#Holiday plumber

[plumbingservicetucson]

Emergency Holiday Plumbing Repairs Tucson

[tucsonarizonaplumber]

Tucson AZ Plumbing Repair

A.S.G. Plumbing Of Tucson, is your local Tucson plumber offering the best quality plumbing services for residential and commercial clients. To speak with a local Tucson plumber from 24/7 Plumbers call (520) 351-2787 and schedule a free at-home consultation and estimate!

[plumbertucson]

Holiday Plumber Emergency Tucson

[carryingthebanner]

Newsies as Things My Family and I Have Said

Crutchie: I’m cold.

Kid Blink: Go sit in the dryer and put it on gentle cycle.

*Finishes cleaning the couch*

Race: Ok I’m done, so this couch should be nice and lickable.

Albert: *Bursts into Pulitzer’s office*

Hello, old people! I hope your bones still work today.

Elmer: Is that eggnog?

Crutchie: No, that’s gravy.

Romeo: *starts crying because of gift*

Specs: And the Emmy for best actor goes to…*passes sparkling cider as if it were an award*

*another dramatic gift reaction, this time from Tommy Boy*

Albert: And the Emmy for best supporting actor goes to…

*Watching a movie*

Katherine: Oh look, it’s my favorite himbo!

Jack: …

*family member walks in that Henry somewhat recognizes and someone says her name*

Henry: Wait is that Hannah who makes the cakes?

Darcy: Yes, Henry.

Henry: Les, that’s Hannah who makes the cakes.

Les: What cakes?!

Henry: The fancy ones!

Les: *panicking* What fancy cakes?!

Race: *sighs.* When in doubt, just call her a cousin.

Henry: Fair enough.

Les: Ask Medda who her dad is.

*Hannah standing directly across from Medda talking to someone else*

Henry: Hey Medda, who’s-

Les: Shhh!

Henry: *lipsyncs* Who’s her dad?

*finds out she’s their second cousin*

Race: WHAT DID I SAY-

Katherine: Jack, say something to the baby!

Jack: What am I supposed to say?!

Katherine: You could recite the entire plot of an anime and he literally wouldn’t care.

Spot: *wakes up and comes to the kitchen at 5:50 PM* Can I have breakfast?

*Finch has been pacing around the kitchen and finally sits down*

Smalls: Enjoyed your walk?

Mike: How big is this baby, 25 pounds?

Ike: You, who lifts weights, think that this 5 month old is anywhere near 25 pounds?

Mike: …

Ike: This baby is literally only one pound less than the turkey.

Romeo: *Wearing a birthday button with his name on it*

Katherine: Happy birthday, Romeo!

Romeo *freaking out*: Jack, how’d she know my name?

Race: I am crying, shaking, throwing up over the lack of deep conditioner.

Elmer: Wait, really?

Race: No, but I feel like it.

Davey: Say goodbye to the baby!

Les: Um… bye little dude.

Davey: No, walk over to him and say it.

Les: No.

Davey: *calls baby’s mother* Make him say bye to the baby!

Bowery Beauty: LES, YOU BETTER SAY GOODBYE TO MY BABY!

Katherine: I’m going to rip my uterus out with my bare hands.

Sarah: *blinks*

Race: *talking to baby’s father* Goodnight, *baby’s name*.

Race: Wait no - my bad.

Mush: Yeah because when I had a conversation with Spot…

*silence with also a lot of confusion and awkwardness*

Hot Shot: It seems like there were some things that weren’t supposed to be said.

Spot: Yeah, that conversation was private.

Davey: I’m so confused - nothing has been said???

Race: THE TEA IS HOT.

JoJo: *grateful sniffles* I was going to go to Walmart and buy me this gift-

Crutchie: Then buy it and reimburse us then.

*gets the same exact gift when they also have a lot of the same stuff*

Buttons: Ahh! We get to be Bobbsey twins again!

Sniper: Please stop.

Medda: You were valedictorian in college.

Davey: Wow.

Katherine: Wait - what? You’ve never told me that.

Jack: I was valedictorian in junior high school, Medda.

Buttons: *cracks egg* It’s a boy!

[choccy-zefirka]

I know Boosty works like shit half the time but I would appreciate any help bc I keep Going Through It. The drama du jour is a burst pipe in my kitchen :')

[vimbry]

I'm so siiick. in that I'm cool but also I've had the flu

[ashburnhaminsurance]

Why Summer Is Still An Important Season For Plumbers

Did you know that the busiest time of year for plumbers is usually winter? Between poor weather clogging up guttering and pipework, to frozen condensation pipes or the increased strain on heating, there is no shortage of reasons to be called out in the colder months. However, that doesn’t mean that summer can’t be just as hectic for a plumber. Where winter brings the demand for heat, summer…

[fly-sky-high-09]

I should maybe get to try design those slugcat adopts I've planned some time soon

[danmorganphoto]

Annual Christmas card for Plumbing Company.

[gallery0022]

Annual Christmas card for Plumbing Company.

[horikoshi-secret-ao3-account]

BOWUIGI CONCEPT!!

The brothers' parents are totally ok with Luigi being with Bowser, I mean; good father, rich, has his own kingdom, what's it not to love????

Mario though? Completely disapproves! But has to put up with Bowser on their family dinners, outings and holidays.

Just imagine that poor plumber going nuts, having to be polite in front of his parents, but exchanging death threats the second he and Bowser are alone.

[tucsonarizonaplumber]

Local Tucson Plumber

[plumbertucson]

Emergency Plumber Tucson

We offer emergency plumbing service to the Tucson area 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

To a Tea 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc. 

Part of the Sweet and Spicy AU 

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk. 

18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you. 

Summary:  A demanding customer grows increasingly needy.

Character:  Raymond Smith

The title is a pun, don’t @ me.

Please comment and reblog if it’s not too much. I always love getting to chat about these stories and hearing all your ideas! You all are wonderful and loved. 

You don’t often miss work, but that week, a burst pipe throws everything off. A morning spent waiting on your landlord, then the next few hours for a plumber, has things a bit off kilter. Even the next day, you’re not quite back on point. 

The patched wall next to fridge reminds you of the disaster and a dingy smell persists. You hope it doesn’t cling to you as you set off for your shift that day. If you can, you want to pick up some hours from others if their up for grabs. Harry doesn’t like Saturday’s, maybe he’ll hand over some. 

You try to leave your problems behind as you catch a bus down to the city centre. You get to the tea shop five minutes before the hour. Jenna’s wrapping up the opening tasks as you go to leave your things in the back. You tie on your apron and unlock the front door for the first customers of the day. 

At first, it’s a trickle. Never very much at all. The early risers who often come alone or if they aren’t, they don’t speak much or very loudly. The smell of fresh baking and the slow rising sun add to the lazy din. 

“Thought the special was strawberry today,” you comment as you transfer macarons from a cooled tray to the display. 

“Eh, it was but we didn’t have enough jam,” she shrugs. “Changed the sign, is all.” 

“Ah, thought my mind was lagging again. Everything’s been off since yesterday.” 

“Eh, how’s the apartment, anyhow? Marilyn said it was something about a leak?” 

“Burst pipe,” you explain, “they took out the wall above the sink, buncha clanging all day. When I tell you this place is like heaven.” 

She chuckles, “can be.” 

“There’s a formal tea booked in the Marigold Room at noon,” she intones, “forgot to mention that. With Mother’s day coming up, suppose we’ll get more bookings.” 

“Suppose,” you go to check the schedule hanging on the wall. “Party of twelve, wow.” 

“I’ll man the till. Honest, since those ladies at New Years, I’ve hated doing them.” 

“No problem, Harry should be here, shouldn’t he?” 

“Well, he’s... called in.” 

“Again?” You whine as you face her. 

“Are you really surprised?” She scoffs. 

“No one else to cover? Not even Louisa?” 

“Nah, she’s on holiday still.” 

You huff, “fine. Not much of a choose then, is it?” 

🫖

The tea room is as close to raucous as you’ve ever heard it. You have your back to the rest of the shop as you balance the stacked serving trays with an array of sponge cake, fruit, and biscuits. It’s the typical assortment for a tea party booking. 

You’ve already served the tea and the sandwiches, and dessert is the last bit, along with any further pots needed to be steeped throughout. With a partner, it isn’t hard to keep up, but alone, it’s rather overwhelming. Jenna does her best to assist but there aren’t many lulls around lunch time. 

Beyond that, the tourists are chatty. You could hardly get away to fetch each course as they wanted to chat about the culture and your suggestions of what they should do next. It’s nice that they’re friendly but still stressful. 

You put the trays on the cart and roll it around the counter. As you do, you nearly skid to a halt. In the rush, you hadn’t noticed him. Your eyes meet Raymond’s as he watches you. Intent, intense. You give an apologetic smile and nod in acknowledgement. Jenna wanted to deal with the main room, she’ll have to wipe down his table and do her best. 

You roll behind the wall and into the Marigold room. You present the tray and grab it by the ring at the top, lifting it onto the centre of the table. You roll around to gather the empty plates and cups, taking two pots for refill. 

You come back out and see Raymond standing, just as he was. He sees you too. Watching, hands folded, knuckles white, jaw set. He’s usually patient but you don’t know how long he’s been waiting. 

You roll behind the counter and sigh, clearing off the cart as Jenna steams a tea latte. 

“Can you wipe Raymond’s table?” You ask. 

“Who?” She furrows her brow. 

You glance over your shoulder toward the man in question and she follows. She rolls her eyes, “I tried, I wiped the the table. He didn’t sit.” 

“Hm, well... did you wash your hands first?” 

“Christ Almighty, what is he a child?” 

“Jen, he’s just... you know, my mom’s the same. He can’t help it.” 

“You can deal with him. I won’t be arsed,” she sniffs, “he was rude and you know I don’t got time for those ones.” 

“Jenna, I’m kinda up to my eyes,” you dump the used bags from a pot. “I know he can be prickly but just wash your hands and redo the table.” 

“Ugh, fine,” she sneers, “but you owe me.” 

“Let’s call it even,” you retort as you pour boiling water into the pots mouth. 

She shakes her head and huffs, “guess it is.” 

🫖

It’s nearly three in the afternoon. It’s quiet. Harry’s on his phone instead of doing the cups and your wiping the empty tables to keep yourself moving. The door opens and you glance over to make sure Harry’s alert. He’s not. 

Doesn’t matter. It’s him. Raymond. You stand and clutch the cloth tight in your hand as you greet him. 

“Be right with you, Raymond,” you assure him. 

He barely looks at you as he goes to wait next to his table. You go behind the counter and mutter under your breath in Harry’s direction, “...dirty cups.” You wash your hands and make sure to clink some of the empty porcelain in an effort to draw your coworker’s attention. He’s still entranced by his phone. 

You take the disinfectant wipes and go back out. You approach Raymond as he checks his watch. 

“How are you today?” You ask. 

He grumbles and shrugs, “fine.” 

“English Breakfast, black,” you declares as you finish wiping up, “usual.” 

“So you remember,” he challenges as he steps close, closer than ever, before sidling around to sit. 

“Of course, I always do,” you smile. 

“And last time?” 

“Last time...” 

“Twice.” 

You’re confused. What is he talking about? 

“I came on Tuesday and you weren’t here. Then on Thursday, you didn’t even say hello.” 

“Oh, well, I’m sorry, Raymond, it was a busy day. Tuesday, I had a personal emergency so I didn’t even know you’d been in--” 

“I’ll have my tea now,” he interjects tersely. 

“Right, tea,” you confirm and spin around. 

“Crooked strings,” he remarks dully, “again.” 

[todayontumblr]

Friday March 10.

A Happy Super Mario Day to all who celebrate!

It's March 10, and we all know what that means: every year we put this day aside to celebrate our favorite bouncing Italian plumber: it's-a-#mario day! It's that special time that comes around when we across the Super Mario community gather to pay tribute to the little mustached-man in the dungarees and his merry band of mushrooms, princesses, flowers, clouds, flying bullets, toads, dinosaurs, turtles, other Italians. This most revered of holiday seasons is grounded in a simple, but profound truth: today's date, when written as Mar10, looks like 'Mario'. 

Come celebrate this hallowed #mario day with us with an exceptional selection of fanart, memes, gifs, shitposts, and discourse all dedicated to the little man with the big mustache.

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

Handyman - Maverick

Pairing: (Young) Maverick / Fem!Reader (Wife!Reader)

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Maverick Being Maverick; Maverick and Reader have an Unnamed Daughter Together; Second Person POV ("You"), No Y/N, No Physical Description of Reader or Daughter

This work, all of my other works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only.

Summary: When it comes time to give your newborn daughter a bath in the kitchen sink, it conveniently breaks. Fortunately or unfortunately, Maverick is a handyman.

A.N. I wrote this with a younger Maverick in mind, maybe even before he attended Top Gun, but there's no actual age specified for anyone (except the baby).

Master List

Life with Pete Mitchell as your husband was always an adventure. From the moment that you met him to the present day, he always had you on your toes. Sometimes, it was a great attribute. There were a lot of memories from spontaneous dates and outings that you would treasure for the rest of your life. Other times, you could have done without the arrogance and spontaneity.

Your husband, although he had no skills in the field whatsoever, was a self-proclaimed handyman. The house that you two lived in was a fixer upper and your husband was intent upon fixing it up. Of course, your newborn daughter got in the way of that goal and you had to reprioritize.

But now the kitchen sink wasn’t working and you had no other safe way to bathe your newborn. You would have called a plumber to fix it, but it was a national holiday. You were willing to wait another day to let a professional take a look at your kitchen sink. Your husband, however, insisted that he could fix it himself without any outside help.

And you were already regretting giving him the ‘okay’ on that one.

The cabinets underneath the sink were thrown open and an assortment of tools and other devices were spread out on the kitchen floor. Maverick poured over a manual that he pulled out of nowhere while you stood with your daughter a few feet away.

“Are you sure that you understand it, Mav?” you asked softly, looking concerned. “Maybe we should just wait to have a professional look at it.”

“No, no, no, she needs a bath, so she’s going to get a bath. Today.” Maverick stared down at the directions for a moment before holding them up for you to see. He pointed at one part in particular. “But do you know what this thing is?”

“Do I look like a plumber to you?” you replied in a deadpan, raising an eyebrow at your husband.

“I’ll figure it out.”

Your daughter started to cry and with a quick check of her clean diaper, you moved to feed her. Sitting down at the kitchen table, you glanced over as Maverick messed around with the pipes underneath the sink. Shaking your head, you turned back to your nursing daughter. Up until there was a crash followed by a set of curses from under the sink.

“Are you okay?” you called to your husband.

“Fine. Just fine,” Maverick grunted out, clearly in some pain.

After feeding and burping your daughter, you set her down in her bassinet before walking over to where Maverick was still working on the sink. Noting the gunk all over the front of his white tank top, you took another step forward and lowered your voice.

“Pete, honey, it’s okay if you can’t fix it. I’ll just call them tomorrow.”

“I’ve got this. I just need another moment,” he replied, clearly determined to fix this problem. Thinking over his next steps, Maverick gestured behind you. “Can you pass me the wrench?”

“Which one? You have the whole store selection littered around the kitchen floor.”

“The one with the yellow tape on it,” Maverick clarified, pointing over at it.

You pushed the wrench over to your husband and leaned against the kitchen countertop, watching him work. You glanced back in your daughter’s direction to make sure that she was sleeping peacefully when Maverick dropped the wrench and let out another long string of curses. You whipped around to face Maverick as your daughter let out a startled and annoyed wail.

“Mav? What happened?”

“I dropped the wrench on my face,” Maverick sighed, rubbing his nose.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, honey, I’m peachy,” Maverick muttered, clearly getting frustrated.

When you saw that your husband wasn’t bleeding, you walked over to soothe your daughter. Leaning over, you tried to shush your daughter as you rocked her once again.

“I know, I know, your daddy isn’t a plumber, I know,” you cooed, trying to soothe your baby.

She settled back to sleep easily, clearly in need of a nap, and you placed her back in her bassinet once her breathing evened out. Adjusting your daughter’s hat, you turned back to your husband.

“How’s it coming, honey?”

“Don’t rush perfection.”

“Who said that it was going to be perfect?”

“Your handyman husband,” Maverick quipped, crawling underneath the sink again.

“Yes, I’m sure that every plumber drops his wrench on his face.”

“Laugh now, but when the sink works again, you’ll be so amazed and sorry that you ever doubted me.”

“I’m sure that I will,” you mused, walking back over to him.

Twenty minutes later, after some more tinkering around, Maverick stood up. Smiling proudly, he ushered you towards the sink.

“Try the tap.”

You shot your husband a concerned expression before walking over to the sink. Pulling the handle up, you waited for water to pour out of the faucet. But nothing came out. Your feet, on the other hand, were now soaking wet. Looking down, you saw the pipe spewing water all over your floor. You shot your husband a tired expression, to which he smiled sheepishly.

“Maybe I got the parts wrong,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You think?”

Maverick hastily mopped up the mess and went back to working on the pipes. You put the TV on low and kept a close eye on your daughter as she slept peacefully in her bassinet.

“I got it, honey!” Maverick announced about a half hour later.

“I swear, Pete, this is your last chance, otherwise I’m calling a plumber whether you like it or not,” you warned your husband as you got up and walked over to him.

“Just try it, will you?”

You walked over to the faucet once again and cautiously grabbed the handle. With one last cautious glance over at your husband, you pulled the handle upwards. And then you screamed as you were hit by a strong stream water. You were soaked to the bone in a few seconds from a leak that you couldn’t find because you were being sprayed with water.

“Pete!”

Your husband ran over and the both of you tried to stop the water from spraying all over the place. Maverick ripped off his shirt and shoved it around the faucet. You held the shirt in place while he hurried to turn off the water. When all was said and done, you were soaked to the bone and absolutely not amused with your husband.

Turning to Maverick, you took a deep breath as you tried to not strangle him. Wiping some of the water off of your face, you folded your arms over your chest as you husband smiled sheepishly at you, hoping that you didn’t pick up the frying pan within arm’s length and whack him with it.  

“You’re lucky that I want our daughter to have a father, Pete Mitchell,” you muttered before waddling off to go shower.

“I love you,” Maverick called after you.

He was greeted by the sound of your bedroom door shutting, effectively ending the conversation. And his career as a plumber.