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ameagrice · 4 months

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chapter thirty | fine line

percy jackson x fem reader

There are silver streaks shared by Annabeth and Percy, scattered through their hair.

It’s something that will connect them forever, you know for certain. It’s a symbol of a shared strength.

It’s just one more thing to make your heart melt.

Realistically, you should feel nothing but proud of them both, and in your own way, you do. But there has been too much loss to feel any sort of good from the ending, and you can’t get Zoe Nightshade’s death from your mind.

“I can see the stars, my lady,” she whispered, so gently you’d barely heard her at all. The wound on her side gaped, and bled, the golden ichor of an immortal on her way out. An inch of a smile appeared on her face, struggling, before it dropped, and the light faded from Zoe Nightshade’s eyes. A wisp of silvery light lifted from her lips, drifting up into the air, before it, too, faded.

In the sky, the stars showed an image of a girl, running across the sky. Zoe Nightshade had, finally, found her peace.

Atlas was in his rightful place. His daughter had been stolen from the world. Luke Castellan was kicked to his death by Thalia’s action.

Except, they couldn’t find a body.

Body, upon body, upon body. They just kept piling up.

Bianca; Zoe; Luke. Lost lives; people who could have had so much more than they were given.

But Gods who couldn’t care any less.

And if you had to, you’d bet they didn’t even know their names.

You could see now, just why Luke was so angry. Because you felt it too. And it was terrifying.

“You don’t believe me about Luke,” Annabeth said, sounding faded amongst your thoughts. “We’ll see him again. He’s just under Kronos’s spell.”

Thalia jolted away, somehow seemingly unbothered by the height at which you travelled in the sky, Artemis in the lead. “There it is,” she pointed, sitting up. “It’s started.”

“What’s started?” Percy leaned forward, catching your hair between his hand on the seat he held onto. You didn’t say anything.

High above the Empire State Building, Olympus was its own island of light. A mountain ablaze with torches and braziers.

“The Winter Solstice,” she breathed. “The Council of the Gods.”

In the early-morning darkness, torches and fires made the mountainside palaces glow twenty different colors, from bloodred to indigo. Apparently no one ever slept on Olympus. The twisting streets were full of demigods and nature spirits and minor godlings bustling about, riding chariots or sedan chairs carried by Cyclopes. Winter didn’t seem to exist here. The scent of the gardens in full bloom, jasmine and roses and even sweeter filled your senses. Music drifted up from many windows, the soft sounds of lyres and reed pipes.

Towering at the peak of the mountain was the greatest palace of all, the glowing white hall of the gods.

You touched ground outside towering, silver gates, just inside the courtyard. Pegasi travel was rather terrifying, and you were much more than glad to be alive and on the ground. Olympus glowed with warm, the kind that settled in your bones. The warm wind, blowing from nowhere, shifted your hair when you clambered down to the ground.

“Yeah,” Percy muttered.

“Huh?”

Percy froze. “Uh—the horse. Sorry! Pegasi.”

A laugh escaped you, startling in the night. Thalia turned, eyebrow raised. “Why are you talking to a horse? It didn’t say anything.”

“Didn’t I tell you? Haven’t I told you?” He averted his gaze.

“What,” you landed your hand on your hip, waving the other to the pegasi. “You talk to animals now, too, like Grover?”

“Just sea creatures. And horses. Pegasi, sorry!”

“Yeah, you’ll really have to explain that later,” you trailed off. “We’ve got more important matters at hand.”

The Pegasi flew off, leaving yourself, Percy, Thalia and your sister together. You liked to think, years later, laying on the glass floor of a ship, that you were all trying to gather the courage after everything to step inside the giant building, and face gods you had once only ever heard about in stories.

Side-by-side, you walked into the throne room.

Twelve enormous thrones made a U around a central hearth, just like the placement of the cabins at camp. The ceiling above glittered with constellations—even the newest one, Zoë the Huntress, making her way across the heavens with her bow drawn.

All of the seats were occupied. Each god and goddess was about fifteen feet tall. Under their judging eyes, despite your own mother being one of them, you were uncomfortable.

“Welcome, heroes,” Artemis said.

“Mooo!”

That was when you noticed Bessie and Grover, the latter standing at the side of a pool of water which Bessie swam in.

“Grover! You made it.”

He started to run towards your friends, then stopped, and looked back at Zeus, who up close, felt a lot scarier than he looked. You only realized then, that there was a major difference in terror of humans, and the intimidation of gods. You could deal with this kind.

“Go on,” Zeus nodded once. But he wasn’t looking at Grover—he was looking at Thalia.

None of the gods spoke. Grover’s hooves echoed on the marble floor, Bessie the Ophiotaurus mooing warmly at your arrival.

You took the time to observe the gods up close, because you might never get the chance to again. Artemis, looking as if she hadn’t ever even been hold hostage, watched the exchange between Percy and Grover. Percy’s father, Poseidon, dressed so casually you might have laughed in other circumstances, had this sort of barely-there smile on his face, bright eyes shining just the way Percy’s own did, too. Apollo, sunglasses covering his eyes, had his earbuds in, golden head of hair tilted back to the ceiling. And…

Ares. It was impossible to not feel him looking at you. Why the special interest, you wanted to ask. Do you see yourself in me? You wondered. Do I see myself in you?

Your eyes met his dark ones, a stark difference, between the extreme fatigue, and the colors. Your eyes burned with exhaustion and the tears you had shed since yesterday. He wore his signature black leather jacket, dark, dark hair being tousled by Aphrodite’s touch. When it was obvious her husband wasn’t looking at her, perched at his side, her love-ridden smile slowly fell away, and those sparkling eyes fell on you as well.

Or maybe it’s you, I see myself in. Too romantic. Too caught up in feelings. After all, you only had so much love to spare between friends, and the dead ones.

What do you see in me? You were desperate to ask, curiosity clawing at your chest. Why am I the way I am?

Gods sometimes took a special interest in heroes. All the tales told you so. You just had to wonder, what would come of this.

Ragged and bruised, you felt as though you were being picked apart under the watchful eyes of so many olympians.

You hadn’t realized Grover was doing the rounds until he yanked you into a hug. You found it in yourself to hug him back—at least he was still alive.

“Glad you made it,” you whispered.

“You too.” He nodded. Neither of you smelled amazing after this quest, but it went uncared for. A trouble shared is a trouble deeply understood.

“You have to convince them,” he said to the remaining four of you. “They can’t do it!”

“Do what?” You blinked.

“Heroes,” Artemis called. The goddess slid down from her throne and turned to human size, a young auburn-haired girl, perfectly at ease in the midst of the giant Olympians. She walked toward your little group, her silver robes shimmering. There was no emotion in her face. She seemed to walk in a column of moonlight.

“The Council has been informed of your deeds,” Artemis spoke loudly, addressing everyone in a steady, clear tone. “They know that Mount Othrys is rising in the West. They know of Atlas’s attempt for freedom, and the gathering armies of Kronos. We have voted to act.”

There was some mumbling and shuffling among the olympians, as if they weren’t all happy with this plan, but nobody protested.

“At my Lord Zeus’s command,” Artemis said, “my brother Apollo and I shall hunt the most powerful monsters, seeking to strike them down before they can join the Titans’ cause. Lady Athena shall personally check on the other Titans to make sure they do not escape their various prisons. Lord Poseidon has been given permission to unleash his full fury on the cruise ship Princess Andromeda and send it to the bottom of the sea. And as for you, my heroes…”

She turned to face the other immortals.

And that, was the moment you saw your mother for the first time.

Dressed in a beautiful white dress, draped over one shoulder, her eyes, as gray as your own, as gray as Annabeth’s appeared lost in thought. You took the chance to just look at the woman you never thought you would meet.

“I gotta say—” Apollo cleared his throat. “These heroes did okay.” He began to recite. “Heroes win laurels—”

“Um, yes, first class,” Hermes interrupted with a side-eye in his brother’s direction. You were unable to help the smirk. “All in favor of not disintegrating them?”

A few tentative hands went up: Aphrodite, Demeter, Apollo—waving his iPod.

“Hang on a minute,” Ares growled, sitting up on his throne. He pointed at Thalia and Percy, on the other side of Annabeth. “These two are dangerous. It’d be much safer, while we’ve got them here—”

Don’t say anything, you begged yourself. Even Annabeth elbowed you.

“Ares,” Poseidon interrupted. “They are worthy heroes. We will not blast my son to bits.”

“Nor my daughter,” grumbled Zeus. “She has done well.”

You leaned forward around your sister, who visibly shook, pale, in need of a lie down from the looks of things. Thalia blushed—you grinned wickedly. All the things you could do with this moment in the future.

Athena cleared her throat. Annabeth sighed. The goddess leaned forward. “I am proud of my daughters, as well. But I agree—there is a security issue with the other two.”

Annabeth elbowed you a little too late, this time.

“Mother!” You exclaimed.

Your heart dropped and splattered on the ground. Never had you addressed her as such. And never had she looked you in the face the way she did now.

Too late to back out, now.

“How can you just—”

Athena cut you off with a girl, but calm look. “It is unfortunate that my father, Zeus, and my uncle, Poseidon, chose to break their oath not to have more children. Only Hades kept his word, a fact that I find ironic. As we know from the Great Prophecy, children of the three elder gods…such as Thalia and Percy…are dangerous. As thickheaded as he is, Ares has a point.”

“Right!” Ares said. “Hey, wait a minute. Who you callin’—”

He started to get up, but a grape vine grew around his waist like a seat belt and pulled him back down.

“Oh, please, Ares,” Dionysus sighed. “Save the fighting for later.”

Ares cursed and ripped away the vine. “You’re one to talk, you old drunk. You seriously want to protect these brats?”

Dionysus gazed wearily. “I have no love for them. Athena, do you really think it wise to destroy them?”

“I do not pass judgement,” she said. “I only point out the risk. What we do, the Council must decide.”

“I will not have them punished,” Artemis cut in hotly. “I will have them rewarded. If we punish heroes who do us such a great favour, then we are no better than the titans, are we not? If this is Olympian justice, I will have none of it.”

“Calm down, sis,” Apollo scoffed. “Chill. Jeez, you need to lighten up.”

“Don’t call me sis! I will reward them!”

“Well, perhaps. But the monster must be destroyed. We have agreement on that?”

“Bessie?” Percy burst out. “You want to destroy Bessie?”

Your heart swelled. Gosh, he cared. It was lovely.

And then you wanted to slap yourself.

What was up with the emotions lately?

Poseidon frowned. “You have named the Ophiotaurus Bessie?”

“Dad,” Percy said. “He’s just a sea creature. A really nice sea creature. You can’t destroy him.”

Poseidon shifted uncomfortably, a trait Percy shared with him, you noted. “Percy, it’s power is considerable. If the titans were to steal it, or—”

“You can’t,” Percy insisted.

Zeus opened his mouth, looking as though he was getting antsier by the second. But you had experience with this sort of thing that needed a good negotiation, so you cut in.

“Controlling the prophecies never works. Isn’t that true?” You tried, stepping forward. All eyes landed on you, and you swallowed. “Have we not just experienced it? Are we not experiencing it now? The Ophiotaurus is innocent. Killing something like that is wrong. It’s as wrong as Kronos eating his children just because of something they might do.”

Zeus looked to be considering it. You breathed heavily, in a mild panic after consulting the king of the gods head on. If he wanted to, you could be zapped out of existence in less than a second.

“And what of the risk? Kronos knows full well, if one of you were to sacrifice the beast’s entrails you would have the power to destroy all of us. Do you think we can let this possibility remain? You, my daughter, will turn sixteen on the morrow, just as the prophecy says.”

“You have to trust them,” you tried, pleading with your eyes. “Please, you have to trust them.”

Zeus scowled. “Trust a hero?”

“She is right,” Artemis nodded slowly. “Which is why I must first make a reward. My faithful companion, Zoe Nightshade, has passed into the stars. I must have a new lieutenant. And I intend to choose one, but first, father Zeus, I must speak with you privately.”

Zeus beckoned Artemis forward, leaning to listen as she whispered to him.

“Annabeth,” Percy whispered from behind you. “Don’t.”

“What?”

“Look, I need to tell you something. I couldn’t stand it if—I don’t want you to—”

Artemis turned. “I will have a new lieutenant, if she will accept it. Thalia, daughter of Zeus, will you join the Hunt?”

Your jaw almost dropped. Stunned silence filled the room.

“I will,” Thalia said firmly. She moved to your side, and then a little bit further ahead. Confident.

Zeus rose, his eyes full of concern. “My daughter, consider well—”

Don’t let him change your mind, you prayed. Hold your ground.

“Father, I will not turn sixteen tomorrow,” she shook her head. “I will never turn sixteen. I won’t let this prophecy be mine. I stand with my sister Artemis. Kronos will not tempt me again.”

She knelt down before Artemis, and repeated the same words Bianca had uttered what felt like years ago at the cliff side in the snow and weary sunlight.

When she had finished, she hugged each of you and said a few words. You felt awkward, putting your hands into your coat pockets, when Thalia stood in front of you. For once, there was no spiteful comments from either one of you. She smiled small, looking rejuvenated the same way Bianca had, as if the quest had never happened.

“You’re a good friend,” she nodded. “You’re brave. You’ve got what it takes to help them with this prophecy.” And then she leaned in, and hugged you just as she had with Annabeth and Grover and Percy. “Trust yourself.”

Thalia went and stood with Artemis, and the atmosphere changed instantly.

“Now, for the Ophiotaurus.”

“The boy is still dangerous,” Mr. D. opposed. The beast is a temptation to great power. Even if we spare the boy—”

“No.” Percy said firmly. “Please. Keep the Ophiotaurus safe. My dad can hide him under the sea somewhere, or keep him in an aquarium here. But you have to protect him.”

“And why should we trust you?”

“I’m only fourteen. If this prophecy is about me, that’s only two more years.”

“Two years for Kronos to deceive you,” Athena uttered. “Much can change in two years, young hero. It is only the truth. It is bad strategy to keep the boy alive. And the animal.”

Poseidon stood. “I will not have the creature destroyed if I can help it. And I can, help it.”

He held out his hand, and a spear shimmering with blue light appeared. “I will vouch for the boy and the safety of the Ophiotaurus.”

“You won’t take it under the sea!” Zeus stood suddenly. “I won’t have that kind of bargaining chip in your possession.”

“Brother, please,” Poseidon sighed.

Zeus’s lightening bolt appeared in his hand, and the whole room filled with the smell of ozone.

“Fine,” Poseidon nodded. “I will build an aquarium for the sea creature here, with the help of Hephaestus. The creature will be safe. The boy will not betray us. I vouch for this on my honor.”

Zeus thought about it. “All in favor?”

A dozen hands went up, besides Mr. D, your mother’s, and Ares just sat looking bored.

“We have a majority. And so, since we are not destroying these heroes, I imagine we should reward them.”

—

There are parties, and then there are Olympian parties. And Olympian parties are filled with gold and beautiful colours, exotic flowers and the Muses music, braziers of fire, and delicious food and drinks. It became busy very quickly, and before you knew it, you found yourself stumbling into a corner to get yourself together. All you wished to do was go to your cabin and cry. To let it all out.

“This doesn’t look like you’re partying.”

“What the hell are you? A spy? Just leave me alone.” You shoved yourself further into the corner just away from all the partying, a quiet corridor devoid of anything but cold marble and tall, golden ceilings.

Ares hummed lowly. You didn’t have to see him, shoved into the corner like a child, but you knew he was just on the other side of it.

“I’ll let you off just this once, demigod.”

You rolled your eyes. The marble edges dug into your back uncomfortably from how hard you were trying to disappear for a few minutes. “What do you want? Spit it out.”

“If you weren’t her’s, I would say you’re one of mine. You’ve got the fire, I’ll give you that. And my wife has taken a special interest in you and that boy. Her business is my business, you’ll understand. Since you’re her business, now, you’re my business, too.”

You wanted to scream at him to leave, to go away so you could breathe for five minutes. But…you really wanted to know what he had to say. Curiosity always got the better of you.

“I don’t want to be anybody’s business,” you settled on, weakly. “I’m my own person.”

“Whatever, kid. I’m just here to pass along a message.”

“Which is?”

“She says, you’re doing exactly what you should be doing.”

“Oh, really?”

You shoved away from the corner, and paused.

He’d already gone.

—

Making your way back into the crowd was the last thing you wanted to do, but it would be best to show your face for a little while. Eventually you made your way back to Percy. He smiled as you popped up next to him, and then slowly frowned. His green eyes glistened under all the lights.

“You’ve been crying,” he reached up, and then lowered his hand, unsure of what to do.

You laughed pitifully. “Yeah.”

Because, really, what more could you say? It was rather obvious. And you sounded as if you’d just developed the world’s worst cold and stuffy nose.

Percy still stared at you, concerned. It was touching, really.

“I’m just tired.” You nodded. “I promise. When we get back to camp you might not see me for a couple weeks. I’m about to fall off the face of the earth in sleep mode.”

He smiled, tight-lipped, those eyes dancing across your face. For the first time ever under Percy’s eyes, you felt self-conscious.

“I’ll clean up later. My dad always says I look like I’ve just done thirty rounds of coke after crying. It’s funny because it’s true,” you tried lightly.

Percy’s dark curls shook. “No,” he denied. “I think you look…I think you look pretty—uh—I mean—”

Your heart jumped into your throat, and suddenly it was difficult to breathe. Because AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

“Uhm—” you frantically tried for something to do; hair behind your ears, leaning back and forth on your heels. “Thank you. Thanks.” Heat flooded your cheeks. Percy was already scarlet in the face, nodding frantically, avoiding your eyes.

When you looked up, Athena watched from a distance, and then looked away, as if she hadn’t been interested at all. But you weren’t about to let her ruin what just happened—Percy called you pretty.

“I was thinking,” he shoved out. You turned your head, blinking expectantly. “I owe you a dance, don’t I? We got interrupted at Westover Hall, right?”

This time, you allowed yourself to smile, your heart and lungs expanding.

“Right.” You took his hand, shaking.

The music played on, a gentle tune of the future, the past, and the present.

—

Chiron greeted you all at the Big House with hot chocolate and toasted cheese sandwiches. Grover went off to his satyr friends, telling them all about his brief experience with Pan.

Annabeth, Percy and yourself sat with Chiron by the fire. A couple of others joined you, too—Clarisse, back from a quest of her own it seemed. Her hair was cut short, like somebody had hacked it with scissors without a care, and there was a jagged scar on her chin. For once, she kept quiet.

“I got news,” she said glumly. “Bad news.”

“I’ll fill you in later,” Chiron said with forced cheerfulness. “The important thing is you’ve prevailed. And you’ve saved Annabeth!”

The Stoll brothers were there, too. You hadn’t even looked Travis in the eye. The high of the short dance with Percy had worn off, that tiny spark of normality had gone, and left you with the sadness you’d been feeling before it. You struggled with getting Bianca and Zoe’s deaths from the front of your mind, and Thalia’s moving on. Everybody was leaving, it felt like. And everybody was too happy for what had happened along the way.

Percy, sitting next to you in front of the fire, felt the same. You could tell by the sheer look of something bordering on a deep sadness he had.

You didn’t speak.

Annabeth talked about Atlas, and where she had been kept. She yawned the whole way through, still shaking with weakness even after some ambrosia.

Chiron’s positivity spread a little bit to you tired campers, but in the end, the unwavering need to go somewhere and cry won. You set down your mug of hot chocolate, and walked away. Another chair scratched the floor behind you, as you walked away toward the fields.

“Let her be,” you heard Chiron utter. “She needs time.”

You heard happy babbling just as you wandered away, boyish, childish talking. You looked to the left, and there was Nico di Angelo, two figurines in hands, talking to himself the way children tend to do. Every organ in your body twisted painfully, and you got away before he could see you. You couldn’t be the one to tell him Bianca was long gone. You still didn’t want to believe it yourself.

The air was bitter cold, your fingertips numb already. Snow fell lightly as you wandered into where you probably shouldn’t have been. You didn’t get far until his voice caught you up.

“Scout?”

You stopped, the snow crunching quietly. Behind you, Travis grew closer until he was right in front of you. You hadn’t even realized how tall he’d gotten until you saw him again, like seeing him in a different light.

Bundled in a red sweater and jeans, a coat and scarf atop of that, he still shivered.

“I just need to go for a walk. I’ll be alright later.” You shrugged.

Silence captured the air. Until he said, “Chiron…mentioned what happened to Nico’s sister. And the Hunter girl. Zoe. I’m—I’m so sorry.”

The first tear fell without any effort. And then you grew too cold too quickly. And crumbled.

He enveloped you instantly, as if without thought—like the action would be unknown, to hesitate in your arms. Against his warm, soft chest, Travis’s heart beat gently against your ear, his hands coming up carefully to your back, to your shoulder.

Safety.

And at the end of it—Travis.

You allowed yourself the tears. Your hands scrunched at his shirt. He smelled of the outside weather, of wind

of life.

—

PAIN. So, we’ve reached the end of Titans Curse! How are we feeling so far about relationships and eve thing? Feedback is always appreciated!

taglist: @bl6o6dy @embersparklz @lilyevanswhore @rottenstyx @rory-cakes @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @marshmallow12435 @lantsovheiress @distinguishedmakerpandapatrol @twsssmlmaa @gayandfairycore @padsfirewhisky @emu281 @charlesswife @jessiegerl @crackerphobic20 @mata0-0mata @jccc1000 @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @nothankyou138 @i-love-books-and-the-bible @obxstiles

if they’re not highlighted, it wouldn’t let me tag you!

this chapter’s quite short. I didn’t want to drag it out too much.

aaaaand I’ve added a few more songs to the playlist (on my profile if you don’t have it saved!) if you want to give them a listen. thanks for reading!

#capsize #percy jackson #pjo #asks #leo valdez #annabeth chase #jason grace #nico di angelo #percy jackson x reader #pjo x reader #Percy Jackson x yn #Percy Jackson series #Travis stoll #connor stoll x reader #Travis x reader #Travis stoll x reader #ares

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horselovingbookworm · 3 months

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I'm watching the PJO adaptation with my brother, and I had a thought that would not leave me alone...

So, I know we all make the joke/headcanon that since Percy can understand/talk to marine/ocean life, he gets a kick out of watching ocean/nature documentaries since he knows what the animals are actually saying...

BUT... I don't think anyone has applied the same joke/headcanon to the equine side of things. I mean, Percy can canonically talk to horses/equestrian creatures, so I feel like that same concept still applies, and the possibilities are so funny!

Like, I just imagine Percy watching a horse race/jumping competition or something and trying to keep from laughing at what the horses are saying to each other.

OR imagine him watching one of those horse-girl movies and hearing what the horse really thinks about the girl riding him/her.

OR imagine him watching Disney's version of Hercules and being able to know exactly what Pegasus thinks about Meg (it's nothing kid-friendly, I'm sure!) or him watching Dreamwork's Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron and hearing actual dialogue between the horses instead of just whinnying and neighing.

Please tell me I'm not the only one who's thought of this!

#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #percy jackson headcanon #spirit stallion of the cimarron #pjo headcanon #this is so funny to think about #i love horses #percy jackson loves horses

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justaninchident-f1xreader · 3 months

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max verstappen x reader part9

(incase you missed part8- https://www.tumblr.com/justaninchident-f1xreader/740597178369802240/max-verstappen-x-reader-part7?source=share)

themes-

ferrari female driver jealousy enemies to lovers possible spice (i will put the warning accordingly)

warnings- mentions of past abusive relationships

chapter 9- i'll be your anchor in the storm

It has been a few days since the saucy and spicy social media exchanges. All the drivers decided to go for a casual night out. The Monaco night thrummed with the usual post-race buzz, a symphony of tinkling glasses and boisterous laughter. Yet, amidst the revelry, Y/N's silence resonated like a discordant note. Her fiery eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, were veiled by a layer of worry, her smile strained at the edges. She fidgeted with her phone, her gaze darting around the room like a cornered animal.

Max, ever the observant predator, caught the tension radiating from her. He approached her, a wary concern creasing his brow. "What's with the ghost act, L/N?" he asked, his voice low and gruff, devoid of its usual playful bite.

Y/N flinched, startled, as if his presence had snapped her out of a trance. "Nothing," she mumbled, shoving her phone into her purse, but the tremor in her hands betrayed her words.

Max wasn't convinced. He knew her well enough to recognize the telltale signs – the nervous chewing of her lip, the way her fingers danced anxiously on the clasp of her purse. He pulled out a chair next to her, his gaze unyielding. "Spill it," he commanded, his voice laced with gentle authority.

Y/N hesitated, her silence stretching like a taut chord. Then, with a deep breath, she began to speak, her voice cracking with repressed emotion. "He's back," she whispered, her eyes darting towards the doorway, as if fearing a phantom presence.

Max felt a cold knot tighten in his gut. "Who?" he asked, his voice hardening.

"My ex," Y/N whispered, her gaze finally meeting his. "He…" she choked on a sob, the memory of past trauma raw in her eyes. "He got out."

Max's jaw clenched. The details of Y/N's past were whispers in the paddock, rumors of a violent relationship, scars hidden beneath her fiery spirit. He had never dared to pry, respecting her private battleground. But seeing her fear unfold before him, raw and visceral, ignited a protective fire within him.

He pulled her chair closer, offering a silent sanctuary. Y/N leaned into him, seeking solace in his quiet strength. In a halting voice, she recounted the ordeal – the chilling phone call, the constant dread, the fear that had crawled back into her life like a venomous snake.

"He.. he used to hit me, use me and leave me like i was a worthless doll. He criticized every feature that i had and made me feel bad for existing. When I started to do better in karting and racing, he hated me for it," Y/N took a breath and continued, "One night, when my friend Percy gave me a new book, he got jealous and he tried to...he tried to force himself onto me and I lost it. I smashed his head with the nearby lamp and called 911. He went to jail but he's getting out now. And I know he's out to get me"

Max listened, his usual stoicism cracking as he witnessed her vulnerability. He clenched his fists, a storm brewing beneath his calm exterior. The man who had hurt her, who had dared to dim her fire, would feel the full force of his fury.

When Y/N finished, her voice a trembling thread, she buried her face in her hands, tears soaking through her fingers. Max hesitated, then reached out, his calloused thumb gently wiping away a stray tear. He didn't offer platitudes or false promises. He simply held her gaze, his eyes pools of quiet strength, an unspoken vow etched within them.

"He won't touch you again," Max said, his voice deep and unwavering. "I won't let him."

The words were simple, yet they held the weight of a promise, a declaration of his unexpected but fierce protectiveness. Y/N's tear-filled eyes searched his face, finding validation, comfort, and something more – a spark of something she hadn't dared to acknowledge in the heat of their rivalry.

The night club dimmed around them, the music fading into a distant hum. The other drivers, sensing the charged atmosphere, retreated, leaving them alone in a bubble of shared vulnerability. In that intimate silence, a connection crackled between them, more potent than any post-race adrenaline rush.

Y/N reached out, her hand trembling slightly, and traced the outline of Max's jaw, the callouses beneath her fingertips a tangible proof of his strength. His gaze met hers, unflinching, reflecting the storm brewing within him and the tenderness reserved for her alone.

The lines had blurred. Rival, teammate, protector – Max Verstappen was now something more, a shield against the shadows of her past. And as their eyes locked, the unspoken tension between them, fueled by jealousy, competition, and now, a dawning protectiveness, threatened to ignite into something far more combustible than the champagne bubbling in their abandoned flutes.

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The spark crackling between Max and Y/N ignited into a searing flame as their lips drew closer. The tension in the air, thick with unspoken emotions, finally found its release in their shared breath, a promise whispered on the cusp of a kiss.

But just as their lips met, a chilling voice shattered the fragile moment. "Y/N!"

A figure emerged from the shadows, his face contorted with fury. It was Ethan, Y/N's ex, the embodiment of her past trauma, a nightmare made flesh. He held a metal rod in his hand, its glint reflecting the cold anger in his eyes.

Max's hand shot out, clamping onto Y/N's arm, pulling her back like a shield. Her eyes, wide with fear, met his, a silent plea for protection flashing within them. His own gaze, now glacial, locked onto Ethan's, a silent challenge issued across the dimly lit room.

The tension crackled, thicker than the smoke curling from abandoned cigars. Ethan, fueled by a twisted possessiveness, took a menacing step forward, the rod held aloft like a twisted trophy. "You think you can steal her from me, Verstappen?" he snarled, his voice dripping with venom.

Max, ever the strategist, remained calm, his voice a low growl. "She's made her choice, Ethan. And it's not you."

The air crackled with the promise of violence. The other drivers, sensing the imminent storm, edged closer, forming a silent barrier between the two men. Lando placed a hand on Y/N's shoulder, his own anger simmering beneath his calm facade.

Y/N, however, refused to be a damsel in distress. She straightened her spine, her voice ringing with defiance. "I'm not yours to steal, Ethan. I'm my own person, and I choose who I want to be with."

Her words hung in the air, a declaration of independence that pierced through the suffocating atmosphere. Ethan, his facade of control crumbling, lunged forward, the rod aimed at Y/N.

But Max, faster than a lightning strike, reacted with lightning speed. He shoved Y/N behind him, taking the brunt of the blow on his arm. A sharp cry of pain escaped him, but his eyes remained fixed on Ethan, a predator protecting his prey.

The room erupted in chaos. Lando tackled Ethan, wrestling the rod from his grasp. The other drivers, spurred by a shared sense of protectiveness, formed a human wall around Y/N, shielding her from further harm.

Max, his arm throbbing with pain, held his ground, his gaze never leaving Ethan. The storm within him, fueled by jealousy, protectiveness, and now, a surge of adrenaline, threatened to break free.

But before he could unleash his fury, the security guards arrived, alerted by the commotion. They swarmed Ethan, disarming him and dragging him away, his screams of rage echoing through the nightclub.

Y/N, still shaken but unharmed, rushed to Max, her eyes filled with concern. She cradled his injured arm, her touch a balm on his pain. "Max," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

He looked at her, the storm within him subsiding, replaced by a quiet tenderness. "It's okay," he rasped, his voice strained but reassuring. "He's gone. You're safe."

In that moment, amidst the chaos and the aftermath, a new understanding bloomed between them. It wasn't just about rivalry or competition anymore. It was about a bond forged in the crucible of fear, a silent promise of protection, and a connection that went beyond the surface.

The Monaco night, once a celebration of victory, had become a battleground for a different kind of victory. The race for Y/N's heart had taken a dangerous turn, and Max Verstappen, the unexpected hero, had stepped into the ring, claiming his place as her protector. But the battle was far from over. The shadows of Ethan's threat still loomed, and the race for Y/N's heart had just become a race against time, a gamble fueled by fire and the promise of a love forged in the face of danger.

writer's note- guys this was a bit different, i did want to add more emotional aspects to the story and i really worked hard writing this one. tell me what you think. WE LOVE LANDO IN THIS ONE.

#formula 1 #max verstappen imagine #red bull racing #charles leclerc #ferrari #max verstappen x reader #carlos sainz #f1 #lando norris #max verstappen #mv1 fic #mv1 #mv1 x reader #mv1 imagine #mv1 smut #redbull racing

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thejakeformerlyknownasprince · 11 months

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Is it just me or are the Ellimist/Crayak weirdly *not* a religious metaphor? Idk how to describe it but they don’t feel like a commentary on religion in the way that I’d expect them to be

My read is that the metaphysics of Animorphs aren't a comment on existing religions, no, because the deities are so dang original. A lot of western SF leads us to expect use or reinvention of an existing religion, but that's not what Animorphs is doing.

There's your Lord of the Rings approach, where you both name new gods and concepts but also have basically-Christian theology and a ton of Christian symbolism. There's your Harry Potter or The Power approach, where there are no confirmed gods, but characters still receive prophecy from... somewhere, and the prophecy always comes true. (Harry Potter and Dresden Files also have animism-like spirits that develop out of objects, but I digress.) There's your Chronicles of Narnia and Percy Jackson approach, where you have the characters go on an adventure alongside existing gods. There's your Buffy and Twilight asking questions about how vampires relate to existing religions, and offering no answers. There's DC and Supernatural declaring that all gods are real, including lots of existing ones and some made up just for those stories.

And then there's the tack Animorphs takes. Where we see the gods' perspective, we understand how they became gods, and we know them as flawed individuals. They have goals that are as orthogonal to the main characters' as those of a man who tramples a chessboard while escaping a wild boar. The gods are people, not good or evil, just well-meaning but imperfect forces doing their best to help. The only other series I know that offers origin stories and character development for its gods is Mistborn. I get why it's so rare — it's wildly ambitious, and easy to get wrong — but I'd love to read more series that do the same.

#animorphs #animorphs meta #religion #crayak #ellimist #sf #by all rights the ellimist chronicles shouldn't work; and yet #there should be an english way to say: ne savoir pas mais connaître les dieux

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we-are-all-nobodies18 · 2 months

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bitches who grew up on Percy Jackson , the Hunger Games and Avatar the Last Airbender...

how's that deep-rooted desire to burn down everything that slightly inconveniences you .. oh and the adhd , bisexuality , contempt for authority and existential crisis going for you?

It's me I'm bitches

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islandoffuckingsodor · 26 days

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Favourite character?

The old iron is my favorite!

Edward has been my favorite for as long as I can remember (followed closely by James.) He was a super under rated character in my opinion and deserved more screen time. (THEY REMOVED MY BABY I'M SO SAD ABOUT THAT EVEN THO I'LL NEVER WATCH ALL ENGINES GO😭)

But anyways here's a list from my favorite to least favorite (Its just the main steam team btw)

Edward (The old iron rip😭)

James (The red skittle would be my favorite if Edward didn't exist)

Thomas ( Fucking menace also my spirit animal only reason he isn't any higher is because love Eddie and James too much)

Gordon ( The classic series Gordon was better tbh)

Percy ( The green menace he use to be a savage but they just made him more stupid they more he showed up on camera so he can't go any higher also what I based my Percy off)

Henry (Still High on my favorite list but because they made him a wuss in the cgi version he isn't too high up here my boy didn't deserve to go out like that)

Duck (Haven't watched enough episodes with him to give him a higher rated sorry, but I do like the beef he had with diesel.)

Toby (Same about Toby but he's a little boring but he's better than whatever the hell they had to all engines go)

#thomas and friends #ttte #islandoffuckingsodor #ttte james #james the red engine #ttte edward #edward the blue engine #gordon the big engine #thomas the tank engine #ttte gordon #ttte thomas #ttte duck #ttte henry #ttte headcanon #ttte percy #Sorry if this is rushed I should be getting ready to go to the dentist

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percabeths-blue-cookies · 4 months

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She’s so done with him

#they are litterally annabeth and Percy #Leah is my spirit animal #percy jackson #pjo #annabeth chase #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo tv #percabeth #rick riordan #pjo tv show #walker scobell #leah sava jeffries #aryan simhadri

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creative-hanyou-girl · 4 months

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I don't know if anyone else feels this way but I think a big reason why I'm so chill about the changes made to the PJO show from the books is because I kind of look at each other as their own seperate canon.

Like, I read a lot of anime and manga, and anime adaptations have a huge habit for changing plot points for various reasons, and as a fan of said anime and manga, I've found that I can enjoy both versions of the same story even with the differences when I look at them as their own universe or canon. That's not to say I don't want them to be faithful or true to the source material, but if a scene or situation plays out differently for a logical or entertaining reason, than I can still appreciate that deviation from the manga even if I still like the other original version of that part more. And I can even like the reversal way if I feel an anime does something better than even the manga. But if I want to, I can look at certain moments as more canon than others because I got 2 different versions of that same scene or moment.

And, I don't know, I kind of apply that reasoning to the PJO series as well, mainly with the books, the show, and even the musical (not the movies put that right back where it came from). So far I'm loving the TV show, and while I miss some of the things they changed (like the pink poodle), this adaptation really is doing a great job with staying true to the heart and spirit of the original book that I personally am not even really bothered by the changes, especially when I remember that the books will always still be there with it's own version, or canon, of events.

Like, I will say 1 thing I adore in the books that isn't really in the show is the fact that a lot of Percy and Annabeth's "rivalry" during TLT has more to do with the rivalry between Poseidon and Athena. I just really like on how this adds a level of "forbidden friendship/love" to their relationship 'cause I personally eat the forbidden relationship trope up, especially when it's done well like with Percabeth.

Yet, even if this isn't really the reason percabeth have beef with each other in the show, I can still appreciate and enjoy that according to the show's canon, they have issues because they genuinely have problems with each other as actual people rather than their parents' rivalry, because at the end of the day, that's the PJO TV show canon, and I can always turn to the books for that version of Percabeth's "rivalry", as that is the PJO book canon.

Same goes for the characters too. I will always have and love my dark haired Percy and blond haired Annabeth in the books, but I can also welcome and love Walker's Percy and Leah's Annabeth from the show. And so far, they along with Aryan are KILLING IT as those characters.

I can love both versions of the characters.

I can love both versions of the same story.

I can look at both versions as they own seperate canon or mix them together if I so wish too (especially since both versions of PJO are written by the same guy)

And that's ok. The adaptation doesn't have to be a complete copy of the books. It doesn't have to have things play out eactly the same way. The characters don't have to look exactly the way they are described as in the books. And that's ok. I will still always have the books to love and appreciate, but I can also start to love and appreciate the new adaptation for it's new spin and twists to the same story that sets it apart as it's own canon while still staying true to the spirit of its predecessor.

Anyway, sorry if I'm not making a lot of sense. I just think the people complaining about the changes in the show are looking at it all the wrong way. The show has it's own canon just as the books have their own canon, or even the musical. At the end of the day, isn't that kind of cool to have different versions of the same story and characters? Doesn't it give you so many more options to look at the story in different ways that you can prefer or choose from? Doesn't it give you new versions of canon that you choose from? And really, as long as the PJO adaptation, or any adaptation for that matter, stays true to the heart and spirit of the original story and characters, do the changes made really matter?

#anyway sorry for the long post #I've just been seeing a lot of people complaining about the PJO making changes from the books and I thought I give my 2 cents #& I thought about how the show dies make enough changes to certain events or plotpoints that you could look at it as its own seperate canon #and how that actually is kind of cool as it gives us another version of the same story and characters #it's actually really neat to have different versions of the same story ya know #its like. if I ever want the Percabeth that has more of a 'forbidden relationship' thing going on. there's always the book canon to fall on #likewise if I want the percabeth where they're rivals because they have genuine issues w/ eachother. there's the TV show. ya know?#and if I want the Athena that I can at least somewhat believe might actually care for Annabeth. there's the book canon #whereas if I want the Athena I straight up wanna strangle from the getgo. I now got the TV show for that😊#same with the characters descriptions #I personally still imagine Percy and Annabeth as they are described in the books #but I am positvely loving Leah and Walker's portrayal of TV Percy and Annabeth so much. especially in these last few episodes.#and don't get me started on how much I love Aryan as Grover. he's the GOAT (literally🤭)#anyway thanks for coming to my ted talk #I just think its neat that Ive now got 2. even 3 versions of PJO canon that I can love together and individually at my disposal now #and I just think the people who are complaining about the show aren't seeing it that way and that's why they're whining about changes #like. chill guys. we still have the books. but now we also the show and musical to give us new versions of the same story and characters #and is that not amazing when you think about it?#percy jackson series #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson tv show #percy jackson #percy and annabeth #athena #annabeth chase #grover underwood #book vs show #percy jackson books #percy jackson musical #percabeth

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