#chemical fire engine

[larryshapiro]

Itasca Fire District, IL - 1880 Howe, horse-drawn chemical wagon

[oldtvlover]

Hey E! Gang,

so last one for today. When Roy goes in a second time to find Johnny. And this is their run out of the chemical plant fire. Just on time as it’s seen.

Phew, close once again.

[curious-kat]

and tell that to MY great great uncle, who once stopped an oil refinery fire in texas by saying "wait a minute, the flames are the wrong color for this to be an oil fire; it's a kerosene fire. We just need to shut off the gas valve." and then without further discussion he walked into the burning building, shut off the main gas valve and saved the plant from exploding and killing them all.

It only takes three generations for you to be basically forgotten

[pyrrhiccomedy]

If you have the time, I have a physics question that has been breaking my brain. What exactly is energy?

I've tried so hard to wrap my head around it but even all the engineering dads of youtube can't make me understand.

The thing with physics is that the simpler something is, the harder it is to put it into words. Energy is almost as simple as it gets. The textbook definition of energy is just "the capacity for something to move against a force," but that's not satisfying, because it's too simple. So let's try something else.

Think back to the Big Bang. What was the Big Bang made of?

Particles, right? Just a lot of particles. We didn't even have hydrogen yet, that would take about 400,000 years. In fact for the first few microseconds, we didn't even have protons and neutrons and electrons, we just had quarks and gluons. The stuff of the Big Bang - the stuff you could touch - was just particles.

Where did those particles go?

You know: into stuff. Everything around you is made of those particles. I mean, by weight, less than 1% of all matter in the universe is solid stuff, but you get it, right? The planets and the stars and dark matter and black holes and penguins and sunflowers and you and me are all made out of those particles.

But the Big Bang wasn't just "a bunch of particles." "A bunch of particles" would just...sit there. If the singularity behind the Big Bang was just a bunch of particles, it would just be, like, a marble, or a block of tofu. It wouldn't have done anything.

Part of the difficulty of understanding energy is that we thought it was a substance for so long. Like, from the time when fire was put into the same category as earth, wind, and and water as one of the classical elements, up until, like, the 1850s. And talking about it like it's a substance and thinking about it like it's a substance is a tough habit to break. But it's not a substance. The Big Bang WAS only "made of" those particles. There wasn't anything else there. Physically it was just particles.

Those particles just had personal qualities. Like having a charming personality, and a good sense of humor. Intangible qualities. Two of them, specifically.

Their qualities were hot and fast. And hot is just fast but small! So really they only had one quality: an absolutely fucking stupid amount of FAST.

We've already covered where the particles went. That's all the stuff you see when you look around.

So where did the fast go?

That's energy. The single personal intangible quality possessed by the particles at the moment of the Big Bang. And energy can never be created or destroyed, right? So the fast isn't gone. All of the particles had fast, and so when they spread out, they took the fast with them, as they turned into atoms and chemicals and stuff.

All of the energy in the universe is just the fastness from that single moment of ignition, transforming and transforming into different expressions of motion.

Hope this helps.

[cosmicpuzzle]

Which Education🎓📚 is right for you?

Mercury rules your interest and consequently which type of course you would select.

Now you have to see how Mercury is placed. For example if Mercury is conjunct Moon it would have same effect as Mercury in Cancer or Moon opposite Mercury.

Mercury -Sun: It is called Budh Aditya yoga. These people can shine in political science, geology, sociology, medicine and they can be good leaders too. They may prepare for competitive exams.

Mercury-Moon: Some changes or confusion in choice of course. Can study more than one subject but both vastly different from each other. Chemical, hotel management, nutrition, chef, psychology, tarot and intuitive studies.

Mercury-Mars: Some obstacles in education, breaks and interruptions (dropping classes), engineering (especially related to machines, drawings, plans, civil, electronics), medicine (especially related to surgery), fire and safety engineering,

Mercury-Venus: Sales, marketing, HR, interior designing, makeup courses, all type of fine arts, vocational courses, acting courses.

Mercury-Saturn: Engineering (like construction , petroleum, mining core subjects), structural engineering, drafting, administrative studies.

Mercury-Jupiter: Finance, CPA, CMA, accounting, teaching, law field, journalism, VJ, pilots, aeronautical.

Mercury- Rahu: Chemical, nuclear subjects, cinematography, software courses, digital marketing, share markets, computer hardware, import export, AI, Machine Learning courses.

Mercury-Ketu: Computer coding, electrical engineering, bio technology, astrology, virology, research oriented fields.

For Readings DM

[ryescapades]

aubade · ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ°࿐ | kaiju no. 8

— there is you, and then there is him. as dawn breaks, love lays its claim.

fluff prompt: palm kisses <3 characters: hoshina soshiro x gn weapon specialist!reader

genre/warning: fluff, mutual pining, ooc hoshina prolly, indirect confession, takes place after the sagamihara operation's celebration party, narumi cameo bcs why not

a/n: specially made for my lovely moot @/spookuna <3 i'm a bit attached to this one ngl..

2.9k wc

they say it is a soldier's pride to be able to serve the country they've sworn their lives on. duty, honor and discipline; these are all necessary in order to bring out the best in oneself to protect what matters to them.

expectedly, it is no different in the jakdf. bound by duty, the officers, no matter what position or department they're in, are well aware of the obligation they have to adhere to. they hone their skills and take pride in their abilities to be the best version of themselves so as to protect the lives of the people from the onslaught of kaiju in any way they can.

however, as a defense force officer yourself, your pride lies in your weapons. specifically, the weapons that you made.

ever since you were a mere child, all you've ever known was the forging of heated metals and the whirring sound of machines. the you from years ago used to enjoy watching the process of weapon-making, both machinery and man-made alike. hence, it is only natural that you grew up pursuing a career born out of your interest; a weapon specialist in the jakdf.

you were one of their best, in fact. hardworking and dedicated, you were deserving enough to be stationed at the first division base, where all the cream of the crops reside. studying and researching together with your fellow engineers in the process of making kaiju-specialized arsenals have become as natural as eating your daily meals.

additionally, discussing about the weapons with the soldiers themselves for any improvements is something you'd grown to enjoy doing.

and unbeknownst to most of those around you, you might just have the slightest bit of favoritism towards one soldier in particular...

"how was it, the blaze round? or is the explosive one still better?" you inquire during one afternoon in the testing lab. the first division officer turns to you while holding the rifle containing said blazing cartridges, half of it already emptied after the shooting trial.

"it's working well, y/n-san! your idea of flaming bullets is really doing wonders, seriously. but i do think the design could be better though, for instance..." as he drones on about what upgrades you could add to the gun, you listen with rapt attention, jotting down new ideas on your notebook. after the testing session ends, you mull over your notes in the silence of the now-empty lab.

a curious voice, fused with a bit of bafflement then brings you out of your headspace that is previously filled with a bunch of chemicals, kaiju remains and mechanical parts.

"you're still doing tests on that fire gun-thingy?" you lift your head up to see captain narumi waltzing in, the usual air of confidence and nonchalance sticking to him like a second skin.

you perk up, throwing him a quick salute. "yep, as usual! still got a long way to go though. there's so many stuff i need to fix, especially the cartridge and the substance formula. and there's the barrel part too—"

narumi grimaces, "okay, okay, chill, y/n. i'm only here to pick up my weapon, not to hear you nerd out about your little experiment," he huffs, walking over to the corner of the lab where his bayonet case is kept. you only give a responding chuckle and a lighthearted apology.

being the nosy ass that he is, narumi peeks over your figure to glimpse at what you're working on. however, his magenta hues latch on to your hands. in all the years he's known you, narumi has only ever seen you with your gloves on but today, your hands are bare and free from the confine of those military-issued fabrics.

with the case now slung over his shoulder, he's about to interrogate you about the lines he'd just seen on your palms when your phone that was sitting on the desk rings, a familiar name flashing on the screen.

the captain clicks his tongue. "the heck does this asshole want from you?" he questions in annoyance, albeit while sliding the device to you all the same just as you ask him who's calling.

he takes note of the way your eyes light up when they land upon the name of the caller, a smile quirking up on your face as you feel your heart skipping a (few too many) beat. you immediately slide a finger across the screen to put the call on speaker so that you can still look over your findings and talk to him all the while.

right, speaking of favoritism...

"vice-captain hoshina?" you cheerily greet, and narumi forces himself to hold in a gag (spoiler: he fails) when the man on the other line speaks up, "hey there. you free right now?" internally, you almost punched yourself at how giddy you get after hearing the smooth and light baritone of hoshina's voice.

you send your captain a glare before shooing him out with a wave of your hand. gruntling under his breath, the bicolor-haired man rolls his eyes as he pushes the door on his way out. "damn lovebirds,"

you ignore his not-so vague comment, fully focused on the one you're currently in love speaking with. "no, not really. i was just testing out some new stuff. why?" you query.

"you've heard about the sagamihara operation, right? well, ya see... one of my blades broke while i was fightin' no. 8, and the other one is pretty scratched up. i'm afraid i'd have to get the spare ones you keep at the hq," hoshina explains, and your eyebrows raise in shock.

"what? i've only heard that the mission turned out quite the struggle in the end, but nothing about no. 8 showing up. are you okay?" hoshina finds himself to be a lucky man, for you're not there with him to see how wide he's smiling, his cheeks practically hurt from your expression of concern for him.

"i'm all good, don't worry, dear. and besides, i won't be taken down so easily like that, ya know? have some faith in me, yeah?" you blush slightly at the nickname and his teasing tone before letting out a small laugh. "sorry, sorry. i do have faith in you, vice-captain. you hold that 'strongest close-quarters combatant' title for a reason, no?" you muse, not even bothering to keep the sheer honesty from flowing out.

the grip on his own phone tightens, relishing in the subtle praise sneaking behind your words. throughout his years in the defense force, people have complimented him on his hand-to-hand skills, sure. more often so now that he's a high-ranking officer in the third division. but when it comes to you, it just feels... right. assuring, somehow.

hoshina chuckles breathily, "you're right. so, about my swords... should i go there to pick it up or will you be sending a courier for it?"

for a moment you contemplate, weighing over your decisions. on one side, you really don't have any other purpose to go all the way to tachikawa apart from delivering the weapon. plus, your schedule is not exactly flexible enough to be making such impromptu visits to another base.

on the other hand, going to tachikawa means you get to see him. and deliver the weapon, obviously. but the way you see it, meeting him is enough reason for you to confidently set your choice.

"actually... you know what? i'll be going to tachikawa myself,"

if it were anybody else, you would've reprimanded them for disregarding their duties so carelessly like this. why do something so pointlessly time-consuming when there's a more effective way of doing it? or something along the lines of 'you should stick true to your obligation as a defense force officer, something something, blah blah...'

but who could blame you, really. for hoshina soshiro, you would take the tiniest crumb of chance to see him standing in front your very eyes, only to remind yourself time and time again that he's the one your heart longs for.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

the hour clock strikes around six in the morning when you step foot onto the third division's turf, the sun still on its way to reach above the horizon for the incoming dawn.

you had taken some good five minutes of lecturing yourself about impulsively making a trip to another base, hands gripping tight on the steering wheel as you eventually came to terms with the fact that you were, indeed, driving by yourself from the ariake maritime base straight to tachikawa.

being the responsible officer that you are, you informed captain narumi of your little quote unquote adventure, which he only cackled at. you definitely did not bribe him with a new disc game of his choosing for his bs5 if he promised not tell on you to your superiors...

now, as you settle your belongings in the third division's library, you suddenly feel the nerves wrecking inside. it's quite a silly issue, really. it's not like this is the first time you're meeting hoshina. truth be told, you think you've seen more of him than captain ashiro, even though the latter is the more frequent visitor to the main headquarters out of the two.

you can't help it. everything about hoshina just makes you feel nervous, shy, but warm and happy all the same. your heart would beat a thousand miles per hour when he's near, heat rushing to every part of your body as if you had just burned yourself. well, maybe that's partly accurate, with how stupidly and ridiculously hot hoshina soshiro is—

a knock on the door interrupts your train of improper thoughts.

a figure stands at the huge opened entrance, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed against his— oh, sweet lord... he's wearing that compression shirt again. it takes every ounce of your willpower to not let your eyes stray anywhere below the turtleneck-line, lest you're in for a lifetime of teasing by the man.

you're a bit unlucky, it seems. because when you finally look at him, there is a knowing glint in his wine-tinted irises, as if he understands exactly what goes on in your mind, though he produces no word to address it.

"vice-captain, hi," you start, then proceed to mentally smack yourself because what the heck is that lame-ass greeting?

hoshina smiles, and your eyes greedily take in the sight of his curled up mouth. "hi yourself. how was the drive? i was worried for a second when ya said you're comin' here alone. you could've taken the shinkansen... or better yet, i could've gone there myself," thin eyebrows furrowing slightly, he approaches where you stand in the middle of the room where a metal table sits among others.

you laugh sheepishly, scratching gingerly on the skin of your cheek. "traffic was okay, thanks. and this is kind of an impulsive idea, really. i went straight to my car without thinking instead of going to the train station. plus, i wanted to give these to you myself," you say, mentioning to the leather sheaths sitting on the table.

hoshina tilts his head, giving you a confused smile, "why so? aren't they the same ol' blades like the ones i've been using before?" he asks, which causes your expression to brighten.

grabbing the weapons in your hands, you excitedly unsheathe the twin swords before displaying them in front of him. the blades are familiar, marked as his signature weapon SW-2033, gleaming sharp in the dim light of the library and shaped as similarly as his old ones.

"they are, but i added some touch ups to them too! i did some tweaking in the metal constitution of the blades to make them lighter, but more sturdy and tough to cut through harder things. they're supposedly more responsive to any change in your combat power too. the new composition has some kaiju remains in it, but you didn't hear that from me, okay?" you whisper the last part cheekily.

hoshina laughs, comfortably taking the swords when you hand them out to him and slowly turning them back and forth for observation, awestruck with your creation when suddenly a small detail catches his eyes. "what's this?" he mutters curiously, bringing the handle of the swords for a closer scrutiny.

you immediately straighten up at his attentiveness, your arms sliding behind your back and your fingers starting to play with the hem of your gloves from the jitters. "ah, that. well, i figured the swords would hold out much longer this time. so i thought it wouldn't hurt to do a little mark of ownership on each of them," you mumble, holding your breath while gauging his reaction all the same.

there, beside the jagged, razor-sharp edge of the dark steel blade, a small and intricate swirl of his first name is carved, along with a pressed mark of your own initials just above the izumo tech logo at the hilt.

there's a lump his throat, his slanted eyes widening in surprise.

bashfulness washes over you when he doesn't say anything, still staring at the weapons. "o-of course, i can remove my name if that's what you're concerned about! the hilt is easy to be swapped so—"

"no, they're perfect... thank you," he breathes.

your own eyes widen, gulping down the nervousness that is starting to dwindle down a bit, thankfully. you inwardly smile, relieved at how this is turning out. "think nothing of it! it's just something i thought to do in passing and it's not like there are many others in the defense force who specializes in swordsmanship." your hand reaches up to brush it off.

hoshina suddenly freezes when his eyes latch onto your gloved hand, the piece of stitched up cloth slightly nudged up from your earlier fidgeting to reveal a smidgen of your palm, causing you to tense slightly. you move to hide your hand from his view but your speed is no match against his; the man snatches it into his own, frowning deeply.

he puts aside the twin blades and takes a step towards you. one of his slender, much longer fingers slides under the dark fabric, exposing more and more of your palm to his amaranthine gaze at such a slow pace that it just makes the embarrassment to settle even deeper, simmering in the depth of your stomach and causing shivers to run down the length of your back.

eventually, the glove comes off and his eyes rove over the skin of your palm. it's soft to the touch, hoshina thinks. even so, he can't help but to stare at the lines upon lines of raised skin, ragged and roughly positioned on the surface. your hand is severely scarred.

you try to clench your hand into a fist and pull back but the swordsman seems persistent enough that you just relent, looking away to avoid his eyes. "it's bad, isn't it?" you smile, no mirth whatsoever.

play with knives, and you're bound to get nicked, you'd heard once.

his downturned expression remains. "it is. did you get them while refining my new swords?" he questions quietly into the air between you. your teeth catches on your bottom lip before you let out a low hum, "i always get them when i refine your swords.” the space around you grows tight, and the next thing that happens causes your chest to be even tighter.

hoshina moves closer into your space, your forehead almost knocking against him as he brings your palm to his lips. your mouth dries and feels like sandpaper as the airy, featherlight sensation continues to descend on various spots on your skin a few more times, your pulse quickening as he trails them to your wrist. he's careful with his fangs, but the sudden appearance of his tongue has you gasping slightly. it's wet, and it's warm against your skin. "w-what..." you stammer.

"it's beautiful. you're beautiful, y/n," hoshina murmurs, causing the sharp intake of your breath as the blood in your veins pumps in a frenzy.

he glances up to see your fluttering eyes and reddened cheeks. with those as the only indications he needs, he closes the distance to press his lips onto yours in a shy, tender kiss.

finally, your foolish little heart wants to scream. after months of lingering eye contacts, of shy touches, whispered praises and not-so-platonic gestures. after months of dancing around these intense, dizzying feelings.

the softness of your mouth gives to the pressure of his, dancing unhurriedly against each other as you savor the heat he emits. hoshina holds you close, your imperfectly perfect hand cradled protectively against his chest as his free hand comes up to steady a palm over your warm cheek.

he pulls back slowly to give you space and take a minute but you follow him, eyes still closed and lips chasing after his in an attempt to be connected once more. hoshina breathes out a chuckle and calls out for you, fondness seeping out from each syllable of your name that has you opening your eyes to peer at his own.

and here, as the first rays of sunlight pour through the windows of the library, casting a golden hue across the room and painting him in such an exquisite way it leaves the air rushing out of your lungs. the bell chimes somewhere in your mind, the musical vibrations synchronizing with the love you hold for the man in front of you.

somewhere in the back of your mind, you’ve never thought so beautifully of your hands ever before.

what i would give to be otp with hoshina like i'm his actual gf ... *cries in non fiction

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[liz-on-leash]

Taken

STAYC Isa × Multiple Guys

[Commissioned]

No warning, read at your own risk!

4,040 Words

The evening air was a stark contrast to the energetic atmosphere inside the rehearsal studio, and Isa welcomed the cool breeze on her flushed skin as she stepped outside. 

Her heart, still racing from the intense dance routine, now quickened for a different reason as she noticed a van parked across the street, its engine idling. 

A sense of unease crept up her spine, but she brushed it off, attributing it to post-performance jitters.

As Isa strolled towards the alley, hoping to find a quiet spot to gather her thoughts, the van's side door slid open, and four men emerged with lightning speed. 

Two of them were tall and muscular with dark skin, their eyes glowing with an unsettling intensity. The other two, pale-skinned with sharp features, had a feral look about them.

"Gotcha, you teasing slut!" one of the black men stated, his deep voice cutting through the night.

Isa's scream was cut short as a meaty hand clamped over her mouth, while another arm wrapped around her waist, lifting her off the ground. 

She kicked and struggled, her small frame no match for their brute strength. The white men joined in, their rough hands groping her thighs, leaving red fingerprints on her pale skin.

"Help... Someone..." Isa whimpered, her voice muffled by the strong hand.

"Shut the fuck up, bitch!" The other black man delivered a brutal punch to her stomach, causing her to double over and retch. 

The man holding her released his grip on her mouth, only to replace it with a drugged cloth, forcing her to inhale the potent chemical.

“Breathe it in, you fucking tease," one of the white men hissed, his hot breath on her neck sending shivers of terror down her spine.

Isa's limbs grew heavy as the drug took effect, but her mind remained alert, aware of the horror unfolding. She felt herself being thrown into the van, her head hitting the metal floor with a sickening thud. The world spun as the men climbed in, their laughter filling the confined space.

"Look at this pretty thing, all drugged up and helpless," one of the black men said, his deep voice laced with cruel amusement. "Let's have some fun, baby."

Isa's eyes widened as she saw the men's faces contorting with lust. The black men, with their powerful builds, loomed over her, while the white men crawled closer.

"These thighs though..." The other white man reached out and squeezed her thigh, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. "So thick and milky, holy fuck."

Isa let out a pained moan as his nails scratched down her sensitive skin, leaving trails of fire. The black man nearest to her face grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back.

"You're gonna take what we give ya, you hear?" he snarled, his breath washing over her face. "Scream all you want, ain't nobody comin' to save ya."

Her cries were muffled by the rough hand covering her mouth, as the other black man ripped at her clothes, tearing the fabric away from her body. The white men joined in, their hands rough and relentless, leaving her naked and vulnerable.

"Oh, she's a feisty one," one man remarked as Isa kicked out, her legs flailing in a desperate attempt to fend them off.

A heavy boot connected with her thigh, making her scream into the hand covering her mouth. "That's for trying to fight back, ya stupid bitch."

Isa's body jerked with each brutal impact, her legs becoming their primary target. The men took turns raining slaps and squeezes on her thighs, their laughter filling the van as they reveled in her pain.

"Please don't hurt me… I'm s-sorry..." she begged although she did nothing wrong.

"Shut her up, I can't stand that whining," a tattooed white man said, grabbing a length of duct tape and roughly covering her mouth, securing her cries of agony.

The van came to a screeching halt, and Isa's body slid across the floor, leaving a trail of sweat behind. The men's excitement grew as they reached their destination, their hands moving with renewed fervor over her trembling form.

"This is just the beginning, sweet Isa," a black man whispered, sending shivers of fear through her drugged body. "You're gonna learn to love every second of this ride."

The van doors flung open, revealing a desolate industrial area, bathed in the eerie glow of a single streetlight. Isa's dazed eyes struggled to focus as one black dude loomed over her.

"You won't be singing those sweet songs anymore, bitch," he spat, ripping the tape from her mouth with a cruel smile. 

The sudden pain made Isa cry out, only to be silenced by a stinging slap across her cheek, leaving her reeling. 

As she struggled to regain her senses, her eyes widened in horror as the same man unzipped his pants, releasing a monstrous black cock. It was thick and veiny, its size rivaling the width of her forearm. 

Her breath hitched as he grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. "You will take this down your pretty throat, and you better not bite," he warned. "Gonna fuck that mouth and ruin it for anyone else."

Before Isa could process his words, the other black man grabbed her from behind, his strong arms wrapping around her, holding her in place. “No, let me, ugh, go…” 

She felt the cold, hard length of the cock pressing against her lips, and despite her efforts to resist, it forced its way in, stretching her mouth painfully.

Saliva dripped from the corners of her mouth as the black cock invaded, her eyes wide with shock. The man behind her held her head in a vice-like grip, allowing his friend to thrust forward, driving his cock down her throat. 

She gagged and choked, her eyes watering as she struggled for breath.

"Look at her go," the man behind her laughed. "She's loving it, can't get enough of that black dick!"

Isa's eyes rolled back as he withdrew only to thrust again, each push sending his cock deeper, triggering her gag reflex. 

Her throat burned and her nose ran as he face-fucked her with abandon, his balls almost slapping against her chin with each forward.

The two remaining men held her arms and legs, their hands digging into her tender flesh, leaving extra bruises that would serve as reminders of this night. They laughed, their voices echoing in her throbbing head.

"She's such a good little cock-sucker, ain't she?" a white man taunted, his hand tightening on her thigh.

The man fucking her throat grunted with pleasure, his hips moving at a relentless tempo. He pushed deeper, lowering himself until he was sitting on her face.

His cock bulged inside her throat, stretching her to the limit. Isa's eyes jutted out, her face turning red as she choked, her body convulsing in an attempt to breathe.

Snot and tears mixed on her face, her eyes pleading for mercy as she struggled against the men holding her down. The room spun, her vision blurring as she teetered on the edge of consciousness.

The white man holding her legs landed his eyes on the wet patch spreading between Isa's thighs. Licking his lip, he yanked her shorts down her thick thighs, exposing her glistening pussy lips. 

"Aw, look at that. She's so scared, she pissed herself. What a fucking mess."

Isa's body trembled, her shame compounded by the men's laughter and crude remarks. The man holding her legs ran his fingers through the wetness, smearing it across her sensitive skin.

"Bet that pussy tastes as sweet as she looks," he said, his voice dripping with mockery. "Might just have to find out.”

The black man on Isa’s face picked up his momentum, his hips snapping forward with increased urgency. Isa's throat constricted around his black cock, providing a tight, wet sheath for him to plow into deeper.

Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through his body, his balls tightening with impending release. "Fuck, yeah, swallow it, slut!" he grunted, his eyes rolling back as he reveled in the sensation of her mouth and throat massaging his cock.

Isa's eyes watered, her vision blurred as she choked on his length, her body convulsing in a desperate attempt to draw breath. The man behind her held her head in a merciless grip, ensuring she couldn't escape the assault on her throat. 

The squelching slurping sounds of his cock pounding her face filled the van, mingling with her trembling muffled cries and the men's groans.

Meanwhile, the white man attending to her pussy grew bolder. He worked his fingers roughly along her slit, gathering her fluids before pushing a thick finger into her tight, virgin hole. 

Isa's body tensed, her legs straining against the man holding them as she groaned in surprise around the cock in her throat.

"Ah, she's so fucking tight," the man grunted. “Need to stretch this pussy until it's ready for our cocks."

He added another finger, scissoring them inside her, eliciting a strangled cry from Isa as he stretched her virgin walls, his rough nails scraping against her sensitive insides. 

Her body squirmed, her hips bucking involuntarily as he violated her with his fingers, preparing her for the impending penetration.

The second white man hugged Isa's leg to his chest, exposing her soft inner thigh. He rubbed his engorged cock along her smooth skin, his precum leaving a sticky trail.

His hand moved to her calf, squeezing and kneading before he bent down and licked a wet stripe along her calf, his hot tongue leaving a wet, sloppy imprint.

"Taste so good, I could eat you up, babe," he commented.

Isa's body shook, her pupils vanished as the black man above her buried his cock deep into her esophagus, holding himself there as he pumped his hot cum down her throat. 

Her airway completely blocked, she gagged and choked, her body convulsing as she struggled, her nails scratching at his thighs in a futile attempt to escape. The man's cock twitched, emptying his load, his pleasure heightened by her misery. 

As he pulled out, his cock sliding from her mouth with a wet, sucking sound, his thick cum spilled from her lips and nose.

Isa's body, overwhelmed by the assault on her senses, went into shock as she slumped limply, passing out with the taste of cum and the violation of fingers still fresh in her pussy.

The men grabbed her unconscious form and tossed her further into the abandoned brick building, her body landing with a sickening thud on the broken and dirty concrete floor, illuminated by a single flickering bulb.

The men’s eyes gleaming with lust and cruelty, were not satisfied with the extent of Isa's suffering. They wanted to push her to the brink, reveling in her pain and despair. 

One of the men, his eyes alight with sadistic glee, snatched a half-empty beer bottle from the corner of the dilapidated room and approached the trembling idol.

"Wake up, baby," he sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. "Time to join the party again."

Isa's body jerked as the cold liquid was poured down in her mouth, her abused throat burning as she choked and spluttered, gasping for air. Her eyes flew open, taking in the grinning faces of her captors, and the horror of her situation came crashing down on her.

Mustering what little strength she had left, Isa pushed herself onto her hands and knees, her body trembling violently. Her once pristine skin was now wounded and soiled, her hair a tangled mess, and her makeup streaked with tears and cum.

"Please... have mercy..." her voice rasp and raw from the abuse. "I can't take any more... I'll do anything, just let me go."

Her pleas were met with laughter and crude remarks, the men's desire only heightened by her vulnerable position.

"Look at you, on your knees, begging like a dog," one black man said, his deep voice laced with scorn. “You should know your place. You're our thing now."

Isa's eyes darted from one man to the next, her hands weakly attempting to cover her exposed tits and pussy, a futile effort to preserve some dignity.

"Please... I won't tell anyone... Just let me go..." she sobbed, her body shaking with the force of her tears. "I feel sick... I can't..."

Her words were cut off by a sharp kick to her side, sending her sprawling onto her stomach.

"Shut the fuck up with your begging!" the man who had face-fucked her spat, his eyes dark with rage. "I wanna see you suffer, bitch. We do whatever we want, and there's nothing you can do to stop it."

He stepped forward, his sole pressing down on the back of Isa's head, forcing her face into the dirty floor. "No! No! Please!" She struggled, her hands scrabbling at his foot, her screams echoing off the brick walls.

"Who's first?" a white man asked, a hint of eagerness in his voice.

"Don't matter," the black man who had stepped on her head replied, his voice calm but menacing. "We all gonna have our turns anyway. She's ours and she's gonna learn her fucking place soon enough."

The white man who had fingered Isa's pussy stepped forward, his thick cock jutting out proudly. "I will stretch her out nice and good for ya. She won't be walking straight after I'm done."

Isa's cries intensified as she realized there would be no escape, no mercy from these ruthless men. Her body, once a vessel for her art, was now a plaything for their darkest desires.

The first white man positioned himself behind Isa, his hands gripping her soft, round ass. He lifted her, aligning her with his throbbing cock, which stood rigid and swollen, eager to claim her. 

Isa's cries intensified as she begged for mercy, her head still pinned to the ground by the black man's boot.

"No! Get away— Ahhh!!!” she sobbed, her body trembling uncontrollably.

The second black man, not one to be left out of the action, climbed onto Isa's back. He twisted her arms behind her, bending them at an agonizing angle, causing her to scream in fresh pain, her saliva mixing with her tears on the dirty floor.

As the white man held her hips, his cock poised at her entrance, Isa's body tensed, every muscle screaming in protest. The head of his cock pushed past her tight pussy lips, stretching her, invading her most intimate canal. Her body vibrated, nausea rising as the trauma of her situation hit her anew.

The big white cock, relentless in its pursuit of pleasure, slid further inside, inch by inch. Isa's eyes rolled back, her mouth opening in a silent scream as her body tried to adjust to the invasion.

With each push, he sank deeper, his cockhead bumping against her cervix, arousing a fresh wave of pain. Isa's body shuddered with the force of his penetration, her muscles clenching involuntarily, providing a grippy, wet glove.

He gripped her hips, holding her in place as he began to pound into her, his balls kissing against her clit. Her pussy, and untouched, now molded around his cock, her inner walls gripping and massaging his length with each withdrawal and penetration.

"You like that, don't ya?" he growled, slapping her ass cheek hard, leaving a red imprint. "Bet you love getting fucked by a big white cock, you Asian slut. Scream for me, tell me how much you love it."

Isa's body shook with the force of his pounding, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Her arms, twisted painfully behind her, prevented her from forming coherent words, but the white man wasn't satisfied.

"Tell me, filthy bitch!" he demanded, his voice harsh as he slammed into her, his hips meeting hers with a violent rhythm.

Isa's mouth opened, her throat working as she tried to form words, but all that escaped was a pained, “It hurts… It hurts so much... Help me… everyone… manager-nim…”

"You're a stupid bitch, can't even give me what I want," he snapped. 

He drove into her angrily until he heaved and cummed inside her, his cock twitching as he filled her wounded pussy with his seed. Isa's body jerked with the force of his release, the burning sensation of his cum adding to the agony coursing through her.

He then pulled out, his spent cock slick and sticky with their mixed fluids, leaving Isa's weak body trembling on the hard floor.

The black man crouching on Isa’s back released her arms, letting them dangle by her sides. He positioned himself behind her, dropping to his knees and grasping her plump ass cheeks, pulling them apart to expose her tiny fluttering asshole. 

"Go on, bro, tear that ass up," urged the white dude who creampied her. "Show her who's in charge."

The black bastard leaned forward, his breath washing over Isa's exposed rosebud, making her tremble and whimper. He spat on her sensitive hole, the wetness dripping down her cleft.

The other black dude stepped off Isa's head, he grabbed a fistful of her matted hair, yanking her face up from the filthy floor. Tears streaked her cheeks, mixing with the dirt and smeared snot.

"You belong to us now, cunt," his foul breath washed over her face. "Say goodbye to your idol life, because from now on, you're our sex slave. And many more."

Isa's body shook with silent sobs, her eyes pleading, reflecting the shattered remnants of her former self.

"We ain't stopping till we've had our fill," he continued. "So, stop your whimpering and accept your new life as our bitch."

He delivered a sharp backhand across her mouth. "And don't play dumb, we know you understand every fucking word. You're gonna get bred daily, even when that belly of yours starts swelling. We would still fuck the baby out of you, got it?"

Isa's eyes widened in horror, her mind struggling to comprehend the endless violation they intended to subject her to.

The black man stepped aside, his work of breaking her spirit momentarily complete. In his place stepped another white degenerate, a length of cord dangling from his hand.

"My turn to loosen that throat of yours, baby," he announced, filled with anticipation.

Isa weakly shook her head, her eyes pleading for mercy, but the white dude yanked her hair, forcing her head back, exposing her throat, vulnerable and exposed.

With swift efficiency, he wrapped the cord around her slender neck before pulling the ends tight, cutting off her air supply. Isa's mouth fell open in a silent cry, her eyes bulging as she clawed at the cord digging her skin, her face turning blue.

Seizing the opportunity, he shoved his cock past her trembling lips, the head hitting the back of her throat instantly, triggering a violent gag reflex. He hissed in pleasure, his hips swaying, fucking her mouth as he maintained his grip on the cord.

Isa's body convulsed, her hands clawing at the cord - more like on her own neck in an attempt to hook her fingers into the cord as she stifled around his invading cock, her saliva mixing with her cries.

The white dude's cock invaded her throat, stretching her mouth wide, while the black bastard's thick shaft breached her tight asshole, tearing through her sphincter.

The cord around her neck tightened, cutting off her air supply, making the penetration even more severe and sickening.

Isa's sphincter screamed in protest as his thick cockhead forced its way past the resistant muscle, producing a scream that was instantly muffled by the cock pounding her throat. 

Her body stiffened, every muscle clenching as her ass was stretched to its limits, accommodating the brutal invasion.

The black man’s hips surged forward, driving his cock deeper into her bowels. "Feel it in your fucking guts, right?”

Isa's eyes rolled back, her vision tunneling as her body struggled. The white man's cock pumped in and out of her mouth, his thick shaft sliding past her gag reflex, hitting the back of her throat.

"Look at her, loving it, stupid cunt. Can't get enough of our cocks, can you?"

The black man's cock, now buried balls-deep in her ass, began pounding, his hips slamming against her bruised ass. Her insides burned and stretched, her sphincter clenching and unclenching involuntarily around his shaft.

"You're mine, bitch, screaming for my cock in that ass of yours.”

Isa's body trembled, her nerves curling as her consciousness threatened to slip away into the sweet oblivion of unconsciousness. The dual penetration, the choking cord, and the nonstop battering pushed her to the brink of endurance. 

Her hands fell limp, her fingers scraping the dirty floor, her face turning an alarming shade of blue, her eyes pleading silently for an end to the torment.

Sensing her distress, the white man released the cord, allowing her to gasp for air, her lungs heaving. But the respite was fleeting as his cock continued its assault on her face, his pace wild.

Her throat ached and abused, tears mixing with the sweat and filth on her face. Her body shamed her, leaking urine from her neglected pussy, the warm yellow liquid mixing with the dirt on the floor, a testament to her broken spirit.

"Fuck, she's pissing herself, can't handle our cocks," the white man laughed.

Isa's mind screamed for release, her body yearning for the sweet escape of death, the violation too much to bear. The men showed no mercy, their pleasure heightened by her suffering, their cocks throbbing as they claimed every inch of her.

Black man unleashed a torrent of thick cum deep into her ass, his hips jerking as he filled her ruined bowels with his seed. White man's cock twitched and pulsed before firing his load down her throat, his pelvic slamming into her face.

Isa's throat worked to expel the cum from her mouth, a mixture of gagging and retching as she struggled to breathe and swallow at the same time. 

Black man withdrew his spent cock from her ass, and the cum that had been bubbling at her stretched hole now leaked out, mixing with the filth she produced down her thighs.

Her body twitched and spasmed, her limbs splayed out like a dying fish, but the peace lived a second. The two remaining men, their hard cocks ticking, stepped forward.

"Time to double-stuff this K-pop cunt,"  white man suggested.

Isa's eyes widened in horror as she realized their intention. They positioned themselves, one at her ass and the other at her pussy, their cocks poised to invade her ravaged holes. 

White man at her ass lined up his thick shaft with her gaping hole, now slick with cum and blood, and thrust forward, his cock sliding into her with ease, stretching her anus once more. 

At the same time, the black man at her pussy plunged his cock into her swollen, cum-dried cunt, his length sliding past her battered canal with ruthless force. Isa's body arched, her back bowing as she screamed around the new cock in her gaping mouth.

"Won't let you pass out, bitch," one man said, bringing another a syringe filled with a clear liquid. "You have to keep awake for every second of the fun."

The needle pierced her skin, injecting the drug into her system, forcing her eyes open, her body alert despite the overwhelming exhaustion and pain.

Her ass and pussy were now gaping, stretched beyond recognition. Her asshole, red and raw, twitched with each pulse of the cock inside her, her sphincter loose and unresponsive. 

Her pussy, swollen and bruised, leaked cum and blood, her inner walls pummeled and bruised from the continuous pounding.

Time lost all meaning for Isa. Days bled into weeks, and weeks into months. Her life now revolved around the cocks that invaded her body, her once vibrant self reduced to a shell, existing solely to envelop their cocks.

The pain, once excruciating, had faded to a dull numbness, her body broken and desensitized. Her eyes, once full of life and hope, now held only darkness and despair as her body jerked and spasmed, a living testament to their cruelty.

[caesium-55]

—seven days. [ iii ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: hi hello welcome to part three. i flunked the quiz. lemme know what you think. NOT BETA READ. NOT EDITED. this chapter kinda sux. can't believe i went through a breakup just last week and i still cant write decent post-breakup scenes.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab hope i didn't forget anyone.

masterlist.

you: *sent a link*

him: ?

him: what's this

you: benefits of crying

you: read it it's enlightening

him: some people do not cry over a breakup you know and that is totally okay

you: why crying helps.

you: 1. tears release toxins, stress hormones to be specific. it is good to let all the bad energy out.

you: 2. it aids sleep. no need for further explanation.

you: 3. crying releases oxytocin and endorphins. i know you don't know what an oxytocin or an endorphin is but they're happy chemicals.

you: 4. crying helps you receive the support you need from the people around you. EMOTIONAL VULNERABILITY is okay, max. stop treating it like an STD.

him: it feels like an std

you: pussy

you: emotional vulnerability is a thing and it's normal so stop trying to be a big strong man when you're barely holding it together.

you: you may look fine now but i know you

him: please stop

you: no

you: 5. crying has a self soothing effect. very nice actually. it activates the rest and digest system.

him: what even is that

you: the parasympathetic nervous system

him: ??

you: this is why you shouldn't have dropped out of high school

you: education is important yknow

you: youre already lacking in three forms of intelligence, academic, emotional n social intelligence

him: fuck you im smart

you: fuck you 2 and yeah you're smart but only in geography

you: you probably can't do your taxes

him: im dutch so the company's account department do it for me by default

him: the american system is just weird

you: cant argue w/ u there

you: also, 6. crying helps restore emotional balance

you: see? you need that

you: yknow now that i think abt it you should consider seeking therapy

him: what makes you think i’m not in therapy right now

you: well have you considered getting MORE therapy?

You stand in front of the body mirror, holding the Red Bull polo shirt against your body to see how it looks on you for one last time. On your right sleeve, the word MANAGER is written in bold, white text. Because that was what you were. Just a manager.

In another universe this is not the shirt that you’d be wearing. The MANAGER would have been ENGINEER. In another another universe where your family has been well-off enough to continuously send you to karting school and you would have been the one driving the fucking car by now.

You know, if Max has even tried talking to Horner and suggested that you should be moved into the engineering team, then you wouldn't be stuck wearing this god-awful polo that burned your skin every time you wore it for work. Everybody reduced you as Max’s American manager and because you are American, most of them kind of just assumed that you're dumb, you know?

Does the world even know how smart you are? That you graduated top of your class, got the best thesis award, and that you had finished your masters just this year? Did they even know that a Japanese car company wanted you on their research team? That a NASCAR team wanted you on board as one of their engineers? Does Max even know?

Fuck no. He only knows that you're the best at ironing clothes and organizing his Google calendar and memorizing his entire coffee order by heart. He knew you're good at extinguishing kitchen fires and kicking ass in YSL Opyum heels. You doubt he knows that you can do Calculus in your sleep.

You can take it if the world puts you down for your appearance. But if the world puts you down because of your intellect? That's a different story. You'll take any insult to the face but not to your intelligence.

You have four days left in Monaco so you have begun packing already. You're right, everything did fit into three suitcases. Also, you haven't told Max yet. For some reason, you’re too anxious. Which is shocking to say the least because you never ever gets anxious when it came to Max Verstappen. You wouldn't have lasted this long working alongside Max if you were a pussy.

Max Max Max Super Max Max—

“[Name] here. Need anythin’, champ?”

Hearing a sob on the other end of the line immediately activates your fight or flight response. Your eyes widen and you toss the Red Bull shirt aside. Your legs leads you to the nearly empty shoe rack stationed beside the front door, grabbing the pair of shoes at the very top of the tiny shelf and throwing them on.

“I’m comin’ there. Hang on, Max. You wait for me, okay?”

He doesn't answer, just continuing to sob and the sound absolutely breaks your heart.

You run to his penthouse at a speed that will even put the RB19 to shame. Not even bothering to knock, you barge in and yell his name in the empty halls of his penthouse. You search in the kitchen. He's not there. The living room. Not there either. The room where his simulations are. Not there. You run to his bedroom upstairs.

The door is locked. Dammit. Panic overflooded your system.

“Max, sweetheart, you there?”

No answer, but you can hear a faint sound behind the door if you press your ear against the wood. Firefighter training covered how to open a fucking door when it was locked so this once again becomes a situation where you're grateful that you did that tiring and borderline suicidal volunteer work.

Max keeps a fire extinguisher inside his penthouse as per your advice. There is one stationed in almost every room inside his house. You knew there is one inside his room and another one just at the end of the hallway. You make a quick run for it and once you have the extinguisher in your hands, you run back to his door.

“Step away from the door!” you instructed while your mind mentally calculates your payment plan as you hit the door knob with so much force, the walls tremble at your strength. You're functioning on pure adrenaline. Your instincts only yell one thing and that is: go to Max. No one and nothing in this world will keep you from him. It isn't long until his bedroom door broke down. With one last final kick, it crumbles down from its hinges and you forcefully pry it open and sprint inside.

Max tucks himself in the tiny space in the corner of his huge bedroom, his knees shoved up to his chest. A 181-cm tall man trying to make himself as small as possible.

This is it. This is the bottled-up emotions he's been storing since Abu Dhabi. You cannot say you have not anticipated this. Max is bound to explode sooner or later.

Panic attacks have made a home in Max’s body since he was a child. That's what one gets when they’re parented by someone like Jos Verstappen. He killed Max’s soul and made the boy a machine and for what? To shape a child into a man, a racer that he wanted to be but failed to become at the cost of Max's mental health and childhood.

When Max looks up with that heartbreaking look on his face, you almost crumble. Almost, because you cannot crumble. Not when Max needs you.

Sometimes, you forget what it took for Max to become the champion that he is today. A childhood sacrificed for his dominance on the tracks. A whole lot of hatred from the people to become a WDC. And now, a love lost for his third consecutive championship.

“You came,” his voice cracks towards the end.

Your eyes soften, “You called, Max. Course I’ll come.”

You barely brace yourself for the impact that is Max’s body wrapping around yours in a tight hug. The man have literally launch himself from the floor to you at sixth gear speed. You stumble backwards slightly, holding his bed for support so the both of you won't fall down.

“Max—”

“No,” he whispers and his grip on your tightens as if he's afraid that you’ll slip away if he even tried to give your lungs space to breathe. “Don't speak. Stay.”

What Max wanted, what Max would get. So you shut your mouth, shuffle slightly so he'll be in a more comfortable position and allow him take whatever he wants from you. This will be the last chance he’ll ever do it anyway because in four days time, you’re flying to Texas.

You stay for what is probably hours in that position. Crumbled together on the floor, leaning against the side of Max’s king-sized bed. Your shirt is completely damp from his tears but you cannot even bring yourself to care about it.

“Your shoes…” It's the first time Max has spoken since the start of his meltdown.

“Hm?” you turn your head and your nose nuzzles against his hair, making you scrunch it up a little. His hair is tickling your nostrils. If you lean a little forward, your lips will meet the skin of his temple.

“They’re mismatched.”

Brows furrowed, your eyes move to your feet and see that Max is right. Your shoes are indeed mismatched. On your left is one of your Adidas slides and the other is your slip-on Skechers. You ran from one building to another in mismatched shoes. Fucking embarassing.

“Ignore them.”

Silence.

“You good now?”

“No.”

“Okay,” you say. “If you want to talk, I’ll listen.”

You hear Max let out a shaky breath, “Just stay for a while. Don't leave me alone.”

“Okay.”

Eventually, you manage to talk Max out of the hug. You're beginning to feel claustrophobic but you do not want to say it out right so you try to negotiate instead. That's how you and Max found yourselves inside his kitchen again. You're trying to replicate your Abuela's cheesecake, which she was known for back in Austin, and Max is…well, he's Max and he’s trying to be helpful in any way he can. If it's some other day, you'd have shoved him out of the way because you prefer working alone in the kitchen. Having eyes on you gives you anxiety. But given today’s circumstances, you do not have the heart to make Max leave so you task him with doing the little stuff like mixing things and throwing shit to the trash can nearby. And he does so splendidly.

“Thank you, by the way.”

“For what, baby?” You internally wince at your own slip of the tongue. Damn that habit of yours of calling people with affectionate call signs. Thankfully, Max seems to have not noticed it.

“For coming here.”

You shrug.

“I only did what you did for me in 2021.”

Again, your breakup with Leo was bad bad. You spent a month crying for a love lost and Max was there for you. For the most part, at least. You want him to focus on winning and winning alone that you pushed him away a lot of times but you appreciated how he was more obedient to your commands, that he held his tongue so he wouldn't piss you off even though he was not liking your words, and that he was considerate of you.

“I hope you won't go into fights though,” you chuckle. “Like I did after my breakup.”

He smiles, shaking his head lightly and you know he's recalling the memory. 2021 is a hilarious year for you, the Red Bull manager. You went viral after getting into a cat fight with a girl and a whole fist fight with her boyfriend.

You and Leo called it quits a week before Monaco and even though it had been four races since then, your heart was still in a quite fragile state at that specific race weekend. One minor inconvenience was enough to ignite a wild blaze of fire within you and nobody could extinguish the flames.

After Silverstone FP1, you were leading Max to the cool down room to brief him with Horner’s relayed instructions and someone had thrown a glass bottle towards the both of you while walking. Originally, Max was the main target of the bottle but you happened to have moved towards the line of trajectory and the bottle landed on your temple, hard enough that you stumbled upon impact.

You barely heard Max’s shocked gasp and shout of panic over the sound of glass shattering on your foot because the only thing you could register was the terrifying feeling of a thick liquid trickling down the side of your face and you didn't even need to see it to know it was blood.

The only thing you saw was red and it was on fucking sight.

Fucking Hamilton fan. Fucking Hamilton. He’s in Max’s way. He’s in your way. He’s the wall that was dividing you from your dream position in the engineering team.

You shoved the iPad you were holding to Max’s hands and marched down to the woman wearing the Merc #44 merch, swiftly jumping over the barricade and grabbing her by the collar of her pristine white Versace top.

The events that followed were too fast. You grabbed her collar. She pulled your hair. You also pulled her hair. Someone pulled her away from you. You tried to grab her, clawing her bare arms with your manicured nails. She screamed. You screamed back. You pulled out some curse words in Spanish as well because cursing her in one language alone is not enough. Her boyfriend appeared. A quick punch to your cheek. You fell to the ground.

The world stood still. There was a sting on your palm because your skin got torn from the hard surface of the concrete ground. You let a bloodcurdling war cry and your Dad would definitely be disappointed at you for using the boxing techniques he taught you for self defense purposes only to fight a guy two times your size.

Everything was a bigger blur from there. But you did remember the sensation of Max’s strong arms around you, stopping you from lunging forward again. He was saying sweet words to your ear to calm you down but your brain failed to intercept them so you could hear the words, could hear his voice, but not understand any of it. You remember Christian Horner's disappointed face that haunted you even two years later. You remembered feeling so terrified as you sat outside Christian Horner’s office waiting for the final verdict while he and Max and a few of the Red Bull higher-ups argued about your future with the team. You remembered hearing Max’s loud snarl on the other side of the mahogany door: “Did you see her face?! There was blood everywhere! On her nose, on her mouth, on the fucking side of her head!” You remembered the girl taking the case to court. You remembered fearing that you’d be sent to jail. You remembered that she lost the case because it was ruled as self defense and your injuries were grave. You remembered discovering that it was Max who used all his power and got the best lawyer to fight your case. You remembered the atmosphere in the Red Bull garage shifting when you entered it a few weeks later and everyone stared the bandages and bruises. Everyone thought one thing: of course, it would also take a monster to manage a monster like Max Verstappen. You remembered Lewis Hamilton, seven-time world champion, apologizing personally for the fight caused by his own fan. He didn't need to but he was so sincere with it that you cried when he handed you the apology flowers. God, how could you even hate this man? Your anger towards him was misplaced.

You’d been living with the guilt ever since, that you were horrifyingly violent for a day, that you were capable of killing for a day. And it could happen again. One day. God, you hoped you wouldn't have to see that day. You knew all your coworkers have been careful with angering you ever since. They're terrified of you even. Max should be, too. But then again, why would he when he already saw the horrors done by his father’s hands ever since he was a child? He was used to it.

“I won't,” he says, smiling at you. “I wouldn't want to add anymore problems for you to clean up.”

But you will not be the one cleaning it up because you resigned. You didn’t tell that to him though. Not right now. He just had a meltdown over Kelly leaving him and the news of his manager leaving him too will destroy him.

The cheesecake is a little burnt when you take it out of the oven but it actually adds more flavor to it so yeah, that's a win.

“We should drink,” you suggest.

“It’s mid-afternoon.”

“We drank at mid-afternoon yesterday,” you give him a blank stare. “With Alex and Charles, remember?”

He doesn't say anything as you make your way to his fridge and pull out two bottles of beer. Max has champagne stored somewhere but you have enough of those expensive champagnes. You need beer. Beer is good. Beer is nice. You're a beer type of person and it is time Max becomes one, too.

“I’m no scientist,” you begin, biting off the beer’s bottle cap. “But according to chemistry, alcohol is solution.”

Well, technically, edible alcohol or ethanol is not a mixture. Rather, it's a pure substance that happens to be a liquid at room temperature and typical atmospheric pressure. Pure ethanol is not a solution. Hard spirits though? That's a solution.

Beer is not a hard spirit. It's more of a fermented drink. But Max doesn't know that, though, so you don't bother explaining the science behind it.

Somewhere down the road, the two of you move to his living room. You use the Youtube app in his TV to search karaoke video and have the bestest time of your lives. You're screaming along some Daddy Yankee and El Alfa songs and Max doesn't know how to speak Spanish so he’s just vibing to it.

At 5 PM, you pull out Max’s expensive vodka bottle. Now this is the real shit. The ten bottles of beer? Those are just pregame. Max is already drunk with just those because he’s a pussy but you’re no pussy, so the only right answer is vodka! Viva la vodka or whatever.

Your throat gets tired of singing and Max gets tired from dancing, too, so you both decide to just go entertain yourselves in other ways. First, you introduced Max to beer-pong. He loses, of course. He sucks at everything not racing. Then, the two of you move onto chess. Max gives up mid-game. He cannot understand the rules. Then, lastly, you move to the billiard table Max owned. He only used it when the other guys are over and you do not even know why he bought it when he sucked at playing billiards.

“You know what Kelly said the morning before the race?” Max suddenly says and you look up at him, brow raising slightly. He’s drunk; his skin is flushed and he is all giggly and smile-y as he sits on the billiard table’s side rail and using the billiard stick as some sort of support stand to keep him from falling. You hope he won't accidentally poke himself. You're no better, too. Ten beer bottles and a few glasses of vodka. But you’re not as drunk as Max, and you still have a straight vision and you can still sink the colored balls into the pockets of the billiard table.

“Hm?”

“That it was unfair for her.”

You raise a questioning brow, “Why?”

“I bought shoes and they don't fit her.”

You blink. He laughs at himself as if he has uttered the funniest joke in the world.

“Three years of relationship gone because of a single pair of shoes,” he continues. “She wanted those shoes, too.”

Kelly….what the fuck?

“But that's okay. She….She made me open my eyes, you know? She made me realize what I truly love.”

“Racing.” It's not even a question. It's the truth.

Max stares at you, long and hard, and you look away first because you fear that if you allow yourself to stare too long, you’ll drown in those beautiful blues. This is enough heartache for the day. No need to add more.

“Hey [Name],” he begins. “If I asked you to kiss me, would you do it?”

[dokupine]

How do Piranha Plants look and act in Super Speculative Bros.? What about the fire spitting variant? Petey Piranha, too?

piranha plants are (unsurprisingly) carnivorous plants. In the wild, they’re pitfalls for prey larger than insects. Koopas have selectively bred and farmed them for aesthetics and usefulness as a trap. They can also digest organic matter very well, so they’re often used as trash bins. (Careless individuals might feed them indigestible things like glass and plastic) Throughout the year, the pitfall will close and bloom, attracting swarms of pollinators. The piranha plant will then grow new pitfall leaves, and the old ones will dry up and hang by its sides.

Fire-spitting piranha plants were a genetic engineering project to create a piranha plant that could snare its prey instead of relying on going unnoticed. It wasn’t very effective. They don’t actually spit fire, but their powerful digestive fluid instead. This is still deadly, the projectiles from some varieties can cause chemical burns. At best, the target just gets covered in disgusting goo.

Petey piranha is the mascot of company that industrially farms piranha plants. He’s starred in many animated PSAs about not over-watering your plants or feeding them garbage.

[thegreatestheaver]

day saved my favorite professor has a class available

planning courses for the next semester is not for the weak

[larryshapiro]

Pasadena Fire Dept. 1909 Seagrave Model AC40 Chemical Pumper

... getting a little help ...

[phoenixcatch7]

I remember playing botw and just feeling like it was a celebration of the legend of zelda. Like the creators had taken all the stuff they'd loved about the previous games and cranking it up to eleven now technology was able to keep up with their dreams. The million and one references seamlessly blended into the world, the wind fish island, lon lon ranch, the temple of time, the forgotten temple, the lanaryu promenade, the spring of power, the branding on the milk bottles, the tiny island in the west moat of korok forest, the half buried arbiters grounds, the old man, the writing in the beacon pins. It all mixed together into a melting pot of memories and history and love for it all.

Totk feels like a celebration of every legend of zelda game. Like the creators had taken all the stuff they'd learned from the previous games and dialed it up to a hundred. Just the coding they must have written into every inch of the world for us to use our new abilities! The amount of detail they've lavished on every particle and sound effect! They must have had to write the physics engine near from scratch to handle the stunts we can perform without even a frame drop! The elements of each game is stronger than ever! I'm seeing wind waker and skyward sword and I'm seeing ocarina of time and twilight princess and hyrule warriors and link between worlds and zelda 2 and links awakening and it's all this chemical formula of colours on a matchstick waiting for someone to set the (whole thing) on fire to reveal the borealis of decades of gameplay. It's absolutely stunning.

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

@bucktommypositivityweek Day 1, season 8 opening disaster. 2,610 words, read on AO3

🐝“We're doomed.”🐝

“Millions of bees?” Chimney asked unbelieving, still clutching the radio. Dispatch had just reported it; in fact, it had been his own wife, and she was definitely not joking on the job. “Killer bees,” Buck corrected, squinting up at the cloudless sky as if they were already pouncing down on the 118. “African honeybees, actually. Nasty, aggressive critters. The whole hive attacks when threatened, and they chase their victims. Saw it on a documentary once.” “Nobody wants to know, Buckley.” Gerrard was just leaving the fire engine and putting on his helmet. ”There's a huge traffic jam ahead of us, and a few miles at the end of it is the truck that caused it. Whether there were millions of bees in it or not, which I personally think is nonsense and an exaggeration, we’re the ones picking up the pieces, so let's get to work.” Buck shouldered his axe, though a noise overhead distracted him. A small plane, a nimble propeller-driven aircraft, was flying pretty low above them. Was he imagining it, or did the pilot briefly wobble its wings? “That's one of ours,” said Eddie, who was now walking beside him, toward the next crashed car. “There are at least two people trapped inside.” "Oh yeah? How do you know?”

“I looked through the windshield, Buck,“ Eddie replied with a bemused look. ”No,” Buck shot back, looking up again, ”that it’s one of our machines?”

“Pry open the door here… yeah, that's it. Get a grip, Buck. I know this because Tommy explained how to recognize the machines. I'm surprised you haven't started spouting off trivia about airplanes and helicopters yet." Hen came running up, tossing Eddie an IV bag which he deftly caught. “We're doing a proper triage," she said. “Oh wait…" She bent over past Eddie, who was busy calming the occupants of the car, two women, appearing frightened, confused and clearly injured. ”Ma'am? We got you. Eddie, hand me a skin clamp, please.” Buck, standing behind her, was already looking for the next car from which someone needed to be freed. He recognized from her tone of voice that she had discovered something bad in that car, but that the person concerned should not notice under any circumstances. Eddie rummaged in the emergency bag, and Hen asked in a conversational tone, “What do you think they need a plane for? It's not exactly a forest fire.” “It's a crop-dusting plane, I think,“ Eddie replied. ‘It's probably supposed to spray chemicals against the bees.’ ”Against millions of bees?” “Well, how else are they going to get rid of them? Buck, I think I heard Gerrard call you!" Buck turned around and saw the captain pointing at two cars wedged into each other, a scowl on his face that furrowed his forehead. I better hurry, he thought, and he was right about that.

<+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+>

Of all the things Tommy had ever done with an airplane, this was probably the craziest.

The mission had been anything but normal from the start. Millions of bees had escaped from the truck in an accident on the highway, dispatch reported. Killer bees, goaded and stressed, now following an instinct. Whatever bees do, maybe they want to pollinate something. Tommy took a look at the controls – everything was fine – and thought of Evan.

Of course, it was the worst possible time to think about the man who’d turned his head, but then again, it wasn't. Evan would probably have a lot of exciting prattle about bees. Tommy briefly pondered what he knew about them… well, wasn’t much. Right now, what mattered was his job; the only idea Animal Control had come up with, He was supposed to fly as close as possible to the swarm and spray biocides. First, the smoke would irritate the insects and disorient them, then kill them in no time. He already felt sorry for those who would have to sweep millions of dead bees off the streets at the end of the day.

Tommy kept to the west of the highway; according to his information, the bees had set off directly towards the city. He steered the machine low, the bees didn't reach that high of an altitude. A few red spots below him told Tommy that the emergency services had already reached the scene, and Evan would be among them, no doubt. The people down there were safe. However, that didn't apply to a large part of L.A., if those bees were to cause trouble there. With such a large number of aggressive animals, you didn't even have to be allergic to die from their stings.

“FLX-126, this is Air Control,” croaked his radio. “Kinard, the population has been warned to close windows and doors, you have clearance. Catch the beasts before they reach the city.“

”Copy that. I’ll take up the chase against the bees.“

Evan would find that funny.

<+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+>

”Hurry up, Buckley, there's an oil slick up ahead that needs to be secured. You want half the pileup to blow up? One spark is all it takes!”

“I'm nearly there, Captain,” Buck shouted, helping a shivering elderly gentleman out of the car. He had almost torn the door off its hinges trying to free him, but after a quick check, it seemed that the man was all right, except for an ugly gash on his forehead. Not the first miracle today. ”The ambulances are over there, please go to them, they will take care of you.”

“Buckley!"

Buck liked to imagine Gerrard as a nagging little man who would tear himself apart in the forest in a rage, but reality was no fairy tale. Reality was an operation on a chaotic road smeared with oil and blood, where a hazardous materials truck full of bees had left a trail of devastation. A mission with dozens of trapped people who had to be freed using heavy equipment and muscle power, and Buck was already dripping with sweat. But there was no time to catch a breath, not when Gerrard was in this mood.

“Get the binder!” Gerrard snapped, while simultaneously impelling Chimney, ‘There are still people trapped up ahead, so get your ass in gear!’

Gerrard's arms were gesturing in both directions. Now Buck knew a better comparison than a vicious fairy-tale creature — Gerrard reminded him of General Grievous, who could lash out with four arms at once. He jogged over to the captain, giving the oil slick a skeptical glance. It was big, yes, but a simple barrier should suffice to start with; there were more important things to do right now.

“The binder is in the truck, and it's almost half a mile down the highway,“ he said.

”So?“ Gerrard's Adam's apple jumped up and down angrily. Buck stared at it, fascinated.

”I should help Chimney, there seems to be a problem up ahead.”

Buck pointed to his brother-in-law, who was trying with great effort to break open a wedged car door.

“The 126 is further ahead, they’ll be fine. The oil slick is here.” Gerrard said with narrowed eyes. The guy needs glasses, Buck thought.

Now he knew why Gerrard wanted to keep him here. He was probably afraid that Tommy was on duty up ahead and they would meet. Moreover, the captain of the 126 was not very fond of Gerrard, and Gerrard would have to stop his annoying harassment for a while. At least Buck would then have been able to work in peace as he saw fit... the way Bobby had taught him, not that stupid old geezer with his old-fashioned rules. However, he was convinced that Tommy was on the plane that had just made a loop above them and then turned west. For a second, he pondered whether it was worth rebelling against Gerrard, but then he thought of all the people who were still trapped and hurt, looking for help. Buck took a deep breath.

“All right,” he growled and jogged across the highway to the fire engine.

At least Tommy is having an exciting time.

<+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+>

When Tommy spotted the swarm of bees, his mouth went dry.

He didn't know what he had actually expected, but the sight was... sobering. Not to mention scary, even from up here. Millions of bees formed a dense cluster that only frayed a little at the edges. It was an enormous cloud of insects that almost looked like a single animal; a huge, billowing monster moving towards the city.

Evan would have a better comparison for it, he thought briefly. But even his brave, extremely adorable boyfriend would probably freak out if he could see this. Tommy, in any case, sensed that only an adrenaline rush was keeping him from simply turning the plane around and leaving as quickly as possible. That, and his sense of duty. Damn it.

The swarm was now already close to one of the city's outskirts, a peaceful suburbia with neat terraced houses and cute gardens. Gardens that would soon be invaded by so many bees that every living being down there would be buried beneath them. He couldn’t allow that to happen. Tommy gripped the stick more firmly, lowering the machine a couple of feet.

These critters were already much too close to L.A. There had been warnings through the usual apps, but people were people. He knew there would be enough who hadn't noticed or were just too ignorant. Some of them would be hit by the chemicals, no doubt. And Tommy knew that theoretically that shouldn't bother him; he had a job to do. But only people like Gerrard would consider the consequences to be collateral damage. If Tommy released the biocide now, it would not only destroy the bees, but also cause a lot of damage in the pretty little gardens below him – and in the groundwater. A crazy idea formed in his head. There wasn't much time to make up his mind.

He pushed the controls down, added a little thrust and flew straight into the swarm.

It was a strange feeling, a bit like floating through cotton wool. The bees were briefly startled, but kept their pace. It wouldn't be enough to make them change course, and Tommy had to hurry – the longer he flew through the middle of the swarm, the more likely it was that they would sit on his windshields until he couldn't see anything. Or that too many of them would fly into the propellers until they clogged them and he would lose control. Tommy gritted his teeth. All or nothing, he thought, and waggled the wings to stir them up. Then he yanked the plane sharply to the left, flew a small loop, and glanced behind. The bees followed him; the cloud of insects, which had only briefly scattered, had reformed into a dense, angry mass, and they were on his tail.

Next target: Kinard, he thought. Off to the desert with you.

<+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+>

That evening, as Buck unlocked the door to the loft, dirty and tired, he was greeted by an extremely pleasant scent. It smelled like... lasagna? He had barely closed the door when his stomach growled.

“Interesting greeting, Evan,” Tommy called to him from the kitchen counter.

Tommy, to whom he had given a copy of the keys to his apartment only two weeks ago. Buck's heart gave a happy little jump. He was also a little jealous, though, because Tommy was obviously freshly showered, and he felt like he had just come out of the garbage disposal. However... the sight of his boyfriend, with his hair still damp and slightly wavy at the ends, and apparently wearing one of Buck's T-shirts that stretched in all the right places... His throat tightened and he cleared it.

“My stomach's as happy to see you as the rest of me,“ he replied, and with two quick steps he was at Tommy, kissing him fondly while he glanced at the stove. Lasagna, definitely.

”Mmm,” Tommy purred appreciatively, ”ten more minutes. Maybe you want to change quickly? You kinda reek of oil.”

Buck groaned. “Gerrard had me do all the dirty work,” he complained, as he dropped onto a chair at the kitchen table. “That truck with the killer bees? It skidded because the driver – who, by the way, was very lucky to survive – was frightened by a spider in the cab. Can you imagine? The guy had millions of bees on board, and he freaked out because of a spider that had come right down on his nose.“

”You call me if you find a spider in the shower,” Tommy remarked as he stirred salad in a bowl.

“Because I find touching them gross. And because it's not right to just flush them down the drain. Did you know that spiders are very important to the ecosystem?“

”Hm. But I guess you would have been scared, too.”

“Maybe,“ Buck admitted. ‘Anyway, the guy swerved so hard that he caused a huge accident on the highway. Dozens were injured, it's a miracle that no one died. The trail of devastation stretched for a few miles across the roadway.’

”Including an oil slick, it seems to me,” Tommy teased him.

Buck raised an arm and smelled his armpits.

“Yuck. Yeah. Gerrard had me mopping up oil, securing the roadway, extinguishing tiny fires on the shoulder... I was lucky I could free four or five people from their cars before he sent me off to do some useless crap again.”

"The guy really has it in for you.”

“It's the medal,” Buck said, while he pushed a few of the carrot pieces, that Tommy had already cut but not yet added to the salad, into his mouth, ”He can't stand that I was decorated and he's been stumbling on the career ladder for forty years.”

“Hmmm,” Tommy went and quickly threw the rest of the vegetables into the bowl before Buck could contaminate them even more. ”That, or it's just because he's got a stick up his ass.”

Buck laughed briefly, then sighed. “It was a crazy operation, and I could have helped a lot more people. Tommy, I saw your plane for a second today. I bet you had a much more exciting day. A huge swarm of bees right under your plane, and you destroyed them all before they could wreak havoc on the city!”

The look he shot Tommy was admiring, and Tommy grinned. He thought about how he had almost peed his pants flying his plane in front of a giant swarm of aggressive bees, and that flying right into them had been a pretty crazy move. About the maneuver he had flown over the desert, that had almost cost him an engine because he had to try to get above the swarm again to release the biocide. He thought of the moment when a few of the killer bees had broken away from the collective and actually, as he had feared, settled on his cockpit windshield to narrow his view. And he thought about how the flap had jammed when he was directly over the swarm, how the sweat had run down his back and he could hardly breathe. How he had thought of the thousands of people who would be in danger if he didn't finish this; among them Evan.

“It wasn't that exciting,” he said modestly. ‘To be honest, dropping a few chemicals is a simple job, nothing to write home about. You should really take a shower, babe. After that, you can tell me more about Gerrard's exploits, okay?’

He leaned over to breathe a kiss just above Evan’s birthmark, and his smile was worth the little lie.

[jjinno]

Transforming Projects with Advanced Engineering Design and Consulting Services

Introduction

In the realm of engineering and construction, detailed and precise design is critical for success. At JJ Innovative, based in Pune, Maharashtra, we provide top-tier engineering design and consulting services tailored to meet the diverse needs of our clients across India. Our comprehensive approach integrates civil and structural engineering, MEP consulting, and advanced 3D modeling services to deliver exceptional results.

Detailed Engineering: Precision and Accuracy

Detailed engineering is an essential phase in the engineering design process. It involves creating thorough and precise designs that guide the construction and implementation of projects. At JJ Innovative, we excel in detailed engineering, offering services that encompass every aspect of your project. Our detailed engineering solutions ensure that all components of your project are meticulously planned and executed.

Our team of experts works closely with clients to understand their specific needs and deliver designs that adhere to industry standards. We provide detailed engineering services for various sectors, including commercial, residential, and industrial projects. Our focus on accuracy and precision helps minimize errors and optimize project outcomes.

MEP Consultants: Comprehensive Building Systems Design

Mechanical, Electrical, and Plumbing (MEP) systems are crucial for the functionality and efficiency of any building. As leading MEP consultants in Pune, JJ Innovative offers specialized services to design and integrate these systems seamlessly into your projects. Our MEP consultancy services cover a wide range of applications, from residential buildings to large-scale industrial facilities.

We provide comprehensive MEP design solutions, including HVAC systems, electrical layouts, and plumbing installations. Our team ensures that all MEP systems are designed to meet regulatory requirements and operate efficiently. By incorporating modern technologies and sustainable practices, we help clients achieve energy efficiency and cost savings.

Civil and Structural Engineering: Building Strong Foundations

Civil and structural engineering is the backbone of any construction project. At JJ Innovative, we offer expert civil and structural engineering services to ensure that your projects are built on a solid foundation. Our team of civil and structural engineers provides comprehensive design and consulting services that address all aspects of structural integrity and safety.

We work on a variety of projects, including residential buildings, commercial spaces, and infrastructure developments. Our civil and structural engineering services include site analysis, structural design, and construction supervision. By leveraging advanced engineering techniques and technologies, we deliver robust and reliable solutions that stand the test of time.

3D Design and Modeling Services: Bringing Ideas to Life

3D design and modeling have revolutionized the way projects are visualized and executed. JJ Innovative offers state-of-the-art 3D design services that bring your concepts to life with unparalleled clarity and detail. Our 3D modeling services are essential for accurate planning, design verification, and stakeholder communication.

Our team uses advanced 3D modeling software to create detailed and realistic representations of your projects. Whether you need 3D models for architectural design, civil engineering, or plant design, we provide solutions that enhance project planning and execution. Our 3D design services also facilitate better decision-making and reduce the risk of design errors.

Plant Design Engineering Services: Optimizing Industrial Facilities

Plant design engineering is critical for the successful operation of industrial facilities. At JJ Innovative, we offer specialized plant design engineering services that cater to various industries, including chemical plants and manufacturing facilities. Our plant design solutions encompass detailed engineering, 3D modeling, and system integration.

We provide comprehensive plant design services, including layout planning, equipment selection, and process optimization. Our team ensures that all plant design aspects are aligned with industry standards and client requirements. By incorporating innovative technologies and sustainable practices, we help clients achieve efficient and cost-effective plant operations.

Solar and Wind Energy Solutions: Embracing Sustainable Practices

Sustainable energy solutions are becoming increasingly important in today’s world. JJ Innovative is at the forefront of providing solar and wind energy solutions that promote green power and environmental sustainability. Our team of experts offers consulting and design services for integrating renewable energy sources into your projects.

We provide comprehensive solar and wind energy solutions, including system design, installation, and maintenance. Our services are tailored to meet the specific needs of residential, commercial, and industrial clients. By leveraging the latest technologies and best practices, we help clients harness the power of renewable energy and reduce their carbon footprint.

Conclusion

JJ Innovative is your go-to partner for advanced engineering design and consulting services in Pune, Maharashtra, and across India. With expertise in detailed engineering, MEP consulting, civil and structural engineering, 3D modeling, and plant design, we deliver exceptional results for a wide range of projects. Contact us today to learn more about our services and how we can help you achieve your project goals.

[debrouiller]

DO interact:

173 year old ex-dmv workers, two time escapees of chemical ice jail, presumed insane ivy league professors known for disappearing, restaurant managers who declared war on an intergalactic dictatorship and WON, 20th century christian radio hosts who are “the hot ones,” big malevolent things, unkillable robots made to accost estranged ex-husbands, barts, annas, molotov cocktails brought to you by communism, space pirates, elders who lost an arm in the Justine Burbank system, space pirate lawyers, talking plants who didn’t disclose they were poisonous, cooks who didn’t disclose they were engineers who didn’t disclose they were criminals, zombified mallgoers, aliens interfering with human life for better reality tv, confused motel owners and their cousins, people who couldn’t see Ashley the asteroid, people who could see Ashley the asteroid, booth enthusiasts, pocket dimension dwelling wolves named after the members of a kpop group, redheaded self-fulfilling prophecies who are the river and the tiger and the fire, deadbeat dads with two moms, scientists befriended by fourth dimensional beings, time traveling coworkers who bit and then exploded john wilkes booth, collapsing waveforms that used to be arkansas residents, hogs named pansy, and finally, people who run a diner.

[myarmcanfly]

Today I discovered that my nine year old laptop contains what a friend who’s a fire protection engineer calls a “spicy pillow,” aka a battery that is at imminent risk of leaking horrible chemicals and spontaneously catching fire. In order to minimize those risks, it’s staying powered down until the battery can be replaced.