Essential Guide to Dumpster Rental Near Me: Tips and Options
Renting a dumpster can be a crucial decision when tackling projects that generate a significant amount of waste, such as home renovations, landscaping, or major cleanouts. If you're located in Bronx, NY, understanding the ins and outs of dumpster rental is essential to ensure your project runs smoothly and efficiently. This guide covers everything you need to know about dumpster rental in Bronx, NY, along with valuable tips and options to consider.
Why Rent a Dumpster in Bronx, NY?
Renting garbage dumpster in Bronx, NY, offers numerous benefits that can simplify your project and waste management:
Convenience: Having a dumpster on-site provides a centralized location for disposing of all types of debris, saving you time and effort compared to multiple trips to the landfill.
Efficiency: It helps keep your workspace organized and minimizes safety risks associated with debris scattered around.
Cost-Effectiveness: Renting a dumpster can often be more economical than alternative disposal methods, especially for larger volumes of waste.
Key Considerations for Dumpster Rental
When planning to rent a dumpster in Bronx, NY, there are several important factors to consider:
Size of Dumpster: Choosing the right dumpster size is crucial. Common sizes include:
10-Yard Dumpster: Ideal for small projects like garage cleanouts or small-scale renovations.
20-Yard Dumpster: Suitable for larger residential projects or moderate-sized construction jobs.
30-Yard Dumpster: Best for major renovations, large cleanouts, or commercial projects.
Selecting the appropriate size ensures you have enough capacity for your waste without overpaying for unused space.
Local Regulations: Check local regulations in Bronx, NY, regarding dumpster placement, permits, and acceptable materials for disposal. Some areas may require permits if placing a dumpster on public property or streets.
Budget and Pricing: Compare prices from multiple dumpster rental companies in Bronx, NY, to find competitive rates. Be aware of any additional fees for exceeding weight limits, extending rental periods, or special disposal requirements.
Delivery and Pickup: Coordinate delivery and pickup times that align with your project schedule. Ensure the rental company can access the delivery location easily and safely.
Steps to Renting a Dumpster in Bronx, NY
Follow these steps to ensure a smooth dumpster rental experience:
Research Local Providers: Use online resources, reviews, and referrals to identify reputable dumpster rental bronx ny, that offer services matching your project needs.
Request Quotes: Contact several companies to obtain quotes based on the size of dumpster required and the duration of rental. Specify your location as "Bronx, NY" to ensure accurate pricing and availability.
Review Terms and Conditions: Read the rental agreement carefully, including terms of service, pricing details, pickup policies, and any restrictions on acceptable materials.
Prepare for Delivery: Clear the designated area for dumpster placement, ensuring it's free of obstacles and accessible for the delivery truck. If placing the dumpster on public property, secure any necessary permits beforehand.
Fill the Dumpster Efficiently: Load the dumpster evenly and avoid overfilling to prevent safety hazards during pickup. Follow guidelines provided by the rental company regarding weight limits and prohibited items.
Schedule Pickup: Arrange for timely dumpster pickup once your project is complete or when the dumpster reaches capacity. Confirm with the rental company how waste disposal will be handled and any recycling efforts they may undertake.
Tips for Successful Dumpster Rental in Bronx, NY
Plan Ahead: Determine your project timeline and estimate the amount of waste you'll generate to select the appropriate dumpster size.
Follow Regulations: Adhere to local regulations regarding dumpster placement, permits, and waste disposal to avoid fines or delays.
Maximize Efficiency: Dispose of waste efficiently by sorting recyclables and reusable materials separately from general trash.
Safety First: Ensure the area around the dumpster is clear and safe for loading and unloading. Use caution when disposing of heavy or hazardous materials.
Conclusion
Renting a dumpster in Bronx, NY, provides a practical solution for managing waste during various projects, from residential renovations to commercial construction jobs. By understanding your options, planning effectively, and working with a reputable dumpster rental company, you can streamline your project cleanup and disposal process with confidence. Whether you're a homeowner, contractor, or business owner in Bronx, NY, the right dumpster rental service ensures your project stays on track and within budget. Start your search today to find the perfect dumpster rental solution for your next endeavor.
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hello hello!!! here's the first 2 chapters of my next big fic as a little teaser for what's to come! the entire fic will be posted on the 24th on ao3, but for now-- enjoy this!
men and minors dni
You’re fucking starving. You haven’t eaten in a day and a half. It’s not the longest you’ve gone without food, but that doesn’t make the growling in your stomach any more comfortable. You’ve been collecting glass bottles all day, slowly filling up the potato sack hanging over your shoulder. Each bottle is worth a copper piece at the recycling plant-- but a full sack is worth ten gold. With that kind of money you could rent a room for the night, sleep in a fucking bed for once.
You sigh as you haul yourself out of the dumpster you were scouring, hitching your half-full potato sack further up on your shoulder. Your stomach growls loudly as you amble your way out of the dingy alleyway and onto the main road. It’s a shockingly pleasant day in the Undercity, a warm breeze tickling your face as you navigate the busy streets.
People give you a wide berth nowadays-- at least wider than it used to be. You’re not an unusual site in Zaun, though it is strange for a street dweller like yourself to have clear eyes. You haven’t given into the shimmer craze… at least not yet. You aren’t sure if your resolve will hold come winter. Shimmer keeps the body warm. Warm and dazed.
You shake your head to clear the thoughts of the neon substance, determined to ignore its existence until absolutely necessary. You’ve seen too many people get hooked on it. You’ve seen too many people die from it. You won’t let yourself become one of them, things aren’t that bad… yet.
You turn down an alleyway, trudging toward an overflowing dumpster. Shrouded in shadows, you can barely make out the figure of an old woman slumped against the wall beside the dumpster. She mumbles incoherently at you, her hand littered with purple blisters and scars.
“Evening ma’am,” you say as you launch yourself over the lip of the dumpster. She mumbles back. “I won’t bother you for long. Just looking for glass. You seen any? You know they give you ten gold for a full sack?” You ask as you slice through garbage bags with your pocket knife. The woman slumps to sleep with a grunt. You sigh. “I guess it’s not that interesting is it?” You whisper to yourself as you inspect the contents of the garbage bags. Nothing. Shit. Your stomach growls and you eye a loaf of moldy bread in the corner of the dumpster.
You really shouldn’t. Last time you ate moldy food you were vomiting and shitting yourself for three days, which is unpleasant to begin with, but even more so when you don’t have access to a bathroom. But you’re fucking starving.
Your mouth salivates as you pick up the loaf, inspecting it closely. The mold’s grown its own fuzz, little green hairs waving at you as the wind blows. You really shouldn’t.
You tear the loaf in half. The inside isn’t moldy… yet. Maybe you could pick out the good stuff. You start to rip through the loaf, looking for a salvageable bite. The woman outside the dumpster lets out a snore. Your stomach lets out another growl. You sigh, bringing the bread to your mouth.
“Here goes nothing.” You whisper.
“Shit!” A high pitched voice rings out. You jump, the bread flying out of your hands as you whip around in the dumpster. Crouching down near the mouth of the alleyway is a little kid with a choppy haircut. She smacks her head repeatedly. “Stupid, stupid, stupid!” She mutters. You climb out of the dumpster, slowly approaching the kid.
“Uh.” You say. The girl’s eyes snap up to yours, and she cowers against the wall. “You okay?” You ask. Her eyes are sparkling with tears, snot trailing out of her nose.
“I fucked up.” She whispers to you. You blink. You don’t think you’ve ever heard a kid this small curse like that.
“Watch your language?” You say uncertainty. She blinks at you, a tear slowly falling down her cheek. “C’mon it can’t be that bad.” You say. “What’d you do, shoplift?” You ask. You remember being a kid her age and getting chased out of convenience stores with your friends, pockets stuffed with candy, laughing all the way home. The little girl blinks again. “It’s cool, you can just give the shit back. Play up the misguided kid act, give ‘em puppy eyes, they’ll let you off the hook.” You say. She sniffs up at you.
“I didn’t shoplift. I--”
Across the street, a corner store bursts into flames. You pull the kid in your arms as the shockwave from the explosion knocks you both on your asses. You groan, pulling away from the girl as alarms begin to blare and people begin to panic.
“I did that.” She finishes. You chuckle as you stand up and dust yourself off.
“Come on, where’re your parents? They’re probably worried about you now.” You offer the kid a hand, and she takes it, shakily standing.
“You don’t believe me?” She asks, wiping her snotty face with the back of her hand.
“That you didn’t steal? Nah, I believe you. You just gotta make sure the owner believes you.” You say. “Shit, was that Elijah’s?” You ask, peeking around the wall of the alley to watch as patrons come running out of the front door, smoke billowing out after them. The front window’s been blown out, flames growing inside the tavern. “Always hated that fucker. Serves him right. Wonder who he pissed off this time.” You mumble.
“Me.” The girl says. You chuckle.
“Yeah?”
“Well, he wouldn’t give me any fizzy juice and I know he had some. Then he called me a rat and told me to scram. So I snuck in and rigged the joint to blow. Only problem is… I set the timer on the bomb to a minute instead of an hour.” She says with a shrug, scratching her blue hair. You blink. “Plus, the old man I’m living with was talking about Elijah a few weeks ago. Said he was competition or something. So yaknow. Two birds, one bomb.” She rambles. You blink again. Across the street, a man screams as his shirt catches on fire. People swarm him, trying to pat out the flames. You blink for a third time.
“How old are you?” You choke out, eyes snapping back to the kid in front of you.
“Nine and three quarters! Almost double digits.” She says with a proud smile.
“Uhm.” You say, trying to figure out how to handle the situation. God, you haven’t talked to a kid in years. “Aren’t you a little young to be… blowing shit up?” You ask. The girl huffs a put upon sigh.
“That’s what everyone says.”
“Hey!” An angry voice rings out. Both of your heads snap to the street where Elijah stands, silhouetted by the flames consuming his bar.
“Shit.” The kid whispers. You gulp.
“Hey you! Grab that fuckin’ kid!” Elijah says, pointing at you. You freeze. The kid beside you freezes as well. “I’m gonna kill you, you little shit!” He says as he tears across the street toward the two of you. Fuck.
“Fuck!” The girl shrieks, tugging on your hand, trying to get you to run. You blink. Elijah is suddenly towering over you, nostrils flared, brow dirtied with soot. The kid cowers behind you.
“I recognize you, you filthy bitch. You’re the one always crawling through my dumpsters. Step aside and I won’t kill you too.” He growls.
“Get fucked.” You say. You try not to laugh at the way his face jumps in surprise. “What, you think a little kid blew up your place?” You ask, pushing the girl behind you. “She can’t even fuckin’ read!”
“Yes I can.” The girl mumbles under her breath.
“She’s been terrorizing my establishment for months!”
“She’s nine and a half!” You shout, puffing out your chest and standing up straight.
“Nine and three quarters.” She huffs behind you. You elbow her.
“You’re a grown man Elijah, and you wanna beat up a little girl? Go fuck yourself.” You say. Behind your back, you start shooing the kid away with your hand. She tugs on yours but you shake her off, pushing her further down the alley. Elijah’s staring you down, cracking his knuckles and settling into a fighting stance. You gulp. “Matter of fact, what makes you so sure it was her? Half of Zaun hates your guts. It coulda been anyone!” You hear the little footsteps of the kid as she scurries away, and luckily Elijah’s too focused on you to notice. “Coulda been me.” Elijah raises an eyebrow.
“You?” He scoffs.
“Yeah, jackass. You really pissed me off when you threw water on me last week. I’m not a fuckin’ animal, you know.” He laughs at this. “Matter of fact, it was me!” You say. You must be hysterical from the starvation, because you can’t seem to keep your mouth shut. “That’s right asshole, bet you didn’t think I knew anything about explosives, did ya?” You taunt.
“That’s enough outta you. Move.” He says, shoving you. You don’t budge.
“No.” You say. He growls.
“One more warning, whore.”
“Get. Fucked.”
The next thing you know, you’re flat on your back in the alleyway, murky water slowly seeping in your clothes as Elijah pummels into you. You take half a dozen punches to your face, your nose crunching, one of your teeth cracking. Then he moves onto stomping your ribs, hard enough for you to lose your breath, your ribs cracking under his boot. You fade in and out of consciousness a few times, but before he can well and truly kill you, he stops.
“Where the fuck did she go?!” He spits at you. You blink up at him, dazed. “Fuck.” He lands one more solid kick into your ribs before he tears down the alleyway in pursuit of the kid.
You turn on your side, trying to catch your breath, watching your blood slowly trickle into the puddle below you. You hope the girl got away. Your eyes catch on the woman sleeping beside the dumpster. She’s either dead, or she slept through the explosion and fight. You hope she’s just sleeping. Somewhere in the distance, the fire brigade arrives. The pain in your body flares dramatically and you groan, tears starting to roll down your cheeks. You curl in on yourself as the pain wracks through your body, and you cry yourself to sleep.
“Over here!”
You blink awake. For a fleeting moment, the only thing you feel is the heaviness of your eyelids and the cool wet concrete beneath you. Your eyes focus on the woman by the dumpster, in the same position she was before you passed out, her skin pale and ghostly. You suck a breath in. She’s dead. You sigh an exhale, and suddenly, the pain in your body comes rushing in. You feel like you’ve been run over by a stampede.
“Fuck!” You moan, curling in on yourself. You hitch your breath and cry out in pain at the stabbing sensation that flares up in your sides. There’s a pounding in your head, your vision goes blurry and you close your eyes, crying.
Footsteps approach you. You blink your eyes open, but your vision fuzzes before you can make out more than a pair of boots in front of you. Fuck. You’re gonna throw up.
“Move.” You warn. It’s the only thing you manage to spit out before you’re spewing bile. The person connected to the boots groans.
“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.” A woman’s voice growls out above you.
“Told you to move.” You groan. More footsteps. You try opening your eyes again. Several pairs of feet surround you now. Shit. “I don’t have any money.” You croak.
“You’re certain this is her?” A man’s voice asks.
“I’m nobody.” You insist, trying to sit up. The world spins beneath you and you collapse back on the pavement. You whimper. A hand grabs your shoulder. You flinch. “I said I don’t have any money!” You cry out.
“Shit, calm down.” The woman’s voice speaks again.
“Lemme see her face.” A squeaky voice sounds up. Your eyes snap open in shock. You know that voice. A boot covered in your vomit nudges you, and you flop on your back. Five people peer down at you. “It’s her!” The girl who blew up Elijah’s exclaims.
“What the fuck?” You say. Above you, a pale person with dramatic slanted bangs chuckles.
“That’s what I’m saying.” They mutter. The cloaked woman and tattooed wall of a muscular man beside them laugh.
“That’s enough.” The slender man looming over you snaps. They quiet immediately. He studies you intently. Half of his face is scarred, and his prosthetic black and orange eye bores into you. Beside him, the little girl is holding his hand. “Jinx here tells me you took a beating for her. Is that true?” He asks. Your eyes flick to the little girl. She nods at you, grinning.
“Um. Yes?” You say. It’s silent for a moment as the skinny man eyes you, then he snaps his fingers.
“Sevika.” He says, his eyes flickering over to the woman. “Get her.” He commands, turning on his heel, dragging the girl along with him. You blink. The giant tattooed man laughs and pats the woman’s shoulder as she scowls down at you. He and the pale person turn to follow behind the little girl and the skinny scarred man. The only person remaining in your visual field is the woman. She rolls her eyes.
Suddenly, you’re being lifted into her arms. You groan in pain as the woman jostles you. “Quit squirming.” She grunts as she begins walking behind her entourage. You gasp, her stomping footsteps sending flashes of pain throughout your abdomen.
“Where-- ow fuck!-- where are y-you taking me?” You ask. The woman glances down at you, but doesn’t say anything. She jostles you in her arms. You cry out, burying your face in her shoulder to muffle your cries.
Somewhere ahead of you, the skinny man’s voice rings out, “Be kind to our guest, Sevika.” The woman carrying you huffs.
“Fucking barfed on my boots.” She grumbles under her breath. You can only hear it because you’re tucked under her chin. You groan.
“S-sorry.” You stutter out through the tears. She doesn’t respond.
You don’t try to fight it. What could you do? You just let the little procession march you through the streets. The woman holding you is warm. You fall in and out of sleep against her.
One moment you’re outside and in the next you’re blinking awake on a doctor’s table.
The skinny scarred man is studying you. Beside him is another skinny man, the beginnings of shimmer scars decorating his skin.
“Put her back to sleep.” The one with the black and orange eye commands. You black out.
You wake up again in a bed, groggy and warm. You blink up at the ceiling. When was the last time you were this comfortable? You don’t remember. You fall back asleep trying to recall.
The next time you wake up, it’s to someone poking your face repeatedly. You flinch awake. The little girl from the alley is standing beside your bed. “You’re awake!” She says, excited. You blink again.
“I wonder why.” You grumble, smacking her hand away from your face. She giggles guiltily. “Where are we?” You ask her, trying to sit up in bed. One of her little hands shoots out to push your shoulder.
“Don’t get up.” She says. “‘Parently you broke your ribs.”
“Fuck.” You huff. She giggles again. You relax against the bed. “Am I on drugs?” You ask. You feel… no pain. And floaty in a nice way.
“Shimmer.” The little girl says. “And some other stuff.”
“Shit.” You say. There goes your goal to stay off the stuff. You huff out a defeated laugh, but it quickly turns into a happy little giggle. Shit, you really are high. “Shit!” You say again, laughing. The girl laughs with you.
“You say a lot of bad words.” She says, grinning. You raise a finger up to your lips in a ‘shh’ motion.
“You didn’t hear ‘em from me.” You say, threateningly. She laughs again. You smile. She’s a cute kid. “Did you really blow up that building?” You ask her. She nods proudly. You snort. “How?!” Her eyes get wide, a grin spreading on her lips as she scrambles to sit on the edge of the bed beside you. With flailing hand gestures, the little girl enthusiastically recounts her process, walking you through the various trials and errors she ran into trying to get inside Elijah’s, the type of explosives she used and how she charged them, and how the stupid kitchen timer betrayed her by the loose time switch downshifting from hours to minutes at the last moment.
“...and so then I had to run for cover, and you found me.” She finishes. You giggle.
“Where did you get explosives from?” You ask. She shrugs.
“Silco keeps ‘em locked up downstairs, just had to snag the key and let myself in.”
“Who’s Silco?” You ask.
“That guy I was with when we found you in the alley. He’s like my foster dad or something.” She says, shrugging.
“You live in a house with explosives in the basement?”
“No, silly, I live here.”
“Right…” You say. “And where are we… exactly?” You ask for the second time that night.
“Silco’s.” She says, squinting at you like you’re stupid.
“...Right.” You say, nodding like you understand.
“Wanna see a cool knife trick?” The girl asks, jumping off the bed and reaching in her back pocket. You shrug.
“Sure.” You say.
The door suddenly opens, the skinny scarred man standing on the other side. Silco, you guess.
“Jinx. What did I tell you about knives.” He says tiredly, walking in the room and snatching the knife out of her hands. She pouts and stomps her foot. “Go draw. I need to talk to our guest in private.”
“What? No fair! She’s the coolest person in this stinking place and I’m the one who found her! I should get to play with her all I want!” She demands. You blink, unsure if you should be flattered or worried that the strange kid’s taken a liking to you.
“She’s not a pet Jinx.” The man says, guiding the girl out of the room. “Go finish your mural in the east hall. I want to see what you end up doing with the green.”
The girl grumbles, stomping away. The man sighs and clicks the door shut, turning to face you. Suddenly, you’re nervous. You lift your hand. “Uh. Hi.” You say.
“Hello.” He says. He pulls a chair up to your bedside and sits, crossing one of his legs over the other. He studies you intently. “I’m sure you have plenty of questions, all of which I’ll be happy to answer. But first I have a question for you, if you don’t mind.”
“Don’t think I got a choice, do I?” You ask with a chuckle. He smiles.
“No, I suppose you don’t.”
“Shoot.” You say, shrugging. He clears his throat, eyeing your neck. You gulp.
“You wouldn’t happen to be the niece of Ms. Bonnie May, would you?” He asks. You spring up in bed, the pain that suddenly swells in your sides is nothing compared to the chill of fear that shoots down your spine.
“How the fuck do you know that name?” You ask Silco rises, reaching out to steady you and help you lie back down.
“Relax. I was friends with Bonnie.” He says as he eases you back onto the pillows. You blink.
“Work friends?” You ask. He nods, sitting back down. You blink again, understanding slowly dawning upon you. You shake your head and laugh. “What’d she do for you?” You ask. Silco sighs, a reminiscent smile tugging on his lips.
“Smuggling mostly. She really was the best there was, as I’m sure you know. She saved my life several times in that damn basement of hers.” You snort a laugh. “And of course the odd counterfeited document.”
“You weren’t a fan of her home brew then?” You ask with a smile. Silco chuckles.
“Did she really have customers for that shit?” He asks. You giggle.
“Half a dozen regulars.” You say. Silco shivers.
“She’d drink it like water! I was always impressed by that.” He says. You laugh.
“She was a tough old broad.”
“She was.” He says, solemnly. For a moment, it’s silent. You try to swallow back the sudden lump in your throat. “She talked about you all the time.” He says. You scoff.
“How I was eating her out of a house and home?” You guess. Silco smiles.
“That, and the teenage mood swings.” You grin.
“She was always talking shit.”
“She loved you dearly.” He says. The sudden seriousness in his voice catches you off guard. The tears in your eyes quickly begin to well up again.
“How’d you know I was hers?”
“Your scar.” He says, nodding to the side of your neck. You reach up, gently tracing raised skin beneath your ear. Your aunt was a talented woman with a flair for the dramatic-- her products always had a hidden calling card: a cockroach. Whether printed microscopically in the seal of her counterfeit Piltover cash, etched into the bottom of her bottles, or branded into the skin of her patients, your aunt signed all her work with the indestructible bugs. The message was clear. If it was signed with a roach, Bonnie May did it. “I have one of my own, here.” He says pointing to his stomach. “I was disemboweled. She shoved my guts back in and sewed me up.” He says. “It was a miracle I lived.” You laugh.
“You know she only ever lost five people?”
“She was incredible.”
You and Silco are silent for a moment, memories of your aunt flashing though your minds. Finally, you speak. “Uh, if you don’t mind me asking… where are we, exactly?” You ask. Silco perks up in his seat.
“Oh, yes! Well, you see, Jinx has recently come into my care.” He begins. You nod. “And while we’ve made great progress in these past two years together, she still has a tendency to sneak away and get herself in trouble.” He scratches the back of his head. “She’s a troubled girl…”
“She’s smart.” You say. He grins with pride.
“She’s a genius. But she doesn’t think things through. I have no doubt in my mind Elijah would’ve killed her if you hadn’t stepped in. I had no idea who you were before we found you, I simply wanted to repay the debt to whoever protected Jinx. But then I saw your neck, and your condition, and well. Your aunt wouldn’t want you on the streets. With all she did for me in her life, and with what you did for Jinx, I thought it best I bring you back here.”
“And… where is ‘here’ exactly?”
“The Last Drop. My headquarters.”
“That bar downtown?” You ask.
“The one and only.”
“What are you… headquartering?” You ask. Silco examines you, then leans forward.
“Your aunt was a strong soldier in the rebellion. I take it you share the same… political sentiments?” He asks. You snort.
“I’m not a bootlickin’ narc, if that’s what you’re asking. Bonnie raised me with proper values.” Silco smiles.
“I figured. I’m the head of a particularly lucrative business operation.” You tick an eyebrow up.
“Drugs or sex?”
“Shimmer.” He says.
“You’re the one who’s been putting that shit on the streets?” You ask. He nods. You grunt. “And what does that have to do with the rebellion?”
“The money I make goes towards the independence of Zaun.” He says. You laugh.
“Yeah? Who died and put you in charge?” You ask. Silco scowls at you. “Shit, okay.” You say, raising your hands. “Sorry.”
“You’ve certainly got your aunt’s mouth.” Silco says. You huff a laugh. That’s true. Bonnie was always getting into trouble for running her mouth.
“So… why did you bring me to the headquarters of the rebellion?” You ask. Silco hums.
“I’m hoping maybe your mouth isn’t the only thing you inherited from Bonnie. You could be of great help to us here. I owe you a debt-- I owe your aunt several. I figured I could start my pay back with an offer.”
“An offer?” You ask.
“You clearly aren’t in the best situation right now.” Silco says bluntly. “I can give you a room. Here. And a paycheck every week.” He says. You snort.
“That’s kind of you, sir, but Bonnie never let me near her work. I’d be useless here.”
“If I asked you to make me a bottle of moonshine the way Bonnie used to, you’d be able to, yes?”
“Well, yes, but you just said you didn’t like--”
“And if I asked you what to do if you’re ever being questioned by enforcers?” He asks, cutting you off.
“Say nothing, request your Undercity-relation representative--”
“You know basic first aid?” He asks. “CPR?”
“Well, yes, but--”
“How about Bonnie’s old mineshaft, with that elevator up top-- you remember where that is? Could you get me there?”
“Yeah, it’s just north of the--” You’re cut off again.
“And Jinx. You’re good with her.”
“I mean… I’ve spoken to her twi--”
“You were on the streets for how long? More than half a year now? And you’ve avoided shimmer this long. You’re resilient.” He says.
“I haven’t had to get through winter yet.”
“You took a beating for a girl you’ve never met.”
“She’s a kid, any decent person would’ve--”
“Your aunt taught you self defense? Basic knife skills?”
“Sure, but everyone down here--”
“You’re hired.” Silco says. You snap your mouth shut. Tears well in your eyes.
“You can’t be serious.” You say.
“Why not?” Silco asks. “You don’t want it?”
“Of course I want it but--”
“Then you’re hired.”
taglist!
@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666
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saw requests were open so might as well request :p ; imagine being peter parker’s younger brother that also has spider powers and during the snap peter turn dust so most likely aunt may did as well. So reader was most likely homeless for a while until matt murdock comes in as daredevil and becomes a father figure for the reader :)
Kicking my feet and giggling. I haven’t got a req in so long and I love getting them so this made me very happy. So sorry the ending is abrupt I really wanted to get this posted!
If anyone wants another part to this I will write more!
**I do not own any characters or part of the franchise from Daredevil or Marvel**
Paining: Matt Murdock/Daredevil x Male!Teen!Spider!Reader
Genre: family stuff(?) it’s all light hearted
Summary: look at req
Tw: a bit of language, probably; Matt punches reader on accident lmao
Fear’s corner
You seemed to only be scared these past few months. You were scared when you watched your brother climb aboard that flying alien donut. You were scared when you lost connection to his com and phone.
You were scared when you held your Aunt May and watched her turn to dust.
You were scared when the landlord kicked you out and called CPS after she realized you couldn’t pay rent.
It had been two months living on the streets. Two months starving; two months waiting for Peter to come home. Deep down you knew he’d suffered the same fate as Aunt May.
The cold winter winds rattled your bones and caused you to pull the threadbare ski jacket closer to your body. You shivered and kept moving down the street.
Tonight was a shitty night. You never stopped your spidey-work because you knew if Peter was here he’d want you to continue. Tonight was too cold for it, the suit doesn’t exactly provide thermal insulation, and the suit that was a gift from Mr. Stark was only for emergencies.
As you wandered through Hell’s Kitchen you searched for any grocery stores or restaurants with accessible dumpsters so that you could dig through and find food. You squinted at the sign of a large glass door entrance and saw it was a grocery store.
Jackpot.
Walking around to the dumpster, you took a running start and scaled the wall, not so gracefully landing on top of the dumpster.
You grabbed one of the two lids and threw it over. The heavy black plastic banged against the green rusted metal and you cringed.
The black bags seemed to taunt you, reminding you of how low you’ve sunk in only two months. You shook your head and jumped down, beginning to tear through garbage bags upon garbage bags.
You found an unopened granola bar and ripped the packing open, gobbling it down without another thought. You gulped heavily, pushing the last of the granola down and taking a large gasp of air. You got back to searching for more food.
That’s when you got the feeling. Your spidey-senses were tingling. You grabbed ledge of the dumpster and threw yourself over. A man in a red suit with devil horns landed in front of you. Stumbling back, your back hit the brick wall of the dumpster.
“Hey, hey. Calm down.” He said collectedly.
You gulped and easily jumped over the brick wall, taking off in a sprint.
“Hey, wait! Hold on!” The man called.
You sprinted even faster, any stranger chasing you and telling you to ‘hold on’ was an automatic threat.
You could hear footsteps following you.
‘Holy shit. This guy’s fast.’
You ran down the dark streets, trying to find somewhere to get up higher. You turned down a pitch black alleyway and jumped onto a fire escape, scaling it as fast as you could. You grabbed the ledge of the building and dragged yourself over it, gasping for breath.
Two red boots blocked your vision and you shot up. The man punched you right in the eye before gasping suddenly and gripping your hoodie.
“Jesus, you’re just a kid, aren’t you?” The question was more rhetorical but you shook your head ‘no’ anyway.
He didn’t need to know your age or that you were on your own. You began to flail to get away but air wasn’t reaching your lungs. The man let you go and you broke into a coughing fit. Collapsing to the ground, you wheezed for breath, desperate for air.
“Hey, hey kid, breathe. Breathe. In and out.” He spoke softly to you.
You followed his instructions and realized there was a weight on your back. This stranger was rubbing soothing circles on your back.
“There you go, just calm down, Kid.” He comforted.
You couldn’t bring yourself to pull away from the first positive touch you’d had in a while.
“Do you have somewhere to go?” The vigilante asked.
You shook your head, seeming to forget that you shouldn’t be telling him this. He sucked in a breath.
“I know someone I can take you to, ok?” The devil said quietly; silently asking if you would go.
You just nodded pathetically. Trying to get up was very wobbly for you. The man helped steady you though.
“You’re in no condition to jump rooftop to rooftop,” He said, seemingly to himself. “We’ll walk instead.”
You just shrugged half-heartedly, suddenly feeling very tired. You met his mask and he gestured near the ladder expectantly. You raised an eyebrow at him but began your descent down the fire escape.
You finally reached the point where you could jump off. You landed on your feet, but your knees buckled and you fell back. The man was standing over you in a second. He reminded you of Peter some.
Peter would always be the first one by your side if he thought you were hurt.
You stood up slowly and dusted yourself off.
“Follow me.” The red man instructed.
You caught up to walking beside him. You glanced around the buildings and cleared your throat.
“So uh…what’s your deal, huh? You just go around finding homeless kids to shove into randos’ homes?” You asked, trying to fill the void noise.
He seemed surprised you could talk and fumbled over his words.
“I am Daredevil, protector of Hell’s Kitchen.” He stated.
“Wow.” You said, unimpressed. “So is that like—the full name or is it just Daredevil?” You teased.
He huffed out a laugh, seeming to realize the ridiculousness of his introduction.
“Just Daredevil.” He smiled.
You nodded some.
“So this ‘guy’ you know…is he like..some foster care guy…?” You really didn’t wanna go into the system; you’d met other homeless kids who had ran away from their foster families because of how awful it was.
“…no. Would you rather he be?” Daredevil responded.
“Hell no. I think I’d rather die.” You laughed some.
The silence was more than slightly awkward. You cleared your throat. Your eye throbbed.
“Soooo…why’d you punch me?” You swung your arms back and forth.
He choked at that.
“Thought you were a criminal. And an adult. Most people don’t run unless they’re guilty.” Daredevil explained.
You hummed in acknowledgement. It was his turn to ask questions now.
“So how’d you just…jump that wall like that?” He asked.
“Oh uhhhh. Parkour…?” You tried.
The red man nodded some, though he didn’t look at all convinced.
The rest of the walk went well. He stopped at an apartment complex and buzzed in.
“Fourth floor. Room 14.” He stated before running off.
You raised your eyebrows as you watched him scurry off.
‘What a weird guy.’
You just shook your head and began your ascent to the fourth floor.
When you got to the fourth floor and room 14 you paused, hearing various crashes and curses. A few seconds later the door opened and a scruffy looking man appeared. He was dressed in a wrinkly t-shirt and pair of sweatpants; he was staring right over you.
You started to regret coming into the apartment complex.
“Uh…the devil guy told me to come here.” You stated.
He blinked and his face morphed into one of what you supposed to be surprise. It more just looked like over exaggerated confusion.
“Yeah come in,” the brown haired man opened the door wider for you to pass through. “I’m Matt. Matt Murdock.” He said with a smile.
“Yeah…so you’re uh…some kinda—“ You made a vague, random gesture with your hands.
Matt just blinked and waited for the end of your sentence. It was then you noticed his eyes didn’t actually track and movement or shifts of light.
“Forgive me for asking, but are you blind?” You attempted to ask politely.
At that he cracked another smile and laughed some.
“Indeed I am. I hope that won’t be much on a problem.” Matt grinned at you.
“No! No of course not!” You rushed to explain, at which he laughed more.
“Calm down, Kid—“ The rest of his sentence faded out as you zoned in on those three words.
The words that had been uttered to you not half an hour before. By the same voice. Matt seemed to catch on that something was wrong.
“Everything alright, Kid?” He asked concerned.
“You’re Daredevil, aren’t you?” You swallowed thickly.
He huffed out a disbelieving laugh.
“No? Why would you say that? Why would I even know Daredevil?“ Daredevil started.
“Your voice is the exact same as his. And you’re the only one who’s ever called me ‘Kid’ before.” You explained.
He pursed his lips, looking more disappointed in himself than anything else.
“Yeah I’m—I’m Daredevil.” He awkwardly stated.
“So…you’re not really blind?” You knit your brows together.
“No, I’m blind it’s just that I can—it’s hard to explain, let’s just get you settled in for now.” He changed the subject.
It left you more confused but you supposed you had no better option but to agree. You hadn’t slept on anything remotely related to a couch in two months and you couldn’t wait to get the best night’s sleep of your life.
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