#Rechargeable Light Bulbs

[d-i-y--projects]

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[sairitaikutsu]

me: *accidentally leaves the touch lamp in the bathroom on* my mom: “don’t leave the light on, it’s going to lose battery!” also my mom: *accidentally leaves the touch lamp in the bathroom on* me:

[reilemon]

𔘓 Let's Break Up, Sylus! 𔘓

⚠ MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY) ⚠

♡︎ Reason for the breakup? You got tired of chasing Sylus’ shadow.

♡︎ pairing: Sylus x fem!reader

♡︎ cw: brief mention of blood and wounds

♡︎ tags: angst, fluff, smut, dry humping, oral (female receiving), multiple orgasms

♡︎ word count: 6.5k

♡︎ a/n: idk, i don't like how i wrote the breakup fics, but i'd feel bad if i never posted them. so, if you don't like how i wrote this, especially the breakup part, then pls don't say anything.

♡︎ Thank you to my dearest friend and my beta reader ♡︎@its-de♡︎ for helping.

divider by @anitalenia

The faint hum of the car does nothing to soothe your nerves. If anything, it only serves as a reminder of today’s plans, the source of your anxiety. You sit in the driver’s seat, the plane tickets trembling slightly in your hands. You glance toward the house—the lights shining through the bedroom window suggests he woke up. You exhale slowly, staring at the tickets again.

This isn’t how you imagined your vacation. This was supposed to be your time to recharge, to take a step back from the chaos of work, but instead, you’re about to board a plane to a place you hadn’t even known existed. All because you couldn’t stay behind.

The irony isn’t lost on you. Hunters aren’t passive. The words you planned to say to him when he sees you holding up the tickets, rehearsed in your head with all the conviction you could muster. But now, sitting here in the quiet, you can’t help but wonder if bravery is just a mask for recklessness.

Would it really have been so terrible to let him go alone this time?

Your gaze drifts to the empty passenger seat.

Did he expect you to follow him?

You glance at your reflection in the rear-view mirror, the faint circles under your eyes a proof to the sleepless nights that have become all too familiar. Staying behind would’ve meant another string of those nights—lying awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering if he was alive, injured, or worse.

But this... this is no better.

The front door of the house creaks open, and you sit up straighter. Sylus steps out, his tall frame moving with its usual confidence, his silver hair catching the early light. He looks like he always does—calm, in control, untouchable. And you’re supposed to be the same.

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The room is dimly lit, the single overhead bulb flickering faintly like it might give out at any moment. The walls are bare, the furniture is sparse and the air is heavy. The faint metallic tang of blood lingers, mixing with the sharp bite of antiseptic.

Sylus sits on one of the chairs, his long legs sprawled out in front of him, his shirt discarded and tossed over the backrest. Blood-stained rags lie on the table beside him. His torso is marred with fresh cuts and bruises, deep gashes standing out against the taut muscle of his abdomen. You kneel in front of him, wrapping clean bandages around his ribs. Your forearm is already bandaged—a sloppy, hurried job. He’d insisted you patch yourself up first, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The quiet between you is oppressive. The only sound is the rustle of bandages and the faint hum of the overhead light.

Sylus watches you carefully. Usually, by now, you’d be berating him for getting hurt, but he knows that you always mask your worry with irritation. Or you’d be recounting the mission in vivid detail, your energy buzzing with lingering adrenaline. But tonight, you’re silent, your gaze focused on the task at hand, not meeting his.

“You’re quiet tonight.” he says.

You don’t look at him, your fingers securing the bandage. “I’m tired,” you reply curtly, your voice flat.

It’s a half-truth, and you both know it. He stays still, letting you finish your work, though his gaze never wavers.

Your mind won’t stop racing. The mission plays over and over in your head, the close calls, the mistakes, the weight of Sylus’ injuries.

“There.” you say quietly, standing up and turning away to gather the discarded rags and put them into a plastic bag, your back to him as you fight to steady your breathing.

Behind you, Sylus shifts slightly in the chair, his eyes following you.

“You handled everything well.” he says, his tone soft, almost coaxing. “Better than well. You were incredible out there.”

You freeze mid-motion, your fingers still gripping the bag. You swallow hard, trying to stifle the frustration bubbling in your chest, but it’s too late. When you turn to face him, your expression betrays you.

Sylus raises an eyebrow, his head tilting slightly as he studies you. “What’s that look for?” he asks with the faintest hint of amusement in his voice.

You take a step closer, arms crossing over your chest. “Sylus, we barely made it out. I don’t think anything about this is ‘incredible’.”

His lips quirk in a wry smile. “A few scratches. I’ve had worse.”

That does it. “Wha - Do you even hear yourself? ‘A few scratches’?!”

His smirk falters, replaced by a flicker of confusion, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“You didn’t even want me to know about this mission!” you continue, your voice rising. “I had to dig through your phone, beg my colleague for help, buy plane tickets, and then throw myself into danger just to keep up with you!”

Sylus’ jaw tightens, but his gaze stays fixed on you.

“And now you’re sitting here, acting like this is normal, like this is fine. Like it’s okay that we’re both bandaged up in the middle of nowhere!”

You don’t realize your hands are trembling until you feel the sting of your nails digging into your palms. Sylus stands, almost carefully stepping closer to you.

“I didn’t want you to get hurt.” he says, his voice low but firm.

“Too late for that,” you snap, your breath coming faster now. “Do you have any idea how exhausting this is? How much I—”

You cut yourself off, your throat too dry to continue. Your chest heaves, your heart pounding as you glare at him.

Sylus stays silent for a moment, his eyes searching yours. Then he speaks. “You didn’t have to come with me. You could’ve stayed behind.”

A bitter laugh escapes you. “Stayed behind? And what? Spent another week staring at the ceiling, wondering if you’re dead or alive?” You take in a shaky breath. “I didn’t come because I wanted to, Sylus. I came because the alternative was worse. It’s always worse.”

His expression falters for a split second, a flicker of something—surprise? Hurt?—crossing his face before it hardens again. “I knew you could handle it. I’ve always seen you as capable—more than capable.”

“And that’s part of the problem!” you fire back, your voice trembling now. “You always expect me to be right there, don’t you? Always catching up, always bending my life to fit yours. Do you know how exhausting that is?”

For the first time, Sylus doesn’t have a ready response. The argument stumbles into silence. The adrenaline of your frustration fades, leaving behind an aching exhaustion.

“I can’t keep doing this, Sylus,” you say quietly. “I can’t keep choosing you over everything else. Over my own sanity. Over my own life. I need to be on my own.”

His expression doesn’t change, but your eyes know his too well to be deceived – you know your words hurt him. He doesn’t argue, though. Instead, he steps toward you. You don’t pull away as he stops in front of you, his fingers brushing gently over your cheek. His touch is so tender that it takes everything in you not to lean into it.

“You’ll always have a place with me.” he murmurs.

His words pierce straight through you, and your chest tightens as you see the quiet acceptance in his gaze that makes it so much harder to walk away. Your throat constricts, but you manage a small nod. Stepping back, you feel the loss of his touch immediately, a hollow ache spreading through you as you turn to leave.

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Returning to work feels refreshing. That’s what you tell yourself. You smile through the questions about your bandaged forearm - “Just a stupid accident.” you brush them off with a rehearsed laugh and no one presses.

You take every mission they throw your way. You linger in the office long after everyone has left their desks, filing reports and analyzing cases until your eyes burn. When you’re not at work, you’re training. You work your body until your muscles shake, until your lungs burn. Exhaustion becomes your companion, the only thing that lets you collapse into bed.

And when you give your muscles a breather, you throw yourself into social plans. Nights at the bar with friends blur together into a haze of laughter and drinks. You keep the conversation light, deflecting whenever someone asks about your love life.

But you can’t always stop your mind from wandering.

On your walks through the city, where you tell yourself you’re just stretching your legs, just enjoying the scenery, the truth peeks through. You’re looking for him. A glint of silver hair in the crowd, the flutter of dark feathers overhead—anything that might mean Sylus is nearby. But he never is.

The frustration comes in waves, sharp and bitter. Sometimes it’s anger at him—for the secrecy, for the danger he seemed so at ease with. Other times, it’s anger at yourself. For following him. For leaving him. For caring so damn much. And yet, no matter how busy you keep yourself, the memories slip through the cracks. The way he’d call you ‘kitten’ in that smooth tone. The glint in his eyes when he teased you. The softness in them in the quiet moments. How he made you feel like you were the only person who truly mattered to him.

As the days pass, the routine becomes second nature. You throw yourself into missions, into nights out, into silence. The wound on your arm heals, but others linger. And no matter how much you try to move forward, his shadow remains.

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You lie in your bed, staring at the ceiling faintly illuminated by the light of the tablet beside you. It’s paused on some show you weren’t really watching. The air feels heavy tonight. You pull the blanket tighter around your shoulders, as if it could shield you from the thoughts creeping in, from the memories you’ve spent all day trying to push away.

Your focus is pulled towards your phone lying face down on the nightstand. You tell yourself to ignore it, to roll over and let sleep take you. But before you can stop yourself, you’re reaching for it.

The screen lights up, the harsh glow making you squint. Your tired eyes take a moment to adjust, before your finger taps the messaging app. You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t look for his name. But tonight, you can’t help it.

Tapping the thread, the messages he sent a week or two ago fill the screen.

“The flower finally bloomed.” [Attached: A photo of a vibrant red flower, its petals unfurling.]

You skim through the words you’d typed in response.

“It’s beautiful.”

Further down, there’s another message—a photo of the same flower, wilted and curling in on itself. “Guess I should’ve expected this.”

You never replied to that one.

You scroll up, searching for happier times. Your thumb slows as you reach an older picture—one of the two of you. Sylus has your cheeks squished in his big hand, your face pouting in mock annoyance. Your eyes linger on his face. You gaze at his soft, genuine smile – an expression only you had the privilege to see.

And then there’s the voice note.

Your finger hovers over the play button, your chest tightening as you debate whether to listen. You remember the moment clearly—Sylus had sent it during one of his missions. You press play - his voice is quieter than usual, but the smile in his tone is obvious:

“I’ll be back soon, kitten. Don’t get too comfortable without me.”

Your vision blurs as tears gather in your eyes, spilling over before you can stop them. Pulling the blankets tighter around yourself, you press your face into the pillow, letting the tears fall freely.

You lie there in the dim light, the sound of your own breathing filling the room as sleep creeps up on you. The tears dry slowly on your lashes, but the ache in your chest doesn’t fade.

Eventually, exhaustion wins.

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Your breath fogs in the chilly air as you step outside a corner store, clutching a pack of noodles like a prize. You glance at the time on your phone and sigh. It’s late. Too late, actually, to be out in the cold hunting down instant noodles. But the craving wouldn’t leave you alone, not after the day you’ve had.

It had started early. You’d dragged yourself out of bed and decided to keep busy— run errands, go to the gym, deep clean the apartment. A pampering routine followed. Scrubbing the grime of the day away in a shower, leaving your skin soft and your mind momentarily calm. Wrapped in your fluffiest robe, smelling like heaven, you’d almost felt good.

Then the craving had started sometime after dinner. A silly little craving for a specific flavor of noodles you thought you had in your kitchen. You opened the cabinet and couldn’t find it, but you were determined, so you threw on a sweater and a pair of leggings and stepped out. The impulse led you further away from you building since your corner store didn’t have them.

Now, here you are.

You pass by the small park near your apartment, and your thoughts are more on getting home than on your surroundings.

But something catches your eye.

A figure with silver strands illuminated under the soft glow of a streetlamp. Your feet falter, your pulse quickening as your gaze zeroes in on him. Sylus.

He’s there, at the park, crouching with his arm extended toward a stray cat that eyes him warily. The sight is so achingly familiar —his careful, as-patient-as-possible approach, the way he stays still, letting the animal come to him. You don’t realize you’re staring, too focused on watching the scene unfold. The cat inches closer, sniffing cautiously at his outstretched hand. He murmurs something low, his voice too soft to hear from this distance. The sight is so disarming, so tender, that your chest tightens.

Slowly, you take a step forward, then another, careful not to startle the skittish animal. You approach from the side, your heart racing faster with each step. He must’ve sensed you before he sees you because his head tilts slightly, his attention shifting from the cat to you. His eyes meet yours, widening slightly in surprise. For a moment, neither of you speaks. The cat darts away, but you barely register it.

Sylus straightens to his full height.

“It’s been a while.” he says softly.

For a moment, you’re lost in his eyes – the tenderness his mesmerizing eyes hold when they’re on you.  You slightly shake your head as you catch yourself staring, your brain scrambling for a teasing remark, “I didn’t think you’d actually get the cat to—”

Your voice falters when you notice the cat again. It’s sitting a few feet away in the shadows, watching you and Sylus with wide eyes.

“Sorry,” you murmur. “I think I scared it off.”

Sylus chuckles. “Don’t worry. I just wanted to feed it anyway.”

True to his words, he reaches into the pocket of his jacket and pulls out a small can of tuna. He crouches again, flipping open the lid with ease. His eyes flick to your hands.

“Still on the hunt for those, I see.” he teases, nodding toward the noodles you’d been craving.

You chuckle, about to reply, when the faintest frown crosses his features. Your eyes dart to his hands, and you notice the thin red line on his finger, a bead of blood welling at the tip.

“You cut yourself.” you say with tone sharper than you intended.

“It’s fine.” he replies casually.

Sylus places the can on the ground before stepping back to let the timid cat approach. As expected, the cat approaches, its tiny nose twitching as it investigates the food. You’re about to smile at the sight, but your focus snaps back to him when you catch the bead of blood rolling down his finger. Before you even think about it, you step closer and reach for his hand.

“Let me see.” you say softly, taking his hand in yours.

His fingers are cool, the faint roughness of his skin familiar under your touch. You tilt his hand, inspecting the small cut. Sylus doesn’t say a word, but you feel the weight of his gaze on you, the way his red eyes soften as he watches you carefully inspect the cut.

You clear your throat, letting go of his hand. “It’s not bad.” you murmur. “But it should be cleaned. And you’ll need a band-aid.” You glance around, as if a store might magically stay open just for you, but the quiet streets and locked doors tell you otherwise. Before you can stop yourself, the words slip out:

“You should come to my apartment.”

The moment the invitation leaves your lips, you freeze, realizing what you’ve just said. A habit developed of all the times you’ve patched him up before. And it still hasn’t died, no matter how much distance you’ve tried to put between you.

For a second, neither of you says anything. The cat crunches happily on its meal, oblivious to the sudden tension in the air.

Sylus tilts his head, studying you, then shrugs lightly. “If you’re offering.”

You nod, more to yourself than to him, convincing yourself it’s no big deal. He’ll come up, you’ll clean the cut, and he’ll leave. That’s it.

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Even though you were in your apartment minutes ago, now it feels completely different with Sylus standing in your entryway. You catch how he glances around, his eyes taking in every detail. Then he notices a particular pair of slippers near the door, and you quietly nudge them toward him with your foot.

“These are yours.” you murmur.

Without a word, he slips off his shoes and slides into the slippers.

You motion for him to sit on the sofa while you retrieve the first aid kit from the bathroom. When you return, Sylus is already seated, relaxed as always, his eyes following your every move. Sitting beside him, you set the kit on the coffee table and take his hand in yours again. You focus intently on cleaning the small cut on his finger, trying to ignore the awkward silence. The alcohol wipe stings, and his hand twitches slightly, but he doesn’t pull away. You press the band-aid over the wound carefully, your fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary.

"There," you murmur softly. "All done."

But neither of you moves. His hand lingers in yours, and when you glance up, his gaze is already on you. Sylus shifts slightly, leaning forward just enough to brush his knee against yours. He lifts his free hand, his knuckles grazing your cheek.

His voice, low and soft, breaks the silence. "Can I hug you?"

Your chest tightens, the lump forming in your throat almost unbearable, but you nod, and it’s all the invitation he needs. Sylus shifts closer, his arms wrapping around you carefully, as though you might slip away if he moves too fast. The warmth of him envelops you as you rest your hands on his back, your cheek pressing against the soft fabric of his shirt, taking in his scent. You press your lips tightly, willing yourself to remain calm, but a single tear escapes, trailing down your cheek before soaking into his shirt.  Sylus holds you tighter, his hand moving slowly, soothing you. Neither of you speaks, the silence filled only with the faint sound of your breathing and the distant hum of the city outside.

When you finally pull back, his hands linger on your waist. His touch is light, uncertain whether you’ll allow him to keep holding you. His eyes trace the faint streak of wetness on your cheek, and with unbearable tenderness, his thumb brushes it away.

Your gaze flickers downward, just for a moment. A fleeting glance at his lips. But it’s long enough for him to notice.

With a quiet inhale, his thumb drifts, trailing from your cheek to your jaw, then lower—grazing your bottom lip. He hesitates there, his fingers barely pressing against your skin.

His eyes search yours before he asks, “Can I kiss you?”

Your breath hitches, your heart hammering in your chest. A quiet sound escapes you—a barely audible hum of approval, “Mhm.”

He exhales, relief flickering in his eyes. The corners of his lips twitch, just slightly, before he slowly, carefully, leans in.

His lips brush softly against yours, your breaths mingling. His hands slide up your back, pulling you closer. You feel the faint tremble in his fingers as they press into the fabric of your sweater. Without thinking, your hands reach for him—trailing over his shoulders, up the curve of his neck, until your fingers slip into the softness of his hair. A low, faint hum escapes his throat, vibrating against your lips.

When he pulls back, just enough to break the kiss, his forehead rests against yours. His breath fans across your face, warm and uneven.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” he’s whispers, “I thought I could give you space, let you find peace without me, but—” His jaw tightens briefly, the muscles flexing as he searches for the words. “But every day felt wrong. I left a part of myself with you, and I don’t know how to be without it.”

His hands slide down to your waist, “I don’t know if I should ask you this, but - ” his gaze locks onto yours. “Can I stay a little longer?”

The lump in your throat doesn’t let up. You know why you left – how keeping up with his lifestyle has taken a toll on your mind and body. But you also know that the man, whose eyes are filled with adoration and reverence as he waits for your answer, is the sanctuary for your heart.

You nod, “I would like that.” You take in a shaky breath, your hands settling on his neck.

Sylus stills for a second, like he needs to make sure he heard you right. His grip on your waist tightens, and his breath hitches when you’re the one who closes the distance. He angles your face gently in his hands, his palms warm against your skin. His thumbs brush featherlight strokes along your cheekbones as he deepens the kiss. As though memorizing the shape of your lips, the taste of your mouth, the way you melt against him. Then his hands find your waist again, pulling you closer until the hard plane of his chest presses against yours. You feel the faint shudder in his breathing, the tension in his body, like he’s holding himself back despite the way his lips devour yours. You sink into the kiss, your nails lightly grazing the back of his neck, feeling the way his breath hitches at your touch. But the hunger builds—his kisses growing deeper, needier.

His hand slides down, finding your thigh, his palm searing through the thin fabric of your leggings, the touch making your breath stutter as liquid heat pools low in your belly.

Sylus exhales sharply. “Tell me if this is too much.” he murmurs against your lips. His thumb strokes your thigh in small, soothing circles, a contrast to the possessive grip of his other hand still anchored to your waist.

You shake your head, pulling him back in. “It’s not,” you whisper, though deep down, there’s a flicker of hesitation.

Of course, he notices. He always does. He leans back slightly, just enough to meet your eyes. “We don’t have to do anything tonight. Just this.”

Your fingers tremble slightly as they thread into his hair, tugging him back down. You kiss him again—with more urgency, as though trying to chase away your own uncertainty. And then you move without thinking, shifting onto your knees as you swing one leg over his lap, straddling him. Sylus groans softly as you settle onto him, his hands sliding to your hips, holding you there, and you can feel his cock pressing against your clothed core.

His breath is a ragged exhale against your skin, his lips trail down the line of your jaw, his teeth grazing just enough to leave a lingering tingle. His lips settle on the side of your neck, nipping and sucking the sensitive skin. You shudder, fingers tangling into the soft hair at the nape of his neck as warmth floods through you.

And then your hips move, feeling the hard press of him against the damp heat between your legs, the delicious friction making Sylus groan in response. His hands slide up, slipping beneath your sweater, palms skimming the heated skin of your back. Then his hips shift beneath you, pressing up to meet you in a deep grind. The motion sends a shock of pleasure straight to your core, your hands holding onto his shoulders as heat coils tighter inside you. His hands go back to your hips, guiding your movements, keeping you anchored to him as you find a rhythm together.

His lips unlatch from your neck, shifting his attention to you, watching every flicker of pleasure on your face. “That’s it,” he murmurs. “Just like that.”

The way he’s looking at you, the way his body moves with yours—it’s too much, too good, and the coiling pressure in your core tightens too fast. Your nails dig into the fabric of his shirt, your thighs trembling against his hips. You try to slow down, to savor it, but the pleasure builds too quickly.

The orgasm hits out of nowhere. A soft, breathless cry tumbles from your lips and your body tightens, your hips stuttering against him as the pleasure rolls through you.

Sylus stills beneath you, his grip steadying you, his breathing uneven as he watches you come undone. His expression is both hunger and devotion. The corner of his lips tugs into a small smile.

The heat creeps up your cheeks as the mortification sets in. Your heart still racing, you bury your face against his shoulder. “I— I didn’t mean to—”

His hands are already sliding up, cradling your back. His voice is low, soothing. “Don’t,” he whispers, his lips brushing over your temple. “I’ve missed seeing you like this.”

His hands drift lower again, gripping your waist, pulling you closer. His mouth moves down, lips grazing your ear.

"Can you give me one more?"

Your cheeks flush at the question, the residual buzz of your climax still tingling through your limbs. You answer by shifting your hips, experimentally rolling them forward. The motion pulls a deep, guttural groan from his throat, and the sound alone makes your core tingle.

"That's my girl." Sylus rasps.

He starts a rhythm for you, his grip firm enough to steer you but loose enough for you to take control if you wish. The friction is delicious, his cock pressing against your soaked underwear through the fabric of his pants, creating just enough pressure to. The layers of clothing feel like a tease, amplifying every grind, every roll of your hips.

"You're so sensitive." he murmurs, his gaze never leaving your face.

His words make you shiver, spurring you on to move faster, your hips gaining a mind of their own. You can feel his breath on your neck as he leans forward, his lips brushing your ear.

"I want to hear you again." he whispers, teeth grazing the delicate shell of your ear.

Your body reacts instinctively, your pace faltering as you gasp, the coil of pleasure winding tighter with each roll of his hips. Sylus doesn’t let you lose the rhythm, his hands guiding your hips again.

"Let go for me." he urges, his voice a low rumble.

His words, combined with the perfect grind of his body against yours, tip you over the edge. A broken moan escapes your lips as the pleasure crashes through you once more. Your thighs tremble, your body arching as you cling to him, his name spilling from your lips. He groans as his grip tightens on your hips as he presses you down against him, drawing out every last pulse of your orgasm. His gaze locks onto yours, as he watches you come apart in his arms.

You slump forward, panting against him, your forehead brushing his shoulder as your arms wrap around his neck. His hands roam your back now, soothing as you catch your breath. You can feel the tension radiating from his body, the rigid line of his cock still pressing against you.

"Better?" he murmurs.

Your body feels like jelly, but you crave more. With a shaky exhale, you nod, nuzzling your face against his neck, the gesture earning a soft chuckle from him. You give yourself a moment to catch your breath before you sit up and move. Sylus doesn’t take his eyes off you as you stand from his lap, following your hands as they grip the hem of your sweater, lifting it over your head to reveal your bare skin. The soft glow from the living room lamp caresses every curve of your body, and his lips part slightly as he drinks in the sight of you. You hesitate briefly, heart pounding, before your fingers hook into the waistband of your leggings, sliding them down with your panties in one smooth motion, and now you stand completely bare before him.

Sylus leans forward, his breath warm as it fans over your skin. His gaze trails up your body, lingering for a moment, before settling on your face.

“You’re breathtaking.” he murmurs, his voice a low rasp.

You don’t have time to respond before his hands settle on your thighs. His lips brush against the curve of your hip, tender and sweet. He shifts forward, kissing the crease of your thigh, then above your pelvis, the attention making your knees weak. His hands slide up the backs of your thighs, gently urging you closer.

He turns around to push stray pillows off the sofa, before turning back to you, “Come here,” he says. “I want to taste you.”

Your breath hitches at the words, but you follow his lead. Sylus lies back on the sofa, his hands guiding your hips to straddle him, your knees settling on either side of his head. For a moment, you hover above him, your nerves fluttering. But you find reassurance when Sylus looks up at you with a gaze so utterly devoted as he places a kiss on your inner thigh.

“Don’t hold back,” he murmurs, his grip tightening slightly as he guides you down.

A soft gasp leaves your lips at the first stroke of his tongue against you wet folds. You grip the backrest with one hand, while the other one finds purchase in his hair and he pulls you closer, burying himself between your thighs. His tongue moves with expert precision, swirling and dipping, but then his nose presses against your clit, catching it just right, and a shiver bolts through you. The unexpected pressure makes your hips twitch, grinding against him instinctively. His tongue continues to lap at your entrance, tasting your juices, and the wet sounds of his mouth against you filling the room. You let yourself move, rolling your hips, the rhythm dragging your clit against the firm bridge of his nose while his tongue explores deeper, delving into you with an unrelenting hunger. Even lost in the haze of pleasure, you keep some of your weight off him, careful not to press down too hard.

“Sylus…” you whimper, the sound breathless, desperate.

He groans against you, the vibration coursing through your body and making you moan louder. His hands grip your thighs, keeping you steady but letting you control the movement, as though he relishes the way you’re using him to find your pleasure. Each grind sends sparks of ecstasy shooting through you, the friction of his nose against your clit and the way his tongue delves deeper, fucking you in shallow, filthy thrusts. He shifts slightly beneath you, the angle of his face changing just enough to hit a perfect spot, and your legs tremble as you chase another release, rolling your hips harder.

“Fuck - ” you gasp, your hands clutching the sofa like a lifeline.

Sylus hums again, his tongue and nose working in tandem to drive you higher, his hands kneading your thighs, encouraging you to let go completely. And you do.

You come with a shattered cry, hips jerking erratically as he drinks every pulse, every flutter, his grip tightening to keep you from pulling away from the overwhelming high. Your body slumps forward slightly, panting, thighs quivering as you try to gather yourself. But Sylus doesn’t give you time to recover. One moment, you’re perched above him, gasping in the aftershocks of your release, and the next, you’re on your back, the shift leaving you momentarily stunned.

You barely get the words out before his lips crash with yours. The moment your tongue brushes his, the taste of yourself coats your mouth. A shiver rolls through you, your thighs instinctively tightening around his waist. Sylus lets you kiss him like this, lets you taste what he’s done to you, but when your teeth graze his lower lip, teasing, claiming—his control finally breaks. Without breaking eye contact, he sits up just enough to swiftly take off his shirt before his lips are back on yours.

You hear the sound of his zipper, his hips shifting as he frees himself. His cock brushes against your drenched folds, the thick length sliding through your slickness, coating himself in your arousal. A shudder runs through both of you at the contact, the anticipation stretching unbearably between you.

Sylus exhales shakily, his forehead pressing against yours. “Can I finish inside?”

Without hesitation, you nod, your voice trembling as you whisper, “Yes... please.”

Sylus aligns himself, the thick head of his cock pressing against your entrance, and he takes his time, pushing in slowly, watching your expression. The stretch is deliciously intense, every inch of him filling you, making your walls clench around him. A strangled groan escapes his throat as he bottoms out, his cock twitching inside you. His forearms cage you in, the heat of his body surrounding you as he rests his forehead against yours.

He starts to move, his thrusts slow and deep, dragging along every nerve inside you. But even with his languid pace, just the feel of your pussy already has him trembling. You feel him pulse, his hips stuttering as he groans your name, his body shuddering above you. Sylus buries himself as deep as he can, his cock throbbing as his release spills inside you. The warmth spreads, and you can feel every pulse of his cock as he collapses slightly against you, his breathing heavy, his lips brushing your neck.

But he doesn’t stop. Even as his hips jerk with the aftershocks of his first orgasm, he keeps moving, his cock still hard, still sensitive, as he rocks into you with slow thrusts.

“I can’t get enough of you.” he murmurs against your ear.

The sensation of his thick length moving inside you, now slick with his warm release, sends waves of delirious pleasure through you. Your hands cling to his shoulders, your nails pressing into his skin as his pace begins to pick up again. Your legs wrap tightly around his waist, pulling him deeper, and his name tumbles from your lips in breathless gasps. Sylus leans down, capturing your lips in a messy, desperate kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth as his hips snap against yours. The pressure builds rapidly inside you, your body arching into his as his cock hits every perfect spot, the wet sounds of your connection filling the room.

“I missed you.” you finally confess, your voice trembling as the words spill out between moans.

Sylus freezes for a heartbeat, his eyes searching yours, his thrusts faltering as your words hit him. “Say it again.” he demands softly, his lips brushing against yours as his hips begin to move faster.

“I missed you.” you repeat breathlessly.

His rhythm grows erratic, his breaths ragged as his second orgasm builds rapidly. His hips slam into yours, his cock throbbing inside you as he grips your hips tightly.

“Fuck - I’m gonna—” His words cut off with a strangled groan as he thrusts into you one last time, his release flooding you again. The sensation of him filling you, paired with the grind of his pelvis against your clit, pushes you over the edge, your walls clenching around him as your fourth orgasm tears through you.

Your breaths mingle as both of you come down from your highs. Sylus doesn’t move right away, his cock still buried inside you as you both lie tangled together on the sofa, your limbs wrapped around him tightly. His weight presses into you, grounding, comforting, his body a welcome warmth against yours.

His lips brush against your temple first, then your cheek, and finally your lips. There’s no urgency now, just a gentle savoring. His hand cups your face, his thumb brushing along your cheekbone as he pulls back slightly.

"I never want to lose you again," he murmurs, the sincerity in his tone making your chest ache. "I was a fool for not seeing how much you were struggling. I took your strength for granted and thought you didn’t need me to change."

You swallow hard, unshed tears stinging your eyes. Your arms tighten around him instinctively, your fingers threading through the damp strands of his hair. He meets your gaze, his eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them.

"I’m more than willing to compromise," he continues. "Whatever it takes. I don’t care if it means slowing down, changing plans, or letting you set the pace. Just... please. I need you."

A lump forms in your throat as his words sink in. The dam of emotions you’ve been holding back all night begins to crack, a single tear slipping down your cheek before you can stop it. Sylus notices immediately. His thumb brushes the tear away, his touch featherlight.

You take a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself, though there is a small tremble in your voice when you whisper. “I need you too."

Relief washes over his face, his lips curving into a small, genuine smile as he leans down to kiss you again, his hands cradling your face like you’re the most precious thing in his world. The kiss lingers, his lips moving against yours with tenderness that leaves no room for doubt. When he finally pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin as he whispers, "Thank you."

You smile softly, your heart swelling as you gaze up at him. For the first time in what feels like forever, the weight on your chest begins to lift, replaced by the tender hope cradling your heart.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

@totallytaurus4 @ladyparamount @solifloris @withering-dream @yumii-34 @sapphic-daze @feuilledelis @cheesemachine44 @codedove @curiositykilledthecatx3 @sarangdipity @grabby-smitten

[jweekgoji]

.Seen your tiny motorcycle cybertronion reader. Can l ask for like the complete opposite. Just a massive hulking reader and the TFO characters reactions, to put it in perspective, reader is like only a few inches smaller then darkwing without a cog. Please?

TFO chars/Reader [hcs]

tw: none. word count: ~1,3k additional tags: cybertronian!reader, massive!reader, gender-neutral!reader, cogless!reader chars included: B-127, Orion Pax, Elita-One, D-16, Sentinel Prime, Darkwing, Airachnid a/n: thank you for your request and your patience~

B-127

He's a magnet for bigger bots. The little 🐝 managed to befriend at least 3 new bots that ended up being taller than him, so it's no surprise he will stick to you like a tiny coala. Oh, imagine how much bigger you can get once you have your t-cog.

If you're stuck with him in the waste management, I can see him preferring to sleep on top of you instead of on the conveyor belt. It doesn't even matter if you let him do that or not; once you two fall into your recharge, the next thing you see when you wake up is his face. right. in front. of you.

And it's not really his fault! Seriously! Even though his attention span is kinda short, he does understand your message, 'stay on your side, and don't get too close'. His only problem is his own behavior when he's unconscious. In the previous headcanons B-127 is very talkative when he dreams about something, so there's a big possibility that 🐝  also moves a lot in his sleep.

↑ So yeah. It doesn't really matter if you mind his clingy behavior or not; by the end of the night, the little yellow mech rolls over, whines and calls out for you, like a kid missing his favorite, big teddy bear.

The other interesting detail I see in TFO is the first fight between Death Trackers and High Guard/Main Four.  🐝 gets on top of Orion while the latter in his vehicle mode, and that gives me an idea how B-127 might act with reader that is much bigger than him.

↑ B-127's affection is not only shown through the quality time. Yes, if you're not already friends with him, he will be so excited to get to know you better. I mean, how many cogless bots this big ever exist? Not to mention, he has never gotten the chance to socialize. Poor thing was stuck for Primus knows how long, so excuse him when he gets so chatty with you at first, even though your dialogue is really one-sided at first.

“How did you get this big?”

“Can you reach for the top of the ceiling??”

“If I consume as much energon as you, will I get this big too??!” — 🐝.

↑ The more comfortable he gets with you and vice versa, the more he will want to be as close as he can get.

↑ When he has troubles reaching for something, he will get sad, until a light bulb appears above his head when he thinks of ‘oh wait, I have my best friend—’, and he's already running off to find you.

Overall, B-127 is really amazed by you, but if you think about it...he's just really enthusiastic about everything and everyone. 🐝 probably jumps and climbs on you whenever he has a chance, just to sit on your shoulder and ask you to carry him around; maybe even throw him into the air and catch up. He's really, really...touch starved.

Orion Pax

You two are some sort of similar, but in a little different way than one might think at first. You're very, very— easy to spot. In Orion's case, he's famous for making his pranks and running to the library, only to get smacked later by the guards or supervisors when he starts a fight with the others. In your case, it's really simple. In the crowd of cogless miners, you tower over any of them, and only supervisors can match you in this one.

Orion is really friendly, and he has no trouble making friends with other bots even if you're not interested. Maybe, like Elita, you're dedicated to your job and want to get to the top of your ranks, but it's really hard when that blue-and-red bot follows you around to throw a joke or two. He's dedicated too, you know!

I feel terrible for both you and D-16, since being around Orion Pax means only one thing. Lots of new, unbelievable experiences. Sometimes, this new unbelievable experience means getting punched for trying to intervene.

↑ But you're more lucky than D-16. If you think about it, D-16 is strong enough to hold Darkwing's punch, and it doesn't look like the supervisor tried to be 'gentle' on any of them (and that's all while D was two times smaller than Darkwing!).

↑ Now imagine Orion running to you every time the troublemaker is pursued by your oh so angry supervisors! Pax hides behind your much bigger frame, and if he had been a little faster, he'd successfully get them off his tail, but unfortunately...they saw him, so once Darkwing marches towards you to yank that annoying miner from behind you, the other big boy only stops half his way.

If only it was one of the other tiny cogless, he'd deal with both of them once and for all for even slightly disrespecting him. But once you cross your servos over your chassis, showing that you're not going to back away, he will step aside. This time, Orion was lucky to have you around, but that doesn't mean you will always be there to help him...

↑ Don't get me wrong, Orion is not that bot who will run away every time the consequences of his actions are getting to him. He understands that you have your own goals, and he doesn't really want to get in your way. 🚚 will apologize profusely if you get in trouble because of him, but he can't promise you that he won't do it again...but that is usual Orion Pax for you.

Elita-One

Realistically, it's hard to impress Elita. Mainly because she's the type who is married to her job, so as long as it's not related to the scores of her team, you will not get anything more than spared glances here and there.

↑ I think it's a big rarity for someone like cogless reader to tower over other cogless bots, so it's natural for her to first act like ‘how the—?’ before she brushes it off, focusing on the more important stuff to do. This is a blessing and a curse at the same time, since you probably hoped to at least impress her in some sort of way. Your co-workers and friends love to hang out with you and lean on you to rest a little, but no— everyone but her loves you! How unfair.

It will take a lot of effort and work to catch her attention. Firstly, don't become trouble. Secondly, be natural (take notes from Orion!).

↑ Elita, like a natural leader, really appreciates traits like determination or inspiration. There are two possible situations when she might grow closer to you: 1) where you are leader of your own group, leading the other bots through dangerous mines. 2) where you're her second in command.

It is important to use your quick thinking and stay cool during dangerous situations, so when the explosive accident in the mines happened, you were the one who saved everyone, not leaving other injured bots behind.

She was scared as hell when she saw that you didn't leave the mines with her when she clearly ordered you to leave. But seeing you walk out with your teammates safe helped her spark to calm down a bit.

Maybe you're not so bad yourself after all.

D-16

↑ there's something similar to this reaction, when he meets you for the first time, hehe.

 D-16 is one of the tallest in the group of cogless bots, or so he thought that, until you show up.

There's something that clicks inside his mind when he sees you, and he just can't take his optics off you until Orion elbows him in his side, making the silver-colored mech hiss and rub the spot with a painful expression. You didn't catch him staring, did you? That would be too awkward.

I think D-16, just like Elita doesn't actually mind your size, but he's more open towards his feelings, and it's even harder to hide when you two get closer.

For him, short or big, you are still someone he wants to protect from any harm. He's kind of selfless in this one, ready to grab you and pull away from any possible dangerous situation. And if he can hide Orion somewhere, it's so much harder to do the same for you, so he will bring his poor negotiation skills and somehow not get you two in the end of the list for promotion.

↑But if you're a peaceful and hardworking bot, just like him, I really hope that it's you who will protect D-16 this time. It's just hard not to get defensive every time he has to be punished for something he didn't even do. Justice for D-16!

He will be surprised at first when someone stands up for him against your supervisors, so he is speechless for a good time. Slowly, he will warm up to that new feeling, which is...actually very nice, being on the receiving side.

You two always look after each other, and it's easy to become good friends with him. D-16, used to the role of protector in his group, still has some habits when he sticks his nose somewhere where he shouldn't be, so you should definitely look after him.

Sentinel Prime

Sentinel takes a good look through your profile when he gets notification about the group of protororms being created. One of them is unusually too big for someone cogless.

His reaction would not be really positive at first, mainly because he has a superiority complex. I hc him as really jealous of Prime's not only because of their status but because they also reminded him that they will always be higher than him, in both senses. He was smaller than them, which makes him feel even less of himself (despite the fact that they never did anything to insult him). Sentinel hates when others look down at him, and thankfully, you're not tall enough to tower over him...

↑but he probably gets paranoid because of you. what if one day another cogless not shows up but this time both stronger and bigger? no,no, such a silly thoughts. there's no way someone can be better than him.

If you somehow get his attention, enough to make him personally approach you, sort of like D-16 and Orion's situation, he will be so pissed off behind the scene! Sentinel would never show it clearly, mainly because he has to maintain that perfect leader image, but it's hard not to notice how the corner of his mouth twitches or how he shakes your servo a little too tight...

But Sentinel would not be Sentinel if he didn't try to use everything for his own business. You're strong, tall, and can do a much better job than your short coworkers! A perfect worker, and that one bot everyone should look up to for inspiration!

Darkwing

Another bot who gets so pissed off just because of the way you were created, even though you had no power over it, but that's just your usual life as cogless on society built by Sentinel...

Darkwing is a pain in the aft for most miners; he will bark orders at them and throw some insults, but for some reason, he's a little more scared to approach you directly.

↑ Your supervisor might give you this glance as he gossips with his coworker, and whenever you look over your shoulder to find who keeps staring at you, he immediately looks away, as if he didn't do that for like a good hour or so.

It's not hard to notice that his behavior towards you is different. Whenever your friend gets scolded by him, he will turn to you to do the same— and he just mutters a quick “yes, you too, back to work...cogless”.

Darkwing doesn't look like a good fighter, to me. He mostly shows his strength against weak and defenseless bots, and he knows that they have no chances against him. He is easily startled and can be stopped by cogless who dare to go against him. There's a tiny part of him that understands that, so he will bite you with his words instead of hitting.

Airachnid

She's pretty damn tall too, as she is half a head taller than Sentinel, but that is mostly due to her spider legs. Even then, 🕷️ lady has her optics down at you, and her presence is already sending chills down your spine, despite her not mumbling a single word.

There's not too many opportunities for you to meet her; at least I can't find her being interested in miners, unless it is related to her job, like one of the tasks Sentinel gave her.

It can be like, that Sentinel suspects you of being a possible rebel, or you somehow got too close to revealing the truth, so he sends her to spy on you. Maybe she meets you when she accompanies Sentinel during one of those fan-meeting situations.

Anyway, Airachnid is more similar to Elita in this case. Spider lady is hard to read, especially since she always stays quiet, only occasionally giving you a half smirk or laughing at something, making the situation even more awkward than it is.

There's a really tiny possibility that if you prove yourself to be loyal to Sentinel Prime, obedient and hardworking, given the fact that you already received your promotion, she might start thinking about taking you under her wing.

↑ If you get a cog, what kind of alt mode will you get? A tank? A jet? Maybe a ship or train? Only Primus knows, but she's a little excited to find it out if only Sentinel puts down his pride just a little and agrees to that.

[so-i-did-this-thing]

Now that rechargeable LED light bulbs are a thing, I can buy fun old lamps and not have to worry about wiring burning down the house.

[yandere-fics]

I had an overall scenario. How would they take advantage of a touch starved darling? Maybe reader didn't have the best support growing up and can't help but feel warm when being given physical affection.

♡ Do They Take Advantage Of Touch Starved Reader ♡

(chose to do this with the sisters since i did something sort of similar with the city and kingdom.)

♡ Skye is just a little bit stupid and might not notice this tendency of yours, she just is happy you like her and want to touch her a lot but she doesn't think about how she could push you by taking advantage of how much you want touch until one day she works a 14 hour shift at the library, coming back to you being particularly clingy and upset, begging her to never leave you, how you need her, and then the light bulb goes of in her head and she realizes she should totally do something with this to keep you forever. ♡

♡ Sophie is a bit smarter and realizes that she can do something with this though she's highly unlikely to deprive you on purpose, she will have to leave on jobs on occasion but she's not trying to make you desperate because she views herself as like your caretaker and she has to make sure her doll has all their needs fulfilled though she will use it to possibly get away with pushing you into sexual activity even when you really don't want to. ♡

♡ Ellie is also particularly touch starved and often will come out of her office to recharge by holding and biting you so it's a blessing to her that you enjoy her touch and even touch her back, this only makes her more delusional so don't tell her you're like this with anyone else or she will bite you for hours and your skin will actually hurt. ♡

♡ Darla notices even before she asks you out so of course she's going to take advantage of this, she won't let any of her friend group touch you either, no one except her with ever be allowed to touch you so you're so starved for her. Your friend touches your hair to untangle something in it? They'll be bullied out of the college very quickly. She needs the only touch you know from now on to be hers, exclusively. ♡

[sngl-led-auto-lights]

Do headlights drain the battery while driving?

No, headlights do not drain the battery while driving under normal circumstances. Here’s why:

The Alternator Powers Electrical Systems While Driving

When the engine is running, the alternator generates electricity to: Power all electrical components (headlights, radio, AC, etc.).

Recharge the battery to maintain its charge.

Headlights typically draw 5–10A (60–120W) of power, which a functional alternator can easily supply (most alternators produce 60–150A).

When Headlights Could Drain the Battery

Exceptions occur if there’s a mechanical or electrical failure: Failing Alternator: If the alternator isn’t generating enough power, the battery will compensate until it’s drained.

Symptoms: Dimming lights, battery warning light, or odd electrical behavior.

Parasitic Drain: Faulty wiring or aftermarket accessories (e.g., amplifiers) may overload the system.

Extreme Loads: Running headlights + high-power devices (heated seats, AC, etc.) on an older car with a weak alternator.

How to Check for Issues

Voltage Test: Use a multimeter on the battery:

Engine off: 12.4–12.7V = healthy.

Engine running: 13.5–14.5V = alternator working. Below 13V = failure.

Load Test: Mechanics can simulate electrical loads to test alternator output.

Preventing Battery Drain Turn off lights when the engine is off (modern cars often do this automatically).

Fix alternator/wiring issues promptly.

Avoid retrofitting high-wattage LED/HID bulbs without upgrading the alternator.

Key Takeaway: In a properly functioning car, headlights are powered by the alternator and won’t drain the battery while driving. If your battery dies with the engine running, suspect alternator failure or excessive electrical load. 🔧🔋

[kezibun]

MY LIGHTS CAME!!!! >W<

Totally not a theme here >.> XDD

I got them all second hand on vinted for a fraction of the price of brand new and they don't even sell the sun light in ikeas near me anymore o.o

I also got rechargeable led bulbs for some of them

I'm like obsessed!!!

The Moon light and 2 clouds will go in this corner above my bed.

And the sun light and rest of the clouds will go in the opposite corner above my sofa-bed.

Amazing what you can do with your room when your big sis moves out XD

Here are my really really bad photo editing skills or lack there of to show you my plan (would have been better If I'd just draw it lol.) ⬇️

You get the idea... i hope.

[calmcoldevening]

Hello! I was wondering if you could write something with Jason Voorhees and a college burnout reader? Thanks in advance (⁠｡⁠・⁠/⁠/⁠ε⁠/⁠/⁠・⁠｡⁠)

Sure! I hope it'll help you feel better. Don't forget to eat, drink enough water and sleep. You're the best, sugar. Don't forget that. Jason loves you ♡⁠

Jason Voorhees x reader, who has college burnout

• Jason noticed that you've been looking tired and sluggish for quite some time now, you weren't interested in much of what you used to do together. He knew you were in college and he was understanding about it, but now it seemed to be getting more and more absorbed in you.

��� Now you'd come home from college and go straight to bed and sleep, or just stare at one point while lying on the bed. It bothered Jason. Normally, you'd leave your bags in the bedroom and come to the kitchen for dinner, which Jason just recently cooked for the two of you. Or you started telling him funny stories that happened to you at college today while you were sitting on the couch drinking tea.

• Right now, it didn't happen. Everything seemed gray and empty, as if the light bulb inside you had burned out and burst.

• Jason is very worried about you and will try to show it to you. He may not be able to tell you something nice, but he has already taught you many words and expressions in sign language, so you will be able to understand something simple, won't you? You are enough, my girl / boy. You do enough. You are so strong. I am so proud of you. You are the best, love.

• He will try to do something nice for you and cheer you up. Of course, he is not a great cook, but he can cook something simple and at the same time very tasty. Apple pancakes with honey. Soft warm cookies. Cinnamon rolls. He will try to fill your stomach with warm and delicious food to make you feel better.

• Jason will bring you a little squirrel, a bunny, or any other fluffy animal he finds in the forest. Look how cute and fluffy it is. Stroke it. Look how cute its nose twitches. Isn't it lovely?

• If, after a hard day, you are not in the mood for activity, he will simply light the fireplace, take you to the already laid out couch, cover you with a blanket and snuggle up to you from behind, stroking your hair. The warmth of his body and the warmth of the fireplace give a pleasant feeling of calm and comfort. Jason will be a big spoon and make you relax.

• Cry if you want to. Jason will hold you close and stroke your hair while you pour out all the accumulated emotions. He's a great listener. Tell him everything you've been worried about for a long time, Jason will certainly comfort you.

• You're doing so well, he's so proud of you. You're so smart and diligent, the best.

• Give yourself time to rest and recharge. If you continue to go to college in this state, Jason will pack you a lunchbox full of snacks, in which he will certainly leave cute motivational notes with his sloppy handwriting. "Miss my little smarty :)", "Good luck! ♡", "I love you so much. You're the best! ;)"

[beautyandlifestyleblog86]

Ways to practice eco-friendly living in your home

1. Reduce energy consumption:

- Install energy-efficient appliances and LED light bulbs.

- Turn off lights and unplug electronics when not in use.

- Use natural light as much as possible.

- Set your thermostat to a lower temperature in winter and higher in summer.

- Insulate your home properly to reduce heating and cooling needs.

2. Save water:

- Fix any leaks in faucets and toilets promptly.

- Install low-flow showerheads and faucets.

- Collect rainwater for watering plants.

- Only run the dishwasher and washing machine with full loads.

- Use a broom instead of a hose to clean outdoor spaces.

3. Practice waste reduction:

- Recycle paper, plastic, glass, and metal.

- Compost kitchen scraps and yard waste.

- Opt for reusable products instead of disposable ones (e.g., cloth napkins, rechargeable batteries).

- Avoid single-use plastics, such as plastic bags and water bottles.

- Use a reusable shopping bag.

4. Use eco-friendly cleaning products:

- Choose natural, non-toxic cleaning products or make your own using ingredients like vinegar, baking soda, and lemon juice.

- Avoid products containing harmful chemicals that can harm the environment and your health.

5. Grow your own food:

- Plant a garden to grow vegetables, fruits, and herbs.

- Use organic and natural fertilizers instead of synthetic ones.

- Compost food scraps to enrich the soil.

6. Opt for sustainable materials:

- Choose furniture made from sustainable materials like bamboo or reclaimed wood.

- Use eco-friendly flooring options like bamboo, cork, or reclaimed hardwood.

- Select paint and other finishes that have low or no volatile organic compounds (VOCs).

7. Reduce plastic waste in the kitchen:

- Use glass or stainless-steel containers for food storage instead of plastic.

- Replace plastic wrap with beeswax wraps or reusable silicone covers.

- Use refillable water bottles and avoid buying bottled water.

8. Conserve energy in the kitchen:

- Use energy-efficient appliances.

- Cook with lids on pots and pans to retain heat and reduce cooking time.

- Opt for smaller appliances like toaster ovens instead of full-sized ovens when possible.

9. Encourage sustainable transportation:

- Use public transportation, walk, or bike whenever possible.

- Carpool or arrange a car-sharing service with neighbors or colleagues.

- Transition to an electric or hybrid vehicle if feasible.

10. Educate and involve your family:

- Teach your family about the importance of eco-friendly practices and involve them in the decision-making process.

- Encourage everyone to adopt sustainable habits and lead by example.

- Discuss environmental issues and brainstorm new ideas for greener living.

[d-i-y--projects]

How To Use Rechargeable LED Bulbs Rechargeable Light Bulbs with Remote

💡 😵 💡

Rechargeable Light Bulbs with Remote, Battery Operated Light Bulb Emergency Light * Magic Light bulb for Cordless Lamps - Backup Power Outage Lighting Flashlight

💡 https://www.amazon.com/s?k=Rechargeable+Light+Bulbs+with+Remote&i=tools&crid=1PO75KD4IDYQ0&sprefix=rechargeable+light+bulbs+with+remote+%2Ctools%2C104&ref=nb_sb_noss_2

The Best Rechargeable Light Bulbs on Amazon Cordless Glow 15W A19 Rechargeable Light Bulbs with Remote, 3 Color Temperatures + Dimmable Battery Powered Light Bulbs,up to 24 Hours 💡 😵 💡

💡 https://www.amazon.com/CordlessGlow-Rechargable-Temperatures-Dimmable-Battery/dp/B0C9HDH1WV?keywords=B0C9HDH1WV&qid=1692883229&s=hi&sr=1-1&linkCode=sl1&tag=worsthobbyapp-20&linkId=2750af7dc258337babcf03218ec9181f&language=en_US&ref_=as_li_ss_tl

[daisyjonesgf]

whimsical girlie and billy starting out as a very fucking annoying situationship, high key, but it's really not what you expect

like, it's her being all 'idk-i'm-not-ready' and it's him being all 'wait, so you'll fuck me but you won't date me?'

until, of course, he realises she has her reasons, because the cards or whatever told her it's not time yet, and he knows this, because she wrote a song about timing and right person and all that

so he waits. like actually waits.

then, one night, she's panting after sex, and he's brushing hair off her face and she just goes 'we should date' and then falls asleep

and he's like FUCK YEAH AYYY

simp billy my beloved

🔹🔹🔹🔹

yes yes, 110% correct, it's not that she doesn't want to date him, it's that she's waiting for the mercury retrograde to be over bc she doesn't feel like that's a good time to start a new relationship since it already can cause issues, but she's also a sexually liberated woman, so she's not going to let it stop her from enjoying herself, plus she knows she's gonna date him anyways once the retrograde is over

at first though billy is really butthurt bc he's grown to really care about her and all her quirks, felt sparks whenever she touched him at all bc she's so touchy, and they even fuck in the van once when he originally agreed to a reading and sharing a joint, he's literally obsessed. but she's like no, it's not a good time yet.

and then he overhears her telling daisy that it's not a good time to start a relationship since mercury retrograde is already a tough times for established couples, so she would advise new things wait. and she also writes a song about waiting for the person you love and it's got billy's soul twirling his hair and kicking his feet even if he's pretending to be too cool for it.

once he's figured it out, he'll wait, occasionally ask her when retrograde is ending, and keep having sex with her bc he literally cannot get enough of it it, from the way her lips feel around him, to the feeling of burying his face in her, to the feeling of fucking and kissing her, he is down so bad.

and she waits a couple days after it ends and recharges crystals and cleanses, meditates, realigns herself and then one night they've just finished and she falling onto her back, he's sitting partway up to brush off stray hairs, wipe her face a little, and then she's just, "the stars have aligned for us to be together now." and before he can question it she's is out like a light bulb (don't do that guys, clean up after lmao)

and he's so excited and the next morning he's bragging by throwing in little, "my girlfriend wants-" "my girlfriend and i-"

fuck this man wanted her whimsical ass so bad

[edaworks]

Wasteland Survival Guide: The Institute, Fusion Reactors, and M.I.T.'s Actual Basement

It's that time again. Periodically I make unreasonable longposts about Fallout-related topics (it's a good way to keep track of fic research). Today I'm tackling nuclear fusion, the Institute, and the real-world Massachusetts Institute of Technology's basement.

Yeah, Yeah, M.I.T. is the Institute, We've All Seen - Wait, What Do You Mean, "The Vault Laboratory?"

M.I.T. - the Massachusetts Institute of Technology - is a highly exclusive research university with a well-deserved reputation for hosting brilliant minds.

It also got its serial numbers filed off in order to host the in-game Institute. Why? Probably because of all the very real research into robotics, artificial intelligence, and power armor (no really). And because M.I.T. is actually doing now what the Institute tries to do in-game with nuclear fusion.

And, of course, because of the vaults in the basement.

You know what? I'll just start at the top...Read on below.

I'll be focusing on fusion-related research in this post, and comparing in-game Institute work on fusion to what's actually happening over at M.I.T. (We'll get to the Media Laboratory and robotics and AI and the, uhm, power armor stuff in a separate post. Or three.)

all actual M.I.T. researchers/faculty/students and/or nuclear physicists have my sincere apologies, I don't know shit about shit but I'm doing my best

I Didn't Sign Up for a Physics Class, but Okay

Here's the thing about nuclear fusion generators - y'know...the ones powering nearly** the entirety of pre-war in-game America?

Including self-contained, miniaturized reactors (fusion cores, fusion cells, microfusion cells, Corvega engines, assaultron and robobrain power supplies, recharger weapons, G.E.C.K.s, etc.) and full-scale reactors (powering vaults, the Lucky 38, the Prydwen (and Rivet City before Maxson Happened), missile silos, etc.)...?

We don't have them yet.

Of course we have nuclear power generation, what are you talking about?

Yes - but nuclear power plants currently operating use fission reactors! Fusion reactors, though? Well...

For the pre-war in-game universe, even more than for us, that fuel-to-energy ratio would have been absurdly important. Companies rushed to implement fusion for damn near every possible use, but waited until the Resource Wars left them no other choice. "No more (viable) oil reserves? Well, shit. Fusion it is."

Because of this, by October 23, 2077, pre-war Western markets were still somewhat new to adopting miniaturized nuclear fusion reactors.

For instance, Chryslus' first fusion vehicles - intentionally reminiscent of the absolutely wild Ford Nucleon concept car dreamed up in 1957 - came to market in 2070, less than a decade before the nuclear exchange.

As for the other benefits of nuclear fusion...Atom knows the in-game universe could do with less radioactive contamination:

It is no wonder the Institute wants to get the reactor in their basement up, running, and running better than originally designed.

Real-life M.I.T. is no stranger to running fusion reactors - they've been at it since the late '60s - but as it turns out, they are currently also "building a better mousetrap," and if they succeed they will be achieving all the Institute would hope for in clean energy production - without the moral deficit.

If nuclear fusion is so great, why aren't we using this technology yet IRL?

Because - and I cannot stress this enough - we are attempting to levitate bits of the Sun inside a donut to make really hot things boil water* so steam will turn a fan attached to a dynamo to power light bulbs.

*(there are two other ways to generate power using this heat)

Naturally...this comes with some complications.

We know fusion reactors can be the most energy-efficient form of power generation - we just need better reactors. That's where M.I.T. comes in.

The biggest problem right now is efficiency:

TL;DR - as of April 2024, all fusion reactors as a matter of course still consume more power to run than they are able to produce (meaning they do not reach "breakeven"). Many cutting-edge reactors also require tritium (very rare) as well as deuterium (very common) fuel.

We did not even see a fusion reaction that reached "breakeven" for power production until December of 2022. That reaction occurred at the National Ignition Facility in California, and their results just passed peer review in February of this year (2024).

Several in-progress reactors aim to improve on this, including ITER (the combined work of dozens of nations) in France, and SPARC: the new reactor under development by Mass Fusion Commonwealth Fusion Systems and M.I.T.'s Plasma Science and Fusion Center (PSFC).

Another big problem with this technology is that it involves plasma.

Plasma, as a particular song reminds us, is what the Sun is made of and The Sun Is Hot. That means plasma carries some very real 'we're-losing-structural-integrity, the-warp-core-is-breaching' risks, and we must jump through all kinds of hoops to work with it.

Why are we shoving the Sun inside a donut, again?

The most well-funded, well-researched way of smashing atoms together involves plasma and magnetic confinement fusion.

This shit is beyond cool. It may also look very familiar:

In-game, the Institute is trying to get what appears to be a spherical tokamak reactor up and running.

Bethesda's choice of reactor was no coincidence: M.I.T. operated the Alcator C-Mod, a spherical tokamak, while Fallout 4 was under development - but that reactor could not achieve "breakeven" IRL, and per Shaun's in-game dialogue, the fictional Alcator C-Mod couldn't either. (Weird given the miniaturized fusion devices everywhere in-universe, but okay, Shaun.)

However, M.I.T. stopped operating that reactor in 2016, a year after Fallout 4's release. SPARC, their planned replacement reactor actually has the sort of power potential we see in-game - and they aim to bring fusion power to market in this decade.

M.I.T., right now, in real life, is doing exactly what you're asked to help the Institute do in-game: build a fusion reactor that surpasses "breakeven."

What the hell is a tokamak and why does it look like half of a Star Trek warp core?

Your typical tokamak reactor is a great big donut-shaped vacuum chamber (the torus), traditionally surrounded by AT LEAST three sets of electromagnets (sometimes many more). M.I.T.'s design for the new SPARC reactor is a bit different, but let's start with the basics.

Why so many magnets?

Because plasma, being Literal Sun Matter, cannot come into contact with the torus containment walls or it will instantly burn through. (This happened in France in 1975. Following initial "well, fuck"s and a couple years' repairs, the logical next step was to publish a paper about it.)

The magnetic fields work to heat the plasma and provide current drive (keep electrons moving in a consistent direction through the plasma and around the torus), while also keeping it from touching anything, preventing a "warp core breach." I'll take a stab at explaining it but the Department of Energy probably does it better.

Meet the magnets:

Toroidal field magnets (blue, above): These enormous D-shaped magnets wrap around and through the torus, conducting an electrical current. This creates a magnetic field that keeps plasma from drifting horizontally into the containment walls.

Central solenoid (green, above): Inside the "donut hole" sits a massive, stacked electromagnet that generates enough electromagnetic force to launch two space shuttles at once. This heats the fuel to about one hundred million degrees Celsius so that it reaches plasma state, and helps "drive" the plasma current around the torus. (Radiofrequency or neutral beam injection heating/drive may be used as well for reactor prototypes aiming for power generation, because current drive from just the solenoid isn’t practical for continuous operation.) The central solenoid also creates another magnetic field called the "poloidal field," which "loops" around the plasma like a collar to prevent it from drifting vertically into the walls. The strongest central solenoid in existence was made for the ITER reactor...by General Atomics.

Outer poloidal field magnets (grey, above): A third set of electromagnets "stacks" up the outside of the torus, and helps maintain and adjust the poloidal field.

Together these three sets of magnets force the plasma to "float" inside the torus, shape it, and provide current drive. The stronger the magnetic field, the higher the reactor's power output.

Okay, and then what?

Given sufficient heat and drive/stability, the plasma fuel mixture undergoes fusion.

Neutrons released during fusion have plenty of kinetic energy (the kind of energy a kickball has midair before it hits you in the face), but no electric charge.

Since magnetic fields only affect negatively or positively charged particles, neutrons completely ignore the fields, sailing straight through and slamming into a "blanket" of metal coating the donut's insides. Neutrons passing into the 'blanket" lose their kinetic energy, which is converted to heat and absorbed by the "blanket." (ITER's "blanket" involves a lot of beryllium, which...behaves a bit differently IRL than it does in-game.)

Heat captured by the "blanket" is then used to generate power. For instance, a water cooling system can bleed heat from the "blanket," regulating temperature and creating superheated highly-pressurized steam to run turbine generators.

I notice you described a "typical" tokamak above -what's the atypical option?

Check out SPARC.

Its huge design departure is that it uses new high-temperature superconducing magnets (most existing types have to be cooled to vacuum-of-space temperatures using something like a liquid helium system to achieve superconductivity, which is a huge power drain) to create a monstrous magnetic field - and its size is tiny in comparison to its projected power output.

Neat. So why did you refer to plasma as a problem?

Well...between the heat and the neutrons, the "blanket," the "first wall" and all plasma-facing surfaces inside the torus take one hell of a beating:

"Neutron degradation of wall surfaces-" "Energy is released in the form of the kinetic energy of the reaction products-" In practical terms, that just means countless neutrons are doing THIS:

...but to the containment wall and other surfaces inside the torus, instead of to Batshuayi's face. And so:

Basically, this stuff breaks fast enough - and the only materials that don't break quickly are rare enough - to create a real barrier to commercial use.

And THIS is one of the problems they're working on solving in M.I.T.'s basement.

Now we can talk about the Vault. FINALLY.

M.I.T. is home to the Center for Science and Technology with Accelerators and Radiation (CSTAR). CSTAR's splash page announces:

Linear plasma devices? You mean like -

No, not like plasma rifles. Instead of weapons, we're talking about tools being used to solve the "plasma fucking destroys everything it touches" problem.

How does CSTAR do this? They've got CLASS. ...No, really:

This field is called plasma-surface interaction science, and if you want a really long but very informative read on how CSTAR's work helps move it forward, check this out. It involves the DIONISOS Linear Plasma Device - a "let's shoot it with plasma and see what happens" tool.

CSTAR also works to better undertstand how materials handle radiation damage, and how they behave after becoming irradiated.

And to handle this sort of work, one needs a...

The Vault Laboratory for Nuclear Science "combines high-intensity particle sources, precision particle detection, and a heavily shielded experimental area to create a facility for nuclear research in high-radiation environments." It contains, among other things:

the DT Neutron Generator, which is used in a variety of experiments, including radiation detector development (pretty damned important) and characterization, fast neutron imaging, and material activation (stuff becoming radioactive).

the DANTE Tandem Accelerator, which was "originally designed to produce high neutron yields for use in cancer therapy research."

And that is what's actually going on in M.I.T.'s basement: truth is cooler than fiction.

The takeaways:

Yes, M.I.T. really is building a revolutionary fusion reactor with parts from Mass Fusion Commonwealth Fusion Systems.

Yes, there really is a secure underground facility where incredibly advanced research related to nuclear fusion, radiation detection, irradiated materials, and degradation of materials due to radiation exposure takes place.

Yes, I really would spend eight hours researching nuclear physics instead of doing more dishes. Shoutout to @twosides--samecoin for tolerating my absurd hyperfocus on researching this.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk on what M.I.T. is really doing in its basement.

Tune in next time for M.I.T.'s Media Laboratory, and how it is related to real-world power armor, plus: the relationship between Langley, P.A.M.'s IRL cousin, and Vault 101.

** (Fallout is wildly inconsistent re: how widespread fusion is in-game and when it was developed. I mean we're talking a two-decade spread of inconsistency! And somehow the technology - first available to the military - was then miniaturized and made available to the general public before becoming widespread for commercial power generation? And somehow we both do and don't have impossible cold fusion in game? It's a mess. I reject this reality and replace it with a fish, hence this post. Also, I hate fission batteries. don't talk to me about fission batteries, "fission batteries" are small fission reactors but they are definitely not "battery sized" - the "fission batteries" in-universe are so miniaturized that they are more likely another kind of atomic battery like a radioisotope thermoelectric generator and those are subject to a law of diminishing returns as the fuel decays/not producing a reasonably useful power output after over 200 years due to the isotopes normally used/can be VERY dangerous if the shielding is breached or removed, and - you know what, that's also a whole different post.)

[mariamakeslemons]

Spooktober 2024: Day 21 Robots

Warning: Mentions of torture and death, breaking and entering, implied souls trapped in machines, oblivious Reader

They’d been given to you as a gift, although Price wonders if you know that your android companions have human souls trapped in them. You treat them like you know, but he also overhears you mumbling to yourself about ones and zeros not being able to feel things. He snorts. As if the warmth he feels when you offer him the whiskey people gift you. As if Ghost isn’t constantly soft on you, treating you like fine art or glass. As if Gaz and Soap aren’t trying to figure out how to make functioning penises for all four of them and see if they can create their own sperm. Fucking muppet, he thinks fondly.

You turn off the telly, bringing Price back to the present.

“I’m going to bed, guys,” you declare, “Go recharge and I’ll see y’all in the morning.”

“Will do,” Ghost agrees, as if he won’t be standing outside your bedroom door like an ominous sentinel.

“G’night!” Soap chirps, waving at you with a grin.

“Sleep tight!” Gaz continues, giving you his perfect grin. The two look at Price, who sighs.

“Don’ let the bed bugs bite,” he finishes tiredly, unable to stop his own smile as the two idiots cheer and you laugh sweetly.

“Good night,” you call back, heading to your bedroom and closing the door behind you. Price chuckles again, shaking his head as Gaz and Soap pull up the blueprints for the cocks that they once had as humans. He leans back, wishing he had a reason to have cigars with his new body. Then, the window shatters.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Brandon doesn’t know where you get the idea that you had any say in your relationship. He’s the one with power, with money. If anyone is going to end it, it would be him, not you. So, he rounded up the idiots that would be his fall guys, and leads the break in.

The plan is easy. Kill you and ransack your home, have the idiots take the blame, and find a new slut to be his partner. The door opens and they enter, spreading through the house eagerly. Brandon stands back, waiting a few minutes before slipping in. All he needs to do is recall where your room is. You’re likely to be sleeping in bed by no--.

Brandon trips over something with a soft curse, scrambling to not fall flat on his face, before spinning around to glare at whatever mess you left out. Only, that’s not a mess. It’s one of the idiots he brought with him, face frozen in shock as his head barely clings to his body, blood slicking the floor.

“Fuck,” Brandon garbles, scrambling back and rushing over to another room of the house. A different idiot is hanging from the light fixture, where the bulb would be instead has his head skewered through, glass fragments all over the place. Fleeing that room, Brandon stares in horror as a stranger pulls his massive fist from his final fall guy, intestines pooling out of the wound as the body falls to the carpeted floor softly.

“What the fuck?” Brandon chokes, only try yelling as a hand covers his mouth and pulls him back by his throat.

“Now, you need t’ be quiet,” a rough British voice tells him softly, “Don’ want our Sweetheart wakin’ before we can take out th’ trash.” Brandon thrashes in the grasp, only to whine as his hand meets metal. Androids. The one behind him and the one in front of him are androids. What the fuck?!

“You shouldn’t be able to kill humans,” Brandon sputters when his mouth is finally uncovered, watching in terror as two more appear, both with blood splattering their faces and clothes, “Th-The rules of robotics say—”

“Doesn’ matter wha’ th’ rules say,” the biggest one says, a heavier accent that Brandon thinks might be from a different part of Britain than the guy who’s still holding him, “‘Specially no’ from lil’ shites wit’ more money tha’ sense.”

“Wha’ we gonna dae wit th’ bawbag?” an android with a mohawk asks, his accent even thicker than the other two, “Gut ‘im? Skin ‘im? Cas’rate ‘im?”

“They don’ use the basement,” the last android points out, his accent might be even lighter than the one holding Brandon, “Shove ‘im down there while we decide.”

“Good thought, Gaz,” the android holding him praises, “We’ll mull it over f’r a day, though. Don’ want Pretty to accidentally find him if they need somethin’ from the basement.” The other androids nod in agreement and start to drag Brandon down the stairs.

“W-Wait, I’m their boyfriend!” he says desperately.

“Y’ were,” the biggest one refutes, as the android holding him throws him into the basement.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You wake up and wander around the house, completely oblivious of the massacre Price and his boys went on just last night. You smile up at Ghost as he looms over you protectively, giggling as Gaz and Soap purposefully joke around to distract you from the wails of the little shite that Price is working over. He comes back up and trades off with Ghost and Gaz, letting the pair of them torture the bastard who hurt you.

“Wanna watch a movie?” Price asks as you cuddle to his side.

“Yeah,” you agree easily, “I’m thinking Scream? Or should we do a Friday the 13th?”

“Whatever you want, Love,” he defers, pressing a kiss to your hair. You wiggle a little closer and queue up the horror movie, missing Soap sneaking into the garage to start working on the prototype for their cock.

[dubiouslynamed]

How to make your home easier to live with.

As you get older, you learn about house-things that are just not well designed. Some are old and others not. The odd thing about most of them is there is usually another thing that does the same job that is NOT sub optimal. So, I thought I'd keep track of the ones I know about to pass on. Occasional posts only. I probably won't answer questions. #workable house

1. Ceiling light fixtures that you have to take apart to change light bulbs. These also win the Accumulates the Most Dead Bugs award, so double bonus for getting rid of them and using fixtures where you can just reach up and change the bulb. Much easier to do by yourself, if you live by yourself. Bulbs with frosted segments get rid of any glare. DO IT. You will love me later when you don't fall off a step ladder or drop the glass cover of a ceiling light or curse when you can't get the cover screws to hold the cover back on.

2. Get the right Kelvin rating on your outdoor lights. A kelvin rating of from 2700 to 3000 on white lights makes them much (really, a whole lot) less attractive to bugs. Good for you. Good for the bugs. They don't cost more. You just have to check you are getting the right ones. It's a little bit warmer white but when you realize you haven't had to clean your porch light in three years, it's worth it.

More under the cut.

3. If you are the person buying a new fridge/freezer, seriously consider one with a bottom freezer. These always pull out like a great big drawer and are much easier to find things in. Especially if you are short. Plus they use less power.

4. Rechargeable electric vacuum cleaner! Usually comes apart into a hand vac as well. "But it won't hold a charge for long enough to do the whole house" I hear you say. Really? You were going to vacuum the entire house all at once. Tell me another one. Tell me while you're tripping on the cord of your electric vacuum.

5. Get decent kitchen hand tools up front. The kind with good handles. There's a brand. Sort of like cow-o but not. Like those. You have a decent chance of developing arthritis at some point. Why set yourself up to have to replace all your tools for cow-o tools when you could get them in the first place and spare your hands.

6. Electric can openers. Just no. Get the cow-o ones and do it by hand.

7. I really like IKEA. But you need a rubber mallet. Right tool for the job-words to live by.

8. Coffee makers. I got nothing. Except for a decent French press, they all stink on ice. Suggestions accepted if you found a good one. Oh, the French press. Get one with the laboratory glass (borosilicate) container. It'll still break eventually, but less often. And it goes with your electric kettle so you are set for coffee or tea.

9. Do you have a small house where the door on something always hits something else? Are there dents where that door hits? Ten to one that your house was designed by a man. Save yourself grief and get some of those stick on silicon bumper pad dots and put them up where the door hits. No chipped countertop or dinged fridge.

10. Flatware drawers. Meh. I like a countertop caddy better. Much less likely to collect crud than a drawer, MUCH easier to clean, and you can just carry it to wherever you're eating.

[nsokolow]

Limited Options

Chapter Three

Tags: AirachnidxDarkwing angst, comfort, mentions of an OC from my previous fic

In Darkwing’s sleeping pod, Airachnid basked in his warmth, his large arms encasing her. They only had each other, and she never wanted him to let go. Even if they never were able to find their footing in life again, at least they had each other. She turned to her other side and faced him. She leaned into his chest and softly cried, not knowing if the cause was mostly grief or gratitude. Her crying slowed when she felt his embrace tighten.

Light peeked through the pod’s tiny window. Airachnid woke up on her back, staring up at the tiny unlit light bulbs on the pod’s ceiling. She figured they probably had a lot of life left in them, given Darkwing didn’t keep any of them on at night.

Airachnid turned over and saw Darkwing’s side was vacant. She was briefly scared, hoping he hadn’t left the apartment. She dropped her face in her hands. How stupid! It wouldn’t be a big deal! She’d see him again!

“At least retain a little bit of dignity!” Airachnid grumbled to herself.

She took a deep breath, climbed out of bed and out of the pod. She was stunned by how recharged she was! Judging by the light, and how late she stayed up, she couldn’t have gotten the best amount of sleep. Either the pod was a really good, fast-charging model, or it was happiness and relief.

Airachnid wandered into the living room and saw Darkwing relaxing on the couch, staring at the TV.

Darkwing turned to Airachnid. “Oh, you’re up. I’m watching my old races to feel better.” He patted a spot next to him.

Airachnid silently walked over to the couch. She snuggled up next to him and leaned her head on his shoulder.

“Not all the ones I’ve been watching are from the Iacon 5000. Before that, I was in more amateur races, such as the one provided by Maccadam’s Lounge.” Darkwing sighed. “I’ve been avoiding watching my latest one.” He grunted and pounded his fist on his knee. “Stupid miners! First Charoite, then them!”

Airachnid hugged Darkwing around his waist. He shuffled closer to her.

A few minutes into quietly watching the race together, Airachnid was startled by Darkwing bolting up from the couch.

Darkwing held a hand down to her. “Come on, let’s go stick it to Charoite.”

Airachnid’s eyes widened. “But she’s dead.”

“Well, it’ll still feel amazing. Do you have memories of any romantic moments between Charoite and Sentinel?”

Airachnid’s mouth gradually curled up into a smirk. “Of course.”

“Great. Let’s go.” Darkwing extended his hand further.

Airachnid took his hand before they walked out the door and flew off from the balcony.