#Handyman NYC

[wildcitychild]

Bob the Builder if need be.

[rexonehandyman]

Quick and Reliable Handyman NYC

Finding a reliable handyman in a bustling city like New York can be a daunting task. However, Rex One stands out as the best and most affordable handyman in NYC. Whether you need general repairs, plumbing, electrical work, or more specialized services, Rex One has you covered. In this comprehensive guide, we will explore the various services offered by Rex One, why choosing a professional handyman is crucial, and how to book their services. By the end of this article, you’ll understand why Rex One is the go-to handyman service in NYC.

Why Choose Rex One for Your Handyman Needs?

Expertise and Experience

Rex One brings years of experience to the table, ensuring that every job is done right the first time. Their team of skilled professionals is equipped to handle a wide range of tasks, from minor repairs to major renovations. With Rex One, you can be confident that your home is in good hands.

2. Affordable Rates

One of the standout features of Rex One is their affordability. They offer competitive pricing without compromising on the quality of their work. This makes it easier for homeowners to maintain their properties without breaking the bank.

3. Quick and Reliable Service

Time is of the essence, especially when it comes to home repairs. Rex One prides itself on providing quick and reliable service. Their team is punctual, efficient, and committed to completing tasks on schedule, ensuring minimal disruption to your daily routine.

Comprehensive Handyman Services Offered by Rex One

1. General Repairs

No job is too small for Rex One. They handle all types of general repairs, ensuring that your home remains in top condition. From fixing squeaky doors to repairing damaged furniture, they do it all.

2. Plumbing Services

Plumbing issues can be a nightmare, but Rex One makes it easy. They offer a range of plumbing services, including fixing leaks, unclogging drains, and installing new fixtures. With their expertise, you can avoid the hassle and potential damage caused by plumbing problems.

3. Electrical Work

Electrical work requires a high level of skill and safety precautions. Rex One’s team is trained to handle electrical tasks such as installing light fixtures, ceiling fans, and addressing wiring issues. Their meticulous approach ensures that your home is safe and up to code.

4. Carpentry Services

Need new shelves or cabinets? Rex One offers top-notch carpentry services. Whether you want custom-built furniture or simple repairs, their skilled carpenters can bring your vision to life.

5. Painting Services

A fresh coat of paint can transform your home. Rex One provides both interior and exterior painting services. Their attention to detail ensures a flawless finish that enhances the aesthetics of your space.

6. Drywall Installation and Repair

Damaged drywall can be an eyesore. Rex One specializes in drywall installation and repair, seamlessly blending new drywall with existing structures. Their expertise guarantees a smooth and professional finish.

7. Flooring Installation

Whether you’re looking to install hardwood, laminate, or tile flooring, Rex One has the expertise to get the job done. They handle every aspect of the installation process, ensuring a beautiful and durable floor.

8. Appliance Installation and Repair

Installing and repairing appliances can be tricky. Rex One takes the hassle out of the equation by offering reliable appliance installation and repair services. From refrigerators to washing machines, they ensure your appliances function perfectly.

9. Landscaping and Yard Work

A well-maintained yard adds value to your property. Rex One offers a range of landscaping services, including lawn care, garden maintenance, and yard clean-up. Their green thumb ensures your outdoor space looks its best.

10. Pressure Washing

Over time, dirt and grime can build up on your home’s exterior. Rex One’s pressure washing services can rejuvenate your property, making it look clean and new. They handle everything from driveways to siding with precision.

11. Assembly Services

Furniture assembly can be time-consuming and frustrating. Rex One provides efficient assembly services for all types of furniture and equipment. They ensure that everything is put together correctly and securely.

12. Gutter Cleaning and Repair

Clogged or damaged gutters can lead to water damage. Rex One offers comprehensive gutter cleaning and repair services, protecting your home from potential water issues.

13. Window and Door Repair

Windows and doors are essential components of your home. Rex One handles all types of window and door repairs, ensuring they operate smoothly and securely.

14. Small Renovations

Considering a small renovation? Rex One can help. They offer renovation services that include kitchen and bathroom upgrades, ensuring your home meets your needs and style preferences.

15. Home Safety Services

Safety is paramount. Rex One provides home safety services, including installing smoke detectors, carbon monoxide detectors, and security systems. Their goal is to ensure your home is safe for you and your family.

16. Moving Services

Moving can be stressful, but Rex One makes it easier. They offer moving services, including packing, loading, and unloading. Their team handles your belongings with care, ensuring a smooth move.

17. Cleaning Services

A clean home is a happy home. Rex One provides a range of cleaning services, from deep cleaning to regular weekly maintenance. They also offer post-construction and move-in/move-out cleaning, ensuring your home is spotless.

How to Book Rex One’s Services

Booking a handyman from Rex One is straightforward. Simply contact them at +13473159098 to discuss your needs and schedule an appointment. Their friendly customer service team will guide you through the process, ensuring you get the services you need at a time that suits you.

Conclusion

When it comes to quick and reliable handyman services in NYC, Rex One is the clear choice. Their wide range of services, combined with their expertise, affordability, and commitment to quality, make them the best handyman service in the city. Don’t let home repairs and maintenance stress you out. Contact Rex One today and experience the difference a professional handyman can make. Your home deserves the best, and Rex One delivers every time.

[munson-blurbs]

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: All of the distractions in the world couldn't keep you from worrying about the potential fallout from your web of untruths--until a bigger issue arose. (5.5k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, anxiety, parental conflict, poverty, brief religious zealotry, insecurities, secret relationship, public displays of affection, sexual fantasies, idiots in love, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

A/N: This chapter contains a scene I had imagined in my head and became the catalyst for this series--what would happen if Eddie encountered one of the NYC street preachers?

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter thirteen: street smarts

You were supposed to be doing something. Checking the guest log, organizing the bills by due date, making a list of repairs that still needed to be made…something. Anything besides just standing behind the desk, watching Eddie’s biceps flex as he hauled the overfilled trash bag out to the Dumpster. 

At this point, it was all busy work. Taking out the garbage, changing light bulbs, dusting furniture…all scraps of chores to keep him here. The moment he felt like he was being pitied—or worse, like he was being a burden—he’d leave. His pride was too strong and too loud to allow him to stay if he wasn’t working, even if that work was as interesting as watching paint dry. 

That’s what it was. 

“I need you to spackle a hole in Room 9,” you told him as he walked back into the lobby. “The guy staying here last night punched the wall, and it looks like he won.”

Eddie grimaced, flexing his own hand like he could feel the man’s pain. “Jesus. Yeah, sure.” He slid a rubber band off of his wrist and tied back his hair. The sleeves of his t-shirt had been cut into a tank top, though you weren’t sure if he’d done it or the shirt had been designed that way. “Where do you keep the spackle?”

You jabbed your thumb towards the supply closet behind you. Eddie started in that direction, but made an abrupt turn towards you. His arms snaked around your waist, his lips easily finding the crook of your neck. 

Instinctively, your shoulder jerked upwards, protecting you from any further tickling, but Eddie only doubled down. His kisses became less of a whisper and more of a shout, each punctuated with a smacking mwah!

“Ed-die!” Your giggles broke his name into its syllables. “Quit it!”

He paused for a moment and pretended to consider your plea before continuing his barrage of kisses. “Hmm, don’t think I will.” His words were muffled, the vibrations sending tingles through your bloodstream. “What’re you doing after your shift?”

You scoffed. “Um, curling up under the covers and passing out?”

“What if…” He moved his lips to the back of your neck. “You curled up under my covers?”

The suggestion garnered a dual sensation of desire and dread. You wanted that more than anything: the intimacy of laying next to him, his body curled around yours, the rhythm of his breathing lulling you to sleep. The first night he was here, he wore only boxer briefs. If you slept beside him, would he wear more? Less? If he awoke with that natural, involuntary stiffness between his legs, would you feel it?

But then, despite everything within you leaning towards being with Eddie, reality set in. Your room was the closest to the lobby; how could you possibly skip over it without Dad noticing? Even if he didn’t notice, how could you sneak out of Eddie’s room without Mom seeing? Dad might be oblivious in the way that fathers so often are, but Mom was like a hawk. She could probably sense that you were considering disobeying her orders to keep away from Eddie.

“I’d have to sneak through your window. And then sneak back through my own window in the morning,” you mused. 

“Or,” Eddie countered, spinning you around so you were facing him, “you could tell your parents that you couldn’t resist the cute handyman’s charming advances.”

His brown eyes gleamed with mischief as his hands dipped lower, squeezing your ass through your jeans. It took all of your willpower not to change the sign to read “NO VACANCY”—despite your many empty rooms—and drag him into his bed by the worn collar of his t-shirt. 

“I will.” You wrinkled your nose. “Well, maybe not in those exact terms, but I will tell them we’re…y’know.”

Eddie took a small step back and crossed his arms. “We’re…what?” His tone was somewhere between perplexed and demanding, like he couldn’t believe you wouldn’t define the relationship while also hoping you would define it for him.

You had no idea what the answer was. ‘Friends’ was far too casual for two people who had been sucking face in the middle of Flushing Meadows Park just last week. ‘Dating’ seemed too formal for only having been on two dates, the first of which hadn’t even been officially stated as a date from the onset. ‘Fooling around in the laundry room every chance we get’ was more accurate, if not a little wordy.

“We’re getting to know each other. Intimately.” You added that last word in an attempt to show him just how much you cared about him. Whatever relationship limbo you two were in would only be temporary. 

“Hmm.” A smirk tugged at Eddie’s lips. “Just how intimately are we talking here?” He tucked his forefinger into your belt loop and pulled you towards him, so close that you could feel his belt buckle through your shirt. 

Glancing around to ensure no one was walking by, you pressed a small kiss to his lips. “I’m gonna tell them. I promise. Just give me a little time.”

Your heart ached when his shoulders slumped. You wanted to fix it all now, to face your anxiety head-on and tell your parents about Eddie. Tell them that you were together and that it could be something serious—without holding your breath for their approval. 

But then there was that knife twisting in your gut, the one that echoed the same statements time and time again: 

You’re a bad daughter You’re disappointing them You’re negating every sacrifice they’ve made

But now a new one joined them, just as unwelcome as the others:

You’re going to lose Eddie if you keep being a coward. 

Eddie held your gaze for another beat before he broke it. His head tilted to the side, a slight pout forming on his lips. “Well, if you promise…” In one swift motion, he swooped in and kissed your cheek. When he pulled back, you wrapped your arms around his lithe waist and drew him back in. “Is that a yes for sneaking through my window?”

You gave him a gentle, playful shove and rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the fluttering butterflies that came with the idea. “Go spackle the wall.”

“Yes, dear.” He started towards the supply closet once more, calling out over his shoulder, “what time are we leaving for that college thing tomorrow?”

Everything he said and everything he did encroached closer and closer into relationship territory. Going to Admitted Students’ Day with you was something a boyfriend would do. 

But he hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend—not that it would make much of a difference. It wasn’t as though a label would suddenly afford you the freedom to show off your relationship. Besides your parents’ disapproval, that pesky news story about Death’s Echo’s new lead singer kept nagging at you. You technically had information about Eddie’s life that even he didn’t know, and you couldn’t figure out how to tell him. 

“Noon at the latest.” You tried swallowing the lump in your throat, but it stayed put, so you just spoke above it. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I know school isn’t really your thing, so…”

Eddie poked his head out from the closet. “Noon it is.” When he emerged, he held the small spackle bucket and a wide putty knife. “By the way, I won’t, like, break out into hives or burst into flames if I go to a school.”

“I know.” Your body relaxed as his humor snaked through the crevices of your anxiety. “And I really do want to tell them about everything. About us, about NYU. It’s just…”

Goddamn the mist clouding your eyes. It was shameful, really, the pity party you were throwing for yourself. But how could you approach your parents and say, “Hey, by the way, I’m dating our de facto handyman. But don’t worry about the relationship affecting the business, because we’ll have to close the motel once I start graduate school in two months anyway. Also, I’m studying social work, not hospitality. Surprise!”

“Hey.” Eddie’s voice was soft, his thumb swiping over tears that fell despite your efforts to hold them back. “Look, if you don’t want me to go, just tell me.”

You shook your head. “I want you to go.” To emphasize your point, you kissed his cheek. The beginnings of stubble tickled your lips. “We can make a day of it. Grab some lunch or something.”

Eddie didn’t look wholly convinced, but he managed a smile. “And then I get to show off how smart you are.”

There was no point in arguing that everyone at Admitted Students’ Day was just as smart as you, if not smarter. Instead, you watched as he padded towards room nine. 

What you wouldn’t give to cave to your desires and climb into his bed beside him. Whether you fell asleep immediately or spent the entire time with him firmly buried inside you was practically irrelevant. You were tempted to follow him right now and have sex with him in the vacant room.

But you didn’t want your first time together to be something you rushed through. Maybe it wouldn’t be the rose petals and naked guitar playing scenario that Ben and Nora had teasingly suggested, but you didn’t want to do it just to “get it over with.” 

So you stayed put, drumming your fingers against the desk’s wood paneling, trying to ignore the heat pooling between your thighs. Someday, you promised yourself, Eddie would be the one to quell that need.

You left your room at noon the next day, armed with a smile and an alibi. Your usual excuse of running errands wouldn’t explain why you were wearing a black button-down dress and your Mary Jane heels. 

The door to Eddie’s room creaked open as you passed by. Without wasting a moment, one tattooed arm darted through the gap and pulled you inside. 

“Eddie!” You hissed at him, bringing one hand to your chest as your heart rate soared. 

His lips were on yours before you could ask why he felt the urge to spike your already sky-high anxiety. Like a miracle elixir, the kiss blunted the day’s sharpness and turned your racing thoughts into drifting clouds. 

Your hands found his biceps, fully on display in the t-shirt that had been altered to be a makeshift tank top. The same one, you realized, he’d been wearing last night. The pads of your fingertips were met with resistance at the muscle that was even more defined than it had been a month ago. 

“Just needed to do that before we left.” His palms smoothed down the back of your dress, lingering for an extra moment on your ass. “Ready to go?”

“Y-Yeah,” you nodded. All of the air had been knocked from your lungs; from the scare or from the kiss, you were still unsure. 

Eddie’s fingers brushed yours as the two of you left his room in a silent plea to hold your hand. You wanted to accept the offer, to proudly display your affection for him. You wanted it more than anything, so much so that you almost let your guard down. Almost took his hand in yours and paraded out into the lobby without a care in the world, subtly announcing that you were his and he was yours.

Almost.

A pang of anger flashed in your chest; not at the situation, but at Eddie himself. He knew you hadn’t told your parents yet. He knew you would face some consequences for dating a motel guest and for sneaking around behind their backs, especially if you brazenly flaunted the relationship without any notice.

Eddie huffed at your rejection. “Oh, right.” Was that disappointment or frustration? Or some lethal combination of both?

Dad immediately noticed the departure from your typical attire when you walked past; he’d already finished skimming the newspaper when you walked in. “Where are you off to?” 

“Hanging out with Ben and Nora.” The lie rolled  off of your tongue, just as you’d practiced in the mirror this morning.

“Double date?” Dad’s question was rhetorical, of course–he certainly wasn’t expecting you to actually go on a date with Eddie–but your breath still caught in your throat.

A cough, hopeful not too conspicuous to draw attention, delayed your response. “Uh, no. Just, uh, friend stuff.” Friend stuff? Christ, were you incapable of lying without extensive rehearsal?

He nodded, not even flinching. Thank God he was at the desk and not Mom, who definitely would have interrogated the truth out of you by now. 

“Have fun, be safe, make sure to ask Ben how his parents are.”

You promised to do all three and dashed out the door before he had time to ask Eddie any questions. 

You reached for Eddie’s hand the moment you were out of sight, relishing in the safety of his calluses and strong grasp. 

“So, friend.” Despite his playful nature, hurt tinged Eddie’s tone. “You sure we’re in the clear? Maybe someone down the street will see us holding hands and report us to the authorities.”

His words formed a pit in your stomach, anchoring you to the sidewalk. “This isn’t just for me.” You face him and take his other hand, too, wrapping his arms around your waist. “If my parents want to, they can kick you out. I need to tell them in a way that keeps them from absolutely losing their minds.”

The lines at the corners of Eddie’s eyes softened. “I know,” he conceded, kissing the tip of your nose. “Was it like this with other guys you dated? Or is it just because I’m staying at the motel?”

Shame washed over you for the second time in as many minutes. “I’ve never actually told them about any guys I’ve dated,” you admitted. “I mean, I’ve been on dates and had some short-term…relationships, I guess you could call them. But nothing serious enough for me to tell my parents.”

Eddie let out an anxious breath before asking his next question. “What does that mean for us?”

There it was: us. One unit, something more substantial than being separate individuals who happened to share a space. 

“Eddie…I really like you.” The confession was a weight off of your chest; you felt your body fall closer to his. “And if they know about us and they don’t approve, they’ll make sure to keep us apart. At least now, we can sneak around without them being suspicious.”

He looked like he wanted to say something else; if not to protest, then to ask for further clarification. But he swallowed his words, opting instead to kiss you. 

His lips tasted like disappointment. You pretended not to notice.

The forty minute train ride to NYU eased some of the tension. With no seats available, Eddie kept one arm tight around your waist, the other hand wrapped around the overhead pole. His thumb caressed the small of your back, fingernail dragging over your cotton dress, as you leaned into him. 

The subway car was hot, but neither you nor Eddie were deterred in the slightest. Not even as that first bead of sweat crept down the back of your neck and dipped below your dress collar. 

If Eddie noticed the perspiration trickling down your spine, he didn’t comment on it. 

The tip of his nose tickled your temple as he loudly whispered, “I didn’t realize I was supposed to dress up for this.”

In addition to his tank top, Eddie wore black jeans ripped at both knees and his signature scuffed Reeboks. It was a stark contrast to your more professional attire—borrowed from Nora, of course—but you didn’t care. Couldn’t even bring yourself to care, not when…

“You look hot.” Your lips lingered on one exposed bicep, leaving a light lipstick print in their wake. “Ridiculously, unfairly hot.”

A bashful grin bloomed on his face. He stood up a bit taller, your compliment replenishing some of the confidence that had been lost. Eddie had certainly taken his share of ego bruising over the last few months: leaving Death’s Echo, the subsequent breakup with his girlfriend, sleeping in a struggling motel just to keep a roof over his head. And on top of it all, he was now with someone who refused to acknowledge the relationship in front of her own parents. 

That settled it. You were going to tell your parents tonight. No more hiding or sneaking around. If they lectured you on their disappointment, you’d take it. You just couldn’t fathom bringing more insecurity into Eddie’s life. He deserved more than that.

He deserves more than you, that irritating voice snarled. It curled itself around your ear like a wispy smoke trail from one of Eddie’s cigarettes, but did not dissipate as quickly. It lingered even as Eddie pulled you in closer to kiss you.

Your response was to slip your hand into his back pocket and curving it around his ass. Admittedly, there wasn’t much to grab onto, but it still woke up something slumbering within you. Something that had remained dormant since you’d gotten caught during the picnic last week. 

Longing stirred, carving out imagery of him atop you, your fingers grasping that sacred flesh without the burden of a denim barrier. You needed to know how he’d treat you in bed. Would he pounce like an animal capturing its elusive prey? Would he take his time and savor you like his last meal on Earth? Would he lovingly gaze into your eyes, or take you from behind to satisfy that primal need?

“What’s our stop again?” Eddie’s voice shook you from your lust-entrenched trance. 

“Oh, uh…” You fought to keep your train of thought on a more productive track. “West Fourth Street.”

He nodded and gripped the pole tighter as the car screeched to a halt. “Then this is us.”

Thank God he was paying attention. You were embarrassed at the mere notion of missing your stop because you were too lost in the idea of having sex with him. How would you even explain that to him?

“Nervous?” He asked as you exited the train car.

You shook your head. Surprisingly, you weren’t nervous about meeting other admitted students. They’d be a group of people just like you, reaching out a hand to help those in need. A group of people like you and Nora who shared a common goal of being positive forces in a world desperate for kindness.

The climb from the platform up to the street level brought with it a burst of fresh air—fresher than in the station, at least. You and Eddie made your way down Waverly Place, fingers loosely intertwined. He let you guide him, a half-step ahead, your knowledge of the city far exceeding his. 

You were only two blocks away from the school when you heard an obnoxious voice bleating through a megaphone. 

“Repent now or face damnation! You are all sinners who will burn in the fires of Hell for eternity!”

A middle-aged man wearing an off-center toupee stood in the middle of the sidewalk, shouting at passersby. 

“Revelations 21:8–But the cowardly, unbelieving, abominable, murderers, sexually immoral, sorcerers, idolaters, and all liars shall have their part in the lake which burns with fire and brimstone, which is the second death.”

You kept walking and ignored the man’s incessant preaching, expecting Eddie to do the same. 

That, you supposed, was naive on your part. 

Before you could stop him, Eddie let go of your hand and whirled towards the offender. His forefingers pointed upwards in mock devil horns, and the noise that came out of his mouth resembled something from The Exorcist. 

The preacher nearly keeled over at the sight of Eddie’s satanic display, sending you into a fit of cackling laughter. 

“Eddie!” You managed to hiss through your giggling. “Let’s go!”

Eddie took your hand once more and let you whisk him away from the dumbfounded man, the megaphone now hanging limply at his side. There was no doubt he would once again be spewing vitriol soon enough, but witnessing his temporary stunned silence was delicious. 

“I can’t believe you did that.” 

He shrugged. “I told you—I single handedly caused Hawkins’ own Satanic Panic. It’s not my first rodeo with these fire-and-brimstone assholes.”

“C’mon.” You tugged him along, shaking your head. “Let’s get out of here before he sics his disciples on us.”

Admitted Students’ Day at NYU’s Silver School of Social Work wasn’t fancy; just some hors d'oeuvres spread out on a white tablecloth to give an air of elegance. Really, it was nothing more than a few fruit and vegetable platters, finger sandwiches, and some pigs in a blanket. You helped yourself to some strawberries and a cucumber sandwich, watching as Eddie piled the crescent-wrapped mini hot dogs onto a paper plate and topped them with a hearty spoonful of spicy mustard.

A chipper young woman wearing an NYU t-shirt welcomed you and Eddie, ushering you both towards a pile of stick-on name tags and permanent markers. You scrawled your name in blue ink and Eddie did the same, though he added “just here for the food” in smaller letters below his name. 

“Okay, everyone!” The woman took to the microphone at the front of the small conference room. “Welcome to Admitted Students’ Day! My name is Ashley, and I’m a recent alumna of our wonderful MSW program.” She beamed and paused for the smattering of applause. 

Ashley brushed a brunette curl from her eyes and continued. “We’ll get started in just a moment, but until then, please mingle and get to know one another.”

When you looked over at Eddie again, he was dabbing at his shirt with a paper napkin. “Dropped some mustard,” he mumbled. Sure enough, a dollop of yellow stained the black cotton fabric. “Guess we’ll need to make another trip to the laundry room tomorrow.” 

You swatted at him, though you couldn’t deny having the same thought. “You also have some right here,” you lied, poking at his cheek. “Here, I’ll get it.” You leaned in and pressed a kiss to the spot you had just touched. His skin warmed beneath your lips, and it took all of your restraint not to kiss him again.

A second woman sporting a name tag made her way over to you, accompanied by a man dutifully trailing behind her.

“Hi!” The woman chirped, flashing a smile far more genuine than Ashley’s. “I’m Alexis, and this is my boyfriend, Peter.” She gestured to the man. “It’s nice to see another couple here.”

A couple. You and Eddie were a couple, recognized as such by other people in a relationship.

Peter pointed to the message on Eddie’s name tag. “I see you’re also here for moral support,” he said with a grin. “The things we do for them, huh?”

“Please.” Alexis rolled her eyes, though a playful smile suggested she wasn’t annoyed in the slightest. “I went with you to your boring grad school orientation last week.”

You perked up, latching onto the information so you wouldn’t perseverate on the notion of couplehood. “What are you studying?”

“Mechanical engineering,” Alexis answered for him. “He’s brilliant, but just listening to the course descriptions had me falling asleep.” She turned her attention to Eddie. “What do you study?”

The telltale hue of embarrassment bloomed on Eddie’s cheeks. “Oh, I, um…I didn’t. I mean, I went to high school–finished high school–but I didn’t do the whole college…thing.” 

“He’s a musician,” you offered, if only to quiet his stammering voice. “A really talented one, too. He plays guitar and he sings.” You took his hand in yours in silent reassurance.

To her credit, Alexis didn’t let on that she’d picked up on his nervousness. She just smiled and asked him about the type of music he plays, swiftly shifting the conversation back on track.

The small talk continued for a few more minutes. You’d learned that Alexis and Peter had met in college; they’d both gone to Columbia, which was where Peter would be continuing his graduate studies. Alexis wanted a change of scenery and chose NYU, though Peter mentioned she’d also been accepted to their alma mater.

She went to an Ivy League university? The notion soured in your stomach. It was unrealistic to think that Alexis would be the only member of your cohort to hold a degree from an esteemed school; how would you be able to keep up with them? There was no way your meager city college education could even compare.

Mercifully, Ashley took to the microphone once again, this time with a gray-haired woman by her side, to begin the informational portion of the event. You and Eddie sat side-by-side, and you scooched closer when his arm instinctively draped over the back of your folding chair. The ease was a privilege; you could rest your head on his shoulder without being on alert. There was no threat of being caught, no guilt from sneaking around. The two of you were just another couple sitting in a sea of strangers. The idea was so enticing that you had to force yourself to focus on the course offerings and expected responsibilities. 

You definitely wouldn’t be able to keep up with your peers if you couldn’t even pay attention during orientation.

Two hours passed before Eddie’s stomach audibly growled; apparently, consuming his weight in miniature hot dogs was not enough to satisfy his appetite. You were starting to get hungry, too, and you’d spent the last thirty minutes saving off your hunger pangs.

“Wanna grab something to eat?” You whispered.

He nodded emphatically. “You’d think that one of these snobby rich-people schools would splurge for more food,” he said, thankfully under his breath. If someone had overheard…

Not to mention you’d be attending that ‘snobby rich-people school,’ and you were neither rich nor snobby. At least, you hoped you weren’t snobby. But did Eddie see you that way? Did he think you were keeping the relationship underwraps because of a deep-seated shame?

You bade your new friends goodbye, shot a shy smile at the professors who had spoken during the information session, and did your best to make an inconspicuous exit. 

The nearest bodega was just down the block, its shelves stocked with soon-expiring candy and various snacks. Eddie perused the aisles and stared at his options. You were much faster in your decision-making, grabbing a Crunch bar and chowing down as soon as you paid the cashier.

With Eddie still glancing between a bag of barbecue potato chips and a stick of beef jerky, you plucked the latest copy of Star from the rotating magazine stand and leafed through it. There’s no earth-shattering news–stories published in the tabloids rarely are. The most exciting story was about the upcoming Spielberg flick, one where dinosaurs roam the Earth in some sort of prehistoric zoo. You can’t help but wonder if Eddie would take you to see the movie for your third date.

You were about to close the magazine and tell Eddie to hurry up–or just buy both, and you’d foot the bill–when the bolded words in the news briefs section caught your eye.

Caleb Dalton, the lead singer and guitarist of Death’s Echo, checked into rehab after various alcohol-fueled encounters with the law. The band’s management states that they “hope to proceed with the tour” next month, though there is no word about finding a replacement.

Your mouth went dry, and you started choking on the bite of milk chocolate that hadn’t yet melted onto your tongue. Eddie looked over at you, concern etched between his drawn brows at your sudden coughing outburst.

“Wrong pipe,” you managed, closing the magazine as nonchalantly as you could and placing it back on the rack. “You ready to go?”

“Yup.” Eddie fished a dollar bill from his pocket and placed it on the counter. He was already digging into the bag of chips, blissfully unaware of what you’d just read. 

How would he react if he knew? Would he find it amusing that his replacement had already screwed up the tour? Infuriating that he’d been replaced by someone so unprofessional? Would it haunt him or would he consider it to be normal tabloid fodder?

A gut instinct told you to break the news to him—not here, but somewhere private. Somewhere he could process it without causing a public scene. The only thing worse than him finding out is him knowing that you already knew and hadn’t told him. 

Tonight, during your shift. And you could follow it up by letting him know that you were ready to tell your parents the truth. Selfishly, you were glad to have some leverage on them: Eddie would already be upset by the band’s news, so they couldn’t add to that stress by kicking him out, right? 

If only you could tell them about him accompanying you today, just to prove how serious this new relationship truly was. 

One step at a time. 

You savored every moment spent together on the trip. The beginning of rush hour had the train too crowded to find a seat and to hold onto the pole, so Eddie held you by your waist to keep you steady. You felt his lips on the back of your neck every so often, his way of reminding you that he was there amidst the chaos. 

He trusted you, and he trusted you to trust him. 

It had come innately, the way you had divulged your secret to him. Yes, he had grabbed your book and questioned your alleged hospitality studies, but you could have shut him out. Put up a wall and told him to mind his business or hit the road. 

But you didn’t. And neither had he, choosing to divulge his saddest memories to you. Had given you a friendship and then something more. His presence was something you awaited at the start of every shift, the shared conversations now far more welcome than the quiet you once craved.

He always arrived at the desk by ten o’clock, sometimes getting there before you did. You’d find him making Mom laugh or listening to one of her many stories about the plethora of bizarre guests who stayed at the motel over the years. Mom liked him–you knew she did. All you needed to do was pivot her mindset in the right direction.

So tonight, when 10:25 rolled around and Eddie was nowhere to be found, your first instinct was to knock on his door and make sure he was all right. As soon as the thought popped into your head, you dismissed it as ridiculous. He was probably tired from schlepping through Manhattan and fell asleep. He’d probably planned to take a quick nap and promptly slept through his alarm, though you didn’t hear his clock radio bleating through the paper-thin walls.

Maybe this was a sign that you shouldn’t tell him about Death’s Echo and their troubled lead singer. You’d already kept quiet about the televised arrest that you watched at the bar; what was one more secret?

But that would sabotage your plan to pander to your parents with sympathy. You couldn’t exactly take the poor Eddie route without him knowing. Maybe you could–

Eddie’s door opened, yanking your attention from your running thoughts. Your heart beat double-time. This was it. You were going to tell him about Caleb Dalton’s rehab stint, tell him everything you knew.

But the voice you heard coming from his room wasn’t his. In fact, it wasn’t even a man’s.

“Promise me you’ll think about it?” A woman asked, a slight whine in her tone.

“Y-Yeah.” Though you couldn’t see him, you could tell from his hesitation that he wasn’t completely enthused about whatever he was supposed to be thinking about. “I promise.”

A soft mwah had you seeing red. It sounded like she’d only kissed his cheek, but maybe you were only fooling yourself. If she’d kissed his lips, those same lips that you’d been kissing earlier today…

“You’re the best, babe.” Jealousy raged in your core as she spoke, and you fought to keep it from exploding throughout your body. “We’ll get you out of this shithole in no time.” She punctuated her insult with a giggle. “Call me when you have your answer.”

“Mhm. Yeah.” And then his door closed.

Who was this woman? What was she doing here? Why didn’t Mom tell you that Eddie had brought someone to his room?

You got one answer once the mystery woman walked through the lobby, not even acknowledging your existence. She wasn’t wearing the heavy makeup that you’d seen in her photo, but there was no mistaking the owner of that blonde pixie cut, heart-shaped face, and piercing blue eyes.

They belonged to none other than Death Echo’s drummer.

Who also happened to be Eddie’s ex-girlfriend. 

--

taglist:

@theintimatewriter @mandyjo8719 @storiesbyrhi @lady-munson @moonmark98

@squidscottjeans @therealbaberuthless @emxxblog @munson-mjstan @loves0phelia

@kthomps914 @aysheashea @munsonsbtch @mmunson86 @b-irock

@ginasellsbooks @erinekc @the-unforgivenn @dashingdeb16 @micheledawn1975

@yujyujj @eddies-acousticguitar @daisy-munson @kellsck @foreveranexpatsposts

@mykuup @chatteringfox @feelinglikeineedlotsofnaps @sapphire4082 @katethetank

@sidthedollface2 @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @mysteris-things @mrsjellymunson @josephquinnsfreckles

@the-disaster-in-waiting @eddielowe @hugdealer @rip-quizilla @munson-girl

@fishwithtitz @costellation-hunter @cloudroomblog @emsgoodthinkin

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

hey i’m the one who requested grumpy x sunshine (tbh i forgot i requested til now) - what i mean by that is kurt is like super moody whilst blaine is like a happy puppy all the time or vise versa. thanks!

Hi - I've tried to get you some fluffy fics, where Blaine is mostly happy and Kurt moody/distracted, hope these fit the ask!! if fandom want to choose anymore - please do. ~Jen

Home away from Home by @lilyvandersteen

Cooper buys a hotel sight unseen and asks Blaine to run it for him over the summer. Only, the hotel is a health and safety hazard and Inspectors Hummel and Abrams are hell-bent on closing it down. Can Blaine spruce the hotel up in time and save Cooper's investment?

~~~~~

Feel my heart's intention By @kurtsascot

Blaine started to hate Kurt on his first day. And it was a shame, really, because they could have been cute together. 

~~~~~

Sabotage by @chasingkerouacwrites

The NYADA Adam’s Apples know that the stiffest competition for Nationals this year will come from their very own neighbor, the NYU Vocal Effects. Kurt, a member of the Adam’s Apples, knows that the path to victory runs straight through Vocal Effects' newest musical weapon -- Blaine Anderson. Sure practice makes perfect, but sometimes a competition this important calls for a little… sabotage.

~~~~~

A Summer Story by KB.Ellen

When an injury forces Kurt to take the summer off from his dream job as a principal dancer with the NYC Ballet, he's anxious to recover and get back to life as he knows it. But can a tiny town in southern Arkansas, a joyful aunt, a town full of good-hearted people and an intriguing local handyman make Kurt reassess what his dreams actually are? Welcome to Cassville.

[porcelainmortal]

WIP Wednesday

Okay so I missed my Sunday tags because I was in NYC all day (YES I'm aware Nick may have been there at the same time asjkfjddfsjkd). But I am here today! So thank you for the tags @firenati0n @iboatedhere @bitbybitwrites and @myheartalivewrites!!

Here is a snippet from my Handyman!Alex series part four:

Alex emerges from the bathroom and when Henry looks up, his entire mouth goes dry. Alex has on his toolbelt, alright. His toolbelt and his work boots and nothing else. “Alright, I’m ready to get started. I know you need me to hang those last few pieces for the gallery wall in the hallway, and then there is the leaky faucet in the guest bathroom. But I know there are a few other things, if you could just remind me?” Henry gapes at him like a dumbstruck fish.  “Surely, it’s not safe to construct in the nude,” is what comes out of his mouth. “I’m not nude,” Alex scoffs, twisting his torso to show Henry his arse. Which is when Henry sees that he is wearing a sinfully tight pair of black briefs. They must be at least a size too small, perhaps two. Henry nearly chokes on his tongue. “That wouldn’t be safe, now would it, baby? Safety first.” And with that, he pulls a pair of safety goggles out of his toolbelt and pops them on his face. Only they’re not regular safety goggles, they look like fashion goggles, almost like glasses. Henry can’t breathe. “You alright there?” Alex considers him thoughtfully, then strides over to plant a kiss on Henry’s cheek. “Close your mouth before a bug flies in,” he whispers. He turns and walks out of the room, but Henry would swear that it’s not his normal walk. Alex doesn’t swing his hips that much normally, Henry’s almost certain of it. 

Tagging back everyone who tagged me on Sunday, plus @rmd-writes @cricketnationrise @clottedcreamfudge @theprinceandagcd @inexplicablymine and an open tag for whoever wants it!

[stupittmoran]

I saw this crap first hand

I worked as a handyman at an art school in Greenwich Village, NYC for 25 years.

One student complained about mice in the studio. She was covering a motorcycle with a mixture of glue and sugar. Mice like sugar lol

[fandomfluffandfuck]

*giggling, kicking my feet, twirling my hair* You're back to requests‼️‼️ anything evanstan 🥺 I feel like it's been so long 👉🏻👈🏻 maybe even fluff?

I am!

It's been too long--I'm excited about it, but at the same time, I'm like, oh no, what if I've lost the ability? Let's be real, though, every idea I write ends up running away from me, so I'll be fine 💀💀

Maybe it's the fact that I spent a few hours washing my car after my final exam was done, maybe it's completely unrelated, who's to say, but earlier I was actually thinking about something softer and sweeter with Chris and Sebastian, so here you are!

I don't doubt Sebastian's ability to be a grown man and function for himself at all. However, I do have the sneaking suspicion that his life experience hasn't led to him being a stereotypical "handyman" with tasks around the house. Having moved around quite a bit and now living in NYC, he doesn't strike me as someone who would just pull out the tools and fix that leak in the faucet or kill a few hours on a Sunday sanding down and repainting his kitchen cabinets. It's completely possible that his Mom or his step-father taught him how to do those things, but even so, Sebastian doesn't strike me as the type of person who would enjoy those tasks.

However, you know who does strike me as that kind of person?

Chris.

All the way, absolutely, Chris gives off those casual repair, handyman, DIY vibes.

The first time Sebastian agrees to spend a few interrupted months with Chris in his house up in Boston, it's in the leaning months, spring to summer. The weather is warming, nature shaking off the frost and unfurling new soft, green leaves, gently budding into new beginnings. New York City is always changing and always exciting. Boston, the few glimpses he's had of it--which haven't been much - just a few long weekends that were mostly consumed by Chris, too busy to pay too much attention, alone and taking advantage of it, wrapped around each other--is much slower. Boston has more stillness, especially Chris' corner of the city. Sebastian understands why Chris couldn't leave--even if he himself needs times of rushing traffic and restless feet and always-illuminated neon, he gets it.

Contrary to all that stillness and peace, Sebastian is finding that the air between spring and summer is electric. Filled with change and anticipation. And Chris is, as well, moving and vibrating, ready to embrace the sunshine and humid, breathy wind.

In the hustle, Sebastian finds that the more time extends, the longer he's been at home with Chris, the more they can spend time apart. In regular routine, the first few days, they're attached at the hip and mostly, confessionally, naked. But, once they have their appetites wetted--not satisfied, never satisfied--and their bodies know the other isn't going to disappear back into the cloud of new work and new sets and new scripts and ever changing timezones apart... they can unfuze. A little bit.

Chris will read while Sebastian will scroll on his phone; Chris will scroll while Seb catches up on that TV show he's been meaning to start; Sebastian will figure out what they're going to eat tonight, consulting Dodger, who, of course, cannot talk back, while Chris hops in the shower real quick; Chris will stay up an extra hour to answer that email that's been gnawing at his brain all day aa Sebastian retires to bed. It's so good to be around each other for so long that they can relax.

Somewhere in the relaxation, not needing to be constantly in each other's presence, Chris starts leaving Sebastian to his own devices in the house while he goes outside. And here, here is where Sebastian discovers what a moving, exciting, living, breathing handyman Chris is. His own city. Bustling and busy, welcoming summer in, ushering spring [politely] out. Good manners for a good Boston boy. He knows what to expect. He's been here his whole life, and his heart beats in time with the rhythm of this sliver of the world.

He works around the house, making sure the sprinklers are good to go into the drier part of the season, coming inside for a kiss on the sun-warmed cheek, grass stains on his dirty jeans. He does a brief check over the pool and all the systems that go with it, more pipes and filters and everything. Sebastian rides shotgun because he has nothing better to do anyway, when Chris realizes he needs to go into town to get a few more bottles of algae clarifying chemicals to dump in the water before it's good to swim. From his place in the passenger seat, Sebastian keeps a hand on Chris' thigh, focusing on the way he feels under his palm. His blue jeans are thick, not torn, but soft from so much wear and work. Beneath the denim, Chris' muscles are ever-present, strong and thick, too, just like the clothes he slid into this morning, but it's especially prominent in Sebastian's mind now. That strength. Built for looks on the silver screen initially, gym-honed, but all the better for everyday, relaxed, domestic life. Chris doesn't bat an eye before throwing himself into labor. Muscles bulge and work and support him--he looks good no matter what he's doing. Digging through dirt, fucking with the sprinklers, hefting up bottles of cleaner, twisting off screws, and scrubbing down his car when they get back from the store. His forearms and biceps flex effortlessly as he articulates the sudsy sponge squeezed between his thick fingers--it looks strikingly small in his big, squared hands.

Chris washes his car with Dodger trailing him, right at his heel as if herding him. Later, Dodger spooks hilariously when the hose moves on its own--a snake!--Chris around the corner, tugging it to reach the back of his ride. Then, barking accusatorily yet wagging his fanned, fluffy tail, ready to play, when Chris sprays him with a jet of water. He growls in good fun when Chris stops, deciding that the only way to get his attention back is to try and bite and eat the stream of water coming from the hose, jumping in front of it while Chris belly-laughs, accusing him of being a goof.

Later, Chris finds a window screen with a rip in it, some stray cat--curious raccoon, or unfortunately placed tree branch in a windstorm--so he takes it out and replaces it with a new one.

Meanwhile, Sebastian shamelessly watches him work as he replaces that screen and all the other work he's done as the seasons change through the large, picture windows.

Embarrassingly enough, Sebastian actually ends up cleaning the inside of Chris' Boston home windows for him, just to make sure he has the best view possible of his boyfriend. No pesky smears to get in the way of the teasing slice of pale, freckled, hairy, and well-toned stomach. His tummy exposed between the band of his work jeans, cinched around his trim waist by that beloved, well-worn red belt, and the bottom hem of some old t-shirt, reaching up. (When he bends down, it's the same story, save for it being the small of his back and those indecent Venus Dimples being exposed to the warm light of day, framing his pretty flexing spine).

Sebastian can't take his eyes off of him.

Somehow, though, peering out at him makes Sebastian feel like a peeping Tom. A peeping Tom in reverse, perhaps? Staring out rather than in? Yet, he doesn't feel guilty enough to stop. Not by a long shot.

So, he is treated to an eyeful daily with how Chris keeps himself busy, compling odds and ends around the house. Not every day. He doesn't leave Sebastian lonely in his home by working outside and taking care of his home everyday, not that Seb could be lonely when he has a spectacular view to occupy him, but he does what he needs to do. It's responsible. It's domestic.

Sebastian hasn't really ever led this life, lounging within a suburban home, comfortable and air conditioned, while a man outside in torn-up, stained work clothes that stick to his sweaty skin takes care of business, keeping everything in tip-top shape, but he's rapidly acclimating to it. It's a bizarre feeling. It's almost laughable. He might laugh, just a little, shaking his head and chuckling to himself, when he's hit with an overwhelming wave of love, oddly, right as he rounds a corner at the front of Chris' house just in time to perfectly catch Chris framed through the window, kneeling in the driveway, adding air to his summer tires.

Sebastian is so in love.

He's in love with Chris when he's anxious and out-of-his-mind with stress in the middle of a press tour for a movie he isn't actually allowed to talk about, he's in love with Chris when he's lazy and pouting about being made to roll out of bed before 10:00 am, and he's in love with Chris when he's pleasantly busy, whistling to himself, his footsteps in and out of the house echoed by Dodg. He's so in love with him all the time. And that doesn't change, not for a moment, when Chris tweaks the wrench too far as he's attempting to remedy that troublesome kitchen sink drip and ends up sending water spraying like a fire hydrant into the ceiling. In fact, the look on his face right after? Sebastian might be more in love. If possible. That boyish, uh-oh, caught red-handed, expression is unfairly endearing. It makes his heart squeeze so tight that his chest starts to ache in a funny way.

God, Sebastian loves all of him.

I hope you enjoyed! Nice job on being the first person to hit me up with a request this year 😘

[wesleyfms]

[ kingsley ben-adir, cis man, he/him ] — spotted in the streets of brooklyn, it’s WESLEY CARTER. they have lived in the city for FIFTEEN YEARS, working as a CONSTRUCTION SITE SUPERVISOR/ELECTRICIAN. the 38 year old will probably be seen around PARK SLOPE a lot, seeing as that’s where they live. people say they can be a bit DISTANT and RESERVED, but friends know them to be TENACIOUS and DEPENDABLE. you know for sure you’ve found them when you’ve come across A CRACKED PHONE SCREEN, FALLING ASLEEP DURING A MOVIE, AND DOG-EARED PAGES. welcome to brooklyn, it’s been waiting for you! — [ penny, 25, gmt, she/her, none ]

fullname: wesley isaiah carter. nickname(s): wes ( more common, preferred ), lee. age:  thirty-eight. birthday: september 20th. gender / pronouns:  cis man ,  he / him. orientation:  bisexual / biromantic. languages: english, spanish & asl. place of birth: chicago, illinois. current residence: park slope, brooklyn. height: 6'0. personality: practical, loyal, stubborn, independent.

oldest of four kids ( two sisters, one brother ), born and raised in chicago. his mom was a carer in a nursing home and his dad a taxi driver, they both worked long and often irregular hours so the kids were left to their own devices a lot. in many ways, wesley raised his siblings and had little time to be a kid himself.

was academically capable, but didn't apply himself -- said every teacher ever. he liked the humanities best, especially history, but also shop classes. with that latter interest in mind, he started working with a neighbour at construction sites in his mid-teens to earn extra money for the household & himself but also to get a head start on a career.

secretly applied to college where he was going to major in history, but ended up not going as his dad started losing his hearing and was diagnosed with otosclerosis. so, carried on in construction and started an apprenticeship as an electrician in the hopes of making a bit more money than as a labourer.

wanting to get out of chicago and having saved enough money as a qualified electrician, wesley moved to brooklyn. there, he set up his own business as an electrician ( and more general handyman ) alongside working bigger commercial and residential sites.

at 33, some of the folks he worked with most often suggested he look into becoming a site supervisor -- he was good at managing people, supportive and encouraging and more than capable, so after some cajoling he agreed to look into it and completed his certification at 35.

has thus been juggling his own business, other work and site supervising since then, though the latter has mostly taken priority for practicality's sake.

headcanons

has a tabby cat called sparky, a stray taken home from a site wes was working at. he didn't name him, his coworkers did.

learnt spanish from the neighbours ( the same neighbour he worked with ) he grew up with and asl when his dad first lost his hearing -- roped the whole family into it.

kind of always knew he was bisexual but didn't start dating men until his twenties.

( smoking tw ) runs primarily on black coffee ( either sickly sweet or no sugar, no in between ) and cigarettes. it's a terrible habit he's been trying to kick since he started, but no such luck yet.

if he's supervising a site, he is in charge of music -- very in to soul and 60's-80's stuff, but he will be kind enough to take requests.

sweet, soft, shy. he can come across as a little gruff/serious but it's very much in a mr. darcy awkward way and not a 'i don't want to talk to you' way. he does want to talk! you just gotta let him warm up a lil first.

loves helping people, and now that he has a stable career definitely just straight up does work for people for free -- especially if they need it. he may be an electrician by trade but he can turn his mind/hands to pretty much anything. your go to handyman and happy to be so, literally whenever. call him at 3am he'll be there asap.

wanted connections.

neighbours, first nyc friend, best friend, close friends, friends with feelings, people he has worked for/been hired by, people he's just helped out with handyman stuff, unrequited / mutual crushes, drinking buddies, first dates, coworkers, flings ( past & present ), cousins, someone he can still play big brother too, exes ( good / bad terms ), one night stands, confidant, sibling-like friendships, someone who encourages him to socialise & get out of his comfort zone more. literally everything pls !

[pcrasitic]

̲̲ raul castillo, cis man + he/him ] ⠀★ , no way, haven’t you ever heard of CASTEL VELÁZQUEZ? perhaps you know them best as EL GUASON. spotted under new york's city lights, i’ve heard they’re a/an HANDYMAN & CAPO that’s protected by THE GUTIERREZ, spilled blood for loyalty is thicker than water. the rumour goes that the FORTY SIX is known to be possessive and testy, yet fearless and protective . it’s WRATH that’s their biggest vice, but hey, what do i fuckin’ know? their favourite song on the job is DEVILS PLAYGROUND by THE RIGS and are never seen without HIS MOTHER’S ROSARY, hard to believe in superstition in such a godless city. ask the right people and they’ll tell you that they remind them of: A TATTOO OF YOUR MISTRESS’ LIPS , FINGERS CALLOUSED FROM WORKING THEM TO THE BONE , A GREASY HAND-WRENCH , THE ART OF MAKING ENEMIES WHEREVER YOU GO . so whatever you do, and may vengeance have mercy on you, do not fuck with them.

BASICS

full name     ━    castel velázquez

age       ━  46

date of birth   ━    november 9th

place of birth ━  reynosa, mexico

zodiac  ━   scorpio sun, sagittarius moon, taurus rising

orientation  ━    bisexual

relationship status  ━  married

face claim  ━   raúl castillo 

height  ━  5′9″

hair color  ━  black

eye color  ━ brown

tattoos  ━ too many to mention. notably a woman's name on his neck

siblings  ━  two younger sisters

TIDBITS ( death mention , illegal immigration mention tw )

born and raised in reynosa , mexico . a particularly bad part of mexico known for gang violence . his father shot and killed when castel was only 11 . he quickly became the man of the house , taking care of his mom and two little sisters . 

shortly following the death of his father, the family illegally relocated to the US - his mother getting a job at a hotel chain in texas thanks to a friend who had moved to corpus christi just a few years earlier .

the move to the US didn’t bring with it what his mother had hoped . castel was used to a life in the streets , and found himself in the same sort of trouble as he did back home . 

basically lived in corpus christi from the age of 13 until a handful of years ago , when he up and moved to nyc following behind his best friend

did a prison stint for about 4 years in his late twenties , but was released early due to an overcrowding issue .

he’s not rly a bad guy ?? just hella protective and will do whatever it takes for the people he loves . he often goes about it in all the wrong ways

bad luck magnet , fiercely loyal , extra large dumbass , grumpy old man

doesn't have a habit of starting fights per se , but definitely has a the need to finish them ( them as in any and all )

BIOGRAPHY

tbd .

WANTED CONNECTIONS

the friend they followed to NYC . ideally someone in the gutierrez clan but could be juicy to have his bff be affiliated elsewhere ??!!

a secret / unknown child !!! open to adjusting castle's timeline so any muse late 20's , early 30's who is at least half mexican could work for this

his wife ( juicy wc coming @ u in the near future )

more tba .

[3liza]

yeah you really need to calibrate your own overton window before engaging with that kind of data. a "living wage" in Seattle for one person with no dependents who can work full time is around $30/hr or 60-70k/year. (EDIT: this page says the living wage in WA is 90k. I don't know which one of these numbers is more accurate but I tend to believe the higher one.) anything less than that you'll be struggling, and anything more than that can be wiped out with a long illness, significant medical bill, car accident, etc. anyone who cant work full time would need a higher hourly just to keep up. minimum wage here is $16/hr which is not even remotely enough. the actual purchasing power of 70k/year in Seattle or NYC or much of California is dog shit because of all these factors

I'm not defending the people who were complaining about struggling with 200k and no kids, that seems delusional in any location unless they had some sort of medical or survival expense they didn't mention

child care alone in Seattle costs over $15,000 per year per child, which is another expense the average Tumblr user wouldn't have experience with, so anyone who voted their parents over 100k also wasn't able to include in the results if their parents still have minor children at home that are being fed, clothed, supervised, doctored and schooled. in Seattle, with 2 children, a single parent has to make $131,000 before taxes before they are considered to be making a "living wage".

one thing my mom did for me as a kid was take me with her on errands and then TELL ME how much things cost. how many hundreds of dollars a weekly grocery trip for a family cost. how much a dinner cost when we added up all the ingredients we bought, then talk about how many people we fed with that dinner and then next time we got fast food we would do the same calculations. and then do them again when eating prepared or prepackaged food. and then do them again on the rare occasions we traveled anywhere.

everything is expensive. everything is more expensive when you don't cook or mend or do basic handyman work yourself. I'm not "good with money" by any means but just knowing what things cost is pretty unusual and you have to actually go find that information on purpose because it's obscured intentionally by capitalism

I looked up the serialunaliver income polls that everyone was vaguing last week out of morbid curiosity. The main one asked how much money your highest-earning parent makes annually in USD, and slightly more than 1/4 of responses were in the 95k+ range, which is not surprising given that about 1/4 of employed US adults in the 45-65 age range make that much. But the notes were full of people to whom 95k annual income was unimaginable wealth, and they were amazed at that distribution.

People like to hear about rich people being oblivious to their wealth and privilege, and there definitely are cases of that, but maybe the other end of the wealth spectrum tends to be more of a bubble? If only because a lot of people are only in the 95k+ bracket due to living in a HCOL area, so they can easily tell that travel and housing and such are a lot cheaper elsewhere, but people in LCOL areas might not have more than a vague sense of HCOL costs and payscales.

[rexonehandyman]

Rex One Handyman NYC | Moving Expert

Plan your move with confidence and leave the rest to us.

Careful Handling

Timely Delivery

Packing Assistance

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

hello! do you know if kb.ellen posts their fic on other websites? my browser can't access Ff.net now for some reason, and i really want to reread a summer story. any help would be much appreciated thx 💕

A Summer Story by Kb.Ellen [PDF] [EPUB]

When an injury forces Kurt to take the summer off from his dream job as a principal dancer with the NYC Ballet, he’s anxious to recover and get back to life as he knows it. But can a tiny town in southern Arkansas, a joyful aunt, a town full of good-hearted people and an intriguing local handyman make Kurt reassess what his dreams actually are? Welcome to Cassville. Rated M.

ENJOY!! ~Lynne

[edenconcretecontractorsny]

Sidewalk Repair Contractors: Tips for Finding the Best in Your Area

If you're a homeowner or property manager, keeping the sidewalks around your property in good condition is important not just for aesthetics, but for safety as well. When it comes time to repair or replace your sidewalks, finding the right contractor can make all the difference. In this article, we'll provide tips on how to find the best sidewalk repair contractors in your area.

Why You Need a Professional Sidewalk Repair Contractor

Many people assume that repairing or replacing a sidewalk is a simple job that can be done by any handyman. However, there are several reasons why it's important to hire a professional contractor for this task:

Safety: Sidewalk repair involves working with heavy materials and equipment, which can be dangerous for inexperienced individuals. A professional contractor will have the necessary safety training and equipment to minimize the risk of accidents.

Compliance: Many cities and municipalities have specific regulations regarding sidewalk repair. A professional contractor will be familiar with these regulations and ensure that your repairs are compliant.

Quality: A professional contractor will have the experience and expertise to ensure that your sidewalk repairs are of the highest quality and will last for years to come.

Tips for Finding the Best Sidewalk Repair Contractors

Now that you understand the importance of hiring a professional contractor for your sidewalk repairs, let's look at some tips for finding the best contractor in your area:

1. Look for Local Contractors

When searching for a sidewalk contractor NYC, it's important to look for local companies. Local contractors will be familiar with the specific regulations and weather conditions in your area, and will be able to provide a more personalized service.

2. Check for Licenses and Insurance

Before hiring a contractor, make sure they have the necessary licenses and insurance. A licensed contractor will have passed exams and met specific requirements in order to operate legally in your area. Insurance is also important in case of accidents or damage to your property.

3. Read Reviews and Check References

One of the best ways to find a reputable contractor is by reading reviews and checking references. Look for contractors with positive reviews and testimonials from previous clients.

4. Get Multiple Quotes

When getting quotes from contractors, make sure to get at least three different quotes. This will give you a better idea of the average cost for your repairs, and will help you avoid overpriced contractors.

5. Ask About Experience and Guarantees

When interviewing potential contractors, ask about their experience with sidewalk repair and if they offer any guarantees on their work. A reputable contractor will be happy to answer your questions and provide you with references and examples of their work.

6. Consider Communication and Customer Service

When working with a contractor, communication and customer service are important factors to consider. Look for a contractor who is responsive to your questions and concerns, and who provides clear and detailed explanations of their work.

Conclusion

Finding the right sidewalk repair contractor can be a daunting task, but by following these tips you can ensure that you hire a professional and reputable contractor who will provide you with high-quality and compliant repairs. Remember to look for local contractors, check for licenses and insurance, read reviews and check references, get multiple quotes, ask about experience and guarantees, and consider communication and customer service

[ntlofnyc]

NTL of NYC

Website : https://ntlofnyc.com

Address : 3811 Ditmars Blvd, Queens, NY 11105

Phone : +1 917-475-0101

NTL of NYC is a leading provider of digital marketing solutions for local businesses all over the United States . We specialize in helping businesses establish a strong online presence, from e-commerce and landing page design to lead generation and online advertising. Our team of experienced professionals works closely with clients to understand their unique needs and goals, and to develop tailored strategies that help them achieve their business objectives.

In addition to our digital marketing services, we also focus on helping service industries such as local moving companies, garage door repair, plumbing, cleaning services, handyman, and many others to generate more leads and grow their businesses. Our services include website design and development, search engine optimization (SEO), social media marketing, pay-per-click (PPC) advertising, and more.

At NTL of NYC, we are committed to delivering exceptional results and providing our clients with the tools and resources they need to succeed in today's competitive online marketplace. Contact us today to learn more about how we can help your business thrive online.

[preciouslandmermaid]

didn’t live in nyc but the person managing my apartment was from nyc (it was like a guy who managed lots of different apartments but wasn’t the landlord technically because he didn’t own the house and was hired by the owner). ANYWAY.

at one point the handyman literally LIVED in the building and he’d still ghost/not show up/or straight up lie to the manager & say he fixed something or came to the apartment when he didn’t.

idk if it's a nyc problem or just the kind of people my landlord hires but i have never had a handyman show up on time, ever, if they show up at all. they might come if i harass them with enough phone calls and text messages