Cameron simply pointed down to the pile of reeking clothes, and Douglas could do nothing but obey.

One by one the articles began to tremble, before sliding across the sand toward their soon-to-be owner. Cameron snickered, snapping his finger. A sweaty jockstrap quickly flew into the air, levitating for a moment before shooting toward the old man's groin. Like a liquid hitting a solid, the grimy fabric collided with Douglas, warping and wrapping around his legs and package until it had settled into it's new home. The brothers grinned, as they watched the old man's admittedly humble bulge swell rapidly. It expanded outward, his balls dropping like ten pound weights as they grew, and his cock elongated and widened until it peeked it's head out from the bottom of the sweat stained pouch. Douglas moaned as his ass swelled thick and bulbous, the formerly wrinkled and smooth skin sprouting dark brown hairs as his bush followed suit. Cameron grinned, strutting over to cup his hand over the musky horsecock and balls that had sprang from his jock.

Another snap of his fingers, and the shorts shot upward, wrapping around Douglas' legs, quickly inflating them with thick mass. His hamstrings widened, his quads becoming hard as iron while his calves tightened. The chicken legs he used to possess now were two massive slabs of hard meat. Cameron continued to grope and massage his prey's bulge, the fabric of the jockstrap growing sticky with his pre as he moaned. The five grunts slowly lowered their own shorts and jockstraps, releasing their sweaty dicks into their waiting palms.

"You humans are so... simple." *snap* The socks slithered like snakes across the ground, surrounding Douglas' toes and sliding around his heel and fastening around his ankle. "All it takes is slipping into some attractive male, and you'll be worshipping at my feet. As will you." The old man's feet cracked and stretched wide, his soles growing soft and sweaty as the stinking running shoes melted around his gigantic feet. The rubber and fabric contorted and stretched, the funk of a thousand runs in the desert heat wafting from within their confines as they reformed into a perfect fit. The group started to stroke their cocks, small droplets of black sludge seeping from their slits. Cameron grinned, sliding his hand into Douglas' jockstrap and wrapping it around his throbbing member. "You, however, will be a prince among men."

*snap* The pot belly which had plagued Douglas for 30 some odd years slowly receded, fading into obscurity as if it had never been there to begin with. His abs tightened, his pecs became lean, his waist slimmed quickly with powerful obliques and cum gutters pointing toward his hose. Whispers started to echo in the wind as the five cultists stroked their cocks, streams of black, tar-like slime coalescing into pools at their feet.

"You will be a father of my spawn, a carrier of my seed." Cameron continued to pump the massive dick, watching with malicious glee as his arms grew sinewy and lean, his hands large and wide, his fingers long and slender. "Today, our army is founded." The possessed stud placed his hand on the balding head of the former salesman, pushing him to his knees; his mind blank as his master's shorts slid down to his thighs, releasing a grotesque sight. Whatever his host's member used to be was long gone, now corrupted with demonic seed. It stood upright, intricate black symbols wrapping around the foot long shaft all the way to his foreskin. "Receive my blessing, mortal. Be one with me." The ripe rod inched forward, dripping thick globules of the black sludge onto Douglas' thighs as it pressed against his face. His mouth opened, and it was over.

In a single thrust, the monstrous cock pushed past his lips and deep into his throat as Cameron began to face fuck the old man. The pools of black sludge from his minions writhed toward him, engulfing his legs in their glistening form before slinking toward his tight hole. Cameron threw his head back in ecstasy, howling a thunderous and unnatural roar as his underling's seed seeped into Douglas' rear. The sounds of squelching, cracking, suction rang out as the roars began to grow louder. Each slap of his face against Cameron's bush reformed his aged face. New hairs sprouted on his scalp, a thick forest of black spreading across his head. His lips plumped as they slurped on the smelly cock, his skin tanning and all wrinkles disappearing. The last vestiges of the black sludge squeezed into his hole, and with a wicked, fiendish grin the possessed stud cursed out into the open desert air:

"WE... ARE... ONE!" 'Cameron' released his gift down into his new son's throats, a torrent of black seed rushing out of his length and into Douglas' transformed body. His veins started to flush dark, until an inky blackness had sprawled across his lean, taut figure. Whatever remained of Douglas sunk into a void of darkness, only to be encompassed by the viscous corruption. 'Cameron' grinned, his will quickly overwhelming the spirit of the old man before slipping his demonic essence within it. More and more of him flooded into the body, squeezing into the soul, until it was unclear where Douglas began and 'Cameron' ended. Dismounting his new creation, he watched with glee as the convulsions died down, and it's eyes opened, revealing an endless inky black as it grinned.

"Yes, my master, this vessel shall fit our needs quite nicely." As his eyes slowly started to return to their normal hazel, the corruptive sludge within his veins reformed, pushing upward through the capillaries and into the skin, now little more than tattoos to the naked eye. 'Cameron' grinned, another human ensnared into his dark consciousness, little more than a husk to house his essence.

'Dougie' smirked as he pulled up his fetid shorts, quickly masking his cock dripping the black sludge of his master and brothers as he threw his sweaty arms around his new family, walking toward their new army.

---

"Alright, Santa Fe! Are we ready to get fit?" The crowd erupted as Cameron stood before them, his arms raised on the roof of the building, grinning over the 200 new disciples he was prepared to imbue with his gift. Those who had been with him at Socorro stood silently amongst the unsuspecting enthusiasts, ready to 'assist' their 'ascension' should the need arise. Just beside the building, his sons had gathered behind the truck in a circle, chanting words beyond our most vivid imagination as they stroked eachother's musky cocks into the large vat of water. 'Dougie', now a favorite of Cameron, devilishly grinned as he felt the first torrent of his corruption spew into the clear water, the thick black sludge slithering about before dissolving into the liquid as if it were never there. Round after round, they shot their father's seed into water, until there was more of the seed than there was of the water.

"Alright, brothers. I think that should do it." His deep, bellowing voice brought each of his brothers attention on him as they put their cocks back into their shorts. "Hah, and not a minute too soon." The crowd of feckless initiates began to line up, in desperate need of hydration, of which 'Dougie' was more than happy to provide. He hopped up onto the bed of the truck, as his brothers ladled their refreshment into individual bottles. Snatching one, 'Dougie' snickered. "Who's thirsty?"

#male transformation #body transformation #original #male possession #transformation #jockification #musk #body possession #demonic possession #male corruption #corruption #corruption kink #mind control #gay transformation #male tf #male takeover #slime possession #age regression

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skywalkerab · 10 months

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Guide to the most popular Zip Line Brakes. Ski resorts, zoos, amusement parks and cruise ships are increasingly bringing zip lines into their business fold, expanding opportunities to get in on the thrill.

👉 bit.ly/3NxkCLL

#zipline #brake #magnetic #zipstop #skywab

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bad268 · 2 months

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Heyy I love your Kimi fics so I decided to send you in a request. I wanted something simples of their life’s as teenagers with very different livings yk. Maybe compilation of different moments of them together such as: she is on school brake so goes to a race with him, he keeps her secret of course but as just an excuse to pass more time together. Or maybe a glimpse of their nightly routine when they get to be together, like ordering food because any of them trusts the other with the stove and then getting ready to bed and just cuddle. Or also like they want to pass time together but she has a test (they probably study in the same school but Kimi just doesn’t care anymore) and he is simply laid in her bed reviewing his data from racing while she is in her desk studying. I think you understood the idea, just some cute fluff of two teens in love. Use your amazing creativity as much as you want, I’ve read a lot of your fanfics and I trust you I’ll make justice to a cute fluff. I hope you enjoy my idea.

Just A Glimpse (Andrea Kimi Antonelli X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (hehe this was fun to do)

Warnings: ADHD mentioned, talks about smacking pasta if that makes you uncomfortable (i guess)

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 1109

Summary: Just a glimpse into the life of Kimi and you.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

Your relationship started back when neither of you knew what love was. Back when you were naive 16-year-olds, you and Kimi connected because you were from the same area. Back then, Bologna, Italy was not the biggest area, and you two clung together like magnets. It became a running joke when he came back to racing after a midseason break, glued to his phone, that he found someone.

That someone was you.

As your relationship progressed, you tried to be at as many races as possible, but when he first made the jump from FRECA to Formula 2, then Formula 1 at age 18, it wasn’t that easy. You were just starting in university, and it was already difficult to attend the 14 race weekends. Never mind the 25 they were making F1 drivers do. Still, you tried your best, and Kimi was always supportive of your ambitions.

He also tried his best to keep you hidden, Sure, he talked about you here and there, but he never named you and never posted you. He wanted you to have the privacy to do your school work in peace without being bombarded by fans. You two decided you would probably announce your relationship when you finished your degree. If you decided to continue higher after that, you’d either do it online or suffer with the newfound attention. Granted, your accounts were private, but you still knew the fans would spam you somehow.

One of your favorite things to do is hide away in Kimi’s driver’s room. It was a common occurrence that you would be studying while Kimi was preparing for a race. More often than not, you would be sat on the couch studying or working on assignments while Kimi is either reviewing data or stretching and getting ready for a session. On the rare chance Kimi had nothing to do, he would ask you a million and one questions about your work.

“What’s this essay about?” “That looks difficult.” “Didn’t you just finish a project for that class?” “That seems a bit much for a basic class.” Those were some of the things he would say whenever he looked over your shoulder as you skimmed anything on your computer. His interest always gave you new motivation to keep going.

Another favorite for you was the nights between races. The nights when neither of you had anything to do other than be with each other. Sometimes you would force Kimi to do face masks with you (skin care is essential!), sometimes you two would try to cook, sometimes you would just cuddle, and in the event you do all three, all hell breaks loose.

“Stop moving so much,” You hissed annoyed that this boy could not sit still for the life of him and let you put the mask on. You had already struggled enough trying to get all of his curly hair back, but now he was flinching away every time you tried to put the product on his skin. “I swear, you have ADHD.”

“It’s cold, and I don’t like it. This one feels weird,” He groaned but stopped moving and let you do your thing. “Why do we need to do the slimy one? Can we just use the clay one again?”

“Your skin needs hydration, not help with the texture,” You explained as you laid the mask across his features. “Your face is inflamed and the clay mask will just make it worse. This one would actually benefit you.”

“I better get cuddles after this,” He mumbled as you finished up by washing your hands. Your mask had already been applied.

“After we make dinner, you can get all the cuddles you want,” You compromised, thinking dinner would not take too long to make. It was a new pasta recipe you got from Kimi’s nutritionist, and Kimi is Italian. What could go wrong? Those were your famous last words.

“Stop smacking the dough! The flour isn’t mixed right!” You shouted, but it was no use. Kimi walked straight up behind you and smacked the dough pile again just after you added more flour. This caused a cloud of flour to hit the two of you directly in the face. “ANDREA!”

“Oh no,” He muttered after he blew out the flour and went to wipe his face, but his hands got covered in the face mask he still had on. “Oh no.”

“‘Oh no’,” You mocked as you gaped at him. “What did I just say?”

“Stop smacking it,” He tried to sound serious and apologetic, but the smile on his face told that he was amused by the situation.

“And what did you do?”

“Smacked it.”

“What did you learn?”

“Stop smacking pasta when you’re mixing it.”

That was it. You both couldn't help it as you both started laughing.

You made Kimi clean up the kitchen after you both washed off the floury face masks. You told him that since he got you into that mess, he could clean it up. While he did that, you called and ordered your favorite takeaway. You did not trust Kimi in the kitchen anymore. You went to pick it up, and when you came back, Kimi had cleaned the kitchen and set up a blanket fort in the common room. You chuckled to yourself as you walked up to the opening of the fort, but Kimi blocked you from entering.

“What’s the password?” Kimi smirked as he only exposed his head and would not let you see inside.

“Is it Italian or English?” You countered.

“To make it easy, I’ll accept English,” Kimi teased as he watched you think.

“Hmm, the password has to be, ‘I bought dinner, and if you want to eat tonight, you better let me in.’ Is that right?”

“Actually, it was ‘I love you’ but I’ll take it.”

The inside of the fort was more than you expected. Kimi had moved the TV down, so it fit inside. There were pillows and blankets everywhere, and your favorite drinks were in an ice bucket to the side. You were impressed he was able to get this all done while you were picking up the food.

“How did you get this done? I wasn’t gone that long,” You asked skeptically as you sat down and looked around.

“You walk slow,” Kimi joked, but immediately after, the door slammed closed and someone texted Kimi.

“I better get credit for helping,” It read from Ollie. You looked over at Kimi who was smiling sheepishly at you.

“Want to comment on that?”

“No, not really.”

That’s just a little glimpse into the life of you and Kimi.

~~~~~

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queenie435 · 8 months

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THE WORLD'S FIRST ELECTRIC ROLLER COASTER

Granville T. Woods (April 23, 1856 – January 30, 1910) introduced the “Figure Eight,” the world's first electric roller coaster, in 1892 at Coney Island Amusement Park in New York. Woods patented the invention in 1893, and in 1901, he sold it to General Electric.

Woods was an American inventor who held more than 50 patents in the United States. He was the first African American mechanical and electrical engineer after the Civil War. Self-taught, he concentrated most of his work on trains and streetcars.

In 1884, Woods received his first patent, for a steam boiler furnace, and in 1885, Woods patented an apparatus that was a combination of a telephone and a telegraph. The device, which he called "telegraphony", would allow a telegraph station to send voice and telegraph messages through Morse code over a single wire. He sold the rights to this device to the American Bell Telephone Company.

In 1887, he patented the Synchronous Multiplex Railway Telegraph, which allowed communications between train stations from moving trains by creating a magnetic field around a coiled wire under the train. Woods caught smallpox prior to patenting the technology, and Lucius Phelps patented it in 1884. In 1887, Woods used notes, sketches, and a working model of the invention to secure the patent. The invention was so successful that Woods began the Woods Electric Company in Cincinnati, Ohio, to market and sell his patents. However, the company quickly became devoted to invention creation until it was dissolved in 1893.

Woods often had difficulties in enjoying his success as other inventors made claims to his devices. Thomas Edison later filed a claim to the ownership of this patent, stating that he had first created a similar telegraph and that he was entitled to the patent for the device. Woods was twice successful in defending himself, proving that there were no other devices upon which he could have depended or relied upon to make his device. After Thomas Edison's second defeat, he decided to offer Granville Woods a position with the Edison Company, but Woods declined.

In 1888, Woods manufactured a system of overhead electric conducting lines for railroads modeled after the system pioneered by Charles van Depoele, a famed inventor who had by then installed his electric railway system in thirteen United States cities.

Following the Great Blizzard of 1888, New York City Mayor Hugh J. Grant declared that all wires, many of which powered the above-ground rail system, had to be removed and buried, emphasizing the need for an underground system. Woods's patent built upon previous third rail systems, which were used for light rails, and increased the power for use on underground trains. His system relied on wire brushes to make connections with metallic terminal heads without exposing wires by installing electrical contactor rails. Once the train car had passed over, the wires were no longer live, reducing the risk of injury. It was successfully tested in February 1892 in Coney Island on the Figure Eight Roller Coaster.

In 1896, Woods created a system for controlling electrical lights in theaters, known as the "safety dimmer", which was economical, safe, and efficient, saving 40% of electricity use.

Woods is also sometimes credited with the invention of the air brake for trains in 1904; however, George Westinghouse patented the air brake almost 40 years prior, making Woods's contribution an improvement to the invention.

Woods died of a cerebral hemorrhage at Harlem Hospital in New York City on January 30, 1910, having sold a number of his devices to such companies as Westinghouse, General Electric, and American Engineering. Until 1975, his resting place was an unmarked grave, but historian M.A. Harris helped raise funds, persuading several of the corporations that used Woods's inventions to donate money to purchase a headstone. It was erected at St. Michael's Cemetery in Elmhurst, Queens.

LEGACY

▪Baltimore City Community College established the Granville T. Woods scholarship in memory of the inventor.

▪In 2004, the New York City Transit Authority organized an exhibition on Woods that utilized bus and train depots and an issue of four million MetroCards commemorating the inventor's achievements in pioneering the third rail.

▪In 2006, Woods was inducted into the National Inventors Hall of Fame.

▪In April 2008, the corner of Stillwell and Mermaid Avenues in Coney Island was named Granville T. Woods Way.

#black history #black history month #roller coaster #granville #Granville T Woods #1910s #circa 1885 #1884

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freeuselandonorris · 4 months

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💚 magic kiss either Oscar/Carlos or Oscar/Lando

omg ANON i had so little clue of where to start with this i had to panic crowdsource ideas from the gc (thanks guys!). then i decided to really challenge myself and write it as oscar/carlos even though i am not generally a carcar fan... unfortunately i must admit i had an absolute fucking whale of a time writing this lmao tysm for pushing me out of my comfort zone!

Carlos is waiting for him outside the FIA office after the post-race debrief with a face like a slapped arse. Rich, considering Oscar was the one who finished out of the points thanks to Carlos taking his front wing off on lap 32.

“I figured it out,” he says.

Oscar looks at him askance, scrunching his nose. Behind him, Lando shoves his way past, catching Carlos on the shoulder with a squeeze as he does it. It makes a muscle on Oscar’s jaw twitch for no real reason.

“Remembered how to drive? Congrats.”

Carlos rolls his eyes and falls into step alongside Oscar as he tries to walk away. “No,” he says, insistent. He taps Oscar’s hand for emphasis, and Oscar stares at his forearm. There’s such a thing as having too much body hair. “It is a curse. A magnetism curse.”

“What?” Oscar scoffs. “Come off it. Reckon the FIA will cancel your penalty points if it’s a curse?”

“I am telling you,” Carlos says, but Oscar shakes him free. Magnetism curse. Honest to God, the excuses some people come up with.

Two weeks later, when Oscar locks up coming out of the pits on cold tyres and skids across the track straight into a bright red sidepod, he’s forced to admit Carlos may have been right.

He brings it up in the debrief, hesitant. Andrea tells him in no uncertain terms that, if his theory is correct, he needs to sort it out, and soon. Their position in the Constructors’ is under threat with only one car reliably scoring points.

“You know what the cure is, right?” Lando asks afterwards, smacking his gum. He looks unspeakably entertained.

“I’m not doing it,” Oscar says flatly. “I’ll just have to – drive better.”

“Uh huh,” Lando says, smirking. “He’s a goood kisser, you know. Wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”

Oscar waits until he’s left the room before he kicks the wall.

They’re separated by five cars in Austria, and Oscar relaxes all the way until Turn 3, when Alonso brakes hard in front of him and in the resulting concertina, Carlos’ front left tyre connects with his right rear.

Puncture, pit stop, strategy fucked.

For fuck’s sake.

Carlos is in his room when he gets back, sitting on the edge of the futon and flicking through a copy of Autosport Oscar had been reading between the practice sessions.

“Jesus,” Oscar says, stopping in the doorway. “Did Lando let you in?”

Carlos shrugs, which Oscar takes as a yes. He stands up without preamble, squaring his shoulders like he’s ready for a fight.

Oscar shuts the door and sighs. “Fine. Let’s get it over with.”

There’s a bit of awkward jostling as they both try to line themselves up, heads tilting in the same direction and the toe of Carlos’ trainer butting up against his own. Oscar makes a frustrated sound in the back of his throat, and then Carlos’ hand is on his jaw, carefully angling his head.

His lips are annoyingly soft, as plush as they look. When his lips part and his tongue dips into Oscar’s mouth, he tastes of black coffee, bitter and unfamiliar. His hand – big, though not that big, on the scale of things – slides around to the back of Oscar’s neck, warm and secure. He bites down on Oscar’s bottom lip before he pulls away, tugging the flesh gently. Lando wasn’t wrong, he thinks, dazed.

“Well,” he says, stepping back. Up close, his eyes are so dark Oscar can see tiny reflections of himself in them. “Hopefully that has made the trick.”

“Reckon so,” Oscar says, and tells himself the tingling in his fingers and the throbbing in his chest is the curse leaving his body.

#op81 #cs55 #oscar piastr/carlos sainz #carcar #prompt fill #f1 fic #answered

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the-moonprophet · 3 months

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concept: Riordanverse demigods meeting up (for whatever reason), and they bump into a young man, probably not much older than themselves. He’s dressed casually—just a hoodie and jeans—but there’s something off about him. Not in a bad way, necessarily, but the demigods know enough to be wary of him.

“Should we talk to him or something?” Carter asks.

“He hasn’t done anything, though…” Magnus puts in. Still, they all have a strange feeling they should approach the guy.

Percy’s the first to move. He strides up to the guy, who’s staring down at a book while he waits for the bus.

“Hey,” Percy calls out to him, and the guy looks up. There’s something weirdly magnetic about him—Percy finds himself wanting to stand closer. The other demigods apparently feel the same gravity; when Percy glances over his shoulder, they’re standing right behind him.

“Hello,” the guy responds, his warm eyes studying the group. “Can I help you?”

“Um…” What is Percy supposed to say, exactly? He isn’t even sure why he’s speaking to this stranger.

Recognition passes through the guy’s eyes, and his brows twitch upward. “Oh, it’s you guys?”

Magnus steps forward. “You know us?”

“Of course!” The guy shrugs, tucking his book under his arm. He didn’t even mark his page. “What kind of person would I be if I didn’t know who you are? You’ve all saved the world, haven’t you?”

Some of us multiple times. Percy thinks. Somehow, he’s not surprised by this guy’s knowledge of their heroics (if that’s what you want to call it).

“Well… What kind of person are you?” Sadie asks cautiously.

The guys laughs, and Percy finds himself smiling along with him. “What do you mean?” the stranger asks.

“Y’know,” Magnus shrugs, gesturing around their group. “We’re all descended from all-powerful beings and such.”

Normally, they should’ve been hesitant to share this kind of information. But something about this strange man makes them drop their guard. Suddenly, it doesn’t matter that they know nothing about him, including his name.

The guy grins. “Yeah, we’ve got that in common.”

“Which god is your parent, then?” Percy asks. He finds himself hoping it’s a Greek deity; he would love to bring this guy back to Camp Half Blood. He’s certain everyone would love him.

“God,” the guy says in a thoughtful tone, his fingers tapping the book under his arm.

“Yeah…” Carter says haltingly. “Gods. Like the deities that control different parts of the world?”

The guy chuckles. “No, I know. That was my answer.”

Nobody says anything for a long moment.

Percy breaks the uncomfortable silence. “You’re descended from…”

“God,” the guy confirms with a gracious nod.

“Like, capital G God?” Magnus the Atheist says, looking pale.

“But—isn’t everyone? Technically?” Sadie asks. None of them know much about christianity, but hadn’t all of mankind been created in the Big Man’s image?

The guy laughs again—it’s an oddly healing sound. Any worries that had been swirling at the back of Percy’s mind instantly vanish.

“Well, I suppose if you want to get technical about it,” the guy says with another shrug. “But I myself am the only direct descendant.”

The Kane siblings can do nothing but blink at the man. Magnus looks like he might pass out. Percy seems to be the only one capable of getting more information out of the stranger, but even he feels like his voice is stuck in his throat.

“You mean…” Percy stutters. “You’re—”

The screeching of brakes cuts Percy off. The guy looks up as the bus doors swish open, and he grimaces.

“Ah, looks like our time was cut short.” He shoots an apologetic look at the demigods. “It was nice to meet you all. You’ve done humanity proud. Keep up the great work!”

The words would have sounded incredibly shallow and unimportant coming from anyone else, but when this guy spoke them, Percy felt like he’d been applauded by the president of the United States—or, more accurately, by the prince of the universe.

The guy waves them goodbye and steps onto the bus. No one moves until the vehicle peels away, leaving them gaping at the empty bus stop.

“Was—” Magnus croaks, swallowing hard. “Was that really—”

Percy nods. “The son of God.”

Man, Percy couldn’t wait to tell Annabeth.

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overnowsfcb · 9 months

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santa doesn't know you like i do; trent alexander-arnold blurb

summary: he would always have a throne in your heart. was it okay to see blurry lines?

warnings: none just fluff, reader and trent are dumb

note: FINALLY I WROTE FLUFF BRING THE CHAMPAGNE — venus 🫂💐🫧

Trent had claimed a permanent residence in your heart, an undisputed ruler of your daydreams since your teenage years.

Despite attempts to move on, dating other guys, and even enduring his tales of romantic conquests, your soul continued to ache for the one thing it craved the most—his love, a fragile hidden secret handled with discomfort in your mind as if it was an uninvited guest.

But the balance was neutralized by his hypnotic ways of keeping that worship of him in your brain: moments when his comments stick out details about you would come with a deepened voice, his pupils dilated at your presence, and the magnet that pushed your bodies to get close every time you were in the same place. Actions that left you wondering if those gestures were genuine or just part of his flirtatious nature.

The melody of his laugh painted shooting stars in your night sky carving it in your mind if the reason behind were your jokes. And you could recall the times he found in your chest a place when he could let go of the pressure and his tears. You were too late to intend to hit the brakes now.

Laughter echoed within the living room walls, the faux snow in the tree placed in a corner resembling the snowflakes falling outside. You had invited Trent over to help you decorate the house.

He held the ladder for you, even though you didn't need it, but you had asked him to make you feel more secure as you placed the Christmas baubles and the star on top of the tree standing on your tiptoes, finishing up the decorations. He began applauding accompanying your celebrations when you had finally completed your task.

He stepped away from the ladder to let you descend, and you hugged him, running your hands over his neck, catching a whiff of his cologne. He wrapped his hands around your waist as he welcomed your embrace. “Thank you,” you whispered, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“You're welcome, my love.” The once comforting and typical nickname, now sparkled a new connotation while he caressed your temple as he looked at you with appreciation in his eyes, building a new pathway in an indecipherable labyrinth, confusing you even more.

Sometimes you considered giving up, settling down in the middle of the road, leaving everything in part to your convenience, because if you admitted that he may be hiding the same things that you were experiencing you would be afraid to face the consequences of turning your most cherished friendship into something that could go anywhere.

You sat on the couch, hot coffee cup in your hands, protective blanket over your bodies against the winter chill, Home Alone played on the TV, you laid your head on his shoulder, admiring how beautiful the house was with the Christmas spirit imprinted on it. Love rushing in your veins.

You looked up at him discreetly. He was focused on the movie while sipping the hot chocolate in his mug, and for an instance, the soldier in you ignited, putting braveness in your shoulders.

“Trent,” you called out, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as he gazed expectantly at you. Yet, as you pondered the words in your heart, you shook your head gently. “You're the best friend I could ask for,” your voice lowering, a wistful smile on your lips. Holding back your feelings once again as an eternal hostage.

You wondered if someday, the courage to express them would find its way to you. And Trent would think that too.

Each cell of your bodies acting like spectators waiting for you to materialize the scenes entangled in your minds. “You mean a lot to me, love.”

#trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold imagine #trent alexander arnold x you #trent alexander arnold fluff #football x reader #football fluff #trent alexander arnold blurb

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