#reefer vans
Text
The Benefits Of Owning A Reefer Van For Mobile Business Owners
For mobile business owners, especially those dealing with the transportation of temperature-sensitive goods, owning a reefer van offers a multitude of benefits. These versatile vehicles equipped with refrigeration units are designed to maintain specific temperature conditions, making them indispensable for various industries. Here's a comprehensive look at the advantages of owning a reefer van for mobile business operations.
Temperature-Controlled Transportation: The primary advantage of owning a reefer van is its ability to transport goods that require specific temperature conditions. Whether it's fresh produce, pharmaceuticals, floral arrangements, or any other temperature-sensitive items, a reefer van provides a controlled environment to preserve the integrity and freshness of the cargo throughout the journey.
Versatility Across Industries: Reefer vans cater to a wide range of industries, making them versatile for diverse business operations. From food distribution and pharmaceutical transport to catering services and floral deliveries, the flexibility of a reefer van makes it an ideal choice for businesses with varying temperature control needs.
Extended Shelf Life of Perishables: For businesses dealing with perishable goods, a reefer van becomes an essential asset. The controlled temperature environment helps extend the shelf life of perishable items, reducing the risk of spoilage, wastage, and financial losses. This, in turn, allows businesses to maintain product quality and meet customer expectations.
Expanded Market Reach: Owning a reefer van enables mobile business owners to expand their market reach. With the ability to transport temperature-sensitive goods over longer distances, businesses can reach new customers and explore untapped markets. This expanded reach can contribute to business growth and increased revenue opportunities.
Customization for Specific Needs: Reefer vans can be customized to meet specific business requirements. Custom shelving, racks, and compartments can be installed to optimize cargo space and facilitate efficient loading and unloading. Businesses can tailor the interior layout to accommodate their unique products, ensuring maximum utilization of space and organized transportation.
Brand Visibility and Marketing: A branded reefer van serves as a moving advertisement for your business. With customizable exterior designs, businesses can incorporate branding elements, logos, and contact information. This not only enhances brand visibility but also contributes to a professional and cohesive brand image. The distinctive appearance of a branded reefer van can attract attention and leave a lasting impression on potential customers.
Efficient Operational Processes: Reefer vans streamline operational processes by providing a dedicated and reliable means of transporting temperature-sensitive goods. Businesses can establish efficient routes, schedule deliveries with precision, and optimize overall logistics. The reliability of a reefer van contributes to consistent and timely deliveries, fostering customer satisfaction and loyalty.
Compliance with Regulations: In industries where adherence to regulations is crucial, owning a reefer van ensures compliance with safety and quality standards. Whether it's maintaining specific temperatures for food safety or adhering to pharmaceutical storage guidelines, a reefer van provides businesses with the tools to meet industry regulations and build trust with customers.
Reduced Dependency on Third-Party Services: Owning a reefer van reduces dependency on third-party transportation services. Businesses gain more control over their logistics, schedules, and the condition of transported goods. This independence can lead to cost savings, increased operational efficiency, and the ability to tailor transportation services to suit the unique needs of the business.
Cost-Effective Investment in the Long Run: While the initial investment in a reefer van may seem substantial, the long-term benefits often outweigh the costs. Businesses can avoid recurring rental expenses, reduce the risk of product losses due to inadequate transportation, and improve overall cost-effectiveness. The durability and reliability of a well-maintained reefer van contribute to its longevity, making it a sound investment for the future.
In conclusion, owning a reefer van is a strategic choice for mobile business owners dealing with temperature-sensitive goods. The advantages of temperature-controlled transportation, versatility across industries, the extended shelf life of perishables, expanded market reach, customization options, brand visibility, efficient operational processes, compliance with regulations, reduced dependency on third-party services, and long-term cost-effectiveness make the reefer van a valuable asset for businesses aiming for growth, reliability, and customer satisfaction.
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Choosing the right vehicle for your logistic, shipping, and transportation needs will help ensure that your goods and merchandise get to their destination safely and in the appropriate condition. We offer logistic services and road services in Illinois, and here are some vehicles you could expect from transportation services and their advantages.
0 notes
Text
Sub Zero is a manufacturer of truck bodies for temperature-controlled applications like refrigerated trucks, containers, & reefer vans in India.
Sub Zero is an offshoot of the pioneering commercial vehicle body-building company Jayanand Khira, established in 1949.
Also, Sub Zero manufactures best-in-class reefer boxes, insulated truck bodies, refrigerated trucks, reefer containers, and reefer vans for all temperature-controlled applications in India.
We bring the best of the technology space and futuristic mobile cooling systems to ensure seamless transportation of perishable goods and products.
Our cooling refrigerated trucks and vans come with years of research and domain expertise to transport dairy, fruits, vegetables, seafood, meats, and other fresh items.
Sub Zero is bridging the gap in India with 24-hour cooling without a power source and the low running cost of the vehicle.
So, please contact us for the Best refrigerated truck manufacturers in India today to help you with the business benefits.
1 note
·
View note
Text
It is time for shippers and management teams to understand how to utilize #freight trailer networking to reduce the time spent on loading and unloading and still increase productivity. https://hubs.la/Q01fNkFF0
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Rent High-Quality Forklifts | Trailer Rentals | Seeco Rents
Modernize your heavy lifting experience and bid farewell to manual struggles. Our forklifts redefine efficiency, making even the heaviest loads feel as light as a feather pillow. Choose us for swift, safe, and versatile lifting solutions. Our well-maintained machines meet top safety standards, ensuring both your team and your cargo are protected. Plus, our experienced team offers expert guidance for smooth operation. Say goodbye to comical tales of manual lifting and embrace a future where superhero strength isn't necessary. Elevate your lifting game today with our state-of-the-art forklifts. Contact us now to explore our rental options.
0 notes
Video
youtube
ISUZU M600 5tons reefer van trucks for sale in Peru
0 notes
Text
#dry van dispatch services#Flatbed dispatch services#Reefer dispatch services#truck dispatch services#Owner Operator Truck Driver#trucking dispatch software
0 notes
Text
𝐒𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮
Here's a little oneshot for you, lovelies! I hope you enjoy 🖤
𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Eddie Munson x female reader (no physical descriptions, though)
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | Based on this request: could i request maybe eddie brings reader to a deal but wants her to stay in the van so she’s safe but the people he’s dealing to see her because she walked out to tell eddie something and it doesn’t go so well. and after the situation eddie and her argue but eddie’s upset and just what’s to protect her 🥺 but ofc it ends well🫡
- I hope you like it, dear!🖤
𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 | fights turning into love confessions, angst with a happy ending, friends to lovers
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 3k
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | angst with a happy ending, attempted (sexual) assault
𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝🖤
You can barely make out your surroundings, the little dirt path leading you deeper into the woods, in the darkness between the trees as you slowly draw closer – the moon and stars have vanished behind the clouds as if they’ve gone into hiding, and the taste of a summer storm already laces the stuffy air.
In all these years of being Eddie Munson’s friend, there’s been one simple rule when it comes to him meeting his customers for a drug deal:
Stay in the car.
The customers are harmless. It’s the cops I’m worried about, he tells you, expression stern, whenever you crack a joke about him being scared you could scare away a customer.
It’s tiny little Hawkins, and the deals gone wrong that sometimes make it into the TV news or newspaper headlines are over coke and heroin and all the hard stuff Eddie would never sell, not over something as harmless as weed or the occasional pill of ketamine.
Tonight has been no different.
It was supposed to be a quick deal on your way to the Carnival two towns over at Sycamore where you’re supposed to meet the rest of Hellfire.
Some new customer sent by Reefer Rick.
But the longer you’ve been sitting in Eddie’s van, in the dark, in the middle of the lonely road that cuts through the woods surrounding Hawkins…this nagging feeling started to grow in your chest. First into worry, then into outright panic when you’d watched the clock on the old van’s display tick, one minute turning into five, and five into ten.
What if something went wrong?
What if something horrible happened to him?
What if Eddie needs your help?
You wanted to tell him, tonight at the fair, beneath the see of glittering lights of the Ferris wheel. That you’re in love with him. That you’ve been, for a very long time. That even if he doesn’t feel the same, you need to say it out loud, how you first fell for all the tiny little pieces that make him Eddie and then wholly and utterly and completely.
When ten minutes bled into fifteen, and your mind had come up with the most horrid scenarios fueled by news coverage of drug deals breaking into violence, conjuring up gruesome images of Eddie bleeding out between the ferns and brambles covering the forest floor, blood soaking the moss, you couldn’t stay cooped up in the confines of his old van a second longer.
You broke Eddie’s one rule. You left the car and went looking for him.
As you’re now traipsing along the small dirt path cutting through the brambles and ferns, the fabric of your summer dress you’ve spent an entire weekend picking out at the mall just so Eddie might finally start seeing you as something else as his friend, sticking to your sweaty skin and thorns scratching at your legs, you realize that even if Eddie needs your help…how the fuck would you even be able to help him?
It’s not like you’re carrying a gun in the little bag you’re clutching at your side.
The sound of voices startles you out of your thoughts, and in the dark, your eyes lock on the two silhouettes in the little clearing ahead of you.
You recognize Eddie first – you’d recognize him everywhere.
He’s standing with his back to you. Even with the remaining distance between the two of you, the darkness of the woods, you can tell that his shoulders are tense.
His whole body is holding a kind of tension you’ve only ever seen on him once before, a few years ago, when his deadbeat father had shown up at the trailer park drunken and shouting curses into the wind before Eddie had dragged you into the safety Wayne’s trailer.
A twig snaps beneath your sneakers, and both Eddie and his customer whirl around to you.
And you realize you’ve made a huge mistake.
The guy in front of Eddie is no nervous classmate, not one of the chill stoner guys always hanging around beneath the bleachers. No friendly family dad or stressed housewife looking for a little relaxation or piece of rebellion.
The guy’s buzzcut does nothing to soften the harsh angles of his face, the lines around his mouth formed by the frown that seems to be engraved there.
There’s something menacing in his eyes as they lock on you.
Something evil and predatory.
The guy licks his lips, and his mouth curls into a lewd smirk, a twisted mirror to the abysmal panic in Eddie’s wide eyes as he stares at you.
You can read them like the pages of an open book.
What the fuck are you doing here? I told you to stay in the car!
The guy slaps a meaty hand on Eddie’s shoulder, hard enough to make Eddie sway a little on his feet with the impact. And contrary to what the jocks at Hawkins High believe, Eddie is strong.
“And at first I thought you’d brought the cops,” the guy laughs – but it’s not a friendly laugh. It doesn’t reach his eyes, either. He’s got muscles. A lot of them, flexing beneath his skin as he lets his arm sink from Eddie’s shoulder. “Wouldn’t do that to your old friend though, would you? Instead, you brought me a present.”
There’s an eagle tattooed across the guy’s throat, wings spread wide. It’s fitting, this bird of prey marking him. You feel like a tiny little robin beneath his gaze.
Eddie’s eyes haven’t left you for a single second.
“I told you to stay in the car.” His voice is strained with barely suppressed fury and, above all else…panic.
“Nah, we’re good,” the guy grins, letting his eyes roam over you.
Making you wish you were wearing something other than a short little summer dress.
“Come on closer, little birdie,” he drawls, “Don’t be shy now.”
“Go back to the car,” Eddie says, louder, the vehemence of his tone flashing in his panicked eyes. His voice is trembling. “Now.”
“What, you don’t want to introduce us?” The man drawls. The threat in his own voice is as clear and tangible as the panic in Eddie’s umber eyes as he shakes his head, the movement subtle, barely visible. Go, he mouths. Now.
At the guy, he adds, “I thought we were here to talk about business.”
“You want me to focus on business when you brought your pretty girl with you, boy?” The guy makes a beckoning motion at you, still frozen like a deer in the headlights, rooted to your spot only feet away from him and Eddie. “Come closer, doll. Don’t be shy now.”
“No,” Eddie interjects, fervor smoothing his voice as it cuts through the rain-laced air of the clearing, despair flashing out beneath the panic, “She’s not part of this.”
You’re scared out of your mind.
But hell will freeze over before you leave Eddie alone with this man.
So you do what the guy told you.
You step closer, coming to stand beside Eddie.
“Tell you what, boy,” the man purrs, tearing his eyes off of you to meet Eddie’s, a flash of yellowed teeth in diffuse moonlight, as his smirk grows into a grin so devilish you wouldn’t have been surprised had they been pointed, “I’m gonna give you a few more bucks and you’re gonna give me a few minutes with your lovely lady here.”
Beside you, Eddie inches closer to you, shifting to place himself between the guy and you.
Trying to shield you with his own body, you realize.
Eddie Munson, who always swore he was no hero outside of D&D, is becoming your hero right now.
“I’ll give you everything I got with me right now, and you leave,” Eddie counters, voice hard.
A desperate attempt to get you out of this situation.
Almost completely hidden from the guy’s field of vision with Eddie having placed himself in front of you, his muscles taut and ready to fight, your hands slowly dive into the bag slung over your shoulder, fingertips carefully feeling for something, anything, to use to protect him, to protect both of you –
“Or,” the man drawls, taking a step closer, with the ease of a predator rounding in on a wounded fawn, “I’ll just take whatever you got and have some fun with your pretty lady.”
It happens too fast to see it coming.
There’s a snapping sound as the flick-knife the guy must have been holding, concealed in his meaty fist and the dark of night, is flipped open, the jagged blade flashing in the obscure beams of moonlight filtering through the clouds and the foliage of trees above your heads – and Eddie pushes you farther behind him.
Placing yourself between you and the knife’s path as he snaps, voice vibrating, “Stay the fuck away from her.”
The man lets out a low, rumbling chuckle. “And what are you gonna do, hm?”
There. Your fingers wrap around something smooth and cool nestled at the bottom of your bag.
And not a second too soon.
Before the guy can let the knife in his fist soar down to hurt Eddie, you duck around your friend, your own hand flying up as you press your index finger down in the spray bottle in your sweaty grip, sending a blast of hair spray straight into the guy’s face.
He screams, hands flying up to cover his eyes as he stumbles backwards, and the flick-knife lands between the ferns.
Eddie doesn’t waste a single second.
His hand finding yours, he pulls you away from the screaming, staggering man and pushes you towards the path that leads back to the road and the van and safety. Together, you break into a run.
You don’t notice the thorns of the brambles cutting your legs, the burn of your lungs, your muscles, because it all fades to white noise beneath the roaring of blood in your ears, the wild pounding of your heart, Eddie’s own racing steps behind you.
Only at the edges of your panic-addled mind you realize that he’s staying behind you to make sure you’ll get away, first.
The van comes up in the distance, a flash of white among the leaves and branches, and you feel the first tender burst of relief wash through you at the sight.
Eddie rips the driver’s side door open, all but shoving you inside and onto the passenger seat as he climbs in after you, and the old engine comes to life with a sputtering roar. The van jerks forwards with screeching tires as your hands shoot out to grab the door’s handle to avoid toppling over into the footwell.
As the vehicle bolts down the country road leading out of the woods, silence descends upon you, heavy and loud even beneath the roar of the engine, your own panting breaths slowly calming.
You cast Eddie a careful sideways glance.
He doesn’t look at you.
His eyes are glued to the road the way his foot is glued to the gas pedal, jaw set, and his knuckles clamped around the wheel are white.
You’ve never seen him so angry in all the time you’ve known him.
You’ve never felt so angry in all the time you’ve known him, either.
When the van emerges from the woods and lights of the carnival come into sight, the twinkling form of the Ferris wheel rising over the rolling fields of wheat covering the landscape, Eddie steers the vehicle to the side of the road.
By the time he cuts off the engine and pushes the driver’s door open with a force that makes you fear it’ll just rip off its hinges, he still hasn’t uttered a single word.
You reach for the latch in your own door, but before you can open it, Eddie has already rounded the hood, and the door is ripped open to reveal his face, unreadable and void of all the usual humor and goofiness.
“Are you okay?” It sounds strangely hollow, the way he says it.
“Eddie –“
“Are you okay?” It’s nearly a shout, but not an angry one. Only scared. So fucking scared that it makes his voice shake as much as his hands coming up to rake through his curls while his dark eyes roam over you in the diffuse moonlight over the field, the dim glow of the lights inside the van, scanning the tiny cuts decorating your face and arms and legs where the brambles and branches of the woods have left their marks during your flight.
You give a tentative nod.
The breath he seems to have been holding leaves in a sharp exhale as he rakes his hand through his dark curls once more, sending stray leaves falling out as he starts pacing at the edge of the road.
You climb out of the car.
And the storm that’s been building the past few minutes breaks lose – not in the sky, but down beneath it.
“I TOLD YOU TO STAY IN THE FUCKING CAR!”
Eddie has never shouted at you.
You’ve never shouted at him, either, but it breaks out of you like a flood-wave.
“ME?! THIS IS MY FAULT?!”
“YES! FUCKING HELL YES IT IS! SHIT. IF YOU HAD, JUST FOR ONCE, LISTENED –“
“ME?! I’M NOT THE ONE MEETING FUCKING KILLERS IN THE WOODS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT!”
“THAT’S WHY I TOLD YOU TO STAY –“
“IF I’D STAYED IN THE CAR, YOU’D BE DEAD ON THE FOREST FLOOR NOW!” The thought of it, of Eddie, bleeding out between the ferns, scared and alone and in pain, makes the tears spill over and your voice shatter as you choke out the rest of the sentence in a miserable little whisper. “You’d be fucking dead!” Saying it aloud brings back the fury at him for being so fucking careless. “HE WAS ABOUT TO HURT YOU!”
“AND THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN WAY BETTER THAN IF HE’D HURT YOU! I CAN’T LOSE YOU, I FUCKING LOVE YOU!”
Eddie’s words shut you up.
They ring through the night, mingle with the soft summer breeze that ruffles the stalks of wheat in the nearby field, the rustling too loud in the shellshocked silence.
The tears which have been glittering in his dark eyes have started running down his pale cheeks.
For a few wild heartbeats, you just stare at each other in the moonlight piercing through the passing clouds, the glow of colorful lights of the fair at the edge of the field sending flares into the night, the stuffy summer night’s air pressing down on the two of you.
In a few quick strides, both of you cross the small distance between the two of you, meeting in the middle.
And then, you’re kissing.
And the world stills, heartbeat accelerating as panic and adrenaline bleed into something entirely else, something that’s been trapped within you for so long it takes a second to realize this, right now, is truly happening.
Eddie’s lips, soft and hot against yours, his palms cradling your face, the metal of his rings warm with the heat of his body as they press gently against your skin.
He kisses you like he’s been waiting for this moment just as long as you have.
He kisses you like he really, truly means it.
Because I fucking love you.
It’s better, so much better than even your wildest daydreams.
You know you’ll never want to kiss anyone else after this.
You know you don’t ever want this kiss to end.
It does, eventually. Eddie pulls away, wide-eyed and panting, lips slightly apart in a gape and curls in a tangled mess – from his own hands raking through it or yours right now, you can’t tell. Even in the half-dark of the night, you can see the blush dusting his cheeks.
“I – I’m sorry,” he breathes, the kiss-dazed gleam in his eyes making room for an appalled expression. “God, fuck, I’m – I didn’t think. I didn’t even ask –“
“I’ve been waiting for you to do this for a very long time,” you say quietly, giving him a soft smile.
For a moment, Eddie just stares at you, as if he’s contemplating whether his mind is playing tricks on him. “You, uh. You did?”
“Yeah,” you whisper into the few inches of between the two of you. “And now I’ll be waiting for you to do it again.”
He does. Not a single beat of hesitation.
This time, when Eddie’s lips meet yours, it’s softer, slower, yet just as intoxicating and feverish as that first kiss.
His hands snake up to cup your cheeks and angle your head as he slowly walks you backwards, until your back meets the side of the van, the metal still warm from the day and the sweltering night air, and butterflies flood your belly, your entire body, a colorful swarm of them making your skin tingle in all the places his body brushes against yours. His chest against yours, one of his knees between yours, his calloused fingertips gently trailing down the column of your throat.
Kissing Eddie Munson is as easy as breathing.
“I meant it,” he breathes into the kiss, before resting his forehead against yours, the curls of his bangs tickling you, “What I said. I’m so fucking sorry I dragged you into this mess. I’m so fucking sorry I put you in danger.” He swallows. “And I’m so fucking much in love with you.”
“I love you, too,” you whisper, placing a kiss to the corner of his lips, feeling his smile. “I’ve been loving you for a very long time, Eddie.”
You place your hands over his, still holding your face.
“I was so fucking scared,” Eddie murmurs, voice trembling again with new tears. “Fuck. I was so stupid –“
“We’re okay,” you whisper, fingers squeezing his, “We’re safe. You saved me.”
“Shit, you saved me. What even was that? Pepper spray?”
You chuckle. “Farah Fawcett hair spray.”
Eddie blinks, before he gives a breathless little laugh, as if he’s not sure he’d rather laugh or cry. Probably both. “Pretty fucking metal.”
“I wanted to look pretty for you tonight,” you amend, and Eddie’s expression grows serious again.
“You always look pretty, sweetheart. I’ve been having a pretty hard time not ogling you every second we’re together.”
“You need to promise me you’ll never ever meet clients in the middle of the woods. Not at night. Not by day either. And –“
“I promise,” Eddie interrupts, voice sincere. “I’m gonna stick to the clients I know. No expanding the business.”
“Good,” you breathe, letting your hands fall away from his to lock them at the nape of his neck, fingertips playing with his dark curls.
“Your hair is really soft,” you breathe, lips not an inch from his, feeling stupid all of a sudden for saying it out loud, but Eddie replies with an adorable little giggle that makes your heart soar and race and squeeze with love all at the same time.
“Thanks. It’s…uh. Don’t laugh. It’s Farah Fawcett conditioner.”
Your own soft laugh fades into the night as Eddie’s lips find yours again, the summer storm brewing over your heads and the glittering lights of the carnival in the distance and the moment of terror in the woods blurring against the radiant joy of knowing the one you love loves you back just as much.
𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝🖤
Requests for angst/smangst remain open. If you want to check out my works in progress, here's the list🖤
#eddie munson#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fanfic#stranger things fanfic
2K notes
·
View notes
Photo
C-300TS Chiller Van Integrated Electric Standby
Standby Voltage: AC 220V 50HZ 1P
C-300TS is a AC220V refrigeration standby system for chiller vans.
C-300TS electric standby refrigeration unit for panel van is suitable for 12cu.m to 16cu.m.
C-300TS integrated standby units with high quality electric scroll compressor built in the condenser, which can be plug into external AC power 220V single phase or 380V three phase.
Light-weight, low failure rate, easy to install and easy to do maintenance. #refrigeration #truckrefrigeration #transportrefrigeration #reeferunit #refrigeratedvan #vanrefrigeration #guchen #guchenthermo
#refrigeration#truckrefrigeration#transport refrigeration#reefer unit#refrigerated van#van refrigeration#guchen#guchen thermo
0 notes
Text
The Benefits of Refrigerated Vans
Refrigerated vans play a crucial role in various industries by providing a controlled and temperature-regulated environment for transporting goods. The benefits of refrigerated vans extend across the food industry, pharmaceuticals, floral businesses, and more.
Here are the key advantages:-
Preservation of Perishable Goods: The primary benefit of refrigerated vans is the ability to transport perishable goods over long distances without compromising their quality. These vans are equipped with refrigeration units that maintain specific temperature settings, preserving the freshness of items like fruits, vegetables, dairy products, and meats.
Extended Shelf Life: Refrigerated transportation extends the shelf life of perishable products. By maintaining optimal temperatures, the growth of bacteria and other microorganisms is slowed down, reducing the risk of spoilage. This is particularly critical for businesses that deal with fresh and sensitive goods.
Ensures Food Safety and Compliance: Refrigerated vans are essential for ensuring food safety and compliance with regulations. The controlled temperature environment helps prevent the growth of pathogens and bacteria that can lead to foodborne illnesses. This adherence to safety standards is crucial for businesses in the food industry.
Efficient Supply Chain Management: Refrigerated vans contribute to a more efficient supply chain for businesses dealing with temperature-sensitive products. From producers to distributors and retailers, maintaining the cold chain helps ensure that products reach their destination in optimal condition, reducing waste and enhancing overall supply chain efficiency.
Versatility in Temperature Control: Refrigerated vans offer versatility in temperature control. They can maintain specific temperature ranges, accommodating various types of perishable goods with different temperature requirements. This flexibility makes them suitable for transporting a wide range of products, from frozen goods to items that require chilled or controlled ambient conditions.
Reduces Product Loss and Waste: The controlled environment provided by refrigerated vans significantly reduces the risk of product loss and waste. Businesses can transport larger quantities of perishable goods, knowing that the products will maintain their quality throughout the journey. This waste reduction is not only economically beneficial but also environmentally responsible.
Ideal for Specialized Industries: Refrigerated vans cater to specialized industries such as pharmaceuticals and floriculture. Pharmaceuticals often require specific temperature conditions to maintain the efficacy of medications, and refrigerated vans provide the necessary control. In the floral industry, these vans are crucial for preserving the freshness of flowers during transportation.
Enhances Product Quality: Refrigerated transportation helps maintain the quality and appearance of products. For instance, fruits and vegetables can arrive at their destination with minimal bruising or discoloration. This preservation of quality is essential for businesses focused on delivering premium and visually appealing products to consumers.
Facilitates Just-in-Time Delivery: Refrigerated vans facilitate just-in-time delivery, allowing businesses to respond quickly to market demands. By having the capability to transport products over longer distances while maintaining freshness, companies can optimize their inventory management and respond promptly to customer needs.
Brand Reputation and Customer Satisfaction: Consistently delivering fresh and high-quality products contributes to a positive brand reputation. Customers associate reliable and well-maintained transportation with the integrity of the products they purchase. This, in turn, leads to increased customer satisfaction and loyalty.
Compliance with Industry Standards: Many industries, particularly those related to food and pharmaceuticals, have strict regulations and standards for transportation. Refrigerated vans help businesses comply with these industry-specific regulations, ensuring that products are transported in a manner that meets safety and quality standards.
In conclusion, refrigerated vans play a pivotal role in preserving the quality and safety of perishable goods during transportation. From extending shelf life to ensuring compliance with industry standards, these vans offer numerous benefits across various sectors, contributing to efficient supply chain management and enhancing overall customer satisfaction.
0 notes
Photo
(via WE MAKE ALL KIND OF REFRIGERATED CONTAINERS)
0 notes
Note
Okay. An idea. Eddie and you, drive in, b movie monster marathon, nice crisp autumn night.
I’m over summer, sue me.
🧡🖤
Hope this puts a smile on your face Meg 🧡
Eddie Munson x Reader
18+ONLY, mature themes, smoking the devil's lettuce, b-movie references, friends to lovers, use of "baby" but no she/her or y/n, pure fluff, just some cute nonsense, Eddie and reader are in their early 20's. wc: 1.4k
I'm just a sucker (for you)
“Got it,” you crawled up into the squishy van seat with Eddie’s infamous drug lunchbox in your hand, plopping down with a theatrical smile on your face. “I knew I felt its presence.”
Eddie sat there looking so proud, as if you’d just pulled it out of a magic hat. “My baby is a bloodhound when it comes to the devil’s lettuce.”
You took a sharp inhale and choked a little at the use of the pet name. You and Eddie were not romantic like that, you’d only ever been weed buddies who met through Reefer Rick. Recently you’d discovered that he also enjoyed getting stoned or buzzed at the drive-in on Wednesday nights when they offered the cheesy, cinematic glory of b-movies by the likes of Burt I. Gordon and Roger Corman.
You’d both showed up alone to the drive-in, and on your way back to your car with a popcorn bucket almost too big for the crook of your arm, Eddie whistled to get your attention. It was a wolf-whistle, the likes of which made you frown as you searched for who the dead man was. His arm lolled out of the van window in a wave, and he gave you a finger gun.
“Oh, it’s just you,” you snorted, shoving a few kernels in your mouth, fingers glistening from all of the butter. You didn’t mind that kind of attention from Eddie because you knew he was harmless. Wasn’t he? Neither one of you had any attraction to each other, whatsoever, as far as you knew.
But then, you stopped in your tracks a few cars down, thinking about how you’d smoked your last bowl earlier, and Eddie would for sure have a decent supply on him. Maybe it wouldn’t kill you to hang out with a fellow freak for a bit.
The October nights were chilly, and you thought to grab a hoodie out of your car before you made your way back to his van. The grass at your feet was scattered in burnt orange and gold leaves, and the air was crisp, yet warm, with the smell of rain and freshly cut wood.
Eddie saw you walking back and jumped out of his vehicle this time, determined to get your attention. He held his hands behind his back, lifting up on his toes, tentatively. “Did you come back to give me a kiss?”
His mannerisms made you chuckle. “Keep dreaming, Munson,” you pushed the popcorn tub into his chest, and he grunted, taking it with both hands. “I thought you might like some company.”
Eddie squinted at you, whispering, leaning in, “you came to smoke all my weed like a little feral, stoner raccoon.”
The movie started —Attack of the Crab Monsters—and Eddie feared he’d left his lunchbox at home. You weren’t sure why, but you were about to stay and watch the movie with him even without the weed, but then you decided to take a chance and check around his messy van, just in case.
��Why is there a bed set up in the back?” You asked, wondering if maybe he was in between living situations at the moment. You’d been staying with your mom since you dropped out of college, and most days, you wished you were living in your car.
Eddie wiggled his eyebrows at you as he fingered a joint and slipped it behind his ear, snapping the lunchbox closed. “Wouldn't you like to know.”
You rolled your eyes. “Please, you have about as much game as I do. There’s no way you’re getting laid that often in this van.”
“You know what they say,” he looked around, making sure no one was walking by as he passed you the lighter. “If the van’s a rockin’, don’t bother knockin’.”
You checked around too, and then sank down in your seat to take a long drag, passing it back to him, fanning the smoke away, coughing a few times, while the scenes from the black and white film flickered across your face. Just beyond the movie screen stretched a line of trees dressed in fall colors, and a big, bright, dark blue sky that burned purple over the hills.
You shared sneaky pulls off of the joint for the rest of the movie, each of you getting progressively invested in the loose plot, and giggly about it all at once. Eddie asked you a few personal questions, which you weren’t expecting, and sometimes you could feel his eyes on you. It was a double-feature night, and right after the crab monsters they were showing a personal favorite of yours: The Monster Club with Vincent Price.
It also happened to be one of Eddie’s favorites.
“There’s no way,” he shook his head dramatically, brushing his bangs off his forehead. “Nope. It’s impossible you love this movie, too. No one I know has ever even heard of it.”
“Well,” you had one foot hanging out the open window, sucking from your straw. “I feel bad for the ones who haven’t heard of it. It’s a masterpiece.”
You let him know that you had to run to the restroom but that you would be right back, because you didn’t want to miss the beginning, and you asked if you could get him anything. As you said it, you could tell he was doing his best to contain the smile yanking at the corners of his mouth, but his efforts were fruitless.
“So,” he crossed his arms, tilting his head sideways to give you a curious look. “I guess you do like spending time with me?”
“Absolutely not,” you teased, slamming his door shut on your way toward the concessions.
There were butterflies in your stomach as you returned to the van, though; an undiagnosed thrill in your veins that had something to do with seeing his face again.
With Vincent Price’s face looming over the parked cars, Eddie cleared his throat. “Do you, um, have any plans for Halloween?”
“I never have plans,” you gave a self-deprecating bark of a laugh. Your favorite holiday was in a couple days and the most you had done was carve a few jack-o-lanterns. “I mean, used to, when I was kid, but these last couple years have been…rough.”
Eddie kept his eyes on the screen, plucking at the steering wheel with his thumb. “Do you, um, think you might want to come see a band with me?”
You snapped your head to look at him, but his eyes only flicked to you once before returning to the movie.
“A buddy of mine is in a cover band and, um, they’re playing at the haunted maze,” he pressed his lips together and then blew them out on a puff of air. “But I totally understand if it’s not your scene. I’ve got a shit ton of old horror movies at my place, too, or I’ve got friends at Family Video, we could—”
“Eddie Munson,” you had a funny feeling flopping its way from your stomach to your heart. “Are you asking me out on a date? Or are you just asking me to join you as a friend?”
“Now that all depends,” he lowered his chin, wiping something imaginary off of his jeans. “What would you say if I did ask you out? Would you, um, be into that sort of thing?”
“Shhhh,” you halted, eyes straight ahead. “Hold on, I love this part.”
You used it as an excuse to reach over and grab his forearm, to touch him, to give the type of reassurance that words couldn’t. You squeezed him through his leather jacket a few times, only a couple seconds, and Eddie watched it in slow motion, aching to take your hand. The distance was suddenly too far.
It was a song sequence with a vampire band on stage at the Monster Club singing “I’m just a sucker for your love.”
“You come from Pennsylvania
I’m from Transylvania
And I’m a pain in the neck...
When I kiss and fondle her
It’s like making love to a
Colander”
You could hear Eddie mumbling the lyrics and tapping his thumb, because he knew the obscure song by heart.
“Yes, Eddie,” you kept your attention on the screen, and now it was you losing the battle with a smile so big it pushed up your cheeks. “I think I would like to go on a date with you.”
#Eddie munson#Eddie Munson fluff#eddie munson x reader#October#Halloween#drive-in movie#fall#eddie x reader#requests
620 notes
·
View notes
Text
Scissor Lift Rental
Scissor lift rental refers to the service of temporarily leasing scissor lifts, which are aerial work platforms commonly used for tasks like maintenance, construction, and access to elevated areas. Scissor lifts have a platform that can be raised vertically using a folding mechanism, making them ideal for reaching high places.
Contact:- 570-394-9802
0 notes
Note
I was wondering if you have any fluff headcanons similar to 'calling eddie angel' i want that boy to feel good in a way he never expected to receive, i want him to feel special x
eddie goes into relationships with the idea that he's the one who's gotta do most, if not all, of the pleasing. be it from wayne's advice — open every door for them, pull a chair before sitting, bring flowers on the first date, listen to them — or from reefer rick's weird chaps about how to please a woman, or even from his own ingrained notion that, if he doesn't prove himself good enough, they'll leave him.
leave him like everyone else in his life did. it's not a rational thought, but seldom he has been.
he especially doesn't want you to leave. he'd worship the ground you walk on either way, kiss the floor beneath your feet just because he feels like you deserve it, but the thought of losing you is earth shattering enough to make him double down on it.
what he didn't expect was that you'd do the same for him.
it leaves him dumbfounded at first. on your first date, when he'd given you a beautiful bouquet of wildflowers — one he'd never tell you were picked in the woods near the trailer park — and picked one up to put behind his ear. "there, for you to feel special too.". it stayed there all night.
you find out what his favorite snacks are, and mysteriously, they're always in your pantry. you know just how he likes to have his hair played with — after all the times he'd put your hand on his hair, silently pleading for your touch, you learned to do it always.
the mixtapes in his van, the new patches sewn into his battle vest, the small teddy bear sitting on his dresser. "if you got me one, it's only fair he'd need a sibling too.". their names match, not that anyone needs to know.
your weight over his body when the world becomes too much to talk, and your head on his chest when it becomes too overwhelming to stay quiet. he drowns in it, the omnipresent feeling of you. everywhere at once, meeting him in every way.
reciprocity wasn't a word eddie was familiar with until you. then, it's the only thing he knows.
211 notes
·
View notes
Text
Season Two Halloween AU Part Seven
Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six
Synopsis: What if Eddie had been at Tina's Halloween Party in Season Two? Featuring Steve!Whump, Stancy Breakup, and Eddie just trying to keep up with all these new revelations about who King-Steve actually is...
As always, thank you thank you to the lovely Jess @strangersteddierthings for being my cheerleader!
[CW: Discussions of injuries, vomiting]
***
Eddie grips the steering wheel tightly in his hands, while his eyes flick from the rearview mirror and back to the road over and over again, watching for movement, for some sign of wakefulness in Steve.
Dustin had managed to find bandages and peroxide earlier in the Byers washroom to help clean up Steve's face before they left, while Eddie delicately picked the shards of ceramic out of Steve's hair.
The impact had broken the skin and would definitely require stitches, but there were no pieces left in the wound.
The biggest worry for Eddie, with Steve now cleaned and bandaged, was that Steve had already been smacked around the day before by Hargrove. He can't even imagine what two blows to the head in two days has actually done, and there wouldn't be any way of knowing until Steve wakes.
And that is where the argument had started.
***
"We can't just leave, we have to do something we have to give them time!" Mike insists while Eddie gathers the soiled towels covered in blood and peroxide.
Eddie scoffs and whirls around on Mike.
"Are you joking? Your babysitter just got obliterated by an ashtray, we're going to the hospital".
Dustin reaches out for Eddies shoulder, shaking it with urgency, "Steve would have--"
"No, he told you guys that we were not getting involved, we're on the bench".
"You can't keep all of us here," Max tries this time, she crosses her arms in front of her and scowls at Eddie, "if we all go, we'll all be safe".
Eddie barks out a nearly hysterical laugh at the suggestion, these fucking kids.
He looks down at Steve and tries to imagine what he would do in this scenario. Hopper, Joyce, Nancy, and Jonathan are gone; Steve is the only other expert left in this situation, the only other voice of reason in the house.
With his eyes closed and the blood now gone, Steve looks as though he could be sleeping.
"Shit. Shit," Eddie brings his hands up into his hair and tries to slow down the panic coursing through him. It's too much, too many people to worry about even without the literal destruction of their town hanging over their heads.
He looks at Steve again.
"Okay, but if we do this, you listen to me, no arguments, none of that shit you give Steve," Eddie begins counting off his fingers as he speaks, "and most importantly, we go to the hospital, you get forty-five minutes".
***
"Mike, are you still keeping time for how long he's been out?" Eddie asks as he looks at the kids through the rearview.
Though he hadn't thought about it when he bought the van off of Reefer Rick --a deal he's still not sure who got the better end of, based on the lightness of Eddie's wallet for weeks afterwards, Eddie is pretty grateful now for the number of seats and the long bench in the back.
Steve's Beemer wouldn't have been able to fit all of them and as much as Max tried to justify stealing her brothers car, neither would the Camero.
Mike mutters something under his breath and Dustin elbows him in the ribs, hard by the sound Mike makes and the glare he shoots Dustin in response.
"I got it," Max says tiredly, she holds up her watch before letting her hand drop into her lap.
She perks up slightly and leans forward to grip the back of the drivers seat, "you know, if you want to sit back here, I can--"
"Nope, nope," Eddie punctuates the words by slapping the steering wheel, "your job is to watch him, and navigate".
"I'm navigating," Lucas insists from the passenger seat beside Eddie. He has the map from earlier spread out over his legs and a finger tracing the red marker lines they had made earlier that night, "you're going to keep going straight and then it's a left on Mount Sinai by the way".
Eddie nods and opens his mouth to ask about how long until the turn when a groan floats up from the back.
Eddie nearly slams on the brakes in surprise, instead jerking the wheel, sending the van into a harsh swerve over the empty road. The kids all yell over one another but Dustin's voice carries the loudest.
"You're jostling him, Jesus Eddie!"
Eddie winces as he manages to straighten the vehicle's course once more, "shit, shit sorry, just, is he awake?"
"Not really," Dustin says, the sound of rustling fabric and another groan punctuating the silent car.
Eddie's resolve finally snaps.
He turns to Lucas, "you said it's just straight and then one more turn right?" Eddie asks as he lets the car drift to the side of the road before throwing it into park.
"Yeah, why?" Lucas says slowly, his face scrunched into a confused frown, Max perks up once again from the middle row in Eddie's periphery.
Eddie turns to face Max's wide grin and rolls his eyes, "yeah, yeah, get up here," he grumbles, popping open the driver's side door.
"Seatbelt or no deal, keep it under sixty, and slow down on the turn".
Max nods rapidly and bites her lip, nearly vibrating with excitement as she scrambles over the middle console to take Eddie's place, "you got it!"
"Why does she get to drive?" Mike growls under his breath but it still carries through the open drivers side door. Steve makes another noise and Eddie has to tamp down a scream of frustration at the sound.
He makes his way to the back passenger door, sliding it open to meet Mike's glare, "my van, my rules Wheeler, move up, Dustin you're keeping the time now".
Dustin nods and leans towards the front, lifting his watch as he asks Max quietly about how long Steve has been out.
Eddie settles in the far back next to Steve, ignoring the guilt that settles heavily in his stomach. If only he had locked the door, if he had been able to hold his own with Billy, this never would have happened. Eddie swallows the lump that begins to form in his throat and pours his focus into Steve, that's who needs him now.
Eddie's never seen someone with a head injury before, hell, he's never seen anyone get their ass beaten like Steve just did and Wayne's lessons in first aid never went past burns or cuts, maybe splinting a break.
Eddie was out of his depth with this.
Steve's unfocused gaze lands on him as he tilts his head slightly. He makes a small noise of recognition and lifts his left hand up to brush softly against Eddie's face.
"Nance?" Steve slurs out, blinking a few times, and fuck, if that doesn't sting.
Eddie can't quite hide his wince and breathes out sharply through his nose, "Nope, sorry, you're stuck with me".
Steve blinks again, this time his eyes narrow slightly as he reaches out again, but Eddie manages to catch his hand this time and gently lowers it back down. He allows himself one indulgence though, and entwines his fingers through Steve's own.
Just this once.
"Ed?" Steve says this time and Eddie can't help the grin that slowly pulls at his lips, thank God.
"Yeah man," Eddie whispers, he clears his throat in an attempt to move the lump that appears once more. Steve's pupils are different sizes but that doesn't seem to stop him from realizing they are no longer in the Byers home.
"Why--we're moving?"
"I was out numbered," Eddie says darkly, sending a glare to Dustin who flips him the bird over his shoulder. He's looking at Lucas's map from the seat behind him.
Steve groans again and Eddie watches as all the colour drains from his cheeks and lips. By the time Eddie realizes what is happening, Steve is already leaning his head over the floor and vomiting all over Eddie's shoes.
"Oh shit Steve, okay, okay, let it out," Eddie helps him sit up slightly and manages to move his feet for the next round, nose wrinkling at the smell of bile. He lets go of Steve's hand and instead settles for letting one hand brace his shoulder while the other sweeps into his hair, pulling the slightly longer sections away from his face.
Eddie tries to focus on keeping Steve steady rather than how soft his hair is.
Mike sucks his teeth in disgust as Dustin swears from the middle seat and covers his mouth, "did he just puke?"
Eddie wants to throttle them both.
Steve pulls him from his violent thoughts though as he coughs and gags again, breathing out a heavy whine as he catches his breath.
He mumbles something so quiet that Eddie almost wonders for a moment if he spoke at all, but then Steve taps his hand weakly against Eddie's hand on his shoulder.
"Pull over," he whispers in a much clearer voice this time and Eddie looks up towards the front of the car, Max is in the middle of turning, the last one if Lucas was to be believed.
"Steve, we can't," Eddie tries, hating the way that Steve deflates, it's almost like when Eddie found him after Tina's party.
"I sorry sweetheart, I promise, hospital after this," Eddie says quietly.
He freezes at the realization of what he just said.
Shit.
It's as though his heart has stopped in his chest and his ribs are crushing inwards, as though he's about to collapse like some dying star.
Eddie looks around the interior of the van, hoping no one else heard him only to catch Dustin staring him down with an intense but curious look in his eyes, his brow furrowed as though Eddie is a puzzle and the last piece has gone missing.
Dustin says nothing though, and turns back to the front where Mike, Lucas, and Max are talking animatedly.
Steve's head flops backwards onto Eddie's chest, pulling his focus from the kids. Steve is looking up at him and from his close Eddie can count the number of eyelashes, the number of freckles dusting his nose, the flecks of green in his blown eyes.
Even with his bruised face and the faint traces of bile on his breath, Steve is beautiful.
Eddie thinks of how Steve protected them all again and again, how he offered advice to Dustin -even if it wasn't the best, how he had insisted that Eddie wasn't the reason Steve had been scared that night, not wanting him to feel like yet another person was afraid of Eddie.
He thinks of all the ways that Steve has shown himself over the last few days and feels the last few strands holding up the image of King-Steve Harrington, finally fall away.
He's never let himself to stare like this, unashamedly at another man, it had always been too dangerous --especially in Hawkins.
Perhaps he can allow himself this other indulgence then, just for now.
Unbidden, the words Steve said earlier echo faintly for Eddie as they sit in the back of his beat up old van while the kids start arguing over the one painters mask they found in the shed earlier.
'People will come in and out of your life all the time, and the ones that are meant to be there will stay, and if they go, then it wasn't meant to be.
I think I need more people in my life like that'.
He swallows heavily as Steve's eyes close and he sinks even further into Eddie, his soft hair tickles against Eddie's neck as he burrows closer.
Eddie lifts his gaze to the roof of the van. He doesn't believe in God, no, hearing his uncle's stories of 'Nam, his mother dying, and Al kicking him to the curb were enough to dissuade Eddie of any real notion of a higher power existing.
But it doesn't stop him from sending a thought out into the universe.
If we make it out of this, Eddie thinks, I promise to listen this time.
Part Eight Now Up
Tag List:
@eriquin @luvinthefreaks @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @goodolefashionedloverboi @ellietheasexylibrarian @bambibiest @sadboislovebeans @howincrediblysapphicofyou @coleys-a-nerd @whycantiuseunderscore @airconditioning123 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @corrodedbisexual @starman-jpg @ilovecupcakesandtea @yoriposts @clumsiluni @pelinelin @phantomcat94 @lololol-1234 @anaibis @airconditioning123 @steveshairspray @hellfireone @sunswathe @tentativeghost @robin-not-batman @estrellami-1 @manda-panda-monium @tinyplanet95 @perseus-notjackson @queenie-ofthe-void @rainbowsaw @sp0o0kylights @littlebluejane @hi-im-eff @phantypurple @just-ladyme @thoroughlycollected @justrandomfandomstm @swimmingbirdrunningrock @finntheehumaneater @dynamic-powerm@nightmareglitter @genderless-spoon @zaddipax @thebiblesays @amerikanskaya-krassavitsa @pyrohonk @emly03 @geekymagicalpotato @sidebarre @eddielives1986 @lemon-astra @cipounette @discreetapple @starlitlakes @saphhicwitchbitch @marvel-ous-m @honorarybrit81 @lingeringmirth
and for some peeps that I think may be interested! @steddierthings @steddie-there @steves-strapcollection @henderdads @stevesbipanic @spooky-brakers @flowercrowngods (welcome back Dio!)
#season two halloween au#stranger things#stranger things season 2 au#steve harrington#eddie munson#the party#steve and nancy breakup#eddie is having all sorts of complicated feelings about steve here#i will never get tired of halloween party aus#you can pry them from my cold dead fingers#dustin meets eddie early#mike wheeler#lucas sinclair#max mayfield#afewproblems writes#cw blood and injury#cw vomit#concussions are no joke#eddie is a tired single dad in this outnumbered by these ridiculous children#dustin is as observant as nancy is#finally getting somewhere with these feelings#pining Eddie
310 notes
·
View notes
Text
YES, NURSE RATCHED - a hellfire & ice retelling of chapter eight's most pivotal moment, from eddie's pov
a special treat for my love @deadlynightshade-and-hyacinth
eddie munson x f!reader, reader is nicknamed lacy, reader's last name is also mentioned, this is lore-filled and handsy so if that's not your thing keep it truckin, minors dni i do not like you go away warning for strong language, smut inthe form of public fingeringgggg, drug usage, extremely bad parenting (al munson klaxon), evoking the feeling of a comedown, billy hargrove gets his shit rocked, excuse all typos it's redacted o'clock and i'm a little buzzed
word count: 2.6k
The first thing you should know about the following occurrences is that they are preluded by a whole lot of next thing Eddie knows. Things snapping his attention to the left, to the right, knocking him over the head, rearing up on him with little to no warning.
Number one? His dad showing up at Reefer Rick’s, eyes bloodshot and sleep deprived and frantic, putting on a pantomime of being so psyched to see his boy! Rick snapping to attention and falling into his role of affable associate of Munson Senior immediately, despite the apology he’d tried to press against Eddie right when Al crunched the gravel of his driveway. What followed was a bender that Eddie couldn’t help but give into. Al has that effect on people, even him, even Eddie in his angry, angsty resoluteness that he should know better.
You try knowing better when you're all bewitched, bothered and bewildered and shit.
Cue cut lines and records blaring until daylight broke over Lover's Lake– then Eddie, rising at noon but barely landed from his previous (ill-advised and bad-parentally-supervised) high, got it in his head that he ought to show up for school. At least for a little bit.
Because they’d tossed your last name around a little last night, Al and Rick. Doevski this, Doevski that, in weird, vague terms that Eddie didn’t all the way understand. And the more weed he smoked and the more Jim Beam that got passed around, the less he remembered.
Which, dumb, right?
You’d tell him that was dumb.
You’d tell him he should have stayed sharp, listened up, gathered information.
He passed out on Rick’s sagging couch, mind searing with nothing but thoughts of you nagging him for intel.
Eddie woke up cotton-mouthed with your name on his lips.
He needed to see you.
To catch one of your avoidant, barely-there glances as you flit through the hallway or maybe even spy you smoking a cigarette on the outdoor bleachers, reading in silence with Ronnie or Wheeler.
He’d think of what to say to you in the moment; probably spurned on by the sneer you’d give him– which he’d totally have earned, for having the nerve to ignore you for so long.
Forgive me, he'd say, hands held aloft in Christlike composure, I just couldn't look you in the eye knowing you were getting willingly boinked by some Ivy League sweater monkey.
And then you'd have to admit your little bullshit college boyfriend wasn't Ivy League, and he'd prod you with that for a while, and things would eventually ebb back to whatever shade of normal you two were pretending to be. So? Okay!
But.
Next thing Eddie knows, he’s peeling into the parking lot and the first thing that he sees, bada bing, is you. All however many feet of you, steel true and planted on the hood of Billy Hargrove’s fucking Camaro, wielding a baseball bat like a sword.
Eddie’s heart stops for the full entirety of a what fresh hell is this filter-focused second before he skids the van to a halt and launches himself from it.
He advances this helluva scene just in time to hear you holler out, right in front of God and everyone,
“One thing you can say for Eddie Munson, is at least the motherfucker can get hard!”
Eddie’s tread stutters and he wonders if this is what people mean when they use the expression taken out at the knees. Can he get a fucking encore, please?
But then there’s the issue of the rabies-ridden Hargrove, the kid who’s snorted so much of Eddie’s dubiously cut supply that it’s no wonder that word has gotten around that he can’t keep his johnson rigid. There’s a thread dangling somewhere that makes Eddie wonder how familiar you are with that concept but. Alas. Digression.
Hargrove calls you a cunt, and Eddie’s vision is replaced with a swathe of red.
How ‘bout you try playing it cool, hearing someone talk to your girl like that, after a night of fun family drug-taking?
Wait. His what? Hold on--
Next thing Eddie knows, he’s side-swiping Hargrove like a dirty bumper car, yak yaks something kind of funny (he hopes) and does not turn to look at you standing backlit like a holy fucking statue. Because he knows you’ll look beautiful up there, white hot with rage, holding a weapon poised for minor automotive destruction. He can’t handle beauty, not right now. Because of that thing from before with his knees.
“...now her snooty ass is spreading it for half of Hawkins! Desperate! Stringin’ you along like the dumb piece of shortbus shit you a–”
It’s impossible to say whose hair trigger that tugged first, yours or Eddie’s. That’s like chicken vs egg. That’s like Han vs Greedo. That’s like, irrelevant.
That baseball bat clatters to the pavement, a hearty overture to Eddie’s surge of empowerment, of rage, of insisting that she isn’t, I’m not, she isn’t, I’m not, nobody talks about her like that–
Next thing Eddie knows, he’s sitting beside you. Outside the principal’s office. Hand split open and aching, nose backed up and a little bleeding, coming down like the fucking Hindenberg. Reckoning with the fact that he wouldn’t need to be a little morning-after zipped on coke to throw a punch for you, if it came down to it. If it came down to it, he would have tried caving in Billy Hargrove’s other eye socket. He would have made him look like the Elephant Man if you needed him to.
He liked that Eraserhead movie you made him watch.
“He needs an ice pack…”
The soft mumble from you makes Eddie take this breath that makes his chest feel like it might concave. You, you. Reckless, unbuttoned, unlaced, off-kilter you, that still had time to snap at him after he’d tried to freeze you out, that still had eyes that asked him did it hurt?
Eddie eavesdrops on as much of your grilling with Higgins and the hot guidance counsellor as his damaged eardrums will allow. Temporary insanity. Disgusting prank. He wonders what that’s about… and again, didn’t even think to question what brought you onto the hood of Hargrove’s car. He just saw you. He just acted.
He just keeps doing that.
And then he hears. College. Application deadlines are within touching distance.
“I can turn this around.”
Of course. Eddie hadn’t even thought about that, because he’s him. And it was something you were probably worrying yourself sick over, because you’re you– you wanted out of here. To get up, go, be someone great.
“New York, ideally,” you’d said to him once, tightrope walking across the broken bleachers outside; you’d been waiting around for him to give you a ride home, but he had a deal to make first. You were weirdly patient, weirdly pensive that day. “Someplace I can go and burrow in and absorb everything and grow out of a crack in the sidewalk, new.”
Eddie’d held your hand, helping you step over a gap in the bench, “Not taking Manhattan by storm? Hurricane Lacy?”
You–and he remembered this–had held onto his hand for a few more minutes, a cigarette dwindling in the other. Your fingers were cold; they clutched at his a little tighter when you spoke again.
“No. Not Manhattan, not midtown, not big business. I have precipitated a change in my weathervane.”
“What does that mean?”
“Means that someone taught me the difference between being important and being significant.”
Back in the room. Eddie drawls out some stupid crack to Higgins, who he’s still supplying with enough benzos to take out Jonestown a second time, which is the only reason he hasn’t been booted out of Hawkins High for absolute and final good. And then you’re alone again, the two of you. Together.
“Wanna get out of here?”
Next thing Eddie knows, he’s spending the last of his energy like it’s burning a hole in his pocket, horsing around on the nurse’s saddle stool while you rifle through her office. You are all edgy and commanding because you have no idea how to say sorry you got wailed on by Hargrove for me.
Good. He likes you better like this, at least for right now. Likes to watch you attempt to pirouette on the razor’s edge of your relationship to one another, mostly because your attempt is more graceful and easier to watch than his is. And he likes to watch you. Watch you do anything, really.
Watch you snap at him to get on the bed. Fuck.
Watch you tear and dab at his busted knuckles. Fuckfuck.
Watch you talk about Cat People and press his hand to his chest and tell him he’s injured and wrong and watch you watch searing, singing alcohol on his split lip dry up. Eddie watches your eyes brighten and darken with curious affection, like those twinkle lights that fade in and out, steady as breathing. His breathing is anything but steady. His knees have come apart, letting you stand between them.
You dab and he lets this broken sound loose from him, because the proximity of your body to his feels like a fresh fucking spring breeze and god, god, the way you’re touching him with such gentle, measured movements, like you’ve choreographed every one–
You’re so exact. You’re so organized. He wants to unexact you.
Eddie uses his good hand, not that either of them are really any good, and presses as much of you into him as he can. The flush of your front, the flush of your mouth, he even has to stop those shorn denim-sheathed legs of his from wrapping around your hips. Eddie’s grip, it travels, hitching tweed up the curve of your ass.
You don’t push him away like he figured you might, you don’t indignantly demand what is going on?! You don’t. You weave your hand up the line of his thigh, to the hard edge of his crotch where he is straining, a rigidity that’s been building since you went all Nurse Ratched on him.
A rigidity that’s hard to keep down around you, badum-tsssss.
Fuck.
Eddie almost knocks the word loose with a low groan that’s pressed into the supple flesh of your cheek, your lovely blushing fucking cheek, a cheek he goes to kiss or bite or something but misses by a hair because you’re straining your neck back. To look at him. Not soberly, he hopes.
Someone down there is wishing him death by dick.
Not the wettest, wildest, filthiest dreams that he’s had about you (and categorically, there have been many) could have prepared Eddie Munson from the earth-shattering consequences of this tiny gesture. Your tongue, perfect and pink, darts to his lip, stinging and sore and comes away with the tiniest drop of ruby-red blood sitting on its tip.
And you suck his bottom lip between yours, eyes fluttering closed.
Eddie’s cock jumps as his heart does, not a second out of time, as you clamber up, into his lap– so completely un-Lacylike, so totally… unexact. How, in all the vastness of Heaven and earth and Middle Earth and Hell and the Bookstore and the closet and his bedroom and the van could he be so fucking stupid?
“Just friends, right?” Eddie is deaf to how pained it comes out sounding.
His good hand travels. He finds your thighs, the softness there giving way to easy indents for his fingers and he knows, he knows that this is where his hands should be–unless, higher could be good? Higher, high up past those offending, incriminating lace top stockings that drilled through Eddie’s mind like an ice pick, giving him whatever the opposite of a lobotomy is. Haunting him with a fervour, begging him to snap them, but there’s no fucking time for that, god it hurts but there’s no fucking time for that because you. Two. Are. In. The fucking. Nurse’s. Office.
But the world has ceased turning.
Eddie’s mouth opens in a silent attempt at a moan as his fingers push past to the beating, radiating core of you that the throbbing, radiating core of him longs for.
You’re so wet, and soft and lush and it rings through is head like a fucking hallelujah, you’re wet, you’re wet for him.
More than anything, he needs your encouragement–he needs to know that you want him to keep going. That you want him, that you want him, that–
You nod, frantic and undone, and Eddie kisses you for it just before he realizes he has no idea what he’s doing. But nothing in his body tells him to zoom out–in fact, the only thing he wants is more in. More you, more of you wrapped around him. He moves his hands with a clumsiness usually uncharacteristic of him, fucking guitar guy, fucking painting miniatures and shit guy. But it works, according to you and the way you keen against him with your beautiful, spit-shining lips parted and pulling against his.
These little noises, chirps and swallowed moans of yours– it’s like music. He wants to choke on them.
Eddie’s voice kind of cracks open again, letting a little air and a touch of begging out. He strains, pained, cock aching against the hitch of denim. “Does he do this? Does anyone do this for you, Lacy?”
Because you’re lonely, and Eddie knows that, with his fingers stroking you deep. You’re lonely, or would be, were it not for him. And it feels like now, in the heady swirl of these few moments that are stretched into an infinity, that he’s using it against you, but he’s not. He should be the one doing this for you, he should be the one making you feel this way, making you tremble even as he clumsily thumbs at your clit, because he thinks knows you and he thinks you want it unmeasured and unshackled and washing over you in a wave of sheer blind devotion and that’s why his tongue is all over your neck.
That’s why his knuckles are split.
That’s why there’s no malice in Eddie’s voice when he croaks, “Just friends? Lacy?” as you rock and spasm, hands clutching him around the shoulder and whimpers barely deadened against his lips. He can feel the texture of your pinched brow against his own.
He wants to clutch you as close as he possibly can, but he’s got one good arm and it’s between your legs.
Between your legs. Jesus fucking Christ.
Sobriety hits like a tidal wave as your breath returns to its normal rhythm; Eddie’s doesn’t quite have the same rebound. He’s still huffing a little, out of exertion or out of nerves, as he slips his hand out from under you, brushing what was off on his jeans. A small patch of his own bodily fluid collected there too, making sure he’s wearing the both of you like Hester Prynne’s scarlet letter as he walks around for the rest of the day.
Eddie, throat starting to tighten up, pulls you in for one kiss, to give you one last taste of where he’d been split open for you. Melodrama dances around it; shades of we shouldn’t have, but we did, but we can’t, but now I have to fucking live with the fact I cracked open this Pandora’s box and I’m sorry.
Or something to that effect.
And you see right through him, because you always do. Hair in a muss, lips flushed, adjusting your skirt, re-exacting yourself, you clean up any evidence that this had ever happened. At least, on a surface level.
Eddie dares to look at you once more, and you dare to look back at him. And thank god he’s sitting down, because that look shoots him right through the fucking aorta. You, wide-eyed and small-looking, pupils darting and unsure, are asking him why. Pleading with him, why. Why do this. Why now. Why at all, ever, why did you have to. Even though you know.
“I–”
“No, I know. I know. I certainly know.”
Because you’re Lacy. You know everything.
Eddie does think about going after you for a second, after your curt nod and dash through the door but he knows that it’s a zero-sum game. He has nothing good to say. It’s not even you that’s rendered him speechless– funny thing, you usually do the opposite. You always give him something to say. He just has nothing good to say. Nothing worthy of you.
So he sits there, on the examination table, waiting for the mythical Nurse Lydia to tend to his wounds.
First he’ll will himself soft, then he’ll will himself sane.
Famous last words.
#published by powder#e. munson by powder#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x f!reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x oc#eddie munson fic#blurbs#edlacy#hai brainrot#this actually helped me crack a little thing i've been stuck on in chap 9 so thank you for that!!!#Spotify#l. doevski by powder
93 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
komalsinghaws
Untitled
maps-cd
c.o.maps DISCOGRAPHY
tavernwil
Таверна Вилсона
maps-cd
c.o.maps DISCOGRAPHY
qtyeti
🌸 Art Blog 🌸