#gas dealership

[indgasagency]

Start Your Own Gas Agency Dealership | Profitable Business Opportunity

Looking to open a gas agency dealership? Explore the steps, requirements, and benefits of starting a gas agency dealership in your area. Get insights on licenses, investment, and support for a profitable venture in the LPG distribution sector!

[bee-whistler]

See, it’s not that I hate fun, it’s that I can believe everything you say or nothing you say. I can’t recognize you’re kidding when you sound serious. So irl if you could just tell me a joke is incoming, I’ll prepare to laugh. Putting on a silly voice or making a silly face may also help.

If I don’t laugh, I apologize. I may also not have gotten the joke. I’ll let you know when I do. It may be a while.

It also may not have been funny. You’re gonna have to determine that for yourself if you want an answer anywhere in the next 10-25 years.

[deathtodickens]

Helena: (whispering in myka's ear) You just say the word, my love.

Myka: (whispering back) Is this your idea of sweet talk?

Helena: (still whispering) I'm certainly excited about the prospect of avenging Leena's unjust murder.

Myka: (sighing) Just... play nice.

Helena: Nice was Leena's job. Abigail's taken it on just fine. Let's hope Artie doesn't murder her, too.

Myka: The Regents agreed, it wasn't him. They agreed that he wasn't himself. They've accepted that.

Helena: And I'm not a Regent. Nor are you. He wasn't himself? He wasn't anybody else either. Leena died by his hand for whatever decisions he made leading to the moment he... did what he did. How can you just..

Myka: (glaring)

Helena: (takes in a deep breath)

Myka: This is the warehouse, Helena. Artifacts do things to people. They play with your mind. We all know that risk. We all take it, every single day. It could have been any one of us. It could be. It has been.

Helena: If he had hurt you...

Myka: I know.

Helena: If he ever does.

Myka: I know.

Silence.

Myka: But I think, for now, we have reached our warehouse homicides quota. Right?

Helena: It doesn't have to be in the warehouse.

Myka: Helena.

Helena: Fine. I won't murder him.

Myka: That's all I'm asking.

Helena: For now.

Myka: I... okay, sure. I'll accept that.

[aethersflood]

was talking to my therapist today about how, assuming i learn to drive successfully and pass my road test, i'll be buying a car eventually and i was like "i've never imagined myself actually doing that. it feels like everyone else is allowed to do something like buy a car but i'm not" and then she asked if -- now that i was seriously considering it -- i had a better idea of what car i might want. i didn't give her an answer bc unfortunately this is what kept coming to mind

i'm only ever gonna be that guy in the apple. i wonder how much his monthly payments are. what's the insurance look like for that dude.

[shivags]

LPG Cylinder Handling and Storage Guidelines

Are you thinking about entering the LPG gas dealership industry? If so, it's critical to comprehend the value of treating and storing LPG cylinders properly. In this field, safety comes first, and following regulations is both a legal duty and a moral obligation.

1. Comprehensive cylinder inspection

Always conduct a comprehensive inspection of LPG cylinders before accepting or distributing them. Check for any damage—dents, rust, or otherwise—that would jeopardies safety. Cylinders that are damaged ought to be rejected and sent back to the supplier.

2. Safe Storage

Make sure the space you're using for storage is both safe and well-ventilated. To avoid rolling or falling, cylinders should be firmly chained and stored vertically.

3. No Smoking

Smoking should be outright forbidden near LPG storage facilities. Even the smallest spark can have terrible repercussions.

4. Fire Extinguishers

Make sure your team is trained to use fire extinguishers in an emergency and have them handy.

5. Training

Educate your staff on safe handling practices. They must be knowledgeable about the risks posed by LPG and how to react in an emergency or leak situation.

6. Leak Detection

Leak detection should be a priority if you want to make sure that any gas leaks are discovered and fixed very away. The upkeep of these systems must be ongoing.

7. FIFO Method

Use the "First In, First Out" (FIFO) approach to rotate the cylinders. This minimises the possibility of cylinders degrading over time by ensuring that older cylinders are used first.

8. Emergency Response Plan

Establish an emergency response plan that is well-documented. This should outline what to do in case of a fire, leak, or other emergency.

9. Compliance

Maintain current knowledge of all applicable laws and compliance requirements. Serious consequences for your dealership could result from non-compliance.

10. Customer Education

When customers buy LPG cylinders from your dealership, educate them on safe handling procedures. A safe consumer is one who is informed.

Conclusion

By placing a priority on safety when handling and storing LPG cylinders, you not only protect your staff and clients but also maintain the reputation and reliability of your LPG gas dealership. Following these recommendations is the first step toward obtaining safety, which is the basis of success in this sector.

[halfdeadfriedrice]

cannot escape the hellscape of driving to your dentist appointment while your Healthcare App beeps to remind you that you have a past due bill from the last appointment

[kedreeva]

Well, I've had a bit of a rough week. A deer totaled my (new-to-me I've-only-had-it-a-year) car when it rammed headlong into to side of it on a dark back road, and set off the passenger side side airbags (on the doors, not the dashboard ones). Thankfully I was completely unharmed aside from ringing ears and it did not do a whole ton of damage running into the side of the car (as opposed to the damage that would have been done the other way around, if I had hit it), but unthankfully it hit the airbag sensors and the airbags going off made it unable to be repaired for less than the cost of the car. The deer did not even have the decency to drop dead on the spot so I could eat it, it took off running back into the woods (at least according to the guy behind me that saw it hit me, because personally I thought someone had fuckin' shot my car, because the airbags are apparently explosively powered and smell like gunpowder and smoke).

So, I've been away dealing with that and looking for another car. I was not in love with the Patriot, even though I stuck cool jurassic park stickers on it (rather, I stuck cool jurassic park stickers on it because I was not in love with it), and I was still badly missing my Liberty. So imagine my surprise when I found a new listing for a 2010 jeep liberty with nearly the exact same number of miles on it (70,139) as the patriot I just lost (70,106). It looked practically pristine, came with a clean bill of health from Carfax, and was within a few hours drive to go get. On top of that, it was listed as marked down because it was at non-same dealership that wanted space back, so it was less than the insurance payout. I still called, and I still asked them to do me better than what they had it up for, and the guy was SO busy explaining how much trouble it would be to give it to me for the price I asked with all the taxes and fees and stuff included but that he would valiantly go talk to his manager that I didn't get a chance to say I MEANT just the car price not including those things. So he came back with a price, I asked again for lower again if I could bring cash today (offering the price I wanted to pay total in the first place, had he stopped to listen) and they accepted it.

So, I drove down in my mom's car with her, and took him out for a spin. He drives like a new car. Whisper quiet compared to the lawnmower of car the Patriot was. Tight steering, gas, break pressures, good wheels, great pickup and go, rides high like my old Liberty did, huge backseat/trunk space for caging and hay and stuff. They had detailed the inside so it was pristine and even smelled like new car. Stunning little beast.

When I climbed in to drive home, I found a heads-up penny sitting on each front seat. I think probably the dealership guy put them there in reality, but I choose to believe that it was a peace offering from the universe. Or perhaps the car trying to tell me his new name: Lucky.

I managed not to cry about having a car so much like my good boy Colt back under my hands, but it was a close thing. Anyway, here's to the next 200k miles! Let's see if we can beat Colt's record :)

[unpeeled-human]

every time somebody talks about cyclists or cycling i get reminded at how self-centered and individualistic this society and culture are.

"its just a joke about how cyclists dont mind making people wait behind them!!" is...is that what...is that what you think is happening??

like, "its just a joke!! its a joke based around ideas im perpetuating!!!" we got that out of the way at least

but also, like. that is not. what is happening. they are opting for cycling as opposed to using a motor vehicle for many easily understandable reasons that any normal person should be able to come to

a bike doesnt cost upwards of thousands of dollars (or more if you're buying a car from a dealership and not getting used)

a bike doesnt require gas (or even charging, unless its assisted by an electric motor

exercise

can't drive/prefers not to due to certain disability

literally just fucking feels like it???

and for some reason the people in 4-5 metric ton vehicles that regularly reach speeds of 50-60mph are complaining about being stuck behind some AWFUL and INCONSIDERATE... man in his 40s going to work at the grocery store. or 17 year old biking to class. like are motorists just literally incapable of thinking of other people? its bewildering.

and for the record, in the majority of states the law specifically says that bicycles are legally defined as vehicles and cyclists are legally defined as drivers.

[applepiealopecoid]

a list of buildings and structures to use in your writing

hospital

police station

school

fire watch tower

observatory

apartment complex

gas station

city hall

coffee shop

bakery

firefighter station

car dealership

college

high school

elementary school

middle school

university

park

research center

animal shelter

camp/wilderness camp

casino

blacksmith

bank

barber

armory

aquarium

dentist

general store

gunsmith/gun store

doctor’s office/medical store/medicinal supply store

jail

library

museum

farm

food store, like a pizza shop or ice cream store

stationary food truck

vacant lot

skate park

country club(s)

tennis court(s)

basketball court(s)

pool

warehouse

fast food restaurant

[alotofpockets]

The car chronicles | Leah Williamson

Pairing: Leah Williamson x Reader

Request: Leah and rich reader where reader gift her a Rolls Royce because Leah just keeps grabbing hers and sometimes annoys reader so bad like reader need to go out urgently and her car is out of sight.

Woso masterlist | Words: 900

-----

Leah had left the house early this morning, she had a photoshoot to get to on the other side of London. You on the other hand had worked from home in the morning, needing to be at an out of office meeting later in the morning. 

You were the CEO of your own finance company, a business that you had built from the ground up, and was now one of the biggest finance firms in the country. It was safe to say you were doing quite well for yourself. You owned a small manor in the outskirts of London, giving you and your girlfriend a home away from all of the busybess you faced with your jobs in the city.  

When you were done preparing for your meeting, you packed everything you needed and headed to the garage. You open the garage door, only to find your Rolls Royce missing, “Fucking Leah.” You say under your breath as you make your way back into your home. Leah had taken a liking in taking your car whenever she pleased, while she had a car of her own in the garage she just seemed to like yours more. 

Leah: 😘

You take her car keys from their spot in the hallway, and make your way back to the garage, taking a moment to send her a quick text.

Y/n: Enjoying my car?

After rolling your eyes you pocket your phone, and drive off in Leah’s car. It had been happening more and more lately that your girlfriend would take your car without asking you, and it was getting kind of annoying by now. It wasn’t that you minded her taking it, just that her car definitely didn’t drive as nice as yours. 

You loved cars, and often had a new car in your garage. Though you were a big believer in not needing more than one car per person, so you always donated the old car to a family in need of a car, taking care of the insurance and first year of gas. 

This sparked an idea, so after your meeting you drove to one of your favourite car dealerships and made it happen. Leah would be home first, so you had some time to set your plan into motion. You knew you should probably not give in to her behaviour, but this would be a win-win situation, so would it really matter?

You drove home in Leah’s car, while one of the dealership employees followed you out with a new Rolls Royce on the back of a truck. After he unloaded the car in the driveway, you give him a generous tip for the help, before you head inside. 

Leah was sitting on the couch with her headphones on, so she hadn’t even heard the car getting unloaded, you thanked Dyson for their noise cancelling headphones for that one. Once you make it into her peripheral vision, she takes her headphones off, “Hi baby, how was work?” She smiles innocently, like she doesn’t know damn well that you would ask her about the car again. “Work was fine, getting there was less comfortable. Care to explain?” You tried to look stern, but how could you not break when she was looking at you with pleading eyes. So, instead of making her answer, you hold out your hand for her to take. “Come on, I want to show you something.”

Leah was confused why you were leading her outside, but then she saw an all black version of your car in the driveway, “Wow, it's beautiful.” She walks towards it to admire it. “Why did you get a new one? I thought you liked the one you have.” You smile, realising she has no idea. “I do like it, but it seems like someone else likes it too, since it keeps not being in the garage when I need it. I thought I would get you your own, so you will stop stealing mine.” Leah’s head shoots up, “Come again.”

You hold up and dangle the car keys in the air, “It’s yours.” Leah walks up to you with confusion ridden all over her face. “You’re saying that after I’ve been stealing your car, you are now giving me my own?” You nod your head, “Do you want it or not? Cause I can just give it to someone else if you don’t want it.” You tease. “Yes, yes I want it.” She hugs you, “Thank you so much, but you know you didn’t have to do this right?” You hug her back. “I know.”

Before she takes the keys from your hands, you tell her. “One condition, we’re donating your old one.” She nods eagerly, wanting nothing more than to take the new car for a test drive. “Of course, we don’t need more cars than people, I listen.” You chuckle and hand her the keys.

Leah loved the way the car drove, after driving it around for half an hour. You were just happy that she was happy, and the smile on her face was enough for you to know that this had been a good move.

She was very grateful for your gift, and thanked you profusely over the next couple of days, in more ways than just with words. She was loving the car, and from that point on your car was in the garage every time you needed it.

-----

💗 If you enjoyed this fic, please consider liking, commenting, and reblogging! You can also supporting me by leaving a tip 💗

[shivags]

LPG Distributorship Profitable Business” - Why?

One cannot deny that the LPG gas industry is highly profitable. The main reason for that is LPG is becoming a daily essential. Not only in the residential houses, but also in commercial, and industrial sectors, these are very highly in demand. Hence, the trusted gas agency and LPG suppliers are always all set to welcome anyone interested in entering the LPG gas business. However, some challenges affect the profitability of this business.

So, if you are interested in joining the group, you should understand the ins and outs that will bring in more profit and vice versa!

1. Pricing of LPG gas

Almost every home in India owns an LPG connection for cooking. Hence, when LPG prices escalate it impacts people at large because they have to bear the cost of fuel. 

Nevertheless, the Government of India has launched a scheme for the sale of domestic LPG cylinders and subsidies that get credited into the individual’s bank account after the purchase. The subsidy scheme is the second hurdle on the supply chain as the amount of subsidy varies every month. 

Therefore, you should stay updated with the changing price of LPG and increase or decrease the supply chain depending on those statistics.

2. Increase in LPG demand

The LPG consumption has increased by 17%. The market share has reached to 3% and will keep growing depending on the local demand for LPG. The moment you are able to satisfy both the supply and demand of your products adequately, you will surely convert more people into your brand loyalists. 

3. Operational Expenditure 

You will need to be prepared to spend resources on things like safety measures, the proper training of your workers, the construction of an LPG gas go down, and the justification of the investment. You can get a finance operator or manage your own budget so you don't spend money unnecessarily here and there.

You may also like it: Owning A Private Gas Agency Dealership And Its Benefits

Conclusion

Do not worry and go ahead and operate a successful gas agency business.  Here you will discover more valuable opportunities than other businesses. Hence, stop wasting time and start utilizing the income-generating prospect!

[octuscle]

Welcome to Overland!

Overland Park in Kansas. I really had to google it first. Where the hell did my father get the idea that I would really study here? I mean, I have offers from Stanford and Cambridge. I'm not going to Overland Park. Kansas! Sure, it might have been a good fit for my dad. My dad is the prototypical corn-fed athlete. He looks dazzling for his 42 years, still a cross so wide that my two younger brothers and I can hide behind it. His mullet is a bit of a show-off, if you ask me. But he seems to go down well with his customers. His car dealership is the biggest in the state. My two younger brothers both have petrol in their blood. They both want to get their MBAs at Overland Park. But I'm much more interested in law. And Harvard would be my dream for that.

Anyway, my father gave me a car for my 18th birthday. A super impractical Dodge RAM. Doesn't suit me at all. And the car came with a gas voucher and a voucher for a mall around the corner. Well, I hope they'll have a Brooks Brothers store. But I'm quietly guessing that they'll only have cowboy boots and plaid shirts… Okay, not to be ungrateful, I'm making the trip to Overland Park in the monster car. I'll also attend his alma mater's orientation event if I absolutely have to. But I'll sign up over my dead body!

The drive to Kansas wasn't so bad. I admit that the car is really huge and comfortable. But the closer I got to the Midwest, the less comfortable I felt. Guys with arms thicker than my legs asked me about the car at gas stations and rest stops. I have no idea how much horsepower it has… I'm not interested either. But here you're obviously only defined by your car. And most of the muscular rednecks here made no secret of the fact that they didn't begrudge me this car. It got even worse when I parked the car in front of the hotel in Overland Park… The valet service looked almost sympathetic when I got out of the car. Tomorrow I'd better take the bus to the information day at the university.

It's incredible how many people are interested in this pathetic campus. It's pretty full in the auditorium. The dean gives a speech that is as boring as the landscape here. And the faculty members either all look like they're coaches of the football team or gardeners on campus. Hillbillies. All of them! The professors introducing each faculty call on the potential juniors who have signed up on the list for that faculty. I didn't put a cross anywhere. All uninteresting for me. And so the auditorium empties out with each professor dragging a train of high school seniors behind him. And at some point, the auditorium is empty. Only three people are still sitting here. A redhead who spends the whole time reading a book. A skinny guy playing with his cell phone and me. I speak to the skinny guy. "No desire to go to Overland Park either?" "Not on your life. I'm not studying thousands of miles from the nearest decent opera." The redhead interjects, "And pretty much everything else you'd call civilization." We laugh and introduce ourselves. Erik, the redhead (how appropriate, I'm not joking), the skinny one is Brayden and I'm Callan. We start talking. Somehow we all have a similar fate. Either our fathers or our brothers studied here. We all have more artistic than sporting interests. We all want to study either in California or New England. Erik suggests that we go out and sit on campus. The weather is nice. It's a good idea. We're sitting in the sun talking when we suddenly hear a voice.

"Hey squad! Finally found you, fam! I've been straight up grinding and hunting all over this place to link up with my homies!" Towards us comes the epitome of everything I loathe about university. An unkempt muscleman, his greasy mullet tamed with a baseball cap on backwards, in a sweaty tank top. Four bottles of beer in his hand. He hands each of us a bottle and says "Yo, yo, yo, what up fam! The name's Ryder, my professor homie spilled the tea that there are three total bros up in here who ain't about that study life, and guess what? Yours truly got the task of keepin' it real with y'all. Haha, I'm the king of slacking off, ain't nobody got time for studying and whatnot. Let's kick back and chill, my dudes!" Ryder stinks of sweat. Disgusting. But somehow also hypnotizing. He opens his bottle and says "Cheers". As if in a trance, we open our bottles and say "cheers".

"Yo, fam, check it out, I'm gonna give you a lit tour of the campus, but not that lame-o typical stuff. Like, forget about the snooze-fest library or whatever. Bro, regular dudes walk in there and walk out looking like they just stepped out of a nerd convention with their thick glasses and wack sweaters. Let's bounce and hit up the real vibes, ya feel me?" Ryder almost chokes with laughter at his own joke, which Erik counters with a fist bump. What the…? "Yo, peep that cafeteria comin' up! It's legit crucial for gettin' in that dank protein intake, ya feel me? And bro, protein is like, the holy grail of gainz. That's the fuel for them epic protein farts, man! Rock on, get that fuel, unleash the beast!" As if on cue, he lets out a fart. Shit, that stinks. Erik laughs. And farts too. Shit, didn't he actually want to study piano? At the conservatory in Boston? Strange behavior for a pianist….

Ryder tells us to wait a minute. He runs into the cafeteria and comes back with four fresh cold bottles of beer. Shit, yes, the beer tastes good. I take a deep swig. And…. BUUUUURP! Ryder and Erik are laughing uproariously. Brayden looks irritated. And I reply ""Yo, it's gonna be, like, forever until those protein farts are unleashed. So, a real dude just gotta let out a mega burp, bro!" Erik and Ryder give me a high five. And Ryder says that he's about to lead us to the source of all protein farts.

You can smell the gym changing rooms before you see them. Erik and I take a deep breath. Brayden holds the sleeve of his jacket in front of his nose. "Yo, bro, it looks like we're getting closer to your second home, huh, Ryder? Watch out for the vibes!" says Erik. Ryder does a double bicep pose and says that Erik can fucking take it. Poor Brayden is standing right next to Ryder. His nose is basically right in the sweaty bush in Ryder's armpit. "Dang, I forgot my gear for the gym! I'm totally itching to pump some iron, man." comes out of his mouth. "Dude, no worries, at our next stop we'll totally score something way cooler for you to rock." says Ryder. "Yo, dude, spit it again - what's your name, pumpin' pal?" Braydon copies Ryder's double bicep pose. I didn't think he had muscles like that. "Yo, my dudes, I'm Beau, like, duh, isn't it obvious? I mean, come on, who else could it be, right? Beau in the hizzouse, representin' like a boss!" The two of them do a chest bump. Erik and I actually look at each other a little enviously. I mean, everyone wants to be best mates with Ryder, the hottest guy on campus.

"Yo, dudes, head to the most lit spot on the whole campus. And watch out! If you think it already smells like sweat and musk, you haven't seen anything yet!" We walk across the student parking lot towards the football field. Past my baby. Ryder raises his eyebrows appreciatively and says that you rarely see cars this cool here. I pose proudly: "Geez, check out this 410 horsepower beast with eight cylinders and 581 Newton meters of torque! My 6.7-liter monster needs that kind of power too. Rocking full leather interior, a massive 12-inch touchscreen infotainment system, and a killer 750-watt sound system with 17 Harman Kardon speakers. Damn, could never roll in a hybrid after this!" Ryder gives me a chest bump too. Shit, I'm in the club!

Erik thaws out when we're finally in the changing rooms of the football stadium. He takes a deep breath. "Yo, peeps! You feelin' me on this? This smell is like pure home vibes, amirite?" he says. Ryder points to the pile of dirty laundry in the corner. "Yo, dudes, wanna toss some balls around? Let's get our sporty vibes on and slay the game with our rad skills! Let's flex our muscles and show off our mad throwing game. Let's get that adrenaline pumping and have a blast on the field. It's gonna be lit, so don't miss out, fam! Let's do this!" He really doesn't have to say that twice. In no time at all, we're undressed and rummaging naked through our clothes for something to pass. Erik deliberately lets his cock swing for a very long time before putting it into an XXL urine and cum yellow jockstrap. Dude, that boy would make horses jealous! And he can impress Ryder. Out onto the pitch and with a well-directed throw he chases the ball the length of the pitch through the goal. Four-chest bump! Shit, we all can't wait to play for the college team!

"Yo homies, any more burning questions for your boy? The sickest crew on campus is definitely mine - Alpha Phi Alpha, baby! Don't stress, you guys are total Alpha bros, so of course you'll get in. If you're down, we're throwing a lit party at the frat house tonight. Crash on the couch if you want, solo, duo, trio… whatever floats your boat. Just remember, never make eye contact, that's like, no homo!" Beau asks where he can get a cold beer now. Rick has a mega boner. And I can't wait to suck him off right away. Unless Ryder beats me to it. Shit, I'm so proud to be a business major at the University of Kansas on the Overland campus. My dad will be even prouder.

"Yo, so you wanna join the sickest crew of all the raddest universities in the damn USA?" I love the information days on campus. Lots of hot fresh meat. And the premium meat belongs to Alpha Phi Alpha, just like us! "Yo, peep this dude with the sickest Mullet ever, that's my bro Beau. And check out the fiery buff dude over there, that's Rick, the top quarterback of the football squad for real. I'm Cletus, and we 'bout to show y'all the raddest spots on campus. But first, in honor of the hottest dude to ever grace this campus, let's crack open a cold one." We take a big sip. And burp "Ryder" loudly!

[themareverine]

— Subaru, It's You

worst!Logan x nameless!femOC warnings: fluff, domesticity, absolutely self indulgent, mentions of a car accident, based on some limited Googling I’ve placed Logan and Deadpool in Hoboken, NJ. a/n: car shopping with Logan torturing the salesman and being sexy, lol. can only imagine. absolutely no idea where this came from, took me 20 minutes on my phone. Enjoy.

“I just wanna know if the heads have been done, baby.”

Nervously twisting her foot against the stones and other used-car lot gravel has done little to sway Logan’s insistence on forcing the underpaid salesman to answer earthbending questions just short of torturous. Twice already the man had left back into the office to retrieve records—hasn’t been smart enough to just keep the file on hand. Kids these days, is all Logan had muttered. The man was no less than 55, at a wild hair guess—gray mottling his beard and once-copper hair was evidence.

Attention welded firmly to the top the motor humming quietly in front of him, Logan’s hands slip into his pockets as he studies. He’d been taking her to car dealerships all afternoon, for nearly five weekends in a row—money burning holes in the pockets of his Wranglers, no doubt.

Unable to find anything remotely worth his time, Logan had been nitpicking since she’d proudly waved the check from Geico proudly overhead. Like a battle flag staked in the survival of a car accident, it wasn’t a life changing amount of cash—meager, actually, considering the vehicle lost. She’d trashed the Tuscon on the backroads of Tennessee valley country, a tried and true companion with well over two hundred thousand on the dash and the Midwestern rust to prove it.

A wreck she’d walked away from. Logan had all but flown to her aid—he hadn’t slept the thirteen hours and thirty eight minutes it had taken to rescue her from hill country. With little warning, he’d packed a backpack, punched out of Jersey with his Jeep. Gas station coffee, cigars, and a stashed bottle of Jack Daniel’s under the front seat had found her, swept her up in a kiss and concern, and whisked her back to Hoboken.

And in true Logan fashion, he’d kept under wraps his intentions until that check hit the mailbox. Or, rather—a Snapchat had showed up on his phone. Ecstatic, a heavily filtered and stickered snap had made him smile—and she’d almost dropped her phone. Hadn’t been not a walking mess of flustered and flattered, doe-eyed and dreamwalking since he’d announced he would not only be helping her scout out her new rig, but paying the difference for whatever pink slip she came to acquire.

“It’s just money, darlin’—I got plen’y.”

Mistruth, she knew—Logan worked hard on a barely-livable wage working logs, but, despite any attempt to argue over shared chili cheese fries and rootbeer floats, she’d relented. Hands tossed in the air. He, after all, had money saved. Couldn’t think of a better investment.

“Gotta get my girl into something safer than a fucking Hyundai Tuscon.”

“Logan. I really think it’s fine—“ Hunger burns at the base of her spine. Her feet are near bleeding in wedge heels, and it may as well be sun surface degrees standing on the blacktop in jeans and a Greatest Showman Lip Sync t-shirt. The turquoise squash blossom necklace around her neck is heavy and slick with perspiration from the back of her neck—also a gift from Logan, for Hanukkah. Presented before her family as a grand gesture of vested interest and traditional courtship, it was as real as God. Expensive. Heavy.

His look is hard, wrinkled as his eyes scale over her. “You got somewhere to be?” Nodding to the phone in her hand, “You’re checkin’ the time like it’s your lover, honey. Secret boyfriend I don’t know about?” His brows wag teasingly for a second, pink flashing to life on her cheeks.

“I just think if we’re not gonna buy the car, we shouldn’t be making poor Phil run back and forth,”

They’d already discussed this on the test drive. Phil was two things, if not honest—a jackass, and completely incompetent when it came to the issue of Subaru Outback’s with the 3.6r. Logan and his copious amounts of obsessive access to Google, married with over 200 years of tinkering on anything with wheels, had determined every single known mechanical complaint about these damn wagons—and, once she’d decided which direction to go, had made it his life’s purpose to plague every single online forum to know. He’d asked questions. Googled schematics and blueprints. Had test driven no less than six vehicles, finding faults with all of them. Salespeople aside.

His nose wrinkles, snorting dismissively. “The fuck I won’t,” hands fall from his pockets to the frame of the Outback, Logan bending over the motor to consider the hum of the serpentine belt, “ain’t gonna kill him to make some steps when his ass is gettin’ fat in an office chair, darlin’. B’sides, haven’t decided if we’re buying this or not—not fully.” In other words, I’m having fun pullin’ his chain, baby.

Sighing, she drops her purse off her shoulder and reaches to unclasp the necklace from off her neck. Logan clocks her shift, brows furrowed—moves behind to undo it himself, thick fingers warm and calloused as they gently brush the curls on the back of her neck. Heat ebbs from him like a long black train, breath warm and heady on the back of her neck.

Handing the necklace over her shoulder, his arm snakes around her waist. Tugs her close. Smiling against her flittering pulse, his hand covers the necklace in hers as a low hum of approval rummages around the adamantium in his chest.

“You’re hot,” he hums. And she isn’t sure if he means overheated or otherwise, but opts into the adjective game.

“It’s a hundred degrees,” and that’s no lie. Gently tipping her head to the side, she smiles as his tongue gently lathes the spot behind her ear, “I’m in jeans and heels, Wolvie honey.” Her hand reached to brush fingers through his hair, tempted to pull. “And I know for damn sure you’re not buying this Outback. You don’t like Phil.”

Gut punched and pleasured, his growl is animalistic. Bestial. “How’d ya know that?”

Her lilt is light, teasing as her hips cant back against his pelvis. “You didn’t like him the second he slapped eyes on my tits in this shirt, that’s how,” her sigh is exaggerated, “and—for a guy over two centuries old, you don’t exactly have a poker face, Logan.”

His laugh is hard, rough around his chest. She can feel it rattle down her spine, chasing the heat that pools in the cradle of her womb. Every nerve is alive as he snugs up his arm around her waist, fingers tracing the buckle of her belt. Resting his chin on her shoulder, he gently sways her back and forth.

She continues, “I am also waiting for you to cash in on that promise for lunch,” glancing down, “you can obviously see I’m withering away here, Wolverine.” Trying not to giggle as his hands move to her hips, nipping at her skin, his fingers gently slip into the pockets of her jeans as he angles his head to brush his nose against the shell of her ear.

“Got a better idea, sunshine—how about we screw Felony Phil and his clunker of an Outback, and I take you outback for some product research, huh?”

She didn’t have to be asked twice. Sold.

tags: @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @fandomxo00

[vic-sinclair-96]

What Cars Would All the Little Characters in The Amazing Digital Circus Drive?

Welcome! To the AMAZING DIGITAL car show? That's right! We're gonna profile all of the characters and figure out what each of them would drive, based on their personality and requirements.

Starting off with the most popular total irredeemable asshole, Jax!

Jax is the worst. He's brilliantly entertaining, but he really only cares about himself and entertaining himself. He needs a car that's driver-focused. Something fast enough to get into trouble, and fancy enough that he can feel better about himself driving it.

His modified BMW 328i coupe fits perfectly. It's the perfect combination of smug and wrathful that suits him. It's also lightly modified on larger wheels, basic "cold air" intake (the box said 10 horsepower!) and a crackle tune with a shitty exhaust. It pops and bangs along as he weaves through traffic, the turn signal stalk having never been touched once.

Next up! Our favorite ray of sunshine, Ragatha.

Ragatha is a sweetheart. Often, sickeningly so. She needs a car with as much preschool teacher-energy that she has.

Ragatha has a Kia Soul. She saw the hamster commercials on TV and thought they were adorable. When she walked into the dealership, the salesman's mouth watered at seeing an easy target. She pointed to the top of the line model right in the center of the dealer showroom and said "That one is adorable! can I have that one?". She then spent 3 hours in the dealership getting fleeced for every single optional extra the Kia salesperson could come up with.

Moving onto our resident bug collector, Kinger!

Kinger, despite not really being all there most of the time, is clearly very intelligent. He seems the most aware of the actual mechanical functions of the Digital Circus, and fans theorize that his "bug collecting" comes from being a QA tester before he got shlorped into the circus.

Kinger would absolutely drive a SAAB 9-5 Aero Wagon. Fun Fact! Back when SAAB actually existed, they had, statistically, the highest-educated drivers of any car brand. I actually work at a major university, and I still see a good dozen SAABs being driven by professors with more degrees than a thermostat.

My lovely dysphoric darling Zooble is next!

Zooble is a functionalist. They're observant and intelligent, but they feel unheard in the circus. Zooble needs a car that works hard for them. They value the utility of their vehicle above all else, and their car can often blend into the background unseen.

Zooble's Ford Ranger is perfect for them. It's an truck. It goes down the road, it has space in the back for objects and things. Rangers were rather disposable back in the day, but luckily they're quite repairable which makes up for it. Zooble has no problems getting their hands greasy when need be!

Unmasking to our next little character, Gangle!

Gangle loves Manga, she's an artist who's not very sure of herself. She likes Japanesey-things, which like, who doesn't? and we also know her old job as a shift manager! This means we know her budget, which is: low

Gangle likes her Nissan Micra because it's cute. She got it because it was cheap, and she keeps it because it's good on gas and surprisingly fun to drive! Low weight will do that to ya.

Finally getting to the big man himself, Caine! no relation to Abel.

Caine is larger than life. He needs a car just as insanely exaggerated as he is, something that has no basis in real-world practicality, but is just more. More engine, more bodywork, more flair, more everything.

The 1930 Cadillac V16 Phaeton is exactly that. It's 18 and a half feet long, has 8 headlights, two grilles, two spare tires, two entire dashboards! The rear seat passengers even have their own windshield they can flip up when the roof is down. Not to mention the incredible V16 engine means it has double the cylinders and double the size of an already very large V8. It also has an "awooga" horn which just feels right.

Finally! Last but never the least, our protagonist herself, Pomni!

Pomni is down to earth. She values things she can be sure of, and the Digital Circus really throws all of that off a cliff. She's also reasonably intelligent, emotionally and numerically. She would value a car that gets her from point A to point B, every single time while carrying whatever she needs to carry. Something she can rely on.

She'd drive a Toyota Corolla Hatchback. Dependable. Reliable. There when you need it, just like Pomni.

Thank you for tuning into another What Cars Would All the Little Characters Drive! Comment any suggestions for the next cartoon you'd like to see!

[brunolover808]

Homelander x reader ||Burnt Rubber ||

There was a sound disturbance reported multiple times. So Homelander was tasked with this to gain some points in popularity.

Just two years ago you were the world's greatest racer. The fact that you have world breaking records under your belt was nothing. Now you were just a memory in the racing world. Losing control on the race way and causing a pile up was somehow unforgiving. It is a common danger, but then they started to pull your records. Come to find out you had been arrested in your teen years for driving with no license. Sadly the company that was in full support of you dropped you in an instant.

Now...well now you are a no-body. Just someone who drives cars at a dealership to keep the oil flowing and making sure the tires are nice. Dead end, no excitement.

Till you found out there was street racing. Not entirely illegal, as long as you don't get caught. So for the past year you have been racing every Friday night at midnight. You pulled up in an old memento your ass of an old sponsor gave you. A Dodge Challenger, bright orange. A sore eye, but easy to keep an eye on if anyone wants to make sure you have been winning each race.

Tonight was no different, the only thing was the group of audiences seemed smaller. Odd, you approach one of the regulars asking what is going on. They don't recognize you besides one of the racers for the night. You were told that some of the people think the cops will show from how many cars have been out today. Not even phased you return your car waiting for them to call you forward to the ready line.

It took about 20 minutes before someone waved for your car to pull up to the line. Your tired move slowly as you and 7 others break in front of the line. Everything was going smoothly, the cars revving their engines as a sexy woman stepped in between the middle cars. She held a handkerchief looking at the cars. You were ready to punch the gas. You watched intently till something shook your car. Was it an earthquake, no it happened too fast.

Boom

Landing just about a car's length away from the line stood the man clad in stripes. Golden shinning hair and deep sucken blue eyes in the headlights.

"Now now, everyone, you are under arrest, I am here to arrest you all. Police-"

Before he could finish his sentence, that was likely made up on the spot, people ran for their cars and the racers were already reversing. You on the other hand were waiting, watching as Homelander shook his head and tried to calm everyone down. He even lasered a tire of one of the racers. His focus is on everyone, and not you. Easy out. Just like any race you punch the gas making your car hurl forward and drive past Homelander.

In that moment you might have not seen, but his head turned slowly to your car as it drove past him. Almost like a flash of light he recalled your face. That amazing face that used to be behind a helmet as you took sharp turns and nearly flipped your car. Homelander was a fan of your racing since it was so risky and aggressive when it came to anyone else winning. This was going to be fun for him.

Already the cops had shown up at the location where the race was supposed to start. You had left the blue and red lights behind you and now trying to out run something that wasn't a vehicle. The billowing cape streaking the sky as you try to weave between each car was on your tail. It was toying with you, he was toying with you. From what you have seen, he could go faster than that. Though he was just giving you enough space to use your skills to try and lose him.

In your career of racing you were able to easily gain speed. Now once you had the bustling city coming up, you were at a loss. You had to do something to be able to not end up in a crash, though maybe he would enjoy it. You were speaking to yourself as you did your best to think. Going down side roads would only slow you down and end up with possible casualties.

"Fuck it." You cursed under your breath.

With one jerk of the wheel and the emergency break pulled, your car turns sharply. The tired immediately screeched against the asphalt and the smell of traction burning off into the air. Even Homelander had to speed off to the side to avoid the smoke and strong smell.

Your wheel vibrating and trying to jerk out of your grip. You feel the car finally straightens out and you release the emergency brake so you can speed down an alleyway. Your speed slowing down so you can cut the corners close with just a few scratches to that orange paint. Though you had to slam on your brakes as the figure standing at the end of the alley would have left more than a scratch to your paint. You nearly got whiplash if it wasn't for having experienced such a stop before.

The quick hand reach for the reverse, but already Homelander was at your window knocking.

"Okay, get out before I have to rip your door off."

A cold chill ran down your spine as you took the gear and shifted it to park. You take your foot off the break and turn your car off before opening your door. He steps back as you slowly get out of the car, the door blocking him from you.

"I don't want any trouble, please let me-"

"I recognize you. You were the world's fastest racer. No one could compare to you, I am your biggest fan."

"O-oh... Well thank you. "

"No problem, it just means that they will get a kick out of you in jail." His hand grips the door pushing it to force you to step out of the way till the door is closed.

"Please sir, I can't go-"

"Call me Homelander- if you are going to be begging. "

You were left stunned as he approached you. You freeze in place as you tilt your head just a little to meet his eyes. Those blue eyes that look as though unamused and more intrigued. Like he was waiting for you to continue to beg or even kneel before him to kiss his shoes. Though instead you were getting worried.

"What do you want from me to get me out of jail?"

"What." He laughs before continuing. "There is no get out of jail card... But there are some services you can do to get out of jail. Let's say community service." He said before he put a hand on your shoulder.

"What? "

"Sorry, let me make this clear." He clears his throat with a smirk. "You can either go to jail or you can take the challenge of seeing how fast I can take you for a ride."

You had two clear choices. You either spend time behind bars or you spend time taking Homelander. Two evils, and you were always ready to take a risk.