#crawl space repair services

[atlantic-foundation-crawl-space]

Comprehensive Crawl Space Repair Services in North Carolina: Safeguard Your Home with Expert Solutions

Crawl spaces are often overlooked when it comes to home maintenance, but their condition plays a vital role in the overall health of your house. A damaged or poorly maintained crawl space can lead to numerous issues, from structural instability to health concerns caused by moisture and mold. In North Carolina, where humidity and seasonal changes can take a toll on your home, professional crawl space repair services are essential to maintain your home’s safety and longevity. Atlantic Foundation & Crawl Space Repair, serving areas across Raleigh-Durham and Eastern North Carolina, offers expert solutions for crawl space encapsulation, drainage systems, and foundation repairs.

Why Crawl Space Repair is Important

Your crawl space is the foundation of your home, and neglecting it can lead to significant problems. Without proper care, crawl spaces can harbor excess moisture, pests, and even mold, which can negatively impact your home’s structure and indoor air quality. Here are some common problems that arise from an unmaintained crawl space:

Excess Moisture: High humidity levels lead to mold, mildew, and wood rot. This can weaken the structural integrity of your home.

Pests and Rodents: Crawl spaces provide the perfect environment for pests like termites, rats, and ants.

Air Quality Issues: Mold and mildew spores can travel into your living spaces, affecting air quality and potentially causing health problems.

Structural Damage: Moisture can seep into wooden beams and other structural elements, causing them to weaken and deteriorate.

By investing in professional crawl space repair, you’re not only protecting your home from these issues but also increasing its resale value and overall comfort.

Our Crawl Space Repair Services

At Atlantic Foundation & Crawl Space Repair, we offer comprehensive services to address all types of crawl space problems. Our experts specialize in a range of solutions designed to protect your home from water damage, improve air quality, and ensure the long-term stability of your foundation.

1. Crawl Space Encapsulation

Encapsulation is one of the most effective methods for controlling moisture in your crawl space. This process involves sealing off the crawl space with a durable, vapor-resistant barrier. The encapsulation system prevents moisture from entering and helps control humidity levels, keeping your crawl space dry. Additionally, this barrier can also improve your home’s energy efficiency by reducing the amount of conditioned air that escapes into the crawl space.

2. Crawl Space Drainage Solutions

Excess water in your crawl space can lead to a range of issues, including mold, wood rot, and foundation damage. Installing a proper drainage system is essential to prevent water accumulation. Our team at Atlantic Foundation & Crawl Space Repair installs high-quality French drains and sump pumps to efficiently channel water away from your crawl space, keeping it dry and safe.

3. Moisture Control

In addition to encapsulation and drainage solutions, we provide moisture control services to address issues like high humidity and condensation in your crawl space. Our solutions include the installation of dehumidifiers and proper ventilation systems to keep your crawl space dry and free from moisture buildup.

4. Foundation Repair

A healthy foundation is crucial to the structural integrity of your home. If your crawl space shows signs of foundation damage such as cracks in the walls, uneven floors, or doors and windows that won’t close properly, it’s time for a foundation inspection. Our team offers foundation repair services to address shifting, settling, or cracking foundations. We use advanced techniques such as piering and leveling to stabilize your home’s foundation and restore its strength.

5. Structural Repairs

Over time, your crawl space and foundation may require structural repairs. These repairs ensure that the beams, joists, and other critical components of your home are secure and stable. Our experts will inspect your crawl space for any signs of structural damage and provide the necessary repairs to prevent further deterioration.

Why Choose Atlantic Foundation & Crawl Space Repair?

At Atlantic Foundation & Crawl Space Repair, we are dedicated to providing top-notch service to homeowners throughout North Carolina. Our team is highly trained and experienced, using the latest technology and techniques to ensure that your crawl space is properly repaired and maintained. Here’s why homeowners trust us with their crawl space needs:

Expert Technicians: Our team has extensive knowledge of crawl space repair and foundation stabilization, ensuring that your home is in good hands.

Comprehensive Solutions: We offer a range of services, from encapsulation to foundation repair, addressing every aspect of your crawl space’s health.

Free Evaluations: We provide free, no-obligation evaluations of your crawl space to assess the extent of the damage and recommend the best course of action.

Long-Term Solutions: Our repairs and encapsulation services are designed to last, ensuring that your home remains protected for years to come.

Protect Your Home with Professional Crawl Space Repair

Neglecting your crawl space can lead to costly damage and long-term problems. Fortunately, Atlantic Foundation & Crawl Space Repair is here to help. Whether you need encapsulation, drainage solutions, or foundation repairs, our team has the expertise to keep your home safe and sound. Serving Raleigh-Durham, Chapel Hill, Durham, and surrounding areas, we are your trusted partner for all things crawl space-related in North Carolina.

Contact Us Today

If you’re concerned about the condition of your crawl space, don’t wait for the problem to worsen. Reach out to Atlantic Foundation & Crawl Space Repair for a free evaluation and take the first step toward safeguarding your home. Call us at 919-855-0855 or visit our website to schedule your appointment.

[pureservicespro]

Crawl Space Repair Services

Protect your home with our Crawl Space Repair Services! Our expert technicians specialize in comprehensive solutions to enhance structural integrity. From encapsulation to moisture control, trust us for a resilient crawl space. Elevate your home's longevity and safeguard against potential issues. Schedule a consultation for effective crawl space repair.

[hawkcrawlspaceandfoundationrpr]

Protect Your Home from Water Damage: Expert French Drain Installation by Hawk Crawl Space & Foundation Repair

Water damage is one of the most common and costly issues homeowners face. If left unaddressed, it can lead to structural damage, mold growth, and a host of other problems. One effective way to safeguard your property is through French drain installation, a reliable drainage solution that prevents water from pooling around your foundation. At Hawk Crawl Space & Foundation Repair, we specialize in providing professional French drain installation services designed to keep your home safe and dry.

What Is a French Drain?

This system redirects surface water and groundwater away from your home’s foundation, preventing water accumulation and potential damage. It’s an excellent solution for properties with poor drainage or areas prone to heavy rainfall.

Benefits of French Drain Installation

French drain installation offers numerous advantages for homeowners, including:

Protection against Water Damage: By channeling water away from your foundation, a French drain reduces the risk of structural damage and costly repairs.

Prevention of Basement Flooding: Homes with basements can benefit significantly from this system, as it helps keep the lower levels dry during heavy rains.

Improved Yard Drainage: If your yard tends to retain water, a French drain can eliminate soggy patches and make the area more usable.

Increased Property Value: A well-installed drainage system adds value to your home by enhancing its durability and appeal.

Why Choose Hawk Crawl Space & Foundation Repair?

At Hawk Crawl Space & Foundation Repair, we understand the importance of maintaining a dry and stable home environment. Our team of experts provides tailored French drain installation services to meet the specific needs of your property. Here’s why homeowners trust us:

Experience and Expertise: With years of experience in moisture control and foundation repair, we have the skills to deliver effective and long-lasting solutions.

Quality Materials: We use high-quality materials to ensure the durability and performance of your French drain system.

Customized Solutions: Every property is unique, and we design drainage systems that fit your home’s layout and challenges.

Customer Satisfaction: Our commitment to excellence and customer satisfaction sets us apart.

How the Process Works

Assessment: We begin with a thorough inspection of your property to identify drainage issues and determine the best solution.

Planning: Our team designs a customized French drain system tailored to your home’s specific requirements.

Installation: Using precision and expertise, we install the French drain to effectively redirect water away from your foundation.

Follow-Up: We ensure the system functions correctly and address any questions or concerns you may have.

Take the First Step toward a Water-Free Home

Don’t let water damage compromise the safety and value of your property. With professional French drain installation from Hawk Crawl Space & Foundation Repair, you can protect your home and enjoy peace of mind. Contact us today to schedule a consultation and take the first step toward a dry, secure, and comfortable living space.

Originally published at —

https://hawkcrawlspacefoundationrepair.blogspot.com/2025/01/protect-your-home-from-water-damage.html

[nirvanabuilders]

How to Identify Foundation Issues in Basements and Crawl Spaces

Basements and crawl spaces are often the first areas where foundation problems become noticeable. Detecting these issues early can save homeowners from costly foundation repair and protect the integrity of the entire home. Understanding the signs of trouble in these spaces allows for timely action. Here’s how you can recognize potential foundation problems in your basement or crawl space.

1. Cracks in Basement Walls and Floors

Cracks in the walls or floors of your basement are common signs of foundation damage. While small, hairline cracks may result from natural settling, larger horizontal cracks often indicate pressure against the foundation walls. These larger cracks may signal serious structural issues that require professional foundation repair services. Be mindful of widening cracks or those that allow water to seep into the basement, as they often point to more severe problems.

2. Bowing or Bulging Walls in Crawl Spaces

In crawl spaces, walls that bow or bulge are a clear indicator of foundation stress. This often happens when soil pressure builds up against the exterior of the foundation, causing the walls to push inward. If left unaddressed, this issue can worsen, leading to the need for more extensive foundation repair. It’s crucial to consult a professional to assess the extent of the problem and find an effective solution.

3. Moisture and Water Damage

Excess moisture or standing water in basements and crawl spaces is a common sign of foundation issues. Water can enter through cracks or poorly sealed areas, leading to mold, mildew, and wood rot. These conditions not only weaken the foundation but can also affect indoor air quality. Before seeking foundation repair services, it’s important to address moisture problems with proper drainage and sealing to prevent recurring damage.

4. Uneven or Sagging Floors Above the Crawl Space

Uneven or sagging floors above a crawl space can indicate foundation issues. This problem typically occurs when the supports in the crawl space shift or settle unevenly, causing the floor above to become unstable. A professional assessment might reveal the need for slab foundation repair or reinforcement of support beams to correct the issue.

5. Musty Odors or Mold Growth

A musty smell or visible mold in your basement or crawl space is often a sign of excess moisture due to foundation problems. When water enters through cracks or poorly sealed areas, it creates an environment where mold can thrive. Addressing this issue with timely foundation repair can prevent further damage and improve the overall air quality in your home.

The Importance of Timely Foundation Repair

Addressing foundation problems in basements and crawl spaces early is crucial for maintaining your home’s stability and value. Delaying repairs can lead to more extensive damage, such as structural instability and higher repair costs. Consulting a foundation repair company at the first sign of trouble ensures that the issues are resolved before they escalate, keeping your home safe and secure.

Conclusion:

If you notice any of these warning signs in your basement or crawl space, it’s important to schedule a professional inspection. A trusted foundation repair company can identify the root cause of the issues and recommend the best solutions to keep your home stable and protected. Taking action early can prevent small problems from turning into major concerns, ensuring peace of mind for you and your family.

[foundationsolution]

Unmasking Mil: The Imperative Sub-Fractional Unit Of Measurement

Born out of the necessity of precision in various industries, units of measurement have established themselves as essential elements for numerous professions. Among these rudimentary parts of technical and scientific verges, lies the frequently used yet often misunderstood unit called ‘mil.’ Not to be mistaken with its phonetic twin ‘mile,’ this minuscule unit plays a major role in defining thinness and thickness in several fields. Fundamentally, one ‘mil’ equals 1/1000 (0.001) inch – a seemingly minute detail that everyone from industrial CNC machinists to electronics engineers can’t afford to overlook.

[basementwaterproofingpeoria]

Don't Let Your Peoria Basement Become a Soggy Swamp: Essential Waterproofing Services

Living in Peoria, IL, comes with its perks – friendly communities, great schools, and a vibrant downtown. But what about those pesky basement leaks that threaten to turn your lower level into a damp, unusable space? Here's where a reliable Basement Waterproofing Company in Peoria, IL, comes to the rescue!

Why Choose Professional Basement Waterproofing?

A wet basement is more than just an inconvenience. It can lead to a host of problems, including:

Mold Growth: Damp environments are breeding grounds for mold, which can trigger allergies and respiratory problems.

Foundation Damage: Water seepage can weaken your foundation, leading to costly repairs down the road.

Decreased Property Value: A leaky basement can significantly decrease your home's market value.

Investing in professional basement waterproofing services can save you money and heartache in the long run.

PIDry: Your Peoria Basement Waterproofing Experts

At PIDry, we're your one-stop shop for all your basement waterproofing needs in Peoria, IL. Our team of experienced professionals provides a comprehensive range of services, including:

Basement Crack Repair: We seal cracks in your foundation walls, preventing water intrusion.

Sump Pump Installation: Sump pumps remove excess water from your basement, keeping it dry and healthy.

French Drain Installation: French drains channel water away from your foundation, preventing leaks.

Basement Waterproofing: We employ a variety of techniques to keep your basement dry, from interior waterproofing systems to exterior drainage solutions.

Crawl Space Waterproofing: We address moisture problems in your crawl space, preventing mold growth and improving air quality.

Don't Wait Until It's Too Late!

A wet basement is a serious issue that shouldn't be ignored. If you're noticing signs of water damage, contact a reputable Basement Waterproofing Company in Peoria, IL, like PIDry, for a free inspection and quote. We'll diagnose the problem and recommend the most effective solution for your unique needs.

Live in a dry, healthy, and comfortable basement all year round. Contact PIDry today and let's transform your Peoria basement!

Peoria, IL residents, remember: PIDry is your trusted partner for all your basement waterproofing needs. With our expertise and commitment to quality, we'll ensure your basement stays dry and usable for years to come.

[basementwaterproofingyork]

What Places to Clean in The Mold Removal Process?

If you suspect that there can be mold in your home, hotel, or office, you need a mold removal company for mold remediation. If you are thinking of cleaning mold alone, just don’t! Mold can spread to other places and even cause skin and throat allergies. Let us know about the mold issue and its solutions. 

Dealing With Mold and Its Root Cause: 

As long as you have mold present in your home, you are not getting rid of mold in any way. So along with cleaning the mold, you need to reach the root cause of the moisture or water entry in your home. It can be due to basement leakage, crawl space, or wall cracks. Determine the reason and get immediate help to fix the issue.

Types of Molds:

Black mold (most dominant)

Dry rot

Pink mold

Yellow mold

White mold

What Places Do You Need to Get Cleaned?

Mold can be hidden in any place of your home, commonly found in walls, floors, and basements. However, you need to make sure when you hire a company for mold removal; you get the following places clean.

Bathrooms

Basement

Windows

Ventilation System

Furniture

Plumbing

Walls

Your Cupboard and Cabinets

Carpets and Flooring

Finally:

Ultimately, it is essential to hire a professional who offers efficient mold removal services and works for customer satisfaction. If you are looking for basement leakage, crawl space repair, or mold remediation services in Harrisburg, pa, BWS Dry has your back. Visit their website today!

[silkenwinger]

natural predator

ghost x reader, shifter x shifter. strangers to friends to lovers with a little push. based on this and this. MDNI. cw: stalking, implied manipulation, scent kink, mating cycles/in heat, the slightest dubious consent, biting, implied knotting (it's still rather vanilla). dividers by @/strangergraphics

There are many ways to pass the time. 

You can walk around the block once, twice, until the winter frostiness gives out. Clean your one room apartment from top to bottom, taking care in picking soft scents not to overwhelm your nose. Enter the same shop every Wednesday, never buying anything because it is expensive. It’s a way of living. Perhaps not the best. You wouldn’t know any other, now.

It wasn’t always like this. You used to have parents and friends. Shared dinners. Warm faces by your neck and vice versa. It was scary, seeing it all change. And not being able to do anything about it but flee, thinking it’d be fine somewhere else. A space for your kind doesn’t exist anywhere. You make one by picking a corner and sitting there. And you’re fine here. These past months have gone by smoothly, if a little lifeless.

The one light from the canopy outside keeps flickering beat by beat through the glass doors as you check the register.

“Real issue, that one,” says your manager, Joe. Joe is nice. He lets you do as you please as long as you do the bare minimum. It’s just the two of you, most evening and night shifts in this gas station, and he takes frequent naps he calls resting his eyes.

“When did the repair man say he’d come?”

“Between tomorrow and Friday.” It’s Monday. “I swear my eyes are about to pop open. It’s always just behind them.” He says, making a gesture towards his head.

You close the register. The shop’s jingle plays while you bend over to fix the leg of your pants. When you rise to your full height again, you see him.

Imposing. Dressed in black. Silent and overbearing. He’s wearing the usual surgical black mask, and a cap. Outside, he wears the sweatshirt’s hood on the latter, but he has the sense to take it off inside.

“Good evening,” says Joe, throwing the man a suspicious look. Joe is wary of anyone he can’t get a full report of age and provenience out of, not to mention someone who doesn’t entertain his small talk. Bar you, since you’re a great listener.

The man doesn’t answer. Just lingers on the “sports and health” section for a minute, before grabbing a powdered protein bottle and taking it straight to the counter. You grab it without even looking at him in the eye. Scanning it, you chance a look. His black eyes are focused on your hands, a scar runs on his temple, jagged. His hair looks almost white in the cold, artificial light, his hands in the sweatshirt’s pocket. His eyes leave your hands and meet yours. A sensation crawls on top of you: the need to run. You ignore it and unlock your elbows. Prey instinct isn’t well received in human society.

There’s no nicer way of saying he has a smell. It’s not unpleasant, not at all. But it’s not quite a scent you can name either. Not vanilla, nor a spicy breeze. Not even a heavy musk. It’s just… odd.

You drop the bottle on the counter and tell him his total. He pays cash. Always. His nails brush against your palm as he drops it in your hand, and your breath is quivering. You snatch off your hand in a rush. In the corner of your eye, you can see Joe glaring at the both of you. He must be thinking you’re loony. You more than him, since you’re neglecting basic customer service pleasantries. 

He leaves. Your shoulders relax. But you can still smell him all around. 

You take a walk to the storage room. 

—

You skip around, the limited space hindering your jumps. In the distance cars speed and drive away, the sound muted by the rustling of foliage around your legs. The full moon shows your way through the arms of the trees, silver rays making a stone path on the green high grass. Your ear tickles to the left when you hear a sound, some sort of raspy screeching that has you raise your head. Unsettled, you turn back from where you came from, the meat in your thighs turning sour.

Joe is still asleep, his shiny head falling over his chest. When he wakes and sees you sitting at the counter, he makes an off comment about your hair being messy, voice still slurred by sleep. You fix yourself through the metal reflection on the fridges’ handles and clean the dirt from your nose.

—

Two teenage girls keep shoving their phones in your face. So far from their conversation and monologue towards you, it seems they’re on the lookout for something they call a “dupe”— a lipstick or something. You tell them all the makeout you hold is by the register, on their left. Their expressions clearly show their dissatisfaction with the selection, hands slapping to their sides when they let go of something. 

“Girls! We have to go!” Yells the children’s mother from near the exit, and the twins huff in perfect synchrony. They give the makeout shelf a final disparaging look and exit the store, not minding you one bit. You finish stacking up the bandaids, the sunset outside flooding the enclosed space in orange. You go back to the register when you hear someone entering, so used to the shop’s jingle it’s not annoying anymore.

When the hooded man comes to stand before you, you don’t even think twice. There’s something weird in the air, and he hasn’t come in two days. Maybe he was busy. But the eyes and face you find aren’t of the blonde man, and the fabric covering his mouth isn’t that of a surgical mask. The startling blue colour of his irises freezes your mind. The barrel of a gun is pointed straight at you, an extension of the man’s long arm. 

The first instinct is always to run. But you find yourself stuck to the place, the thump of your heart resounding in your ears. The man is yelling at you, demanding you to open the register, the glossy finishing of the weapon almost blinding. Your right hand twitches, flexes. You’re sure he’s going to shoot you in the head. The muzzle of the gun is moving side to side, diagonally, shifting lightly enough that it would be almost imperceptible to less acute eyes. The man is shaking. The scent is that of fear.

He shifts as if hit by a train. An unstoppable force. The robber falls to the ground, his body making a loud thunk, the gun dropping from his hold. The spell broken, you lean over the counter, your sweaty hands holding the edge of it. On the ground, the man is on his belly, a bigger body over him. You recognize the cold shine of blond hair.

The police come after you finally call them. You think the blond man might have knocked the robber out, because he’s still prone on the ground while he sits on his legs. He hasn’t said a word to you. Just sent you a glare that said call the cops. While the police take the man away, you call Joe and tell him everything, still looking at the mystery man through the glass doors. Joe says you can close the shop, his voice worried. 

You find him still smoking outside. Shifting on your feet, you take his appearance in more carefully. The scent is less intense now, covered by the smoke and dispersed in the open air. The only lights are that of the canopy and the lit cigarette. He’s regarding it as if it’s an ancient book worth revering, the stick looking dwarfed in between his fingers. Tapping your heels, you tuck your nose inside the neck of your coat.

“Thank you,” you let out.

He looks at you like you’ve told him to go jump off a bridge. The blood in your vein chills. 

“Common where you’re from?” He asks, his voice even more rough than you’ve expected. You swallow and take a step back. 

“Excuse me?”

He makes a vague gesture towards the station, the woods behind. You follow his hand with your eyes and tilt your head to the right, confused.

“Putting your smell all over. Calling everyone to come here.” He then takes a long look, up and down your body, that makes you want to crawl back inside your skin. “Don’t look like the type to enjoy the attention.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, offended, but don’t move from where you’re standing. He is smelling you, as well? That can’t mean… His expression is annoyed, like he’s had this conversation with you a hundred times and more. Your nose twitches. He doesn’t reply to you, choosing instead to put out the cigarette on the ground and walk back to his car. You’re left, speechless, looking at his back.

—

It’s your free day. You can do everything you want during your free day.

You go running, of course. Choose a little spot off the running track, a clearing with tall grass. You take a few bites, but you’re never really satisfied when you eat in this form. It’s only instinct that makes you do so. 

All of the sudden, the air changes. The needles on your back multiply, as do your look backs. At some point, you’re certain you’re being stared at. Your hind legs kick, the jump propelling you inside the trees, and you disappear among the foliage.

—

“You should use this.” 

A green container is dropped in front of you on the counter. It’s not something you sell in the shop. You look up to the blond man with a dubious face.

“To hide your scent.” He says nonchalantly. You scrunch your face and ignore the unasked gift. You get to the heart of it.

“What’s your name?”

“Simon,” he answers flatly, while his eyes shift to look at the blue plate on your chest. “That your real one?” He says pointing to it with a long finger.

“Yes.”

“Hmm.”

“These,” you say, taking the container in your hand. It’s full of white, small pills, “work… for our kind?”

“Yeah. More for territory issues than anything else.”

“But you still smell.” You shake the bottle in front of him. From above the mask, one of his eyebrows shifts.

“Better than nothing.” His tone is ironic. Ugh, no one wants to be told they reek all the time. You pout, but pocket the pills. His eyebrow is still quirked.

“Just like that?” He says, surprised.

“Uh? You told me to take them.”

“You don’t know me.”

You roll your eyes. You can’t read him at all, but you suppose he’s made you a pet case of his, a new shifter who needs help in his turf. So why preach stranger danger now?

“You already saved me once.” You lower your eyes. “Does that mean there’s a lot of us here, in this city?” You try to keep your tone neutral, but you fear it sounds more hopeful than it ought to be.

He looks uncomfortable now. Like a mother who promised her son a new toy and can’t buy it for Christmas.

“I know a couple of people,” he scratches the back of his neck. “John Price, good man. Big.” He pauses. “I’ll give you my phone number. If anyone else but him pops up here, or at your house, you call me.”

That’s when Joe makes his entrance. His face tells you that he’s not thrilled you two are having this conversation. 

“Everything alright here?” He asks you as he spreads his hands on the counter, and you realize he’s worried Simon’s bothering you. His figure, small and round, pales against the solidity of the taller man’s body, but he holds his head high. And Simon, maybe now conscious of how he’s coming across, shrinks.

“Yes, don’t worry,” you smile shyly to Joe, happy he’s worried about you. But Simon is not necessarily bothering you. You enjoy having someone to talk to about that. Someone who is just like you.

—

He offers to take you home when your car won’t start one rainy night. You tell him you can wait for the tow truck beneath the canopy but he’s unremovable. You don’t question why he was waiting for you to finish your shift. In his car, you just keep your hands in between your thighs, the warmth of the heater thawing your toes. He fiddles with the radio, big fingers turning the dial, the slightest amount of light hair on them. His face is neutral, but you wouldn’t call it relaxed.

“You've been taking them? The suppressants,” he adds, while he turns for what seems the tenth time.

“Yes. Does it not seem so?” You ask, now self conscious.

He doesn’t answer your question. A bit put off by his lack of politeness, you cross your arms and look outside of the car window, limiting your indications to one word replies. He doesn’t seem to need them anyway. When he stops at your house, you put a hand on the door handle and look at him. Something is missing.

“... Do you want to come upstairs?” You ask, voice trembling less than you’d expect from yourself. Again, he doesn’t answer. He just exits the car, long limbs getting out the seat and into the drizzle. You scramble to get out as well. He feels even bigger at your shoulders as you guide him up the stairs. When you enter your apartment, you’re embarrassed by the state you left it in that morning. Simon doesn’t seem to mind, still looking around the space like it might reveal some great conspiracy. Then, he lifts his gaze at you, implicit question in his brown eyes. You look down, biting your lower lip in anxiety.

“This is all I could find on my budget,” you try to justify your living situation, like he’s owed an explanation. He shakes his head.

“It’s nice,” he says, maybe not completely genuinely. But you’re so surprised by a compliment coming from him you almost stutter.

“Please sit,” you say, gesturing to the small table. You make tea in your electric kettle, feeling his eyes behind you all the time. Uncomfortable with his staring and the silence, you try to make small talk, the way Joe has taught you makes customers feel at ease.

“Does it always rain so much here?” You ask, while bringing the mugs to the table. Simon grabs his by the main part instead of the handle, uncaring of the heat. Probably just to do something. He looks huge at your table, the size of the apartment not matching the size of his body.

“Yes. The whole region is rainy.”

“Alright.” You fiddle with the teabag in your cup by its string. Unprompted, you attempt to find the answer to something you’ve suspected for a while.

“Have you been watching me while I’m changed?” You ask, the words flowing out of your mouth like a river in full. He doesn’t answer at first, his whole figure completely still, and you think he’s going to start yelling at you. Maybe you’ve offended him greatly, and the way his kind goes about it, he’ll tear your throat apart. But you don’t even know what kind he is, really. Then, his lips part.

“Just keeping an eye on you,” he says, looking you in the eye, the warm light of the ceiling fan casting shadows on his face. His voice is earnest, and honest, and you want to ask a thousand questions but you think you might already know the answer to some. You tilt your head to the left.

“Worried I’ll commit a crime?” You joke, remembering the way he subdued the robber.

“Worried about others, more like.” He answers flatly, and a flame stokes in the center of your chest. 

“Come say hi next time,” you whisper, the blood in your cheeks scorching hot.

He really does scowl at that, as if he’s tasted something rotten.

“Don’t think that’s wise, pet.”

—

He digs a place for himself in your life and sits there quietly. Always in the vicinity.

The days he comes to the station are more than the ones he does not. He buys mundane stuff, necessities he could easily get when he gets groceries, and starts even getting his gas from you. Requests your service specifically. Joe only looks at you with knowing eyes nowadays, and you’re victim to an unstoppable rush of implicating jokes once you leave Simon.

“You’re the only client I’ve gotten the whole month for gas, you know,” you tell him while he sits in the car, the window lowered. His face is even harder to read with sunglasses on.

“Pity. I find myself well serviced,” he says, and your hackles rise at the friendly, even flirting tone of his. You smile to yourself as you pump the gas, tapping your nails on the black varnished trunk.

With the gas in his tank, he drives you around. Actually, he helps you buy a new table. He says the other one makes his back hurt, so you pick a taller version and he pays. He sticks to your side even when the majority of your time together is spent in silence, or with you recounting your shift at work. He points to you clearings nearby you can shift in more covertly, big places where hunting is always forbidden. The itch to know more about him is always at the back of your throat, but you never ask Simon anything that would stab in too deep.

You meet John Price. He’s been itching to see you, Simon says– and they’re ex coworkers, too, so Simon trusts him implicitly. The moment you see him, you think he must be a bear, his long moustache, the slope of his brow bone. He tells you as much himself, freely, after taking a big sip of his beer.

“You’re a deer, right lassie?” You nod demure at the question. “Only ruminant of the area. Can’t say the green spaces are ample, but,” he smiles, eyes crinkling, “it’s a quiet city thanks to us.” He shoves at Simon’s chest, the latter staying still. The shadow of a smile plays on Simon’s mouth.

It’s not like you don’t know there can be animosity between shifters. You remember there being scuffles back home too– but it’s just little old you here. You doubt anyone would even notice you. When you say as much, the look you receive from the two men is focused and sharp, and it tells you all you need to know. No more of that talk.

You start smelling the others in some parts of the city, and immediately draw back when it happens. When you tell Simon as much, that you’re being careful after his and John’s advice, he smiles a full smile, his canines sharply white, his hand coming to pat your head.

In this idyllic moment of your life, when things aren’t just fine but great– a small sense of community again, a stable good job, and a budding link–

Your heat comes.

It’s not your first. Back then, you had your options. Taking care of each other was the norm. But lately, as stressed as you’ve been, you’d forgotten that this, too, is part of your nature. And you didn’t prepare accurately– including having some relief the days before the actual heat comes. Before you pass out, you have the sense to call sick at work. After that your finger hovers on Simon’s name, but you abandon the idea. He can’t always come to help you.

Hazily, you think back on the pills Simon gave to you. You ran out some weeks ago, but didn’t think about asking for more. After all, you’d lived for long without, and he couldn’t even tell the difference himself, as shown by his silence on the matter. Maybe he grew too dulled to your smell. 

Maybe he knew that they were finished. Maybe he did it on purpose.

You cough. The slick between your legs doesn’t have time to cool down before a new fresh wave comes, and you curse your animal side as you writhe on the bed. Through the sound of the blood rushing in your ears, you hear your door opening. Panicking, your eyes cross to watch the entrance, the tall, dark figure making its way inside with familiarity.

“Simon,” you pant, “what are you doing here?” You ask, voice rough, when you recognize him. How did he even open the door? You try to stand on your elbows, but fall back over your face in the pillow. You hear his footsteps coming closer and closer to you. He sits on your bed, hand coming to pet your hair, and you muffle a groan, fabric between your teeth.

“Y-you need to leave. I’m not well–”

“Shh,” he just says, still petting your hair. When you raise your head again and turn to look at him, he’s looking at you curiously. You swallow your saliva and try to keep your eyes straight, but it’s growing incredibly harder.

“Why didn’t you call me? I had to ask around…” He says, voice quiet and reproaching. You lean your head into his palm, hands covering your face.

“Didn’t want to bother you…” you whisper, eyes peeking from behind your fingers. “Did you bring the pills?”

He doesn't answer your question. When you’re about to ask again, you feel his body move, his chest coming to press against your back. His arm stirs, makes contact with his head, which then moves. You hear an inhale, his big chest rumbling.

Is… Is he smelling you?

“Simon… I’m really unwell, but I’ll be alright, so you can-” Your voice trembles, but you get interrupted. The tone of his voice is harsh enough to make you cry.

“No. I’m staying here. I know how to handle this,” he says, decisively, but his eyes soften when he sees your scared expression.

“Hey. It’s alright. You know me, right? And I know you. This is just what happens to our kind. I’ll take care of you,” he whispers, hand holding your neck and face buried in your hair. 

And just like that, you surrender. 

He takes off your clothes calmly, with clear intent, lays them orderly on your chair when he’s done with each part. The moan that comes out of you when he takes off your pajama pants is almost vulgar. Before you turn your head in embarrassment, you see a flash of something else but determination in his eyes. An hunger, even.

“Come. All fours,” he orders, and you follow his words blindly. You’re in no state to oppose him truly, and anyway, this is what your body wants. And the mind is not far to follow. He guides you, rough hands on your waist and hips, and positions you the way he wants.

“Look at that,” he remarks, once he has the full view of your aroused cunt in his face. You mutter an offended remark in your elbow that turns into a yelp when he starts spreading your lips, examining you to his heart’s content. One of his fingers comes to brush at the edges of your hole, bringing some of the wetness lower, on your clit.

“Built for it,” he hisses, fiddling with it, your hips grinding against his finger with their own mind, chasing that limb numbing feeling. Once your moans are getting high enough for his judgment, he adds two fingers into your pussy, his reach far better than any you could have by yourself. You move in tandem, a wave of power that starts from him and crashes into you. He starts curling his fingers into you, his palm still grinding against your clit, that’s the moment you let go. You come with a muffled scream into the pillow, your back arched, your pussy trying desperately to milk his fingers. You fall prone, momentarily exhausted, and catch your breath for about ten seconds when you feel Simon’s arms encompassing your waist. 

“Up. C’mon now,” he says, and you let yourself be manhandled. His arm brushes against your stomach. Has… has his arm hair always been so long?

You hear rustling and movement behind you, but you’re still in the aftershocks of your orgasm that you just keep your eyes shut and enjoy the closeness with Simon. When your thigh comes into contact with something, though, your eyes open wide. You try to turn your head to look at his body, but he won’t let you, he just keeps your head firmly into the pillow. At least he shifts it a bit so that you can breathe with your mouth.

“Just enjoy this,” he says, a bit peeved, but with an undertone of shame. What could he possibly be ashamed of, when he’s helped you so much? 

“Thank you, Simon,” you let out breathlessly, and he groans, the sound reverberating through your whole body. The blunt head of his cock breaches inside, finds a clear way from your previous orgasm and the hormones. He starts fucking you with with a punishing rhythm, the snap of his abs against your ass resounding in the room, your slick rendering his shoves almost liquid. Whenever you try to shift a bit you’re hurriedly moved back against him, no chance of moving somewhere else. His mouth moves against your ear, muttering something intelligible, more groan than speech. More animal than human. The sounds, the smell of Simon, the warm air, it’s all getting to your head, filling it with foam. When you start moving back against him, a second climax descending upon you, his thrusts become more sloppy, and you feel his legs tensing, shifting in preparation.

“Take it all now,” he grunts out, and you feel a rush of heat by your entrance, and– and– 

With a snarl, long teeth bite into the meat of your shoulder, breaking skin. You moan in pain and pleasure both, the heading sensation going straight to your pussy, a trickle of blood running down your flushed breasts and on the mattress. You feel twitching and an unmistakable wet sensation inside you, and the feeling is so overwhelming you try to twitch away from his imposing body but find yourself stuck to him. Simon retracts his maw from your shoulder and licks the wound he caused with long, careful swipes, an apology of his own. Once he’s satisfied with his care, his tongue licks the salty residues of your tears on your cheeks, leaving a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth. 

“You’re mine,” he whispers huskily, just as you pass out.

When you wake up again, to the warm and damp touch of a towel, you whimper in pain. The movement stops then, and you open your eyes to Simon pondering what to do next, his hands on his hips. You cough out a laugh at the sight in front of you. When he sees you are awake, Simon’s mouth quirks down in mock scorn, but you read the implicit laugh behind his lips. He bandages your wound and you fall asleep again, worn out by your vulnerable state.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were a wolf?” You break the silence later, leaning on your good side while he spoons you from behind. His sharp nails brush against the skin of your stomach.

“You never asked.” He says, almost bored, but it’s a farce, and you both know it. You roll your eyes, grateful he can’t see you. There’s probably an ancient taboo regarding shifters of different species being together, but then again, you hold the very human belief that you can do what you want as long as it doesn’t harm anyone else.

After all, being in the middle between animals and humans means you always have two ways to approach things.

taglist: @rafaelacallinybbay

[atlantic-foundation-crawl-space]

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[pureservicespro]

Crawl Space Repair Services

Secure your home's foundation with our Crawl Space Repair Services! We specialize in moisture control, insulation, and structural enhancements. From preventing mold to ensuring stability, trust our experts for comprehensive solutions. Elevate your home's health and longevity. Schedule a consultation for reliable crawl space repair.

[hawkcrawlspaceandfoundationrpr]

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Your home’s crawl space is the unseen foundation of its health and stability. Issues in this area can lead to moisture damage, mold growth, wood rot, and even structural problems that jeopardize your property. That’s why prioritizing crawl space repairs are essential for safeguarding your investment. At Hawk Crawl Space & Foundation Repair, we specialize in delivering effective, long-lasting solutions to ensure your crawl space stays in peak condition.

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Crawl spaces are often out of sight, but the problems they can harbor are hard to ignore:

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These issues not only affect your home’s safety but can also diminish its value.

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Originally published at —

https://hawkcrawlspacefoundationrepair.blogspot.com/2024/11/top-crawl-space-repairs-solutions.html

[cutsiewitch]

A Mechanic’s Worries about Pilots.

A gifted mechanic is called in to service a pilot. As The Mechanic begins to head towards her station to work on the pilot, she can’t help but ruminate on her feelings about pilots. She honestly doesn’t like them.

It’s not a personal thing, she’s sure that they were great people at one point, but it’s hard to see them like that anymore. She finds the whole thing creepy and offputting. She see’s what they do to pilots, knows how they’re made. She probably understands the process more than anybody on the base. She’s a prodigy in mecha suit engineering, which also includes pilot systems.

It makes her uncomfortable. The pilots are treated like objects, tools of war. That’s what they are too, what they’re made to be. Their skulls are full of tech that hooks them straight into their mechs, their brains fried with dopamine and other kinds of chemical soup to reward them when they shoot targets into slag. They even end up sharing the space in their head with the onboard ai’s of their mechs. They’re locked into the mechanical nerves and metal muscles of the mech. It makes them amazing killing machines, but their minds are practically crippled outside of the suits, raw and untethered, ungrounded.

The weirdest thing to her is they seem so happy. It doesn’t even look like it’s just the chemicals, it can’t be. They like it, whatever fucked up experience they’re having, it’s making them happy as can be. They want to get back into the suits, they want to push more. They like getting bossed around like dogs by their handlers. They love their ai’s almost like some weird fusion of a lover, a sibling, and a reflection. They can barely even articulate how they feel, most don’t bother, but The Mechanic has worked in this business long enough to learn anyways.

She gets to her workshop. It’s honestly kind of pathetic, barely worthy of the name. She knows that the pilots are treated as tools, but mechanics aren’t treated much better. Human but still not really worthy of respect. They work her and the other mechanics like slaves, cramping them into the crawl spaces where stuff needs fixing. Even with her advanced position all they afford her is this broom closet from hell. The room is cramped and humid, like a small metal sauna. It’s still marginally better than the communal workshop. Even with the bigger and more open room it still somehow manages to be claustrophobic and hot.

The Pilot is already there, sitting on her workbench, completely naked. The Mechanic isn’t surprised, but her face still burns with heat as she blushes when seeing The Pilot’s bare ass resting on the same giant hunk of tungsten-steel alloy she uses to fix delicate parts and machinery. The Pilot’s augs are invasive and take up a good portion of its body. Its arms, its legs, and a good portion of its back are more machine than human at this point. Normally the jumpsuits account for this, but those would get in the way of repairs. Normal clothes would too, and developing some kind of modesty cover for them is more trouble than it’s worth for the higher ups. They don’t have to deal with the nudity, and it’s not like the pilots even care.

The Mechanic wipes the sweat from her brow and crosses the room. She doesn’t actually acknowledge The Pilot aside from the blushing, but The Pilot’s gaze follows her as she makes her way over to a box of tools. She sets the box down next to The pilots thigh and pulls over the ratty stool she uses for a chair.

She starts servicing The Pilot. She pulls out delicate tools and with ingrained precision she begins opening up The Pilot’s augs, starting with the legs and going up. She hooks its systems up to an old box of a diagnostics unit and begins manually inspecting the parts. She pulls wires aside with tiny fractions of force and checks on the tiny sensors and servos that are no bigger than her fingernail, cleaning them with tiny swabs and lubricating them with drops of oil.

The entire time she keeps hearing weird noises. Soft whines and sounds of scraping play at the edge of her attention, distracting her just the tiniest amount. The Mechanic can’t tell where the noises are coming from, and it’s bothering the shit out of her. When she takes a step back to unfocus and wipe the sweat from her forehead, she sees where it’s coming from.

It’s the pilot. It’s breathing heavily, like it’s exhausted. Its face is almost as flushed as The Mechanic’s when she walked in. The metal tips of its fingers scratch at the polished surface of her workbench. Jesus fucking christ, was The Pilot turned on right now? With the face it was making it had to be.

Fuck, now The Mechanic was thrown way off. It was already hard enough to try and pretend this was just normal machine servicing when all of the machinery was attached to a sweaty, naked girl, it was impossible to do it when she knew it was getting off to her poking around in its augments.

The Mechanic just couldn’t get back into the same groove she had before. Every stifled moan disrupted her concentration. Every squirm messed up her precise motions. Everything just kept bringing her back into the moment, where her face was inches away from the pilot’s crotch.

The Mechanic slogged through the rest of the grueling work, doing her best to try and travel into that little place in the back of her mind where she could just stop thinking and do what she was good at. She finished with the legs and then told the pilot directly to lay down so she could begin on her arms.

The Pilot laid down like it was told. The Mechanic scooted her stool forward and raised the seat for a better vantage. In the end the new position wasn’t all that much better than the old. The Pilot’s left arm was cradled on The Mechanic’s lap while she popped it open and began working on it.

It was more of the same. Nothing wrong but basic cleanup, which meant The Mechanic wouldn’t be busy enough to zone out. She could see its face clearly now. It looked so human, so lively. When she pressed a sensor its hand tensed and squirmed, pushing against her stomach a bit. A tugged wire elicited a slight yip of surprise. It felt so carnal, to dig into this things innards and just mess around.

Seeing it like this, The Mechanic couldn’t help but wonder about the difference between the two. Right now it looked just as human as she was, so she couldn’t apply the same cold business mentality she usually did with her work. She felt like they were almost one in the same. I mean, look at it, being a pilot can’t be so bad, right?

The Mechanic’s thoughts ground to a halt. Her surprise was so sudden it caused her to tweak a wire hard enough to get The Pilot to let out a proper yelp. Neither could tell if it was a yelp of pleasure or pain.

What had she just thought? Seriously, what the hell was that? Was she serious? Of course being a pilot is bad, being treated like a mindless dog, worked like a machine, and used like a toy. The Mechanic barely knew where that thought had even come from. I mean, it and her were nothing alike.

The Mechanic stewed in those thoughts, trying to reassure herself that she was nothing like it. She wasn’t an it. The Mechanic was a person, and it was just a pilot. The Mechanic tried her best to just focus on the work, but she couldn’t. The thoughts bothered her so much, and she really couldn’t dismiss them.

Because they were alike, very much alike. Not in the sense that The Pilot was a person. In the sense that The Mechanic wasn’t.

The Mechanic couldn’t help but feel it. She was a cog in a much larger machine, a tiny piece. She was treated almost the same as The Pilot

The Mechanic was worked like a dog. She was given shit conditions and forced to do shittier things. She was expendable, one in a million. You could point to almost any outward aspect of the two of them and they would match up.

The thing that frustrated The Mechanic even more was how they were the same on the inside too.

The Mechanic knew what it felt like to become something bigger. Working in the engineering wing was like being in a hive mind. You’re practically shoulder to shoulder with the people next to you. You become parts of the same whole, you work together, you sweat together, you create together. She can’t even remember how many times she had needed something, a part, a tool, a towel, anything, and a mechanic next to her had just known, and given it to her. She knew she had done the same for others all the time.

She could admit to feeling like an it sometimes. Stripped of your identity, down to everything but your use. She didn’t know The Pilot’s name, and The Pilot probably didn’t know her’s. She was a mechanic. She was nothing but the job she did. A function, not a person.

Her head pounded as she adjusted her grip on The Pilot’s arm. Her head buzzed and it felt like her brain was melting in the heat of the room. She could imagine the wires burning up and melting their rubber casings. The copper and metal fusing together into a frenzied mess as her thoughts jumbled into each other.

She shook her head violently. God she was losing it! Her brain wasn’t made of wires, it was made of meat! She wasn’t overheating, she was just getting some kind of headache. She closed up the first arm, not even sure if she was really done, and told the pilot to swap sides through gritted teeth.

She wanted things to be simpler. She wanted to stop thinking. She just wanted to do her job. The Mechanic missed the engineering floor. She missed the absent thrum as she worked alongside her fellow workers, their thoughts synchronizing into a beautiful and productive symphony. She wanted to be a part of that, of it. She just wanted to be a Mechanic, that was so much easier than all of this.

Is that why pilot’s are so happy? Are they so content because that’s what it feels like? The Mechanic thought about it in her own terms. Would she give up her body to work more efficiently? Would she open up her mind, just to be even closer with the other mechanics? Would she shed all of the cumbersome weight that thinking like a person had, and just become a simple and unbothered it?

The answer was yes. The Mechanic wanted that. The simple, pure existence of it. The Mechanic wanted to be that, and nothing more. When it realized that, it had a much easier time working on The Pilot’s arm.

It finished up The Pilot’s back in no time too. Without all of the messy thoughts clogging up its head, the whole thing went smoothly. The Pilot was sent on her way, on wobbly legs and with shaky breath. The Mechanic might have messed with it a bit more than necessary, but it liked to consider that a reward, for good behavior.

The Mechanic realized it wanted a bit of a career shift. It thought that if being a mechanic was good, then being a pilot must be great! It loved working on machines, but it wanted that sense of empty completion even more. Plus, it’s not like it won’t be allowed to also do mechanic work still. It would be a lot better for everyone if it got to service its own mech. It would be a win win. The Mechanic wiped down its workbench for the last time, and with renewed vigor, went to sign up to become a pilot.

[bendycxmet]

Repair You—Vash the Stampede

Summary: Just repairing Vash's arm. He might see it as more than just a simple act of service though.

Word Count: ~1.7k

Content: fluff, the whole gangs here, drinking, drunken and silly Vash, Wolfwood being a tease

You sat quietly at the hotel desk for quite some time now, feet swung onto the hardwood desktop while haphazardly leaning backward in the rusty old chair with a book between your fingers. The crew had gone out for another late-night drinking session, negating your pleas to rest tonight as the previous night's session had taken a lot out of you.

"You're starting to show your age there yanno" quipped Wolfwood as he slung his arm heavily onto your shoulders. He leaned in, smirking with downward-cast eyes as the lit cigarette between his lips swirled nicotine smoke around your persona, putting you in a heady yet annoyed space.

"Am not! You know we're both around the same age, right?” You swatted the smoke that crawled its way into your nostrils, but Nico paid no mind, only crowding closer into your personal space to hear the futile excuse you gave next. 

“It's just the hangover from this morning is still lingering. Maybe I feel it more than you since I out-drank your ass and you lost that bet when we were playing darts!" you teased as you wiggled your finger into his side. He scoffed and rolled his eyes, grumbling that you had cheated. 

A loud stomp could be heard from behind, and before you could turn to see who was noisily heading your way, a tuft of blonde hair and dazed blue eyes appeared.

"Mayflyyyy cmonnn you didn't spend enough time with me yesterday night!" A poof of his breath revealed that Vash had already started the night's festivities. You see the striped tie wrapped around his forehead. You chuckle.

Yep, he’s definitely a couple drinks in. 

Judging by how he had nudged his way between Wolfwood and yourself and sent a pointed glare toward the Undertaker, Vash was tipsy already. It was fun to see him tipsy when you were sober, as you were able to pinpoint the funny and affectionate little habits he threw your way, especially his small bouts of jealousy when Wolfwood became too close to you. He clung to your side as he batted his eyelashes, peering down at you with what could be described as the most endearing puppy dog eyes you have ever seen.

"Oh Vash, I did spend all yesterday night with you! You glued yourself to my side as if I was going to disappear! But you passed out on one of the tables before we left. That's why I played darts with Wolfwood." You giggled as you recalled Wolfwood begrudgingly carrying Vash back to your shared hotel room.

"Hey now you guys, let's just let them go back to their room. We can have enough fun here, right Milly?" drawled Meryl. 

"Yeah!! Let's get a round of drinks going again, everyone. Have a good night y/n!" shouted Milly in a warbled tone as she clumsily made her way to the bar, Wolfwood trailing close behind to ensure the tall girl didn't drop any of their drinks.

"Mmmm please don't go…" whimpered Vash as he tucked his head into your neck. "I'll miss you too much."

"Vash, angel, have fun tonight okay?” You whispered into his ear. 

“I'll be waiting back in the room. Plus, yanno what night it is?" you wiggled your eyebrows teasingly. Vash simply gave a slow blink.

 "Arm repair day~" 

Before the last word could escape your lips, Vash positively beamed at you, squealing in excitement before pecking your face and lips.

"Promise?!"

"I promise. I would never break our promise of these nights. Now go, I'll be waiting for you." You went to push him away as he kept planting wet, sloppy kisses against your cheeks, the skin flushing from his deep affections.

With that, you exit the populated bar, turning to look over your shoulder one last time as Vash bounds after the crew as they order another round of shots of a liquor you were too familiar with the night before. You groan, feeling nauseous at the thought.

You smile fondly at the memory that had played out only hours prior, ears perking up as several pairs of footsteps and giggling voices made their way down the hall. A loud thump could be heard before Meryl's quiet chastising ensued, warning the two to quiet down before they awakened the snoozing hotel patrons. Planting your feet down from the desk, you went to meet the crew in the hall. Swinging the door open, you were met with quite a chaotic scene.

Vash had Wolfwood's face in his hands, smooching faces being made as Wolfwood struggled to keep him at an arm’s length.

"Needle noggin I told you to quit it! I’m not your Mayfly.” Wolfwood perked up at the sound of your creaking door.

“Look! There’s your beloved Mayfly!” Vash whipped his head up, searching for you until his eyes met yours.

“Mayflyyy!” Vash pushed off Wolfwood and launched his body at yours standing in your shared hotel room threshold. You fell backwards with the strong, heavy weight of Vash abruptly meeting your ill-prepared stance, worrying you had hit your head on the dirty hardwood floors until you felt Vash’s warm fingers pressing into your skull. You sighed into his neck, wrapping your arms around him. Even drunk, Vash always prioritized the safety of your being. 

“You should’ve seen him. His last drink sent him begging to see you. He was in tears. I shoulda told the bartender to dilute that beer,” chuckled Meryl, a snoring Milly hanging from her shoulders. “Well, we’re gonna turn in for the night. Good luck handling the typhoon.”

“Thanks you guys. Mind shutting the door? I’m in a bit of a… predicament.” Peering down, you can see the content smile gracing Vash’s face as he rubbed his face into your shirt, inhaling the scent of you.

“Sure thing. Night you guys.” With that, Meryl shut the door.

“Hey Stampede, enjoying yourself there?” Vash groaned, pinching your side with the hand that was not cradling your head. 

“Yanno I hate when you call me that. Where’s my nicknamesss?” drawled Vash, sniffling as he peered up at you. You brought up one of your hands to tenderly caress his warm cheeks.

“Sorry my sweet angel~” you said in a lilted tone. “Thought you had forgotten all about me, and our designated nights.” Vash let out a loud gasp as he pushed himself so that he was sitting with his back to the end of the bed.

“Never ever! Look, I’m all ready.” Vash messily threw his red coat off, tugging his humanoid limb off and offering the piece to you. He seems to have sobered up quickly at the mention of what he had been looking forward to all night.

“What a good boy. Now go take a shower, you don’t smell like my usual Vash. I’ll get started on this.” Vash’s cheeks flushed an even darker pink at your praise, promptly hopping up and entering the bathroom, water and steam hissing from the gap under the closed door. You sat at the edge of the bed, tinkering with his arm with some tools you bought from a vendor many towns ago. You don’t understand why you love to do this for him. Maybe it's the only act of service you can do for him. Well, it’s the least you can do when he’s constantly laying down his life for you. 

Vash exited the bathroom, steam filling the hotel room. His gray, weathered sweatpants hung low on his hips, chest left uncovered so that you could trail your eyes down the many scars littering his skin. You can never get used to seeing him like this, quickly averting your eyes back to the task at hand, struggling to quell the blush settled now on your face. The sensation of the cotton cloth between your fingers gave your brain a distraction from the sight in front of you. You missed the teasing spark in Vash’s eyes as he made his way to you, sitting on the floor and pushing his back between your calves hanging off the edge of the bed.

“How goes it?”

“Almost done… just gotta polish it.” 

He hummed, tilting his head back until he was staring at you work. The cute crease you made in between your eyebrows whenever you were focused always had his heart twinge. How lovely it was to have someone take care of just one piece of him. Yearning for your attention after a long night without you, Vash turned his head to kiss the inner area of your knee. You giggled at the ticklish feeling.

“What’s wrong? You missed me that much?” You set the now polished arm on the bed, running your fingers through his coarse, soft blonde hair, occasionally scratching at his scalp. Vash hummed, his entire body slumping against the bed at your gentle caresses. 

“You have no idea…” Vash’s breaths began to slow at the feeling of your fingertips combing through his wet hair. What a strange sight to see when his hair wasn’t spiked into his usual style. The way his hair settled lightly over his eyes gave him an almost vulnerable, boyish charm, the urge to shield him and take him away from the world that hurts him constantly hitting you square in the chest. You took a deep breath, remembering that he would rather get hurt himself before seeing you attempt to protect him. Better to just ensure the arm that protected not only yourself and the crew, but also himself, was optimized at all times.

“Let’s get under the covers, I can feel how tired you are.” 

Vash progressively became heavier as a serene expression crossed his face, unfocused blues following your movements as you guided him under the covers, allowing his head to hit your chest, knowing he would appreciate hearing your soft, beating heart in his dreams. Vash’s last moments awake included him turning onto his side, arm wrapped around your middle, his legs interlacing with yours. The ensnaring warmth of him began to lull you to sleep, but not before you heard a quiet whisper floating upward from your chest.

“Thank you…” 

You didn’t need an entire sentence to read in between the lines, or rather, in between two words to know that Vash was not just thanking you for repairing his humanoid arm. With those last two words from him, Vash’s soft, even breaths willed you to sleep. 

A/N: Hello everyone! Thanks for reading my first piece of fanfic I've ever posted! Not usually a writer, so bear with me haha just doing this for fun. I just really love Vash so I wanted to add some fanfics into the fandom. Thanks for reading and hope for your continued support! See ya <33

masterlist

Dividers

[trekmupf]

Trapped in a Car With Someone You Don’t Want to Be Trapped in a Car With

Pro

Kirk being torn between his "duties" in the military structure of Starfleet and the duty to his crew / his friends

McCoy waking up and immediately doctoring

The way McCoy sits in the chair; Once again I'm stating the obvious: McCoy is very beautiful in this episode and his winged eyeliner is everything

We're getting to know Spock better: his problems connecting with the human crew and understanding them (something he learns later on, which is great character development), a new side to his logic, the fact that he's not driven by power (getting command)

Also the fact that the McCoy / Spock dynamic this early on the show is different from later on: the disagreements are less friendly banter and more actual fights, McCoy doesn't know Spock that well (thinking he's interested in power / command is wrong) and they don't work together as well, which is a great way to mark their development in later episodes

there's also a clear separation between Spock and the others, Spock's alone and doesn't have someone to confide in; later on Spock and McCoy are a duo

especially the scene where they're fighting over the funeral service highlights why McCoy, Spock and Kirk work best together and what can happen when one of them isn't around to balance them out

Spock is genuinely so irritated by his logic not working, he's so visibly annoyed several times

"Strange. Step by step I have made the the correct and logical decisions, and yet two men have died"

Spock's failures as a commander also highlights what makes Kirk such a great captain, as he manages to use logic and command while also balancing the human and empathetic side of it

Spock learning so much and growing during this, technically a great leader but he learns his own limits

Scotty best repair boy, the way he crouches and crawls into spaces to repair the shuttle and then engineer magic!

Also Scotty's attitude in the face of death is so great and telling about him. He realizes first what's going to happen and accepts it calmly, smiles and compliments Spock, having an air of comfort and peace around him

@ Kirk and McCoy in the last scene, how close do you guys need to be to have a conversation?

Kirk pointing out that Spock's action was based on hope and was therefore human and Spock trying to explain it away as a non emotional and therefore Vulcan action and the others just like him so much while he does so; it's not mean spirited but just lovely and such a great contrast to the tension earlier in the episode

So many of the shots inside the shuttle are accidently funny due to the camera angles they had use because of the tight space

Direct and straightforward episode set up: We have limited time (medicine needs to be brought to another planet) and the shuttle with two of our main characters gets lost in a phenomenon

Kirks desperation rising during his scenes the longer his crew is lost

great tension by the double plot: the immediate threat on the planet and the time pressure on the ship

I absolutely prefer the original special effects over the CGI remake. Look at how good the shuttle craft looks in comparison – taken from this youtube video which I recommend

Con

even for Trek the monsters are sort of shit

very minor but I'm annoyed at the uniform inconsistency, its yellow shirts not red shirt dying, the travesty

I know the commissioner is there to remind us of the time frame but his constant repeating starts to be annoying. I'm Kirk, just done with this guy (even though yes, he's right)

everyone but the yellow shirts who die have shit to do and opinions to have except the women who is just scared and doesn't wanna die

Counter: none

Quote "Did I? I may have been mistaken" - Spock "Well, at least I lived long enough to hear that" - McCoy

Moment: When the group sits in the doomed transporter together, knowing they're about to die but they seem collected

Free Bones because you can see his great make up in this one

Summary: Not quite bottle episode (even though it feels like it) that focusses on Spock and his struggles as a (half-) vulcan working with humans and his disconnect with them using a gripping and tense narrative; Over the course of the episode Spock learns a lot about humans, his connection to them and himself and he and his companions gather more respect for each other Previous Episode - Next Episode - All TOS Reviews