#Inventory Checklist

[vanlinesmove]

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[crested-waveskimmer]

Dragon Spotlight: Gamma

I love breeding my progens because they have such a wild color range. I kept this girl because against the odds, she ended up as a double Radioactive!

[2-tderrol]

Errol Publishing

My books are available at Amazon.com Just scan the QR code and go to my page. Thanks, T.D.

[prokopetz]

While Metroid (1986) and Castlevania II: Simon's Quest (1987) are usually cited as the founding texts of the metroidvania genre, not without reason, they were actually part of a much larger wave of 2D side-scrolling platformers featuring nonlinear, inventory-gated open worlds that were all released in the same three or four year span.

Some are fairly well known, like Blaster Master (1988) and Zelda II: The Adventure of Link (1987). Others are more obscure these days, like Faxanadu (1987) or The Maze of Galious (1987). There doesn't seem to be any one game that started it – it was an idea whose time had come, and suddenly it was everywhere at all at once.

Of course, given that the genre was just beginning to take shape, there are also a lot of weird edge cases that might or might not be first-generation metroidvanias, depending on how you define your terms. Ultimately, checklists of tropes are perhaps a less relevant metric than which games participated in the creative dialogue that produced what would eventually be labelled the metroidvania.

Which finally brings me to the question I actually want to throw out:

Is DuckTales (1989) a first-generation metroidvania?

[factech007]

A preventative maintenance checklist aids in identifying equipment maintenance tasks that should be performed to maintain its safety and boost factory reliability.  

Proactive maintenance is required to prevent larger, more expensive damages in the future. Because of the improved focus and planning of our team, a successful preventive maintenance strategy helps us save money.

CMMS systems

90% less reactive maintenance is required with CMMS systems like Factech Kaizen.

Preventive maintenance checklists will assist you in keeping an eye on your assets based on maintenance priorities, anticipated needs, and past performance.

Contact Us for More Information

[avokaidoll]

⑅ Self Discipline ⑅

Self-discipline is like having a personal cheerleader in your head, helping you stay focused and achieve your goals. It's the ability to control and direct yourself, making choices that align with your long-term objectives rather than giving in to immediate impulses. Think of it as the secret sauce for personal growth, productivity, and success. It involves setting priorities, making conscious decisions, and consistently putting in effort to reach your desired outcomes. Self-discipline empowers you to stay on track, overcome challenges, and ultimately become the best version of yourself.

Let's break down the essence of self-discipline in dfrnt aspects of your life

1. Morning Routine Magic:

Your morning routine is like crafting a daily sanctuary. Beyond skincare, imagine incorporating moments of tranquility like yoga or a quick workout. It's not just a checklist; it's setting the stage for a day of conquering.

2. To-Do List Love:

Your to-do list is a dynamic tool, more than a mere inventory of tasks. It's a glam planner, outlining your roadmap to success. Writing down your ambitions transforms them into tangible goals, making the conquest all the more empowering.

3. Snack on Goals, Not Junk:

Goals aren't just targets; they're your daily sustenance. Instead of mindless snacking, consider each accomplished task as a delicious victory bite, satisfying your hunger for achievement.

4. Wardrobe Power Moves:

Dressing for success isn't a superficial act; it's about embodying confidence. Your outfit becomes a statement, shaping your mindset for the day. It's akin to wearing a tangible boost of self-assurance. I want you to wear for the day you want, not the day you have !!!

5. Breaks Aren't Breakdowns:

Taking breaks is a strategic recharge, not a sign of weakness. It's not about slacking off but strategically powering up. These moments are not breakdowns; they are breakthroughs, allowing you to return with renewed sparkle. So don't beat yourself up when your really need the rest :)

6. Learn, Don't Stress:

In the face of challenges, see them as opportunities for growth. Self-discipline is not a pursuit of perfection but a commitment to a journey of continual learning. Remember, nobody is born with all the answers; it's about evolving.

7. Consistency is the Glow-Up Secret:

Consistency is more than a routine; it's the highlighter of your life's narrative. It infuses your journey with an extra pop, turning the ordinary into the extraordinary. Even on tough days, maintaining consistency becomes your guiding light.

8. Celebrate Small Wins:

Every step toward your goals, irrespective of size, is a cause for celebration. It's not just recognizing achievements; it's throwing a confetti party for yourself. Celebrate not just the destination but the entire journey.

9. Consistent Routine:

Envision self-discipline as a daily sanctuary, akin to your skincare routine. Skipping it is like neglecting a crucial step in your beauty ritual. Embrace it daily for a consistent, empowering glow.

10. Setting Goals:

Picture self-discipline as the GPS that is guiding you to your dreams. Establish small, attainable goals as waypoints on your journey. These goals serve as markers, leading you steadily toward your grand aspirations.

11. Prioritizing Tasks:

Think of self-discipline as your wise older sister, advising you on what truly matters. Prioritize tasks that contribute to your glow-up, whether it's acquiring a new skill or taking care of your well-being.

12. Resisting Temptations:

It's important to saying no to that extra slice of cake when you know you're full. Self-discipline aids in resisting temptations that might divert you from your goals, whether it's procrastination or unhealthy habits.

13. Building Habits:

Like establishing a routine of daily water intake, self-discipline helps in cultivating positive habits. These habits become second nature, contributing to your overall well-being and success.

14. Time Management:

Imagine self-discipline as a magical time-turner. It assists in managing your time wisely, allowing you to balance academics, self-care, and the pursuit of your passions effectively.

15. Learning from Mistakes:

Self-discipline is forgiving; it encourages learning from mistakes rather than dwelling on them. It's a compassionate guide, acknowledging that growth comes from understanding and overcoming challenges.

16. Celebrating Achievements:

Consider self-discipline your personal cheerleader. It not only recognizes but actively celebrates your achievements, big or small, in your journey of self-improvement and success.

Visualize self-discipline as your personal superhero cape, guiding you through the journey of glowing up and being super productive. You're on the path to becoming a true girlboss.

Keep shining doll !

Xoxo signing off,

Angela ꒰⁠⑅⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠꒱⁠˖⁠♡

ps: this is my first post I hope it was informative enough as I am also in my own journey of being better mentally and physically and I see self discipline as something essential for that to happen.

[teaboot]

I know this isn't going to go well here but the actively encouraging people to shoplift because "fuck billion dollar corporations" is a risky fucking move and I don't think yall really understand what you're getting into.

Imagine you have a billion dollar company. First thing you're gonna wanna do is incorporate. That means a catastrophic loss to the company cannot be taken out of your ass. The corporation is, legally speaking, a person who is totally separate to you.

Let's say that people are stealing product, and you're losing inventory that was projected to be sold. You wanna meet that projected income, right? You can't say, "people stole from this store, and the employees failed to prevent it, so I'm gonna take it out of their income." That's illegal in most places and looks bad PR wise. So what you do is, you say, "this company isn't selling enough to meet quota, so we're compensating in other areas." What does that look like? That looks like fewer hours for part-time staff, fewer hires, lower quality uniforms and supplies. Your employees work $10 an hour, you lose $100, maybe you take an hour off ten people. Maybe you don't grant extra hours to people requesting it. Maybe you double down on discouraging overtime but still insist the same goals be met. Maybe you raise prices on things that disappear, to cover what's gonna get taken

Even with all this, you'd have to cut back even more if you just *let theft happen*, right? So you hire security to operate cameras, follow people, watch staff. It's expensive, but still cheaper than it WOULD be if word got around that your doors are free and open to anyone walking in with sticky fingers.

So you nab some shit anyway. Whatever. Surprise- there is no pattern to who specifically gets watched. Anyone coming in might get a random follow, just to check in. You don't get arrested? That doesn't mean anything. It might be a busy day. It might be what you took is low enough value that they can let you go, wait to see how often you do it, how long you've been doing it, whether it's a one-off or if you're on it all the time. Maybe they have a checklist of things they need to cover before they can ban you from the property, and after that, criminal trespass is a crime, too. Maybe they have six different pictures of your face and are running it through other stores to see if you've stolen there, too, and once someone finds your name or your address or your regular pattern of behaviour? You go down for all of it at once, and you don't even know you're fucked until it's too late.

I get it. Shit is the way it is. I just don't wanna see yall starting a shoplifting hobby stealing lipgloss and dollar candy off the fucking cuff because some dumbass online posted a guillotine and told you to eat the rich.

Like.

There are ramifications, you know?

Stay safe out there

[highgroundanimations]

Tukk: How's the inventory going, Checklist? Found anything that doesn't belong in here?

Checklist: Not really, except for the rats.

Tukk: Just add those to the database, I'll give you their names.

Checklist: ...

Tukk: I'll take that as a "yes sir".

[spiderscribe]

Happy day 10 of TF Rare Pairing Fest!! I hope you've all been enjoying Percy's rotating harem of boyfriends, because I was also asked to write Blurr/Perceptor and that’s what you’re getting today. For the prompt "Butterfly" <3

@tfrarepairing

“Hey, Percy?” asks Blurr, breaking the silence and consequently shattering Perceptor’s focus for the fifth time in as many kliks.

Resisting the strong urge to comm a security guard and request that Blurr be removed from the premises on the basis of being a metal shard in his side, Perceptor lowers his datapad and stares down Blurr. “What?”

Blurr wilts a little at Perceptor’s frosty tone, but he squares his shoulders and keeps talking anyway, his ever-present irritating grin on his face. “This place is really nice. How’d you end up working here?”

“I was recruited to assist in species inventory and identification.” Perceptor ticks off the last box on his checklist and swipes to the next page, walking towards the next room. Blurr scrambles after him, and a distant part of Perceptor’s processor notes that it’s rather funny to see the world’s fastest bot running to keep up with him. “The current categorization system is horribly inefficient.”

“Oh. That’s, uh. That sounds pretty bad,” says Blurr as he follows him. “Did they call you up because you’re an expert in this field?”

“Not particularly,” says Perceptor. “I assume I was contacted because of my extensive general knowledge of offworld organic fauna.”

The two of them emerge into an enormous, brightly-lit enclosure that smells strongly of organic soil. Sunlight streams in through the glass roof, glittering against the lush green crystal trees and imported Earth plants growing in abundance. A steel bridge embedded with decorative stone pieces winds through the artificial forest, inviting visitors to continue strolling inside. In the distance, Perceptor can hear the merry bubbling of the water fountain spilling over fields of grass.

And throughout the entire room, thousands of cyber-butterflies and organic butterflies flap freely, filling the room with their distinct buzzing and unique patterns in a canopy of vibrant colours.

(read the rest on ao3!)

[professorgallifrey]

Most people think of Joe Hills as the god of literature, giving inspiration to those who need it. At surface level, it makes sense. He's often heard reciting poetry and prose to anyone willing to put up with him as she works. But Joe's not to kind of person to take things at face value, and neither should they be. So some look further, calling him the god of inspiration or artistry. "More broad", They say, "she covers not just the written word but all forms of expression". They look at not just what he says, but how, and why, and for whom. They look at their art in all forms: architecture, photography, fashion. Some feel this is still not right, and so They call her the god of the medium, whether that be in an artistic sense or in a more traditional meaning. After all, he is a ghost and a historian, a muse of art forms esoteric. They point to the Juppet as an example of this, of the fine line between the puppet and puppeteer, of possessing yourself.

They are all wrong. And yet right.

Joe Hills is the inspiration that strikes after a long night of discarded drafts. He is the person closing up shop hours after the last customer has left, having finally finished taking inventory. She is the painting finally hung up after the humidity prevented the adhesive from sticking the first dozen times. They are the calluses on the violinist's fingers after practicing the same song a hundred times to finally hit that one stubborn note.

Joe Hills from Nashville, Tennessee, is the god of perseverance.

He doesn't show it in large, grandiose displays of power. That's too cliché. She prefers a more personal approach. They're always there when the server says goodnight for the last time, making final touches to projects or jumping on pumpkins. He takes time to get the smallest details right, the ones no one but him would notice, even if this means they're moving the walls a block for the third time this week. She trades when she has no diamonds to give because sometimes capitalism forgets to pay you but you still need to eat. They're the one doing the large, menial tasks that need to get done, but worth all the time at the end.

Even before Hermitcraft, Joe Hills persevered. Often found caught in the games of the trickster god Vechs, he persevered, walking hard, standing tall, keeping her head up through it all. Deathloops, hidden traps, impossible challenges, he persevered. No matter how super hostile the landscape, Joe remained. She found themself in other death games, facing unknown faces, although one face would become familiar, another who chose to persevere. He became the face of those who never stop, a checklist that never ends, those who never rest and continue their work even in undeath.

Joe Hills from Nashville, Tennessee, is the god of perseverance.

After all, listen to the first song written in his name.

"Who's the guy who can conquer death? That's Joe Hills."

[kinkykinard]

Okay in honor of the potential 8x06 date, BuckTommy? Would they do costumes on Halloween? If so, separate or couples? What would they be?

Ooooh, fun!!

Well, I think that while Buck LOVES Halloween, Tommy's never really given it much thought. It's not that he hates it, he's just never really had the impetus to dive into Halloween before. Sure, he's been to the occasional party, but there was never any real incentive to dress up and so he never did.

But with Buck at his side? He doesn't really have a choice. Buck walks in after a long few days apart one time with a long list of couples costume ideas scrawled on the back of an inventory checklist he'd pulled out of the logbook at the station that morning. He reads the list off to Tommy over pizza that night to get his opinions.

Batman and Robin? Boring.

Woody and Buzz? No.

Mario and Luigi? Hell no.

In the end, it's Tommy who comes up with the idea. It's early afternoon the next day and Bohemian Rhapsody is playing on the old radio at the back of his garage while he and Buck spar during a long-overdue Muay Thai lesson. It seems so obvious, then, but also really fitting. So when time for Maddie and Chim's Halloween party rolls around, it's really kind of perfect that they show up as Freddie Mercury and Ziggy Stardust.

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

Suzie, Do You Copy?

pairing: steve harrington x female byers!reader

WC: 5.2K

warnings: cussing, steve and reader being in love (disgusting). should be it.

summary: Fourth of July is just around the corner. First month of summer moved by in a flash, your busy with work, trying to spend time with your friends and family, and making sure you get to smother your boyfriend in all the love he deserves. But just how long will this peace last?

A/N: ALL PARTS UNDER THE TAG - The Byers Harrington Story- MY FAVORITE SEASON IS FINALLY HERE!!!!! if you have an updated username when you first joined the taglist please let me know what the old name was and give me to new one so you get the notifications.

this has been sitting since january 1st…

@alecmores 💗

series masterlist / steve harrington

previous chapter  next chapter

With the mall buzzing with life on the final day of June, Scoops Ahoy luckily wasn’t packed to the teeth with customers. The booths and tables had barely a handful of occupants, a couple sharing a milkshake, friends laughing and gossiping over their cups or cones in one of the corner booths, and a single mom with her child who was sloppily indulging in their sweet treat. People come in and out of the store with their desserts to continue browsing the giant structure.

Robin was stationed at the counter, scooping orders and ringing their prices. Steve was busting some tables in the lobby before his fifteen started, and you were in the back checking the inventory. Somehow you got bumped to assistant manager, a mystery still swimming in your brain.

Even with it being summer in Hawkins, you had to bring a nice sweater with you for every shift since you’ll most likely end up in the freezer for a few hours, jotting down what flavors are running low, what requires reordering and what flavors need to be pushed more. Sometimes when you run into Robin or Steve after leaving the ice box, the nickname you gave it, they’ll make a quick joke about your flushed cheeks or bright nose.

“Can’t believe I still make you blush after six months of dating.” or “Christmas isn’t for another six months, Rudolph.”

Just as you finished your inventory check of the night, the solid metal door slamming close behind you, Steve pushes through the swinging doors for his break. He threw the dirty rag and disinfectant spray in a bucket beside the sink, as you dropped the clipboard to the tiny table in the middle of the room and stripped your jacket off your shoulders.

“So, what’s the news?” Steve always asked that same question when you were done with your checklist. 

“Uh,” you leaned above the paper, eyes squinting a bit, “need more strawberries, a giant tub of raspberry cheesecake is set to expire next month on the twelfth, and we need more rocky road.”

You sat in the chair beside Steve, head resting in your palm with your elbow poking at the tabletop. Your eyes were drooping, wishing so badly to just rest your head against your pillow and knockout. Steve must’ve noticed your tiredness, his eyes peeking into your view along with a poke to your free cheek.

“Tired?” You just nodded. “Was it another nightmare?”

You hesitated in answering but knew Steve would find out either way, “yeah. It involved you and Will. Wasn’t pretty. I almost called-”

“Why didn’t you?” He interrupted. “Steve, I didn’t want to wake you, plus, it wasn’t crazy horrible. I was just… just shook me up a little.” A truth and a lie.

He sighed, “(Y/n),” he took your chin between his thumb and forefinger and turned your attention to him, “if you ever have a nightmare, whether I’m in it or not, please just call me. I will come over without hesitation, you know I’m always looking for an excuse to stay at your place.” A gentle smile brightened his face.

“You know my mom is okay with you staying over.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to overstay my welcome. Plus, Jonathan probably needs space from me now and then.” Their relationship was still a bit rocky, but Steve was constantly working on fixing it, and Jonathan was just… allowing it to happen.

“Speaking of staying over,” you twisted in your seat so your knees were touching, “wanna come over tonight? After last night, I could use my human body pillow.”

Steve laughed, “oh, that’s all I am to you? A body pillow?”

“Well, among many other things,” you started to lean forward, hoping Steve got the message with your action.

And just when he started to meet you halfway, lips inches from connecting, the front bell began to chime repeatedly. Instead of your lips meeting in a sweet, sugar-tasting kiss, your foreheads connected. Steve’s eyes closed and he breathed a sigh through his nose, while you rubbed your lips together to stop a smile.

“Hey, lovebirds, your children are here.” Robin’s teasing voice floated from the front counter through the sliding window.

Steve reluctantly pulled away and threw open the divider. He rested his right arm along the white counter while his left was propped up. From your seat, you could see Mike, Will, Lucas, and Max formed in their huddle.

“Again? Seriously?” He took a glance at you then back to the four, “(Y/n) could ban you idiots.”

“I could, but I do have a bit of a soft spot for them,” you cringed at the flabbergasted look Steve was throwing you.

And when it looked like he was about to say something, another ding stole the attention. Mike’s bored face stared back.

“Well, except for Mike sometimes.” You mumbled before you motioned for them to come to the back.

You opened the back entrance, and one by one they entered the long hallway. With Will being the last one out, you ruffled his growing bowl cut, “you want a ride home?”

He walked backward, front facing you with his back to his friends, “I’ll stop by after the movie and tell you.” He then flipped around and hurried to join the other three.

Steve walked out in the hallway, hands resting at his hips, “I swear if anybody hears about this-” “We’re dead!” They all cut him off. “Have fun!” You chimed in.

You both waited until they turned the corner and were out of sight before heading back to the store. Steve took the free opportunity to pull you into his arms, back flush again his chest with his arms wrapped tight around your stomach. His head dipped down so his lips lined with your ear, “I think I was promised something before we were rudely interrupted.”

A joyful smile took over you, “oh really? I didn’t know we were handing out prizes at work now.”

“Oh, yeah. Helps boost employee morale or something.”

“Morale? Didn’t know we were in need of boosting.”

The two of you continue your slow waddle into the breakroom, Steve not losing his grip.

“Well, me, I personally could use a boost.” He finally freed you from his tight grasp, just allowing you to spin so you were chest to chest. 

“And what could boost your morale, Harrington?”

“Hm?” He hummed with a finger at his chin, really playing up his act, “Oh! What about a kiss from a lovely girl? And may the lovely girl be you, Byers?”

You copied his theatrical gesture, brows furrowed, eyes squinted, with a finger pressed to your pursed lips in fake thought.

“Why not,” you faked enthusiasm that Steve fully saw through.

Steve went with his signature kissing maneuver. His large hands rested on the sides of your face, pinkies resting just under your ears, while his thumbs swiped across your plush cheeks. You would either hold his wrist as you pushed to your tip toes or Steve would already be leaning down and you would hold him in place with your hands at his face or arms wrapped around his neck. Today it was the latter, Steve being very eager to get his kiss before something or someone could stop it from happening.

And when his lips melted into yours, a steady rhythm was building, with hands wandering from their original spots. And just before it could go any further, your bliss was broken by someone loudly coughing. The two of you broke apart and turned to the point of noise.

Robin had a disgusted scowl painted across her face with her arms crossed over her chest, “Harrington, I need you up front with me while (Y/n) goes on her break.” She turned to head back up front before twisting back, “and (Y/n), you promised to keep PDA to a very low minimum at work. For my pure eyes.”

“Sorry, Robs.”

She pushed the saloon doors open when the ring of the front bell went off. You gave Steve one quick peck to the lips before pushing at his chest, “you heard the boss, go help up front.” With that you separated, Steve was forced to do his job and you grabbed your wallet so you could get your dinner at the food court, also for Robin and Steve.

“Okay, so I’m gonna head to the food court, you two want anything?” You said with your head poking through the divider.

Robin and Steve were both helping customers so you waited with patience for them to respond to you. As you waited, you unabashedly watched Steve while he scooped ice cream, and as you were mesmerized by his biceps, the lights turned off.

“That’s weird,” Steve voiced before walking to the switch.

You and Robin watched as he flicked it on and off, continuing to mess with it even though it showed no results. Your heart rate was slowly picking up speed with the length of the lights being off.

“That isn’t gonna work, dingus.” Robin pointed out.

“Oh, really?” Steve shot back before going back to flicking the switch even faster.

Still, nothing was happening, and he finally stopped. You curled your nails into your palms, needing to feel something. Steve went back to flicking the switch, slower this time. And on the fifth time, when he flicked the switch on the lights returned to life.

“Let there be light,” and he went back to the ice cream.

Robin just glared at him before turning to you, “what a guy,” And before she could make a snide comment, she leaned in closer, “are you- are you okay? You look like you’re gonna pass out.” 

“Yeah, yeah, just not a fan of the dark. Uh, you want- you want anything, from the food court?” Needing to change the subject quickly.

She looked at you with hesitation, but played along, “uh, Orange Julius. My usual.” And she turned to the register, Steve taking her spot.

“You want anything from the food court?” “A coke and fries from Burger King, please.”

With their orders, you left the shop to officially start your hour break.

…

You ate your pancakes and eggs in the slow morning quiet. Will was beside you as he leaned over and grabbed another pancake, but you smacked his hand causing him to drop it.

“What?”

“Save that for Steve. You got enough on your plate.” And you shoved a fork of eggs into your mouth.

You heard a door open and footsteps before Steve came into view at the end of the hall. You flashed him a smile as he took the seat across from Will, while he took the plate where the leftover pancakes and eggs sat.

“Thank you, Ms. Byers.” Steve’s voice was deep from just waking up.

She flailed a hand, “how many times do I have to tell you, Steve? You can call me, Joyce.”

“I’ll probably need a few more reminders before it sticks.” He chuckled and then reached for the syrup.

Soon Jonathan’s door cracked open and he was rushing out while finishing his buttons. Joyce rushed over to him, Jonathan slowing his steps. You noticed the faint lipstick kiss on his cheek, but no Nancy behind him.

“Wait up.” Joyce stopped him.

“Oh, no, I’ll eat at work. I’m late.”

“No, your cheek.” And she swiped at the makeup.

Jonathan moved her hand away, “all right, all right. I gotta run. See you later.”

“Tell Nancy she can leave through the front door next time,” you yelled before the front door shut with a slam.

“Ugh. Gross.” Will muttered as Joyce walked back to her seat.

“Well, I don’t think you’re gonna think it’s gross when you fall in love.” She looked from Will to you and Steve, “just look at (Y/n) and Steve. Don’t you want what they have?”

Will eyed the both of you, you and Steve stopped eating to hear what Will was gonna say, “what? Constantly eating each other's faces?”

“Dude, come on.” You groaned at Will while Steve just laughed.

“But, Will,” Steve stopped laughing and looked directly at Will, “I’m sure you’ll find a special girl later in life. You’re a catch.”

“I’m not gonna fall in love,” Will mumbled as he poured syrup over his food.

You heard the hidden pain in his words and understood why he thought he wasn’t gonna fall in love. You gave a slight tap to Will’s foot, his eyes looking your way and you threw a small smile to show just an ounce of your love and support for him.

“What- what happened here?” Joyce muttered as she walked near the fridge.

You and Will watched as she picked up a pile of papers and magnets that must have fallen off the fridge in the middle of the night. You saw how she looked at a drawing Will did for Bob, her hand lingering before joining the three of you at the table.

“So, Will, have any plans today?” You questioned him with a mouth full of pancakes.

“Dustin’s coming home from camp today, so we’re going to surprise him at his house. Ms. Henderson was really excited about the idea.”

“Oh! You guys should try and stop by today if you have time. I know Steve is just dying to see Dustin, aren’t you Stevie?” Your attention is on him now.

You spotted the slight flush to his ears but didn’t comment on it. Steve nodded his head while chewing his food before speaking, “yeah, really miss the know it all.” A tease mixed with fondness.

…

You had a lovely day off today, but sadly Steve and Robin had to work. So you dropped Steve off at the mall, drove off in his BMW, promised to pick him and Robin up at the end of their shift, and decided to keep Joyce company at Melvard’s. With Starcourt bringing newer stores and better work, downtown was empty. Ghost of stores that used to be full of business and life was now just rotting buildings with their windows papered over, and envelopes stuffed at the doorway.

When you pulled up to the storefront, through the window you watched Joyce hanging a giant sale sign, fifty to seventy percent off everything. It worried you knowing that Melvard’s was probably the next store to go out of business, the one store that Joyce has worked at for as long as you can remember. You knew small little Hawkins couldn’t stay the same forever, it still worried you every day.

The bell jingled at your arrival, Joyce already smiling at your visit.

“Hi, honey. What’s up?” She hopped off the little stool and met you halfway.

You shrugged, “wanted to keep you company for a bit. Jonathan’s at work, Will’s welcoming Dustin back, and my friend and boyfriend are working today.”

“Wha- what about your other friend? That- that Munson kid?” “Uh, I heard he went out of town for a few weeks or something.” You threw your arms over Joyce’s shoulders with your face pressed to her neck, “you don’t want your favorite child visiting you?”

Her arms wrapped around your waist, “well, I don’t see Will anywhere…”

You pulled away with a hurt gasp, “mother, I am hurt. Your only daughter, how could you?”

The two of you burst into giggles over your dramatics and before you could be carried any further the bell rang again. Two pairs of eyes landing on, “hi, Hopper.” A wave thrown his way which he returned with a gentle smile.

“Sorry for interrupting-”

“Oh, it’s fine, Hop. What can we do? Or whoever you need.” Joyce started to walk away to the cash register. You stayed behind, taking note of the nervous look on Hopper’s face. Joyce turned around at the quiet coming from the tall man and scoffed, “what now?” This must have been a recurring thing between them.

“(Y/n), could you grab the pricing gun and follow me?” And she headed to an aisle with Hopper in tow.

“So Mike was at the cabin again last night, the two of them in her room, being gross. They were giggling and kissing,” Hopper looked like he wanted to throw up at the memory, “and I always make sure that her door is open three inches, so I took a peek inside to make sure nobody was crossing a line. And when I saw them kissing and called them out-”

“Could you mark this side while I do the wall? Should be three dollars, everything.” Joyce stopped Hopper's story to instruct you. “You can continue, Hopper,” you said as you walked past him.

It was a few seconds before he spoke up again, “and- and then El, she just… slams the door. Right in my face.”

“Uh-huh?” Joyce absent-mindedly responded.

“You know, it’s that smug son of a bitch, Mike. He’s corrupting her, I’m telling you.” Footsteps sounded against the cool tile, “and I’m just gonna lose it. I mean, I am gonna lose it, Joyce.”

“Just take it down, Hopper.” Her voice sounded on the other side of your aisle.

“I need them to break up.” Hopper’s voice was firm.

“That is not your decision to make.” Joyce continued to price variest items.

“They’re spending entirely too much time together. You agree with me about that, right?” Hopper stood from his spot.

“Well, (Y/n) and Steve spend a lot of time together, at work and outside. And I mean, they’re just kissing, right?” Joyce pointed out.

“Yeah, but it’s constant. It is constant.” Hopper sounded like he was gonna blow a top.

You were about to voice an opinion of yours, but Joyce beat you to speaking first, “Oh, you should hear what Will says about (Y/n) and Steve, especially this morning-”

“Mom! Don’t say stuff like that.” You groaned.

“What- I’m just trying to help Hopper with examples.”

“Yeah, but I’m- Steve and I, we’re adults. It’s a bit more acceptable than when two, what, thirteen-year-olds do it. Look it sounds nice that El has someone she likes being around, but she and Mike are practically attached at the hip. And also add to the fact that they can’t stop sucking face, it’s gross. I’m gonna have to side with Hopper.”

Hopper points a hand at you, “thank you. You see, it’s not normal, it’s not healthy.”

“Well, you can’t just force them apart. I mean, they’re not little kids anymore, Hop. They’re teenagers.” Hopper walked his way over to Joyce, you following behind, “and (Y/n), you and Steve aren’t adults yet, the both of you are still teenagers as well.”

“Steve’s birthday is next month, he’ll be nineteen.” Thinking that’ll help your argument.

“Yeah, well, when he hits twenty-one and when you hit twenty-one, I’ll consider the both of you pre-adults. And when you hit twenty-five, that’s when you’re a full-fledged adult. Now, Hop,” her attention is done with you and back to Hopper who was throwing something into the air before catching it, “if you order them around like a cop, then they’re gonna rebel. It’s just what they do.”

You couldn’t argue with that.

“So what, I’m just supposed to let them do whatever they want?” Hopper flayed his arms out.

Joyce huffed, “no, I- I didn’t say that. I think you should… talk to them.” Pricing a box of Tampax.

“No. No. ‘Cause talking doesn’t work.”

“Not yelling. Not ordering. But talk to them. I do it with my kids, right, (Y/n)?”

Hopper turned towards you, waiting for any answer, “oh yeah. Little one-on-ones with each other. Heart-to-hearts, you know?”

Hopper’s eyes looked away from you for a moment like he was mulling over your words. “A heart-to-heart? What is that?” He fidgeted with his hat.

“Well,” Joyce jumped back in, “you sit them down and you talk to them like you’re their friend. I find if you talk to them like you’re on their level,” Hopper leaned against a beam, “then they start to listen. And then, you know, you could start to create some boundaries.”

“Boundaries,” Hopper whispered.

“Yeah, but, Hop, it’s really important that no matter how they respond, you stay calm. You cannot lose your temper.” You noted the eye roll followed by his fingers tapping along the pillar.

“Uh… maybe you could do it for me? Or (Y/n), even, she could do it. El likes you.” A glance your way before it was back on Joyce.

“No. And I say that for both of us. You need to do this on your own, Hop.” “Besides, I’d rather stay on the outside of this situation, it’s not our place. You’re her legal guardian, Hopper.” You added your input, but Hopper just waved you off and looked to Joyce.

“No, no, yeah. Yeah, you could. You come over after work.” He stomped towards her.

“No.”

“Yes.”

She shook her head, “no, it will only work if it comes from you. But…” She trailed off while walking to the counter, “maybe I can help you…” she grabbed a pad of paper and a pen, “I can help you find the right words.” She began to scribble words down with Hopper leaning in.

You watched the two of them, how Joyce was mouthing words to herself as she thought about them before writing them on the page. Noting that Hopper’s eyes glanced in her direction every few seconds before looking away like he didn’t want to get caught sneaking looks her way. It felt a bit wrong to observe them, but there was something that just piqued your interest.

Before you got carried away in your people-watching, a blur of motion was caught in your periphery making you jerk your head towards the store windows. And you saw Nancy rushing away before she disappeared from view.

…

“I know this is a difficult conversation to have… but I hope you know that I… care about you very much. And I know that you-”

“Eye contact.”

Hopper sighed at Joyce’s interruption. You just sat beside her with your arms crossed over your chest.

“And I know that you… both care about each other very much- this does not sound like me at all.”

“Well, you never know. As long as you don’t strangle Mike, it’s a win.” You tried to joke, but it wasn’t working.

Joyce threw a hand over your mouth, “just keep going. Come on.” She encouraged him with a smile.

Hopper took a breath, “which is why I think it’s important to establish these boundaries… moving forward…” he looked down at the lined paper.

“No looking. You know this. Come on.”

“...so we can build an environment… uh… where we… all feel comfortable and trusted and open… to share our feelings- this isn’t gonna work.” Hopper stood from his seat and walked to the empty side of Joyce, “um, it’s not gonna work. It’s not gonna work.” He kept repeating.

“Yes, it will! I promise.” “Just gotta put a bit more… emotion into it,” again, Hopper wasn’t enjoying your criticism.

“Maybe I’ll just kill Mike. I’m the chief of police, I could cover it up.”

“I’ll be your alibi.” You said in all seriousness. You saw the shake of Hopper’s shoulders, a quiet chuckle. 

“Come on. You got this.” Joyce clasped their hands together.

Again you watched as they held each other's gazes, neither one breaking or pulling their hands apart. You saw the tiny smile hidden by his thick mustache, you couldn’t see Joyce’s face, but you knew there was a similar expression gracing her face.

After a minute or two of the growing silence, Hopper broke it first, “you wanna have dinner tonight?”

And that was your cue to leave.

You jumped off the counter and made your way toward the entrance, “Uh, I gotta get going. Steve and Robin are probably missing my wonderful presence.”

Joyce broke her stare with Hopper, “Okay, honey. I’ll see you at home?”

“Yeah, if anything changes, I’ll call you. Bye Hopper.” He waved you off and you were out of the store and into the maroon BMW.

…

With the summer heat growing a bit more as the day went on, the mall was packed with dozens of people. Some just sit at the food court with a book in hand or a group of friends going from store to store with shopping backs held in their grasp as they chat away. Not a single one of them knew of the dangers that have slipped into Hawkins during the dead of night, the things you’ve seen and experienced. You wished you could live like them, oblivious and in peace.

In your spaced-out mind, you reached the brightly colored ice cream parlor in no time, brain lagging for a minute.

“-n). (Y/n), hello.” It sounded like you were underwater and whoever was calling to you was muffled by the waves.

The trance ended when the person shook your shoulder, head snapping in their direction with wide eyes.

“You okay?” Robin’s husky voice was a whisper.

You blinked a few times, “uh, yeah. Yeah, just- just tired, I guess.” You saw the look in Robin’s eyes, she didn’t believe you, “good shift?” You tried to change the subject.

She hesitated before responding, “busy as usual. Along with your boy toy not being able to stop crying for you.” A playful roll of her eyes.

You grinned at that, “Speaking of my ‘boy toy’, where is he?”

“Disappeared somewhere like ten minutes ago,” she shrugged.

You questioned it, but didn’t voice it, “wanna get lunch with us when you’re done? You wanted a ride home anyway.”

“I guess, but all hands within eyesight and no kissing… I’ll allow one cheek kiss. But after that, I’ll throw myself down the escalator if I’m forced to witness your sickening love.”

“Oh, that’s such a nice sacrifice on your part, Robin.” Stretching the sarcastic tone.

Again, she rolled her eyes and turned her back on you before pushing the backroom doors open. You followed a step behind and sat across from her, her legs stretched over the small square table. You swatted at her beat-up converses, “can you get your dirty feet off the table? We eat here.”

“And we also clean it, so it should matter.”

“Not all of us clean it…” you trailed off.

Robin just rolled her eyes at the comment. The two of you chatted a bit, bits of gossip Robin heard from passing customers, what you did while away from work and you made a light mention of the Mike dilemma with Hopper. A joke was thrown in here and there causing the both of you to release loud chuckles that presumably drifted into the dining area.

Your chuckles died off when you heard the hinges of the doors squeak followed by hands resting on your shoulders. You leaned your head back, your round dome mushing into starchy fabric, but you had a lovely sight before you.

“Hi, Stevie,” a beaming smile erupted.

“Hi baby,” he leaned down and kissed your forehead, “I’ve missed you.”

“Hmm, Robin told me you were, and I quote ‘crying for my presence’. Thought you could handle a few hours away from my quiet self.” A tilt of your head finished your sentence.

Steve scoffed and rolled his eyes, “I always want to be around you. Like… you’re like air. I need you every second to live or I’ll die.” His thumbs swiped along your jawline.

You peered at him with wide eyes with your mouth agape, startled by this sudden admission. You wanted to make a joke, something to break the silence, but you knew if you joked when Steve just said those, it would leave cracks in his heart. So the most you could do at the moment was beam him a smile and twine your hands together.

“Ugh, I’m gonna barf.” Robin broke the lovely spell.

You bit your lip to stop the childish smile that wanted to follow her comment. Steve huffed and moved to the seat that was in the middle of yours and Robins. He ran a hand through his hair before moving it to his cheek and leaning into his palm with his eyes zeroed in on you.

“What?” You asked after a beat of silence.

You couldn’t see the smile, but you saw his cheeks move, “you’re just really pretty.”

“Well I think you’re pretty, without a doubt,” you tried to argue back, not being able to handle compliments thrown your way.

Steve shook his head, strands of chestnut hair touching his forehead, “nope. Nobody comes close to the beauty you radiate.”

You fidgeted with your hands before covering your face, not being able to handle the sweet honey dripping from Steve’s lips or the loving gaze that was staring down into your soul.

“Guys, what have I said? No PDA! For the love of my sanity, please.” Robin’s voice cracked at the end.

“We aren’t doing any PDA, Buckley. I’m just making sure my girl knows how loved and gorgeous she is.” Steve shrugged like it was nothing.

“Yeah, well it feels like I’m being forced to watch the two of you kiss. It’s so- ugh!” She threw her head back before smacking a hand into Steve’s bicep, “stop eye fucking her! I’m right here! Save that for private time, please.” Her hands clasped together, really begging for a reprieve from the two of you.

“Guess you don’t want a ride home then,” Steve spoke as he stood from his seat.

“Honestly if this keeps up, I’ll for sure just take the bus home.” She grumbled.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at their friendly banter, the two of them firing at each other just as the other shoots back. You can’t help but think that these two people somehow became friends on their own, with very little push coming from your end. It made you happy, one of your best friends and your boyfriend getting along well with or without you around.

“Okay, okay. Let’s put the claws away and let's get food because I am starving.” You mediated the situation from going any further.

“Yeah, whatever. Harrington’s paying for me,” Robin walked away to grab her backpack. Steve was opening and closing his mouth like a fish.

You just held your hands up, “you were eye fucking me earlier, this would make up for it.” A stupid reason, but you knew Steve would give in either way.

And with a simple roll of his stunning brown eyes, you knew he caved. And pretty quickly, might be a new record.

“You’re very lucky that I would do anything for you.”

“And that includes buying Robin’s lunch. Like the good friend, you are to her.” A quick tap to Steve’s chest.

When Robin came back the both of you left Steve behind and walked out of the store with your faces close together as you gossip around the fast-paced bystanders. And if one of those topics involved Steve… he didn’t need to know any of the tiny details.

...

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*striked out means tumblr cant find you, sorry*

[wheels-of-despair]

Under Pressure | Eric x You vs. The Apocalypse | Series Masterlist

Chapter Two: The First Thanksgiving Summary: Eric gets to experience his first American Thanksgiving! Words: 2.6k

Turkey, check. Stuffing mix, check. Cranberries, check. A ridiculous amount of potatoes, check. Oodles of butter, check.

Three light knocks interrupt your Thanksgiving checklist. You toss the notepad and pen on the table and walk to the door, looking through the peephole just in case.

Eric's in the hall, and he appears to be even more nervous than the last time you saw him: at dinner, two months ago, when he was squirming under the intense gaze of his disapproving father. You open the door and greet him with your warmest smile.

"Hi!"

"Hello," he mumbles, forcing a smile of his own.

"Come in," you say, stepping aside. Eric crosses the threshold, carrying a backpack and a bouquet of fall flowers. "I'm so glad you could make it!"

You'd insisted on inviting him to spend Thanksgiving with you. Your husband had protested, because they are not at all close, but you were not about to sit around and let a family member spend a holiday alone. Especially one who only lives ten minutes away.

"Thanks for having me," he smiles, less forced this time. "Oh, uh, these are for you." He holds out the bouquet awkwardly.

"You didn't have to do that," you gently chide him as you accept them. "But thank you, they're beautiful. They'll make a great centerpiece for tomorrow. Let me put these in some water, and I'll get you settled in."

You hurry to the kitchen and dig a vase out of the cabinet, filling it with water and putting your pretty flowers in it. When you turn back around, Eric's still hovering by the door.

"Pardon my mess, I'm trying to take inventory for tomorrow and I feel like I forgot something," you explain as you cross the room.

"All this is for tomorrow?" Eric asks with a quirked eyebrow.

"Oh, you sweet boy," you grin, hooking your arm through his. "It's not every day a young English gent gets to experience his first Thanksgiving."

He looks skeptical, almost frightened, as you lead him to his room.

"It'll just be the three of us," you assure him. "We're gonna wake up and watch the parade while the food cooks. Very laid-back. No pressure whatsoever. You don't even have to change out of your pajamas, if you don't want to."

Eric lets out a sigh of relief.

"What'd you think we were going to do to you?" you laugh.

"I dunno," he shrugs.

"It's just food. We're gonna hang out and eat. Dessert and all," you wink. Eric blushes. "This is you," you gesture to the freshly cleaned bedroom you've arrived at. "Make yourself at home. Bathroom's right across the hall. If you need anything at all, just let me know, okay?"

"Okay," he says quietly, carefully dropping his backpack on the bed.

"Evan had to work late, but he'll be home by dinnertime. I promise this one will be less painful than the last."

That draws a smile out of him.

"I'm gonna go start organizing that mess I made," you nod your head toward the kitchen. "If you're feeling adventurous after you get settled, come join me."

"Okay," he says again. You've talked at him enough. You head back to the kitchen and start organizing. Eric wanders in ten minutes later.

"Thank you again for the care package."

You smile at the memory. Soon after your first meeting, you'd done some investigating, found his address, and sent Eric a care package containing food that helped you survive your college years; Ramen noodles and Pop-Tarts and snack cakes. Brain food, you'd explained in a note. He'd texted a thank-you.

"My pleasure," you chirp, turning around to face him. "I can't believe you were living ten minutes away for almost a month without us knowing. Why didn't you tell us when you got here?"

Eric shrugs. "Didn't want to be a bother."

"To your own brother?"

He shrugs again. This relationship baffles you.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" He hesitates. "I promise, it's no bother. I've been living with an Englishman for so long, I can make a perfect cup of tea in my sleep."

Eric chuckles at this and nods, and you gesture to the table and start to make the aforementioned tea. A comfortable silence falls over the room while you wait for the water to boil. No words are spoken until you sit next to him, steaming cups of tea and a plate of cookies on the table in front of you.

"I'm sorry if this feels overwhelming, or like I'm badgering you. You can tell me to cool it at any time, I promise I won't be offended."

"It's alright," he smiles.

"Good," you smile back. You each take a sip. "How's school?

He squirms, almost like that night at dinner when his father embarrassed him. You immediately regret asking.

"Can we…" Eric looks up and bites his lip. "Can we not talk about that?" His voice is barely a whisper.

"Okay," you nod with understanding.

"It's just that I… I don't…"

"It's okay," you tell him, reaching out with a reassuring squeeze to his forearm. "I want you to be comfortable here. We don't have to talk about anything you don't want to. In fact, if you want to make me a list of approved conversation topics, I will abide by them."

Eric sits back in his chair, eyes teary, and lets out a sigh of relief. You focus on your tea to give him a minute.

"Thank you," he whispers.

"Of course," you smile. "What would you like to talk about?"

Eric's cheeks puff as he blows out a long breath, contemplating. What else do you two have to talk about?

"Can you tell me about Thanksgiving?"

"Absolutely," you grin. "Where should I start?"

You ramble about Thanksgiving for ages, answering all of Eric's historical questions to the best of your abilities. He's only ever seen Thanksgiving celebrated on TV, and he's quite excited to experience a real one.

You talk food, family, and traditions through two cups of tea, then start preparing a simple dinner together. When the key jingles in the lock and Evan enters the apartment, Eric stiffens like a board. His comfort level with you had been rising so subtly all afternoon, you hadn't even noticed until the abrupt change in his posture.

You have to put forth a little effort to make them interact over dinner, but the conversation is pleasant, and they seem to be getting on alright. Eric starts to relax again as the evening goes on.

The next morning, your husband situates himself on the sofa to watch the parade, and you get to work on the food. Eric wanders in soon after. He's the only one of you who bothered getting dressed.

"Good morning!" you greet, closing the oven door on the turkey you just checked on. "How'd you sleep?"

"Okay," he smiles.

"Coffee or tea?"

"Whatever's easiest," he shrugs.

"Stop being so agreeable, you're going to give your brother ideas," you joke.

"I heard that," Evan calls from the couch.

"You were supposed to!" you yell back.

You wink at Eric, who looks confused.

"You can help yourself to the coffee over there," you gesture to half a pot, "and the kettle's right next to it if you'd prefer tea."

Eric sidles over to the coffee pot and hesitates. You point to the cabinet above it, and he opens it and extracts a mug. Smart boy. He makes his coffee, turns around, and looks lost.

"You can watch the parade if you want," you nod toward the living room. "It's not that far away, but you can't see anything from here. That's why I told you to come last night. Traffic's going to be a nightmare all day."

Eric nods and walks to the living room, sitting as far away from his brother as possible. You roll your eyes and get back to work, quickly losing track of time as you measure and chop and season and stir.

"Do you need any help?"

You whip around to find Eric standing awkwardly in the doorway behind you.

"Not a parade fan?"

"Not really" he says quietly. "And Evan's asleep."

"Of course he is," you chuckle. "Thanksgiving is my holiday. Evan takes care of Christmas. This is his day off."

Eric nods in understanding.

"But I'd love an assistant. Or you can just sit and keep me company?"

"I'll help," he offers.

"Are you any good at peeling potatoes?"

"Um…"

"C'mon, I'll show you," you offer.

You reach for a sack of potatoes, but Eric beats you to it. He hoists them to the counter, and you open the bag and show him the quickest way to wash them. He's bulky and unsure, like he's never been in a kitchen before… has he ever been in a kitchen before? Evan's a great cook, but only because of that brief period where he wanted to become a chef. You'll save that conversation for another day.

You stand together over a bowl of freshly washed potatoes and demonstrate the proper potato-peeler technique. He picks it up in no time, but still seems unsure. You wash a bag of carrots and start to slice next to him with a knife, not wanting to go too far… or let him know that you don't quite trust him with sharp objects yet.

You work alongside each other, Eric with his potatoes and you with your carrots, in a comfortable silence. On your very last carrot, the knife slips. You drop the blade with a hiss and a thud. Eric has a towel around your hand before you can even see the blood.

"Medical supplies?" he asks quietly.

"Bathroom cabinet."

"C'mon," he says, leading you away from the sink. You follow, a little shocked at how he's taking charge of the situation. Is this the same guy who needed to be rescued at dinner? Has to be guided through conversations with his own relatives? Never peeled a potato before?

You point to the cabinet where the first aid supplies are located, and hop onto the counter while Eric fetches what he needs. You could do this yourself, but watching him work is fascinating.

He washes out your cut. Pats it dry. Applies ointment. Unwraps a band-aid and carefully sticks it around your finger. Even cleans up his mess and puts everything away after.

"Better?" he asks.

"Yeah," you say in surprise, looking at him curiously. He gives you a shy smile and steps back, leaning against the wall.

"Got scraped up a lot as a kid," he mumbles. "Mum had to patch me up all the time."

"She taught you well," you smile. "You've earned a five-star review, for a quick and nearly painless procedure."

He smiles in a way that transforms his whole face, from his chin to his hairline. He looks like a completely different person from the miserable boy you had dinner with a few months ago.

"I should get back to it," you say with a groan, sliding off the sink. "Can't believe I'm the one who caused bloodshed, and not the boy who's never peeled a potato before."

"I've peeled potatoes before," he protests.

"When?" you ask, stopping to look up at him.

He blushes, opens his mouth, and closes it again.

"Are we going to finish cooking, or not?" he asks.

You laugh, hook your arm through his, and return to the kitchen.

Two hours later, you have quite an impressive spread on the table. Eric puts the last bowl in place, and you stand together with crossed arms and admire all your hard work for a moment.

"Wait!" you suddenly remember, grabbing the vase of flowers Eric brought and clearing out a spot for them in the middle of the table.

"There we go," you smile, coming back to stand next to him. The table looks perfect. "I know it's probably illegal to allow a Brit to help with an American Thanksgiving… but you did a great job."

He ducks his head a bit to hide his grin, then looks to you with twinkling eyes.

"Thank you," he whispers.

"Ready for the best meal of your life?"

He nods.

"Let me go wake your brother up."

You walk to the living room and find your husband already awake, watching an old black and white movie.

"Pardon me, m'lord," you say in your worst English accent, "but the peasants hath finished their kitchen duties, and invite you to sup with them on this sacred day of giving thanks."

"Ehhhh…" he whines, looking like he's weighing his options. "Do I really have to dine with the help?"

"Get your ass up and come eat," you laugh, reaching for his hands. He grins and lets you pull him up off the couch, throwing an arm around your shoulders on the way to the table.

"Wow," he says. "This looks great."

"Couldn't have done it without my fabulous assistant," you grin. Your fabulous assistant blushes. "Eric's just so easy to work with. Unlike some people, who shall remain nameless, who have to measure things down to the milligram."

"It's called a recipe!" Evan growls, taking his arm away from your shoulders so he can properly convey his frustration with flails. "It's a set of instructions that you follow to achieve uniform results!"

"Yeah, yeah," you laugh, shoving him towards his chair. You and Eric take your seats, and all stare at each other for a moment.

"And now we're going to go around the table and each say one thing we're thankful for," you tease. Panic flashes across both of their faces. "I'm kidding," you laugh. "I'm thankful to be here with the two of you. Let's eat."

The dinner discussion is all food-related, which is nice, because you don't have to steer the conversation at all. Eric tries a little bit of everything, and while he has clear favorites, does not appear to be repulsed by any of your classic American Thanksgiving fare. (Take that, British Christmas Pudding!)

You all pass out on the couch afterwards. You've always hated that sectional, but now that there are three of you to spread across it, it seems pretty great. Eric is quite a fan of the Turkey Nap.

You're sad to see him go. But on Friday afternoon, after more lazing about and a few more rounds of leftovers, he stands by the door with his packed backpack and a tote full of food at his feet. He and his brother have already shared a few quiet words and shaken hands. Now it's your turn to say goodbye.

"You don't have to go yet," you remind him. "You can at least stay through the weekend and help us destroy these leftovers."

"I should get back," he protests. "I've got a lot of work to catch up on before term starts again."

"Okay," you smile, pulling him in for a hug. "I'm so glad you came."

"Me too," he mumbles. "Thanks for having me."

"Of course. You're coming back for Christmas, right?"

"If you want me?"

"Of course," you smile, pulling back and putting your hands on his shoulders. "You're always welcome here."

He nods gratefully, and you give his shoulders a squeeze.

"Take care of yourself, Eric," you smile and let him go. "Call us if you need anything."

"I will," he mumbles, picking up his bags. "See you."

"Not if I see you first," you counter, opening the door for him. You really are sad to see him go.

But Christmas isn't that far off.

[factech007]

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[exhuastedpigeon]

Hi Han! buddie + 70 if it sparks joy? <3

Ali my dear, please enjoy 2k of fluff and smut.

We don't even have to try, it's always a good time Buddie || 2.2k || Explicit

Eddie was just minding his own business doing inventory when the door to the supply closet opened and Buck slipped in, closing the door quickly and quietly behind him. Usually, Buck sneaking off and finding Eddie alone meant he wanted to fool around, but they’d been much better about fooling around at work since Ravi walked in on them making out in the back of the ambulance.  They’d had to buy his silence with coffee from the good place, one halfway between Eddie's house and the station, for a month. Eddie wanted to avoid that happening again since it meant he’d had to cut back on his own fancy coffees that month. Buck had still always brought Eddie one when he did the Ravi coffee run though and it never failed to make Eddie grin when Buck slipped the cup into his hand.   “Can I help you?” Eddie asked, fighting back a smile because Buck looked a little bit like he’d just swallowed a lemon. He was pretty sure Buck wasn’t in here to touch his dick, not with that look on his face.  “I think that I may have made a tiny little mistake,” Buck said, reaching behind him to lock the door to the closet like he was expecting someone to come bursting in at any second and drag him off to prison.  “What did you do,” Eddie couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out. Eddie loved every version of Buck, but there was something extremely endearing about this Buck, so panicked over something that was probably not that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things.  “My life is at risk Eddie, you shouldn’t be laughing,” Buck said affronted, which only made Eddie laugh harder.   “What did you do, Buck?” Eddie put down his restocking checklist to give Buck his full attention. He did his best to school his face into a neutral expression, but he could feel a smile that tugged at his mouth.  “I might have finished Hen’s tea last shift and forgotten to add it to the grocery list so now there isn’t any for her and she’s really mad.” “Oh yeah, you are a dead man. It was really great knowing you,” Eddie kept his voice as deadpan as he could as he spoke.  “Eddie!” “Buck,” Eddie laughed again. “I’m sure Hen’s not that mad.” “Where the hell is that long legged motherfucker!” Hen’s voice got louder with each word she spoke, pausing outside of the supply closet before getting quieter as she walked away. “I’m going to make him drink the shitty store brand tea for the rest of his miserable life.”

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