#Bionic arm developments

[buniquepno]

https://buniquepno.com/the-latest-innovations-in-bionic-limbs-and-smart-prosthetics-bunique-pno/

In recent years, Bionic Limbs Innovations have completely transformed how prosthetic technology can improve lives. Once limited to simple mechanical parts, modern smart prosthetics technology now provides life-changing mobility and independence for thousands of people worldwide, including right here in India.

With rapid progress in latest prosthetic advancements, people living with limb loss now benefit from innovations in artificial limbs that deliver comfort, precision, and smart features that adapt to everyday needs.

The Evolution of Bionic Limbs

Bionic Limbs Innovations have come a long way from traditional wooden limbs and simple hooks. Today’s advanced prosthetic devices combine microprocessors, sensors, and engineering breakthroughs to replicate natural movements more closely than ever.

Whether it’s bionic arm developments or robotic prosthetic limbs, modern solutions offer grip strength, rotational joints, and multi-grip functions that make daily tasks easier. These high-tech prosthetic solutions help users open doors, carry groceries, or handle small objects with improved confidence and control.

How Smart Prosthetics Technology Works

Modern smart prosthetics technology uses electronic sensors and microprocessors to pick up muscle signals or movement cues from the residual limb. These signals are then converted into precise movements for intelligent prosthetic limbs.

Unlike basic devices, today’s advanced prosthetic devices can adjust speed, strength, and range of motion instantly, providing smoother, more natural movements. These Bionic Limbs Innovations help users manage different tasks, from lifting heavy items to handling delicate objects.

Key Features of Next-Generation Prosthetics

The demand for next-generation prosthetics is rising as people seek better comfort, functionality, and durability. Some standout features in modern bionic prosthetic features include:

✅ Multi-grip options: Many bionic arm developments now offer multiple grip patterns for daily tasks. ✅ Sensor-based controls: Smart bionic limb technology uses sensors that respond instantly to muscle contractions. ✅ Rechargeable power: Modern devices have longer battery life and easy charging options. ✅ Lightweight materials: Cutting-edge prosthetic design uses durable yet light materials to reduce fatigue. ✅ Custom fit: High-tech prosthetic solutions are custom-shaped for each user, reducing skin friction and improving balance.

Robotic Prosthetic Limbs: The Next Step

Robotic prosthetic limbs have become a symbol of modern Bionic Limbs Innovations. They offer multiple joints that move in sync, more natural hand or foot motions, and greater stability.

The precise motor systems and smart electronics behind these limbs enable smoother transitions between tasks. This means people can pick up fragile items like eggs or h old a cup without accidental drops – a huge leap from older designs.

Growing Access to Smart Bionic Prosthetics in India

India is seeing fast adoption of smart bionic prosthetics and high-tech prosthetic solutions. Modern clinics and technology providers are making Bionic Limbs Innovations available in cities and rural areas alike.

At B Unique PNO, we help people access next-generation prosthetics, from customized sockets to robotic prosthetic limbs that restore daily functionality. As awareness grows, more people discover how smart bionic limb technology can restore freedom of movement and confidence.

Latest Prosthetic Advancements Changing Lives

Some of the latest prosthetic advancements making a difference today include:

✅ Grip sensors: These detect how firmly to hold objects, preventing slips or drops. ✅ Water-resistant designs: New materials keep devices safe in light rain or humidity. ✅ Quick-swap parts: Users can easily change covers, grips, or sockets for specific tasks. ✅ Modular upgrades: Many innovations in artificial limbs include upgradable parts for longer lifespan. ✅ Better battery tech: New batteries run longer and charge faster, keeping intelligent prosthetic limbs ready for daily use.

Each of these improvements shows how Bionic Limbs Innovations continue to push what’s possible for users worldwide.

Benefits of Modern Bionic Limbs

People who choose modern Bionic Limbs Innovations often report major improvements in daily life. With smart prosthetics technology, users gain:

Better mobility: Advanced joint movements feel more natural.

Greater independence: Everyday tasks become simpler and safer.

Improved comfort: Cutting-edge prosthetic design reduces discomfort and irritation.

Custom function: High-tech prosthetic solutions can be personalized for sports, work, or hobbies.

Longer device life: Durable parts and modular upgrades keep limbs functional for years.

These benefits make next-generation prosthetics more than a medical device – they become a trusted part of daily living.

Challenges Facing Bionic Limbs Innovations

Despite all the progress in Bionic Limbs Innovations, a few challenges remain:

Affordability: Some advanced prosthetic devices are still costly for many families.

Access: Not all regions have clinics offering robotic prosthetic limbs or smart bionic prosthetics India wide.

Training: Learning to use next-generation prosthetics takes practice and professional support.

Addressing these gaps is key to making the future of prosthetic limbs inclusive and accessible for everyone.

Future of Prosthetic Limbs

The future of prosthetic limbs looks bright as engineers, doctors, and designers continue to improve Bionic Limbs Innovations. Expect lighter, more comfortable, and more responsive designs in the coming years.

Smart prosthetics technology will focus on even smoother sensor controls and better materials. As costs come down and awareness grows, smart bionic prosthetics India wide will reach more people than ever before.

How B Unique PNO Supports Bionic Limbs Innovations

At B Unique PNO, we believe Bionic Limbs Innovations should be accessible to everyone who needs them. We offer the latest prosthetic advancements, custom fittings, and ongoing support to help people regain confidence and mobility.

Whether you’re exploring innovations in artificial limbs, need advice on robotic prosthetic limbs, or want to upgrade to high-tech prosthetic solutions, our experienced team is here to help.

✅ FAQs: Bionic Limbs Innovations

1. What are Bionic Limbs Innovations?

Bionic Limbs Innovations are new developments in prosthetic limbs that use sensors, electronics, and modern engineering to replicate natural movement more closely.

2. How does smart prosthetics technology work?

Smart prosthetics technology uses sensors and microprocessors to detect muscle signals, converting them into smooth, responsive movements for intelligent prosthetic limbs.

3. Are robotic prosthetic limbs available in India?

Yes, many providers now offer robotic prosthetic limbs and smart bionic prosthetics India wide, making modern solutions accessible locally.

4. What are the latest prosthetic advancements?

The latest prosthetic advancements include better grip sensors, water-resistant materials, modular parts, and improved battery life for advanced prosthetic devices.

5. What is the future of prosthetic limbs?

The future of prosthetic limbs will bring even lighter, more durable, and highly functional designs, expanding the reach of high-tech prosthetic solutions worldwide.

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[jcmarchi]

A prosthesis driven by the nervous system helps people with amputation walk naturally

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/a-prosthesis-driven-by-the-nervous-system-helps-people-with-amputation-walk-naturally/

A prosthesis driven by the nervous system helps people with amputation walk naturally

State-of-the-art prosthetic limbs can help people with amputations achieve a natural walking gait, but they don’t give the user full neural control over the limb. Instead, they rely on robotic sensors and controllers that move the limb using predefined gait algorithms.

Using a new type of surgical intervention and neuroprosthetic interface, MIT researchers, in collaboration with colleagues from Brigham and Women’s Hospital, have shown that a natural walking gait is achievable using a prosthetic leg fully driven by the body’s own nervous system. The surgical amputation procedure reconnects muscles in the residual limb, which allows patients to receive “proprioceptive” feedback about where their prosthetic limb is in space.

In a study of seven patients who had this surgery, the MIT team found that they were able to walk faster, avoid obstacles, and climb stairs much more naturally than people with a traditional amputation.

Play video

“This is the first prosthetic study in history that shows a leg prosthesis under full neural modulation, where a biomimetic gait emerges. No one has been able to show this level of brain control that produces a natural gait, where the human’s nervous system is controlling the movement, not a robotic control algorithm,” says Hugh Herr, a professor of media arts and sciences, co-director of the K. Lisa Yang Center for Bionics at MIT, an associate member of MIT’s McGovern Institute for Brain Research, and the senior author of the new study.

Patients also experienced less pain and less muscle atrophy following this surgery, which is known as the agonist-antagonist myoneural interface (AMI). So far, about 60 patients around the world have received this type of surgery, which can also be done for people with arm amputations.

Hyungeun Song, a postdoc in MIT’s Media Lab, is the lead author of the paper, which appears today in Nature Medicine.

Sensory feedback

Most limb movement is controlled by pairs of muscles that take turns stretching and contracting. During a traditional below-the-knee amputation, the interactions of these paired muscles are disrupted. This makes it very difficult for the nervous system to sense the position of a muscle and how fast it’s contracting — sensory information that is critical for the brain to decide how to move the limb.

People with this kind of amputation may have trouble controlling their prosthetic limb because they can’t accurately sense where the limb is in space. Instead, they rely on robotic controllers built into the prosthetic limb. These limbs also include sensors that can detect and adjust to slopes and obstacles.

To try to help people achieve a natural gait under full nervous system control, Herr and his colleagues began developing the AMI surgery several years ago. Instead of severing natural agonist-antagonist muscle interactions, they connect the two ends of the muscles so that they still dynamically communicate with each other within the residual limb. This surgery can be done during a primary amputation, or the muscles can be reconnected after the initial amputation as part of a revision procedure.

“With the AMI amputation procedure, to the greatest extent possible, we attempt to connect native agonists to native antagonists in a physiological way so that after amputation, a person can move their full phantom limb with physiologic levels of proprioception and range of movement,” Herr says.

In a 2021 study, Herr’s lab found that patients who had this surgery were able to more precisely control the muscles of their amputated limb, and that those muscles produced electrical signals similar to those from their intact limb.

After those encouraging results, the researchers set out to explore whether those electrical signals could generate commands for a prosthetic limb and at the same time give the user feedback about the limb’s position in space. The person wearing the prosthetic limb could then use that proprioceptive feedback to volitionally adjust their gait as needed.

In the new Nature Medicine study, the MIT team found this sensory feedback did indeed translate into a smooth, near-natural ability to walk and navigate obstacles.

“Because of the AMI neuroprosthetic interface, we were able to boost that neural signaling, preserving as much as we could. This was able to restore a person’s neural capability to continuously and directly control the full gait, across different walking speeds, stairs, slopes, even going over obstacles,” Song says.

A natural gait

For this study, the researchers compared seven people who had the AMI surgery with seven who had traditional below-the-knee amputations. All of the subjects used the same type of bionic limb: a prosthesis with a powered ankle as well as electrodes that can sense electromyography (EMG) signals from the tibialis anterior the gastrocnemius muscles. These signals are fed into a robotic controller that helps the prosthesis calculate how much to bend the ankle, how much torque to apply, or how much power to deliver.

The researchers tested the subjects in several different situations: level-ground walking across a 10-meter pathway, walking up a slope, walking down a ramp, walking up and down stairs, and walking on a level surface while avoiding obstacles.

In all of these tasks, the people with the AMI neuroprosthetic interface were able to walk faster — at about the same rate as people without amputations — and navigate around obstacles more easily. They also showed more natural movements, such as pointing the toes of the prosthesis upward while going up stairs or stepping over an obstacle, and they were better able to coordinate the movements of their prosthetic limb and their intact limb. They were also able to push off the ground with the same amount of force as someone without an amputation.

“With the AMI cohort, we saw natural biomimetic behaviors emerge,” Herr says. “The cohort that didn’t have the AMI, they were able to walk, but the prosthetic movements weren’t natural, and their movements were generally slower.”

These natural behaviors emerged even though the amount of sensory feedback provided by the AMI was less than 20 percent of what would normally be received in people without an amputation.

“One of the main findings here is that a small increase in neural feedback from your amputated limb can restore significant bionic neural controllability, to a point where you allow people to directly neurally control the speed of walking, adapt to different terrain, and avoid obstacles,” Song says.

“This work represents yet another step in us demonstrating what is possible in terms of restoring function in patients who suffer from severe limb injury. It is through collaborative efforts such as this that we are able to make transformational progress in patient care,” says Matthew Carty, a surgeon at Brigham and Women’s Hospital and associate professor at Harvard Medical School, who is also an author of the paper.

Enabling neural control by the person using the limb is a step toward Herr’s lab’s goal of “rebuilding human bodies,” rather than having people rely on ever more sophisticated robotic controllers and sensors — tools that are powerful but do not feel like part of the user’s body.

“The problem with that long-term approach is that the user would never feel embodied with their prosthesis. They would never view the prosthesis as part of their body, part of self,” Herr says. “The approach we’re taking is trying to comprehensively connect the brain of the human to the electromechanics.”

The research was funded by the MIT K. Lisa Yang Center for Bionics and the Eunice Kennedy Shriver National Institute of Child Health and Human Development.

[prettyboykatsuki-moved]

MY LOVE, MY ALIBI | CALEB | XIA YIZHOU (LNDS)

♡ tags ; psuedocest / adoptive incest, afab + fem!reader, minor age-gap (3 years), mentions / non graphic depictions of child abuse (from readers days in the orphanage), childhood crushing, mutual pining, developing relationship, size difference, some religious imagery, loss of virginity, petnames (baby, princess, pipsquak), use of meimei once and gege a few times but very sparing, oral (f!recieving), nipple play, marking, light masochism from reader, mouth-spitting, fingering, bare-backing, 18+

♡ wc ; 23.3k (kill me)

♡ a/n ; hey. this is an incest fic for adoptive siblings. if that makes you uncomfortable, don't read it. block me if you need to. please spare me lecture.

also - i have reader be carried by caleb a couple of times but dude has a bionic arm so he's strong as shit to me. the size difference tag is mostly about his dick. aside from the carrying there is no phyiscal indicators for reader

important to the fic but i play in simplified cn. please go listen to the simplified cn voice actor before you read this. for my sanity. most of my characterization is based on various cn translations from the kind cn fanbase. special thank you to mao @/yinyuedijun and this yt channel.

♡ synopsis ; for as long as you can remember, the sight of caleb's back is whats made you feel safest. it's no surprise that every man that comes after him never quite measures up.

extended authors note. | caleb playlist | ao3 | tipjar

PART ONE: ANYTHING YOU SAY CAN AND WILL BE HELD AGAINST YOU.

At seven, you knock out one of your teeth roughhousing with one of the orphanage boys. 

The good news? You’re winning. You’re at the age where size matters more than gender but the boy you’re fighting is both bigger and older than you. 

Even so, you manage to pull off shoving him back.

You don’t know his name, only his face— buzzed head and red gums, the pristine picture of anger. You roll around with him in the small stretch of yard behind the orphanage - white tanktop stained with grass, all knobby knees and short limbs as you fight and fight and fight with every ounce of your strength. 

You are seven with something to prove and a lot already lost. Your pride refuses to let you lose further. You recieve a hit of adrenaline when you launch the top of your head into the older boys chin and hear his teeth clack from how hard it lands. He collapses in a pile, spits curses he learned from the grown-ups that come in and out as he lays there.

He nearly jumps you when you’re both down. Your head is throbbing where his chin connected and you can tell if he decides to fight you again, your chances of winning have slimmed significantly.

You see it in his eyes. In his face. He’s so angry. Always is. You knew it was a bad idea to provoke him to begin with. 

He nearly, nearly jumps you and almost knocks you out completely. 

So you decide it might be better to prepare for it. You fold up. Put your arms up high and brace for impact when a shadow - long, endless, casts over your head. Eyes half open, a familiar pair of beat-up sneakers stand in front of you in the grass. You hear a familiar voice. It’s colder than you’re used to.

“Bullying a little kid is lame,” Caleb says, sharp. It makes you shrink further even though it’s not directed at you. “Quit fighting or I’ll get one of the grown-ups.” 

You can’t see what's in front of you. You only hear a shock of gasps around you—another confrontation that quickly settles into silence before Caleb turns around. 

His face is soft as he bends down to be eye level. Kind, boyish, gentle - he opens up his arms. He’s not happy about something. You can tell because his smile is a little dimmer than normal. You desperately hope it isn’t because of you. 

Even knowing Caleb is going to scold you a bit, you find yourself welling up in tears from relief even over fear. You wail as you wrap your arms around his neck and Caleb hoists you up and carries you on his hip like you’re still a baby.

He’s silent as he carries you into the house. 

“You shouldn’t get into fights,” He says, soothing. You sniffle as he walks you inside. His shirt smells like summer, hands fisted in it. Holding on for dear life.  Call for me next time.” 

Caleb sits you on the mattress, in the room all the older kids share. Your feet don’t touch the ground as he kneels in front of you and rifles around under his bed. He has bandages and alcohol, cotton swabs and gauze. 

His eyes are kind as he assesses your wounds. Pours alcohol onto a cotton pad and frowns each time you sniffle and sob from the pain of getting them cleaned. “A crybaby like you shouldn’t fight anyone, seriously.” 

“Shut up,” You say first. You hang your head low, instant regret. Your hands close again, blunt nails digging into your palms. Your lower lip trembles. Caleb quickly puts a hand on the top of your head when he notices your distress. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay. Just depend on me, alright?” He grins with the same front tooth missing. Like a mirror image of you, you think. “I’ll always help you.” 

__

At ten, you give up celebrating your birthday. 

You’re the age Caleb was when you met and now you’ve both left the orphanage and lived away from it for a few years. You’ve spent nearly three years with a woman you call Grandma and the world feels a lot kinder with her in your life. She takes good care of you. Gives you a warm bed to sleep in, and good food to eat. Doesn’t get angry when you break cups or get up in the middle of the night to go pee.

You live in a house with only three people and you even get to have your own room—one you don’t have to share, not even with Caleb. It’s nice to sleep where there’s no one else, even if most nights you crawl into Caleb’s bed anyway and sleep next to him because it's more comfortable.

Grandma is nice to you. Sometimes, she looks like she’s somewhere far away but it never lasts for long. You’re thankful to her for taking you in. 

You have a warm bed to sleep in, good food to eat, and Caleb is right next to you. He’s your brother now, so you can be together forever. And none of the adults from the orphanage are here to punish him anymore when he tries to protect you. 

You’re ten and the world seems to be trying its best not to hurt you any further. Somehow, this only makes you feel more uneasy. 

You’re happy. It scares you. You often wonder when someone will punish you for it. If someone will be blamed for allowing it. It makes you feel helpless when you think about it too long. 

But you have Caleb. He makes it easier. You can cling onto his shirt when it gets too hard. And he’s older now, enough to really feel grown up. 

A night, when you clutch the fabric until it stretches wide, trembling after you’re plagued by bad dreams - having nightmares of rusted rain, Caleb is there. 

No matter how deeply asleep, he always wakes up to hold you. 

( You wait for him to tell you that you’re too big to be getting scared over nightmares, but the day still hasn’t come. You hope it never does. You think you’d be so sad you would never stop crying. )

You’re ten, and the world seems kinder - but you know better by now. You try to take precautionary measures against letting it take everything from you again. 

And you start small. With yourself, and your birthday. 

You’ve only ever celebrated a few birthdays. In the orphanage they’d celebrate a lot at once, so it never felt very  special. You can’t really remember the ones you had before then, don’t remember much from then at all.  Since you’ve been adopted, Grandma has celebrated your birthday and made it special. She and Caleb cook your favorite meal together and you sit around and cut-cake afterwards. 

They even decorate the house with balloons and streamers.

Your birthdays now don’t compare to the ones you had then. 

Nothing bad is happening but still. You like celebrating your birthday. But, can you feel okay about getting to celebrate a birthday at all? When you thought for sure your life might end before then?

Before your eleventh birthday, you announce to your family that you don’t want to do anything special this year. When they probe you with questions about why not, you refuse to give up any answers.

Caleb is thirteen and heartbroken when he hears you say this. Asks questions even as you turn your nose up and refuse to answer. You get into a fight about it, one of the very first of your entire relationship. 

It’s that same night you begin to sleep in your own room. 

In the weeks leading up to your birthday, you find your house to be more quiet than usual. Caleb is busy with something but you blame yourself for the distance between you. He always comes back seeming tired. Even though he still pats your head and smiles at you the same way, you notice when he seems a little less there at the dinner time. 

When your birthday finally comes, your grandma still decides to celebrate it in a small way. She makes your favorite food and gets you a cake and candles. Hugs you when you cry about it, too. The only thing they skip is the decoration. 

(You’re brave though, when next year rolls around and tell them you miss it. It makes Caleb happy enough to hug you tight.)  

The warmth that fills your heart seeing your name in iced letters is too big for your body. You wonder if this is what having a family was like. 

At night time, after dinner and before you cut the cake - you open your presents. There’s two for your eleventh birthday. One from grandma and one from Caleb. Usually, they sign their gift to you together but this year they’re separate. 

At first, your heart sinks, but you try not to think about it. Grandma gets you a bike that matches Caleb’s so the two of you can ride together. You’re happy to have it but Caleb insists you can just keep riding on the back of his if you don’t want to learn. 

You open Caleb’s gift second. It’s wrapped in pretty paper with a bow on it so you undo it carefully. Inside of it is a plain looking box.  

“Open it,” 

There’s a pair of earrings and a necklace when you do. It’s not cheap plastic like all the other jewelry you’ve ever had in your life. Little apples covered in gemstones, and a little gold necklace with a pendant and a locket. Your eyes go wide, fingers trembling a little as you touch it. 

You look for Caleb’s face unthinkingly. Kind and warm, eyes crinkled and shoulders slack in relief when he sees your happy reaction. His hand is warm as it rests on your head, rubbing gently. 

“It took a while but I’ve been helping our neighbors for money so I could buy it for you,” Caleb says, looking down at you with an easy grin. “The day you were born is important for me, so don’t say that you won’t celebrate it from now on. Okay?” 

When tears well up in your eyes, you barely have to say a word before Caleb brings you into his waist. You cry to him the same way you always do - with a hand fisted in the back of his shirt like you’re terrified of where you’d end up if you let go.

Even when you ruin his shirt with salty tears, Caleb never voices a word of complaint. His steady heartbeat and warm hands that make you feel like he’s already done it all before, stay exactly where you expect them. 

Your dependable, kind older brother. 

__ 

At thirteen, you take your first field trip overnight. 

It takes a tremendous amount of effort to make it happen. 

Grandma was easy to convince, but it took you fourteen whole days to convince your brother that you could handle going on a school field trip without having your hand held the entire time. 

(You can still hear the amused, taunting lilt in his voice from when you first mentioned it. Sure you’ll be okay pipsqueak? My bed won’t be there for you to take over if you get scared, you know?)

Ugh. He can be so strict. An you swear he was even more stubborn about it than usual. 

You had to use every tactic in the book to get him to say yes. Kissing up to him, acting extra wistful, doing your chores and being super well-behaved. After strategically buttering him up for two weeks prior to you just asking, you also made sure to ask when he had one of his friends over. He’s strict regardless of who's around, but having another person in your corner is good for morale. 

(This method is effective for the record. Just as Caleb goes to turn you down, his friend throws an eraser at him and clicks his teeth. 

“There’s a limit to your siscon behavior. Just let her go.”

You sneak said friend a candy the next time he comes over as thanks.) 

After a lot of persistent begging, Caleb relents and allows Grandma to sign your permission slip. It’s an overnight trip sure—but it’s heavily supervised and rooms are separated by gender anyhow. You really don’t know what he was so worried about.

So far, the trip has been really fun. You went to a butterfly garden conservatory as a part of your science project and one landed on your nose. Your friend even managed to get a good picture. In the afternoon, you did a bit of sightseeing and got to buy some street food. 

When evening rolled around, you and all your friends holed up in the same hotel room sleeping together on one big floor. You stayed up a few hours later than you should’ve—gossiping and discussing the newest chapter of a very popular romance webnovel.  Most of them are out by the time the clock hits midnight. 

And now, you’re the last one awake at 1am. 

Unfortunately, no matter how long you try to sleep—it is hard to sleep away from home, knowing Caleb isn’t right down the hall. No matter how much the thought makes you frown. 

You’ve outgrown the habit of crawling into his bed every night. Still, you think you rest easier knowing that he’s there. You’d never admit it but subconsciously, it comforts you just knowing he is. The few times you get nightmares of the Chronorift these days, your nightmares are especially persistent. You don’t crawl into his bed like you did when you were a little kid as often as you used to. Even when you want it, it’s just a little embarrassing. 

Regardless though, he’ll stay up with you until it passes, and until you go back to to sleep. It’s the only thing that helps it go down easier some nights. That he’d be there no matter what happened. 

By the time the clock strikes one-thirty, you get the feeling you just won’t be able to sleep unless you at least call him. 

So, after carefully sneaking your phone out of your bag - you leave your hotel room to wander the halls and end up in the lobby in your PJs. 

You realize your incidental act of rebellion when you catch some stares from late-night guests. You hesitate on whether or not you should go back before deciding that’d be pointless. Fingers hovering over the call button, it takes a beat before you hit and hear the number dial. He’ll probably scold you but you know he’ll answer. 

He picks up in one ring. His voice is thick with sleep when he speaks. “It’s late. You should be asleep.” 

“Yeah, I know. Sorry, Gege,” You say, crossing slippered feet against the tile of the hotel lobby floor. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

His voice softens instantly. “Somethin’ happen?” 

You shake your head before realizing he can’t see you. “No, I just couldn’t sleep.” A beat. “I thought I would sleep better if…I talked to…someone.” 

It’s too embarrassing to tell him you wanted to talk to him, specifically. Caleb is quiet on the other side of the line before he laughs, just a little. “You were so adamant on wanting to go with your friends, huh? I thought you’d be just fine. Were you being brave for show?.” 

You frown a little, groaning. “I did have fun. A lot of fun. We talked a lot before bed too, and now everyone else is asleep. It’s not like I regret going. And I wasn’t being brave, I was just—” 

“Sure, sure. Still can’t sleep unless you know I’m there, huh?” 

Silence stretches over the line. You feel your face grow hot with embarrassment as you stretch your legs out, chin tucked against your chest.  

“Maybe I should just hang up on you,” 

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” Caleb says more gently. “You can call me as much as you want.” 

“You’re being nice like when we were kids.” You observe. 

Caleb scoffs a little. “I’m always nice.” 

You roll your eyes and Caleb laughs like he knows you did it. It’s quiet again before he speaks. In the voice that makes him feel older than he is. “I’m worried about you so I’m being even nicer than usual. Is that okay?”

His tone is light, teasing, but there’s more to it than he lets on. You trace a pattern into the worn, fabric arm of the chair you sit in. “Why?” 

“I get worried when you go somewhere I can’t see you.” He says agreeably.

Your face tugs into a frown, strangely mortified by the sincerity of it. “It’s not like I’m a kid anymore. I’ll be fourteen in a few months.”

Caleb laughs. “As far as I’m concerned, you’ll always be a kid.” 

You huff. “That’s not fair. Does that mean I’ll have to beg you like this to do anything for the rest of my life? You’re too much.” 

“At least until you turn eighteen.” Caleb replies, voice airy and content. “And if you’re still a little weakling then, probably a few more years after that too.” 

You groan. “How terrible. What kind of brother are you? So cruel.” You pause  “You’re more like my dad sometimes.” 

“Since you’re my responsibility, I usually have to act as all three.” Caleb says with ease. “You should get used to it.” 

Despite your grievances, your body relaxes exactly the way you expect as you listen to him talk. You yawn out loud,  sleep making your eyes and limbs heavy. 

“Finally tired?” He asks, voice softened. Doting. It’s so instant, you don’t have the will to fight it. “Go sleep. Make sure you eat tomorrow morning and don’t just wait until noon.” 

“Okay, Gege.” You yawn again. “Goodnight. Love you,” 

A long silence stretches between you. You wonder why he hesitates. “Love you too. Now go to bed. And don’t sneak out without telling your teachers again,” 

“Wait, how did you—” 

“I know everything.” He says dismissively. “Goodnight, okay?” 

You pull back and stare at your phone. He’s a little scary sometimes.

 “Yeah. Okay. Night,” 

__ 

At sixteen, you go experience the first real heartbreak of your life. 

It’s less over the actual relationship and more about the events leading to your break-up. 

Your secret boyfriend of five months kissed one of your closest friends. And you caught them both red-handed. 

It was in the gymnasium after school a few weeks ago. You nearly fist fought them both before getting overwhelmed and simply  running away in tears to a nearby playground. Your two other best friends had to pry you out of a bed of mulch and take you home after wiping your tears. 

You have a list of grievances about the situation. You like (?) the guy but you loved your friend - but now you have neither. And all of it happened for a reason you cannot wrap your mind around at all. 

You’re thankful for your other friends who have taken your side in the matter while still trying to get to the bottom of it. And it’s good having them, but in your time of teenage angst - the one person you’d like to tell absolutely can’t know. 

Not telling your older brother is hard. Keeping the secret makes you feel guilty enough, but it’s made harder when he’s home. And he will be for the next two weeks until he has to go back to the dorms. They’re on some kind of spring break. 

Until then, you make it your mission to keep up appearances. Since the one person you don’t want to find out about your relationship is the person who’d find out the fastest. 

Caleb is strict. Has been for as long as you can remember. Though you’ve never explicitly spoken on dating - he has, more than once, “subtly” warned you about having an interest in the opposite sex. You remember how you made stupid heart-eyes to one of his school friends years back and he still brings it up whenever you ask about him and how he’s doing. As if even wanting to know is some kind of betrayal. 

(And well, maybe you do ask just to see him react like that. It’s…funny. It’s not like Caleb needs to know that.) 

You don’t like keeping secrets from your brother. You’re close. Way closer than most people ever are with their siblings. 

Maybe because Caleb has always taken care of you—he feels less like a sibling you can pointlessly squabble with and more like your guardian at times. 

It’s hard for you to lie to him explicitly so the fact you’ve kept the relationship under wraps for five months is kind of impressive. 

You always told yourself, you’d tell Caleb if it ever got serious. Truthfully though, you didn’t think it was going to last. Didn’t even want to accept until your friends pressured you. 

Your now ex-boyfriend is the one who asked you out, which is what pisses you off the most. He’s one of the popular guys in your grade and he’s…nice. Was nice. You don’t think you’d be sad if he simply broke up with you and went out with your friend. You’d think less of him maybe, but it’s not like you’re in love with him. 

It’s all the other stuff that’s weighing you down. It’s getting into a fight with your friend. It’s getting two-timed by the jackass who asked you out first. One you didn’t even like that much. 

(Maybe not at all.) 

It’s wanting to whine and complain about all of this to your older brother who would take your side but not being able to - because you can’t tell him half truths. You don’t have it in you. You barely have it in you to lie to him.

(Truthfully, you think the only reason you’ve been able to all this time is because you’ve kept said boyfriend at arms length somewhat knowingly. You haven’t had a proper kiss.)

Telling Caleb everything is a long time compulsion you don’t know if you’ll ever unlearn.You don’t know if it’s loyalty or gratitude—only that it makes you feel like a dog whose been leashed to a post for most of your life before it gets unchained. 

Even when you’re no longer shackled to it, you find you can’t go anywhere. Being without it doesn’t free you, not really. You find it goes against what you know to try to escape without hearing the click of metal. 

You stay by the post. You tell Caleb everything. It feels outright wrong to lie about something important. 

(And it’s still hard lying about something unimportant.) 

You’re sure it speaks to the depth of your attachment but you always end up spilling your guts to him. Like a child always wanting to please their parents and behave. You know Caleb will accept you, even if he gets angry. But you don’t actually know how he’ll react and that scares you into not wanting to tell him at all. 

The thought of disappointing him is what makes you most uneasy. 

So, you decide that you’ll take it to the grave. It’s your one half-ass rebellion and these are the natural consequences. As long as you process your friendship grief and wear out your anger - it’ll be smoothed over before you know. 

Meticulously, you time your sessions of grieving and angry debriefing phone calls in the hours Caleb is out of the house. You work hard at keeping up as if nothing is happening in your life at all. You feel an unshakeable feeling of guilt the entire time, one that has you waking up in cold sweat but you ignore it because… well, you don’t really know how to fix it. 

(Truthfully - you’re irrationally worried that he’d leave over something so trivial, and you’d be seven and all alone in the world again. As nonsensical as it is, and as much as you want to pretend otherwise, your attachment to Caleb really matters that much to you.) 

You very nearly make it to the finish line of this plan too. Almost. . 

In the middle of your crying session - you answer a knock on the door and assume it’s Granny (who does, at least partially, know what’s going on). You open it without thinking. 

It’s the last person you want to see in the moment. 

You quickly try to shut the door but Caleb is quicker. Slides his unnecessarily huge body through the small gap and shuts it behind him - trapping you both. You stumble back a little, but he catches you by the wrist to make sure you don’t actually fall. 

You feel like a deer in headlights. Red, water rimmed eyes, runny nose, and face puffy - you try to pull your sleeves over your hands and wipe your face. Even though he’s already seen it. You’re too old to be crying like this in front of him. It’s humiliating. 

Caleb grabs your wrists easily before you can wipe them away. You blink away a few unshed tears to get a better look at his face. You inhale, your chest tight - feet like lead as you look at your older brother. His pinched expression, almost pained but still tender. Still gentle. Just seeing it again makes you want to cry. 

“I knew it,” He says. He drops your hands and instead cups your face with his palm, thumb wiping away tears as he cups your cheek. His expression is firm. “What’s wrong, hm?”

It’s like something in you collapses. 

You give into it without any effort. 

Caleb makes it so easy, after all, to be the weakest version of yourself.

With him, there’s no desire to fight what feels inevitable. So you let yourself fall to nothing in Caleb’s arms and cry. You’re torn up over your first real friendship fight so you let yourself lean on him. Just like you do at seven, and ten, and all the years before. Fist your hand tight in the fabric of his shirt like you’re worried he’ll shake you off, even though he never does.) 

(Later, you’ll remember this conversation and realize that there was never any room for anyone else. It was a kind of teenage naivety to think otherwise. 

You’ll hear the sentiment from everyone you know—friends, colleagues, family: the person you can be weakest with is who you should marry. If only you had known that then, too. Maybe accepting it would’ve been easier. Maybe you would’ve known sooner what feeling you’d spend the rest of your adult life chasing) 

Caleb rests his hand on the back of your head as he tucks your face against his chest. It’s warm and soft. The comforting scent of detergent and cologne, undercut by oil and jetfuel. You wish you could bury yourself in.

You stand and cry like that in silence for a long while. Caleb holds you tight without asking any questions, his chin resting on top of your head, patting your back. 

When you pull away from him, ready to explain - he walks himself over to your bed and sits on it. His expression is unreadable. Concerned but trying not to worry too son. 

With his legs wide, he opens his arms out to you to invite you into his lap the way you did when you were kids. You wonder if he’s joking—trying to make you laugh and cheer you up. 

But in the moment you’re so fragile, you tuck your chin and sit anyway. He stiffens briefly, as if surprised but soon enough, strong arms lay drape your waist as he lets you lean into him.

“Ready to talk about it?” 

You fidget. “Aren’t you busy?” 

He shakes his. “I’m all yours.” 

Your chest feels warm and fluttery when he says it. It soothes you. . 

You sniffle, adjusting in his lap. “I’m sorry.” 

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” He asks. “You don’t have to,” 

“No, I—” You shift in his lap. “It feels wrong. Not telling you.”

Caleb hums. “You’re at that age. I already know that much. But no matter what I’m on your side, so don’t hide when you’re feeling sad or upset. Okay?” 

“Nn,” You nod. “Yeah. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s really fine. It’s not like I can really be mad at you, right?” 

You make a small, thoughtful noise. “You say that but you’re unexpectedly good at holding grudges.” 

Caleb laughs. “Hm, that’s true. But not with you.” 

You repeat the words to yourself, half-dizzy with a smile. “Not with me.” 

Caleb smiles at you. He holds you a little tighter. You grab hold of his jacket, white knuckling the fabric until your heartbeat settles. 

“So. Do you want to tell me what happened?” 

__ 

( In the end, you tell Caleb everything from start to finish. 

It’s just as you predicted. Once you start, it’s hard to give him anything but the full truth. Caleb listens to you intently without interjecting. Rests his chin on your shoulders, leaving you with nothing but his body language to pick up on his moods. 

He stiffens when you tell him you had a boyfriend. Calms down when you tell him you didn’t like him very much, that all you did was hold hands and cuddle and you still think it was a waste. 

Caleb listens to it all. Hangs onto your every word until you’ve tuckered yourself out. You think of what they say about how a burden shared is a burden halved and hope that it’s fine to depend on him this much all these years later. 

Caleb is silent and steady for the duration of your talk. Towards the end he tells you: “No boy should ever make you cry. Should I get revenge for you?” 

“Gege,” You say exasperated “And what about boys making me cry? That’s all they do from what I can tell.”

He doesn’t refute that. “ That’s true. It’s better to avoid them, really. If I ever make you cry you though, you can hit me,” He replies. You laugh a little.

“I don’t think you would make me cry without good reason.” 

“If I do, I’ll make sure to repent for my whole life after.” He says, joking. Maybe joking. 

Your cheeks warm  “Your whole life feels like a long time.” 

“Is it? You can’t really get rid of me easily, so I think it makes sense.” 

“I guess that’s true. You can’t get rid of me either, you know.” 

Caleb grins at you. “How lucky.”) 

__

At nineteen, you go to a club in the Linkon entertainment district for the very first time. 

Your friends dragged you here. It’s your first year of the Hunter Academy and your first time living away from home. You’ve spent most of the school year completely focused on training and working towards your goals - trying to  be strong enough to work alongside a certain someone and hold your own. 

You’re not here of your own volition, but honestly? It’s not so bad. Drinking and dancing with your friends proves fun for the first couple of hours at least. 

After that gets old though, really more stressful than anything. 

You aren’t supposed to be here in the first place. That’s the main cause of your current unease. The club is 21+ and it was already an ordeal getting in. The longer you stay, the more restless you feel—the more you want to leave before anyone gets caught up in anything. 

You’ve been knocking back drinks all evening, courtesy of some of your friends - and the night is starting to come to a halt for you internally. All the discomfort and overstimulation go from engaging to overwhelming, and your head is starting to spin.

You’re in the section where you and your friends got invited. Apparently there’s someone tonight who's popular in the nightlife scene - son of some rich business man you think. Your friend has been doing you all the solid of keeping him happy. Your eyes flit over to where they dance on the floor and you feel yourself wince just looking at them. 

Shit, your head is throbbing. 

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sink back in your seat and think about what the best strategy is to get out of here. 

All of you should go home honestly. There won’t be major consequences for simply being intoxicated, but sneaking into an establishment like this really might affect your ability to graduate. Your academy is not known for its leniency. 

Aside from that, you’re tired. You should have more energy than this. You would normally, you think. But it’s a Friday and you had taken up some extra training since you had no plans to be out. The addition of alcohol dehydrating you and the sharp and particular pain from stiletto heels makes you lethargic. Dead on your feet. 

It’s later in the night but not so late people are leaving. A second wave of attendees are shuffling in now. You have half a mind to mix with the crowd and leave by yourself. It feels like a good idea at least. 

But then, more people are brought to your section. You’re only half-paying attention as the guy from earlier, the one paying for you all, happily introduces the new group to people already sitting. 

“...And Caleb, it’s good to see you. You’re usually too busy to come to things like this,” 

A pair of eyes bore into you. You freeze completely, eyes glued to your phone screen as you catch a glimpse of the one person you absolutely do not want to be meeting here. 

“Yeah,” A familiar voice says. His voice is light like he’s not noticed anything.”I’m glad I came. I’ve already seen some interesting things.” 

The dull throb in your head turns the corner to a sharp pain. A feeling of complete misery washes over you. Truly, the worst possible outcome. You wonder what Caleb is doing here in the first place. From what you know, this isn’t usually his kind of establishment either. Maybe someone from his dorms dragged him here too? You think it’d be something like that. 

You make the mistake of looking up as Caleb slides in opposite to you with a few other friends. His expression is completely unreadable as your eyes meet across the table. He flashes you a smile that makes your nerves stand on end. All you can do is look away, eyes flitting back down your phone. 

A text appears at the top of your screen. 

from cpt big bro (1:03am): nice to see you. 

A feeling of unease immediately feels you, but when you look back up at Caleb - he’s pretending like you don’t even exist.

You don’t know why you feel so guilty in the first place. Sure, you snuck in here but it’s not like you did something unheard of. And you’re past the legal drinking age in the first place. And the clothes weren’t your idea. You’ll tell him that when he inevitably asks. 

You’re not doing anything so wrong but you’re worried he’ll get the wrong idea. 

(A voice in your head asks: what idea? You tell yourself it’d be embarrassing if your brother thought you were looking for a hook-up. It’s reasonable enough.

 You decide not to interrogate the reasoning any further, even when the feeling doesn’t go away.)

You find your gaze falling in your lap as you try to dissolve the overwhelming feeling of shame and upset just knowing Caleb’s seen you like this. 

It’s worse though to have him ignoring you. You know he’s probably doing it for your sake. Even knowing he’s not malicious doesn’t make it much better. Your eyes stay glued to your phone screen. 

You don’t know how much time passes before someone else joins you at the table. 

A woman this time. 

“Caleb! You actually came,” She says over the music. You watch her from your peripherals as she slides in next to him without hesitation. “I thought Kenji was lying to get more girls to show up.” 

You hear him laugh a little. You think he sounds a little uncomfortable, but maybe you’re reading too much into it. “I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“Isn’t that always how that goes?” She hums. Your eyes widen slightly seeing the way she presses herself up against his arm. “But I’m glad you're here. Maybe I can convince you to dance.” 

“You can try,” He says. You know he’s just being amiable. Or at least, you think he’s just trying to be amiable. 

You’ve never really seen Caleb flirt with a girl, so you don’t have a real reference for what does and does not count. 

It’s the first time in all of your life you’ve ever seen Caleb get hit on so closely. You’re used to his popularity of course - but back then, Caleb usually made a point to run away. No one ever got near enough. He’s always been nice about it of course, tries to let people down easy. 

You don’t know the girl who's flirting with him now, but you can tell that they know each other. They’re sitting close, but not enough to be obvious. You can hear them too, though. Hear how she talks to him. It’s not hard to tell that she’s hitting on him. And your brother isn’t reciprocating but he’s not quite turning her down. It doesn’t seem to bother him, enough that when he makes jokes playfully rejecting her - the conversation still doesn’t sour.

They get along, is what you mean. Better than you thought they would. 

Your stomach churns. 

You try not to think about whats making you sick.  But it washes over you all at once. More dizzy  than nauseous. You feel like someone is tying your insides into a coil. The more you try to divert your gaze - the harder it is to ignore it. Caleb glances at you from time to time, but it seems accidental at best. 

Your heart is hammering. You think about how long it’s been since you’ve last seen each other. All the things that have happened while you’re apart. 

When you find you can’t sit and handle anymore, your body makes the decision to leave for you. 

It happens quickly. You stand to your feet, nearly stumbling in your heels as you talk to a friend on the dance floor and make-up a nonsense excuse about needing to leave. She offers to call you a taxi, but by then you’re already making a bee-line to the door and out of the club. 

It’s late when you leave. Your whole body feels like it’s trapped in ice as the unforgiving night air whips your skin and leaves you cold. You stumble down the steps in your heels until you finally make it onto the curb with all the other drunk club-goers trying to get home or sober up.

You’ll flag down a taxi, go home, and pretend nothing happened. You repeat the routine to yourself over and over. 

It feels like the only way you can handle it. Your mind can't process it otherwise. Can’t think too hard on what you might’ve been privy too. 

“Where are you runnin’ off to?” 

You freeze when you hear Caleb’s voice. You have half a mind to break into a sprint but you aren’t sure you can without breaking your ankles with your heels. Another part of you is preening over the fact he came immediately to find you. You turn around and try to walk away briskly - only to feel a warm hand on your wrist, pulling you towards him and making you come to a halt. 

“Let me go,” You mumble. 

He holds you a little tighter. 

“Don’t be like that. No matter how much training you have, I know you can’t run in heels so quit it,” Caleb says, with a sigh. “Why’d you run off?” 

“What do you mean why?” You say, words slurring. “Who’d wanna see—hicc—” 

Caleb frowns at you. “Why’re you trying to be tough if you can barely keep yourself standing up straight?” 

He sighs, bending down. You let out a noise as he undoes the strap of your heel. 

“Take them off,” 

You pout. “How am I supposed to walk home like that?” 

“I’ll carry you on my back,” He replies. “Your ankles with have a hard time if you keep wobbling like that,” 

“My feet will get dirty from the pavement.” 

You’re being difficult on purpose. Drunk and upset, arguing with anything he says. Caleb knows this you’re sure but he doesn’t seem to have a reaction to it besides mild exasperation. Despite that though, he still tends to you. 

He makes a face at you before sighing. You watch as he slides his jacket off of his shoulders and drapes it over you. It’s oversized on him, even more so on you.  It fits more like a dress and covers more than your outfit does. 

When you’ve slipped your arms through it, he drops down onto his knees and undoes the other strap of your heel. He turns around after that, signalling for you to get on his back. You want to refuse him but you find you don’t have the words to do so. You comply with his request, putting your arms around his neck as he lifts you with frightening ease. 

He bends down with you on his back to pick your heels up and carry them.

“Aren’t you gonna ask me anything?” You mumble. Caleb sighs. It makes you bite your lip. 

“It can wait a bit.”  

“Hmph.”

You find you have nothing left to argue with him. You give up on trying to refuse and let him carry you, both hands lifting you up as you keep your arms around his neck. Your cheek pressed against his shoulder, worried your makeup will smear on it. 

You don’t know how long you walk. Your eyes are closed for the duration of it and you only open them again when you sense a change of lighting. The noise of an automatic door and a tired greeting alarms you. You feel embarrassed, suddenly, at the idea that someone else has seen you like this. 

Caleb just greets them as normal.

“Aren’t you gonna let me down already?” 

“Are you feeling uncomfortable?” 

“No, but—”

He doesn’t respond to you further. You get the impression there’s not much meaning to continue arguing so you keep quiet. 

You watch from over his shoulder as he roams the aisles until he comes across cheap pairs of slippers and socks - next to other random household items. He picks the correct size without asking you. Seeing it only adds to the strange feeling you’ve had since leaving the club. 

He goes to self check-out, pays for the sandals, then carries you to one of the few seats and table near the window of the 7/11. Carefully, he sets you down on one, your heels on another, then silently opens the packaging. He drops to his knees and looks up at you in silent question. 

“You don’t need to—” 

He doesn’t say anything when you attempt to refuse him. Keeps quiet  and just waits for you, not unkindly. You frown and hold your foot out to him. He rolls each sock carefully onto your feet, pulling them all the way up over your ankle before the slippers follow. 

“Do they fit okay?”

“Mm,” 

You nod. Caleb hums. Holds his hand out. 

“C’mon. Pick out something to eat or drink so you sober up a bit,” 

“While we talk?” You ask, voice suddenly small. He pauses, smiles just barely, and pats your head with the same firm hand he always does. It makes you want to cry. 

“Yeah. While we talk.” 

You nod as Caleb helps you off the seat. “I’ll go get some water.” 

“Okay,” 

You think of what you want to eat. Childhood memories whisper answers to you. Chips and candy - sweet and salty so you have balance. You remember the way Caleb would cut into his own snack budget for you to get what you wanted. He’d pretend to complain, but he’d smile at you while you ate. 

You pick the same things you used to. You wonder if he’ll notice. 

He returns with two bottles of water. “Did you finish choosing?” 

You nod. His eyes drift to your hands. He cracks another smile that makes you happier then it should.

“I see. Let’s check out then, hm?” 

Your heart flutters. You follow him quietly. He goes to the cashier the second time around - amiable, friendly and easing some unspoken tension. Apologizes for the inconvenience and, with familiar diligence, asks if there’s a recycling bin for him to toss trash nearby. The cashier offers to do it for him. 

Afterwards, he holds his hand out to you like it’s only natural for you to want to hold it. You take it. 

Of course, you do. 

He guides you outside, and the two of you sit on the curb. An expectant look appears on his face when he dusts off place beside him where he’s hoping you’ll sit. You do, knees touching -  folding your hands into your lap. He opens the bottle of water and hands it to you. 

“We could’ve just shared one,” You offer.

“I’m not so stingy,” Caleb says.. You purse your lips. You want to tell him that’s not what you mean, but you don’t want to ask yourself what you do mean. 

You take it from him and drink. 

Silence stretches over the seemingly endless night. The streets of Linkon prove to be busy and limitless. Given the district you’re in, you’d expect it to be more packed - but the streets are desolate. Proof of life resides in the lights of buildings and clubs but now, here—it feels like you’re the only two people left in the world. 

It’s quiet for a long while. You sit like that until you break the ice. 

“You still haven’t asked me anything.” 

“Well,” Caleb looks at you from the corner of his eyes and shrugs, taking a drink. “I can kind of guess why you were there in the first place. Don’t have much of a clubbing spirit, you know. Your friends probably told you to go right?” 

You nod.“You’re not upset?” 

“Mm,” Caleb sighs. “Not at you for just going. It’s hard to be mad at you especially when you…” He trails off, an almost imperceptible smile on his. He shakes his head before continuing and you miss the window to ask about what that was all about. He glances at you again. “Your dress is too short, though.” 

You feel heat crawl up your skin. “It’s not that bad. And I’m nineteen,” 

“So? You’re still my baby sister. Naturally I won’t approve, right? You know that much.”

You bend over your knees, pouting. You feel weirdly happy but try not to think about it. “You’re so unreasonable sometimes.” 

He clicks his tongue. “I’m being very reasonable right now,” 

“...Mm.” 

Tension lingers in the air. You open the chips Caleb got you and tilt it his way. A peace offering. He takes one. 

“Why’d you run off?” 

You make a face. Will yourself to not cry as you tuck your chin. 

“...I dunno.” 

He glances at you. You miss the knowing expression on his face. “Even if you were doing a good job of lying, you know that wouldn’t work on me right? Did something happen? Something you can’t tell me?” 

“Nothing happened but you—”

Caleb interjects. “Me? So it’s because of me then.” 

You bite your tongue. Caleb is lost in thought. 

“I didn’t mean to ruin your night showing up. Didn’t know you’d even be there. It’s not like I’m mad or anything.” Caleb starts. 

“It’s not that,” You say quickly. The frustration just thinking about it makes your throat well up. You can feel it. You drink water trying to wash it down. 

“Then?” 

It slips out of you, exasperated as you sit up and turn to look up at him. 

“You were ignoring me,” You say, voice wet and shaky - hands fisted at your knees, shoulders tight. You still haven’t sobered up much. Your lips curl into a frown. Caleb is stunned into silence. “You didn’t even… I thought you were mad at me. And then that girl sitting next to you was—”

You stop yourself. Caleb looks at you wide-eyed. Opens his mouth to say something but closes it again soon after. He processes what you’ve said slowly, though he doesn’t seem surprised by all of it. 

“I wasn’t mad at you. Surprised, but not so mad. Even if I were mad, I wouldn’t ignore you. It’d make more sense for me to drag you out myself, don’t you think?” 

You huff. “It felt like you were mad at me. And—”

You want to ask. Who was she? Why was she so close to you? Why didn’t you push her away? Do you like her? 

Nothing comes out right. You bite your lip. “That girl… was she your friend?” 

Caleb stops. He looks awkward all of a sudden. “Huh? No, no. She’s my senior. She has someone else she likes,” 

“She was hitting on you,” You say bluntly, sticking your feet out. “And you didn’t stop her.” 

For a brief moment, you swear he looks amused. His expression settles again quickly. “I know she’s not being serious so I didn’t feel like there was any point causing a rift.” 

“She’ll get the wrong idea. If you don’t turn her down properly and just let her—” Be all over you. Touch you so close. Get in your space. “...flirt with you.” 

A beat. “You think I should turn her down properly then?” 

It hangs in the air. You want me to turn her down?

You bite the inside of your lip. “Yeah.” 

“Will it make you feel better?” 

Your eyes meet. For a brief second you feel like someone has stolen all the air from your lungs in one go. You look down. 

“Yeah,” 

Caleb’s breath hitches just a touch before he speaks. “Okay.” 

He opens his arm up to invite you closer and slot into his side the way you used to. Blinking wetly, you scoot across the concrete and tuck yourself under the safety of his arm. Your face is close to his chest. He smells like cologne and iit makes your heart beat feel erratic. His hand comes up to stroke your head and you let him soothe you like you have so many times before. 

“No matter what happens, there’s nothing you could do or say that’d make me angry enough to ignore you. I’d never ignore you if I didn’t think you wanted me to,” 

“I never want you to ignore me, ever.” You say immediately. “Never ever.” 

He chuckles. The way it reverbs in your body makes you dizzy. “Okay, princess. Noted. Do you wanna sit a little longer or should I call a car for you?” 

You tuck into his side. It’d be nice if you never had to leave him ever again. Pressing into him, your words muffle in the fabric of his shirt. You tug at the hem. 

“Wanna stay here. Just for a bit.” 

He hesitates above you. But a while later, you feel his lips at the crown of your head - right at your hairline. His voice is gentle. “Sure. As long as you want,” 

__

At twenty-two, you often dream of your older brother. 

At first, it’s grief. Caleb dies not long after your birthday and in the months that pass - the warm memories of your childhood seem to follow you into sleep. Some nights, it feels kind to see him. In your dream, you run into his arms and he holds you tight when you tell him you missed him.

Grief holds the rest of you hostage. You want for nothing and think of nothing except your brother. You miss Grandma too, of course you do. 

But there’s nothing in the entire world like a brother. Like your brother—who you could ask anything of. It’s hard to unpack the loneliness you feel. Hard to explain it to other people. 

In the months you correct yourself from saying have to had—and watch peoples eyes change into one of sorrow and pity. At the worst of it, you can’t even pretend to think of that as a kindness. Can’t even thank them for being nice. At the worst of your grief, you find yourself especially angry at being pitied. You look at people and want to say they don’t understand. They don’t know what you lost. There are no words that make it digestible. You bite your tongue, give a tight-lipped smile. 

What you wanted to say was this: How dare you act like you understand what I lost? How dare you feel sorry when you don’t know the half of it? My brother is dead. A piece of me is missing.

You never say any of it. You bury the words in the black vast of your grief and throw yourself at finding answers. 

Your feelings about the incident change the more you find out. About Grandma and the abomination in your heart—and you cycle from anger to sorrow to unease.

They never change about Caleb though. The apparition of him, warm and broad, cycles through your dreams every now and again. Some nights, you wake up expecting to be seven years old again—clinging to your older brother, the only thing you know in the world that’s made you lose everything. 

Most nights, you wake up from dreamless sleep and feel yourself wanting to cry. 

(You don’t cry often when he’s gone, even when you should. 

Who would be there to hold you now when you do?) 

When you finally see Caleb again, see him alive—your emotions become just as complicated as your mind has been in the months of his absence. 

You’re ecstatic, you’re angry, you’re terrified, you’re so so sad. You are all of these things at the same time. 

And then, you realize that the death of Caleb did not only change you. Your older brother comes back to you. He’s warm, kind, and gentle sometimes. But it’s not the same. There’s something about him, inexplicable, that is changed forever. 

Caleb dies and comes back wrong—but this only strengthens your resolve. To do what, exactly? You aren’t sure. You don’t know what you want and you still know nothing about the Aether Cores. Or about what Caleb does. 

All you do  know is that your older brother has come back to you, and you are empty without him. You’d rather have him wrong than not have him at all. You’ll fix him or become wrong with him before you ever let go of him again.

(Even the way he is now, sometimes, he seems worried about ruining you. You want to say sometimes—then ruin me. You know what he’d say if you did. He knows he’d tell you to watch your tongue and not to say what you don’t mean.

You’ve thought about it, though. You’d rather that then he disappear again. You’d rather you know what's going on then not. ) 

Things have changed. Caleb has changed.

You have changed, most of all. 

When you hear from Caleb for the first time he no longer wants to be your brother - that he’s tired from playing house with you, your first reaction is devastation. The memory of that dread is so strong, you still feel it when you replay it all in your mind. Caleb above you, caging you in, unreadable—no longer what you know. 

You don’t think about anything. You can’t. It destroys you completely to hear him say it. Makes you want to cling to him and beg. Cry loudly enough to wake the version of him that did want to be your brother. That loved you unconditionally. 

When you have to go the next morning and find a memory of your childhood tucked away - you realize not all of him is lost to you. That the parts of him you loved so dearly have not entirely disappeared. 

So you stay, and try to mend the broken pieces of your relationship back together.

At twenty-two, you often dream of your brother. 

When he comes back to you, you think you’ll be given one more dream before he disappears. You figure the real thing is back in your hands. It’ll go back to the way it was before, where your sleep is long and dreamless but that’s fine. As long as you can wake-up and see the sun, without feeling like yours was stolen from you—anything is fine. 

At twenty-two, even after you learn he’s alive, you often dream of your brother. 

The first time you ever have a wet dream of Caleb is just after he comes back to Linkon. 

After you sit in the garden with Caleb and blow the hydrangea petals away from his face, and his hand comes up to touch you. After he promises to take good care of the flower he takes back to SkyHaven. After he tells you there was no way he’d be able to stay away from you. 

When you sleep the night after he returns home, you dream of Caleb again. 

This time you’re in your bedroom—the one from your childhood home, that Caleb spent so many years taking up space in. You dream of your brother on top of you and you both look a little younger. His face contorted with pleasure, and your hand being the one to give it to him. The image missing from the waist down, all you can see is the clear view of him over you. Making it so obvious what you’re doing. Doing together.  

You wake up from your dream with a feeling like something’s crushing your chest. A wheezing breath as you struggle to calm down. A distinct feeling of wetness between your legs that cling to your PJs when you stumble into your bathroom - trying to relieve yourself and being confronted with the reality of what just happened. 

The first time you have a wet dream about Caleb—you only feel shame. You tell yourself that it’s a fluke, and that dreams are meaningless anyway. It makes you violated to think of him like that. You can’t control what you do in your sleep. You decide not to dwell. 

Weeks pass and you see Caleb again. You share fruit and more conversation, and the following night - you have another wet dream. This one, more vivid than the last. Different. You dream of Caleb with a baton to your neck and the tension in the room when he caged you in his arms. In your dreams he’s cruel as he drags the metal end down your body, pushes it against your—

You wake up the next morning almost inconsolable. 

The cycle repeats for as long as you see him. Every time Caleb appears in your life, you dream of him the next night. You wake up in shock, wet down your legs and spend all morning trying to suppress it down as far as you can. 

You tell yourself all sorts of things when it happens. You reason with yourself. Dreams are nonsense. You can’t control them. It’s your brother. You don’t think of him like that.

(You think of all the times you’ve seen him since he’s returned. All the ways his eyes soften for you, all the ways his hands linger—how ever since he’s denied being your brother at all, you think of what that might make you now. 

It breaks your heart to not have him as your brother. Your precious family. An unbreakable bond. The one you love most. He touches you the way brothers aren’t supposed to, and you remind yourself of what you can’t have. You remind yourself of what loss you would feel first.

He always looks pained when he touches you like that, though. And, for some strange reason, sometimes you want to tell him: Did you know I dreamt of you touching me? So you don’t need to make that face. Like you’re wrong. My dreams couldn’t make you this gentle.)

The harder you try to force it down, the harder it is to pretend it’s nothing. You push and push and push—but each time you see him, the cycle repeats.

Eventually, it’s too hard to pretend. You refuse to name it, or think about it—but when you let your mind stop forcing it so deep into your subconscious, it’s easier to reconcile. 

It doesn’t go away. But your skin prickles with embarrassment, and you sigh, and you move on from it. Even if the dreams don’t stop, you can go on about your day when you leave it all alone.

You think maybe, if you and Caleb never saw each other again, it might even work to rid you of the dreams completely.

But he’s your brother—your precious family, the one you love most. You see him all the time. Whenever your schedule allows it, he’s the first person you check with to see if you can come spend time with him. Even if he can’t be with you, you stay over at his place to eat his food and watch TV on his expensive flatscreen. 

It makes you feel like you live together again. 

(You try not to reel at the thought. It’s normal for siblings to stay together from time to time. It’s like a sleep over. That’s all.) 

So it’s not unusual for you anymore to drop by his place. You even have a key. 

(Your key, you think. Caleb put a stupid green apple cover on the top part of it. It’s for you, and only you.) 

Even when you do come over, sometimes you only see him at night. You have little conversations before you need to go to sleep (or rather, when he makes you go to sleep.) But it still feels better than only seeing him sometimes. 

So it’s not unusual for you to be here in your PJs and watching something stupid while draped on Caleb’s couch. 

It is unusual, however, to have him come home so soon.

PART TWO: SO ONLY SAY MY NAME, IT WILL BE HELD AGAINST YOU.

You pick your head up as soon as you hear the security system for Caleb’s apartment announce someone at the door. The time reads 6:56pm.

Heavy footfall makes you pick yourself up, crawling to the edge of the couch and standing on your knees to catch sight of him. You lean forward. 

“You’re home early.”

It takes him a second to register who's talking, but he smiles slightly when he does. Turnt towards the doors, he’s leaned against a wall as he undoes the laces of his steel-toed boots. 

“So are you,”

You give him a melodic hum. “I got off since we have a holiday. I have Monday off too.” 

“Yeah? That’s good. You should try to rest up some,” 

“I will. Gotta catch up on my shows first though,” You reply thoughtfully. “I’m like half-way through ‘em.” 

“Workin’ hard I see. Try not to over-exert yourself.” He adds, playfully sarcastic. You nod. 

You answer him in silly earnest. “Of course. I’m more relaxed here so don’t worry.” 

He pauses as he finally stands back up. You see him at the other side of the room with a smile. 

“Yeah?” 

You feel something in your stomach that you choose to ignore. “Yeah. Plus I don’t have to eat my own groceries.” 

“It’s better you eat mine than me wasting them,” He says with a shrug. 

“How generous of you.” 

“Right?” 

You lean forward, resting more of your weight on the couch. “Did they just send you home early too? Or is it some special Colonel privilege?” 

You see him shake his head as he slides off his coat and walks over to the fridge, grabbing a plastic bottle of water out of it before taking a few long drinks. 

“Mm, kinda the first.” He says thoughtfully. “I got injured in the field today, had to go to the infirmary. It’s a minor injury but I checked in with my commanding officer and he told me I might as well go home.” 

You frown. “What kind of injury?” 

“It’s really fine,”

“Caleb.” 

He sighs, turning towards you. The open fridge door illuminates him. “Just got a bruise along my thigh from how I fell. Nothing broken.” He says. You’re still frowning at him. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“How can you be fine if they sent you home?” 

“It’s not like that,” 

“I don’t believe you,” You say petulantly. Caleb shuts the fridge door with his hip as he laughs. 

“What, you want me to show it to you?” 

“Yeah.” 

“It’s on my thigh. I’d have to take off my pants,” He says, laughing. He joins you on the couch - sitting where you were laying—eyeing you while he waits for you to come join him. You narrow your eyes suspiciously but crawl over to him anyway, sitting beside him with your legs up. “Unless you’re really just wanting me to strip, promise it’s fine. I’ve had it worse,”

“That’s not a good thing. If it were me you’d be freaking out already and fussing over me.” 

“It’s different,” 

“Is not,” 

“Is too. My little sisters still a bit of weakling, see—if I don’t take good care of her she’ll end up hurting herself even worse,” Caleb says, voice high. 

“I’m not even weak. Maybe not as strong as you but not weak.” 

“When you get stronger than me, we can talk about who gets to worry about who,”  He says, flicking your forehead lightly. You pretend to flinch at the injury. 

“You let me do whatever I want except worry about you.” 

“You got it. Glad you’re getting up to speed.” 

You elbow him. Caleb laughs. 

You sit back with your knees to your chest, frowning. Caleb leans back, arm stretched on the back of the couch. Inching closer to him subconsciously, your brow furrows as you think about his injury. 

It’s like he reads your mind.

“You’re really worried about it.” He murmurs.

You purse your lips. “No shit.” 

“Don’t cuss,” 

“I’m twenty-two!” 

“So?” He raises his eyebrow. 

“You make me want to strangle you sometimes.” 

“If you succeed I’ll be impressed.”

You glare at him. “I’ll make sure to wait until you’re fully recovered so it counts,” 

He relaxes into the couch, eyes filled with mirth. “Smart move.” 

“You’re still in your outside clothes. Don’t you want to wash up first?” 

“Do I smell bad?” 

“No, that’s not it. But if you get too comfortable, you might not want to get up to do it, you know?” 

“I’m not like a certain someone, so I’m not worried about that.” Caleb says. You huff as he continues on. “I just wanted to sit with you for a bit first. Is that not okay?” 

“I didn’t say all of that. Don’t put words in my mouth, jeez.” 

He hums. “Just checking,” 

Comfortable quiet  settles between you as Caleb sits and watches your drama with you intently.

You relax further into the couch as you settle back in, once again engrossed in your show. It’s a period and fantasy drama about a once noble woman getting married against her will to a supposedly cruel emperor. Crude description aside, it has high political stakes, violence, and good writing. 

The romance aspect of the show was what drew you in more-or-less, but it’s a slowburn between the main couple. You’ve mostly been watching for the high-tension plot. It captures both your attention and seemingly Caleb’s too. 

“Wait,” Caleb interrupts half-way through an episode. “I want to watch the rest with you but I need to shower,” 

You smile at him. “It’s good right? It’s not a lot of romance but there’s other stuff. We can watch it together after you wash-up and maybe…we can have a drink together.” 

“You’re so interested in that,” 

“I want to know what kind of drunk you are. It’s not fair you’ve seen me drunk and I haven’t,” 

“Pfft,” He rubs your head with hand, amused. “What kind of reason is that? But you know what? Sure. Order whatever you want with my card while I go shower.” 

“Yay!” 

You pause the TV as Caleb stands up and stretches, fishing for his wallet and passing you his card. Snatching it from between his fingers, you give him a mischievous look that makes him laugh. 

“Go shower,” 

“I am, I am,” He holds his hands up. “I’ll be quick,” 

__

You watch your drama late into the evening. 

You drink casually with Caleb as you binge watch the final few episodes of the season you started on. You take a break later in the night to have dinner delivered to you, but afterwards - you decide to keep watching. 

Caleb wasn’t lying when he told you he holds his drink well. You’ve both been knocking them back since eight pm. Even with the time to sober up in between, he seems like he hasn’t had a single thing to drink the entire time. 

You feel far from wasted, a warm meal in your stomach settling some of inebriation - but you still feel somewhat tipsy. At least enough to have that pleasant, warm, loose-limbed buzzed. You’re sober enough that Caleb doesn’t get on your case about drinking enough water - though you sure it’ll be a different story in another hour or two if it keeps going. 

Half-past midnight - you’re two episodes deep into the third season of your drama. 

Relaxed, you’re half-way draped on Caleb - legs in hips lap and nursing another cheap can of beer. After several episodes of action and violence - the story is starting to get back to the romance aspect for the main couple. 

Maybe it’s your fault for not thinking it through, but you’re really not expecting a graphic sex scene to play so soon after so much high plot. 

In the first place, it doesn’t start out like a sex scene. The main character went to go visit her injured husband after he returned from battle. Sweet, you thought. Maybe you’d get to see them have some intense, longing eye-contact like they’ve been having for a while now. 

You aren’t sure when exactly it takes a left turn. You’re tipsy and comfortable and warm. On your phone looking things up on social media. 

They kiss once, then twice before a breathy moan cuts through the comfortable.  

Before you can scramble to find the remote and scrub through it, the scene changes instantly in temperature. A few tepid kisses rapidly go from chaste to deep, all tongue and teeth. 

Near full blown nudity flashes across your T.V. screen as a strange heat creeps up your neck. You feel like you’ve had enough mental torment when you see the male lead kiss his way down the female leads neck. It’s more uncensored then you thought. 

Your voice is trembling a little. “We should uhm,” You swallow thickly. “Where’s the remote..?” 

Caleb feels a little… different. He seems startled hearing you speak, looking at you with lidded eyes. “Not sure. Think you had it last,”

“Oh, right. I don’t,” Another moan rips through the tension between you. It takes your full body effort not to jump. “....really remember where I put it,” 

“You want me to help you look?” 

You blink at him. “I mean… we should, probably look for it. Since, uhm… you know.” 

“Are you uncomfortable?” Caleb interrogates. You stare at him. 

“You aren’t?” 

Caleb is quiet for a long time, like he’s thinking hard about the answer. 

“I feel fine,” Is what he says after what feels like forever. 

“You feel… fine.” 

He nods without looking at you. “We can skip it if you want. Probably have to get up to find the remote, though.”

You sink back in the couch, your face feeling warm. “It’s fine, then.” 

You’re a little startled as the couple on T.V starts to really have sex - at least more than foreplay. It’s not full frontal, but the sounds and angles are enough to get the point across. Caleb just… watches. Relaxed.

“You sure?” He offers, glancing at you again. “It’s fine if it’s too much for you,” 

Frowning, you sit up slightly. “What do you mean too much for me?” 

“Hm?” 

“You’re saying it like you’re used to it,” 

Caleb gives you another glance. Assess you once or twice before looking back at the T.V. 

“Does it matter if I am or I’m not?” 

You find yourself at a loss for words. Is he used to this? That can’t be the case, right? 

“You never dated anyone when we were growing up.” 

Caleb nods. “You don’t really need to date someone for something like that, though it’s better that way.” 

You find yourself shocked by his answer. He’s changed a lot, you know that but—

But it feels wrong. You can’t imagine him just hooking up with someone and having a one-night stand. He’d only ever do it with a girlfriend. So if he has any experience, it’d have to be with someone like that. 

He smiles at you. “You’re making a scary face.” 

You look up at him, unsure of what face you should be making. The question slips out before you can stop to think about whether or not you should even ask it. 

“So are you… used to it?” 

He pauses before leaning in. “This is the second time you’ve asked,” 

“That’s…” 

“I don’t think it’s the kind of thing someone’s little sister should ask their older brother right?” 

You snap your mouth shut. Caleb leans a little closer. “Right?” 

“You’re not answering,” You whisper. Your foreheads touch.

“Is there a specific answer you’re looking for?” Caleb says. 

Your eyes widen, teeth pressing against your lip as you tear your gaze away from his face. . “No,” 

“Is that what my answer should be or are you answering what I just asked?” 

You don’t give him a reply. 

Caleb lets out a soft breath of laughter before he finally seems to decide he’s teased you enough. He gets like this more and more lately. Most times you cool off from it quickly but… 

You aren’t sure what drives you to make a move. What makes you tug him back to you by the front of his shirt when he tries to pull away. If it’s the alcohol, or the jealousy that makes you do it. It’s hard to say what the source of your heart pumping so hard is—only that it’s all Caleb’s doing. 

Your hands fist in the front of his shirt as you drag him forward and kiss him as hard as you possibly can, only barely avoiding biting down with your teeth. Chaste but harsh, you press your lips together with nothing but pure desperation, air pushing hard through your lungs as you do. For a minute or two, longer than a kiss should last. 

And then, you pull away. Out of breath like you just ran a marathon, cheeks hot and flushed. Your first kiss that you initiated.  It’s almost mundane. 

Embarrassed, your first instinct is to jump off the couch and lock yourself in the bathroom. But Caleb knows you. Even better than you know yourself. 

He catches your wrist as he leans towards you. His expression is unreadable. 

“You kissed me,”  He says, completely entranced. “You did right? I didn’t just dream that?” 

“It’s your imagination. You must be drunk,” 

He laughs good naturedly. “Maybe I am.” 

Your frown deepens. How do you refuse him when he acts like that? 

Your heart feels like a jackhammer against your ribcage. You can’t. You really can’t. You shouldn’t have—

“I didn’t mean to k-kiss you,” 

Blatant heartache fills his eyes. It feels like something is crushing your chest. “Is that so?” 

You squeeze your eyes, relenting only a little. Your voice is barely above a whisper. “We can’t.”

Caleb scoffs “Why? Because you see me as your brother?” 

“You are my brother.  You are and you always will be, and I don’t want to lose that. I can’t, I can’t. You’re—” 

“Why can’t you?” His voice is raw, almost desperate. Trying so hard to understand you. It makes you hurt seeing him like that. “What can I do to become more to you?” 

“You’re already`—” Everything to me. “You’ll always be the most important person to me.” 

His hands grip tighter, devastation darkening the familiar aura of warmth you’ve come to love. Like he’s at the precipice of something considering what he should do. It takes him a while to come upon answers. Staring at you so desperately before closing his eyes, loosening his grip like he’s ready to let you go.

He looks like he makes a choice then. Really makes one. You can already predict what’ll do. What smile he’ll give you but it feels different from other times.

You hold onto him before he can, hand fisted in his shirt. He startles again, softens, not agitated despite how wishy-washy you’re being.

“It’s not that I don’t want you,” You say, so quietly it almost evades you both. “But I don’t want to lose you as my brother if we become more than that.” 

Silence falls between you. 

“You won’t lose me,” He replies, gently and easily. Your eyes meet. It’s nice. “I want to be everything to you, remember? All of it. I want you to only think of me for the rest of our life. For us to only need each other. You don’t need to give anything up. When have I ever said no to you?” 

You turn away from him, shaking your head. “You said that you never saw me as family, that you wouldn’t be—” 

Caleb stops you. “I want to be everything to you. Everything. I want us to only need each other. I had to make you understand. From the start, I never intended to give anything up for anyone else.”

“But that’s…” 

“I don’t care if it’s wrong,” He says, reading your mind. “I’m asking what you want. Tell me who you want me to be. I’ll do all of it for you. 

You glance down, away from him - guilt, remorse, fear. You’re resolve is wavering, but you’re too afraid to say it out loud. 

His voice softens. A hand, big and warm and kind, cups your cheek. You know. Know every scar, every touch. 

“Tell your big brother what you want and he’ll give it to you.” 

Something in you shatters. The weak resistance you’ve been trying to hold onto so desperately, denying yourself of what you’ve wanted deep down all this time. Having it offered to you, handed to you—proves to be too much. It all comes tumbling down. 

Your voice comes out like a whine. Your dependency more than shows. 

“Touch me,” You gasp, voice wet with tears. Caleb cracks a slight smile. “Touch me, please—want you so bad. Don’t want anyone else to have you.” 

Caleb looks elated. Adoring. Madly and terribly in love. 

“What a crybaby, hm?” He pulls away from you, standing up before scooping you in his arms “Here. Hold onto me. I’ll carry you,” 

“Caleb, I’m too—” 

He stops you. “I have a bionic arm. Don’t say you’re too heavy. It could carry ten of you.” 

He keeps good on his promise. You wrap your arms around Caleb’s neck as he picks you up. Wrapping your legs around his waist, a gasp leaves your mouth as his hands rest under your thighs - lifting you as he walks you to his room. It reminds you of when you were little though a lot has changed since then. 

The realization makes you nervous. 

“The TV is still playing.” You mumble..

“You won’t be able to hear it from my room,” 

“This is embarrassing,” 

“You’ll live.”  Caleb hums. 

“I hate you,” 

Caleb opens his bedroom door with his hip and closes it the same way, walking you to the end of his bed and dropping you on to his mattress. He leans over you, hands on either side of your thighs to keep himself up - inches away from your face. 

“Don’t say things you don’t mean. It’ll make me sad.” He says sweetly.

You pout. “Sorry,” 

He laughs a little. “It’s okay,” 

This close to you, you feel a strange warmth glow your whole body. You crane your neck up to kiss him chastely, pulling away and feeling shy again. 

“You taste like beer,” 

Caleb stares at you for a long time, smiling slightly. Dazed. “Should I go brush my teeth?” 

You look down, away from his face, your hands fiddling with the ends of his shirt. “No…” 

He presses his forehead to yours, noses brushing. “How can you be so cute, hm?” 

“Quit that,” You whine.

“If you get this embarrassed just hearing you’re cute, you’ll have a hard time later on.” 

You blink up at him owlishly. He laughs, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“I’m barely holding it together, you know?” 

You look up at him. 

“What do you wanna do to me?” 

His eyes seem to dilate.  “Don’t ask me that,” 

“Tell me. I want to know,” 

He laughs breathlessly. “That’s unfair,” 

“I don’t have to be fair with you,” You say petulantly. “Tell me,” 

“I’ve spoiled you too much.” Caleb says, faux regret. “Even if you get scared, you can’t run away.” 

“I won’t get scared,” 

“Really?” Caleb hums. He moves to the side, his mouth next to your ear - voice barely audible. He puts his hands over yours as he towers over you. “You sound confident, but you know—I’ve wanted to touch you for so long. So badly that it scares me just thinking about it. Can you handle that?” 

It’s a confession you think, as much as it’s dirty talk. He pulls back and you’re face to face again. 

“I’m not scared of you. Even if you can’t control yourself I won’t be scared.” You tell him, headstrong as always.

His smile falters. “I don’t want to hurt you,” 

“I know you like to call me a weakling but you know I’m not really made of my glass,” You stare at him, eyes tracing over his features. “It’ll be hard for you to break me in one go. Might’ve be fun,” 

He tsks. “Don’t talk like that. I’d prefer to treasure you.” 

You look at him for a long time quietly. 

“I dreamt of you.” 

“Hm?” 

You feel your face flush, but for some strange reason - you have an urge to tell him. The words come easy. Maybe you’ve just been waiting for a reason to confess. 

“Of you touching me,” Caleb’s eyes go wide. You smile a little. “Used to dream of you when you were, you know… but it wasn’t the way I dream of you now.” 

“How do you dream of me now?” His voice is strained. 

“They’re dirty dreams,” You say, fidgeting. “Sometimes I’m touching you and making you feel good. But most of the time, it’s you doing whatever you want to me.” 

His voice is hoarse. “Yeah?” 

“Mm,” You lock eyes. You can see it in him. It almost feels cruel, but you’re not saying it to tease him. “I had a wet dream about when you were interrogating me. You were being mean in that one. Really mean,” 

“I already said sorry about that,” 

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” 

He swallows. “Oh,” 

“Yeah, oh.” You slide your hand up his arms, squeezing the back of his biceps as he leans over you. Look up at him with mutual love. “I’ll only say it once so please listen carefully: I’m fine with anything if it’s you.” 

It’s unexpected when Caleb tackles you to the bed. Not to kiss you, rather—but to hug you. You squeal as you both drop onto the mattress with your legs hanging off the edge. Caleb’s full weight crushes you, trapping you in his arms. You find yourself laughing a little, giggly as you feel him squeeze you tight enough to crush you.

“You’re squishing me, Caleb.” 

He laughs breathlessly, rolling you both to the side. Pulling away with your face inches apart, he beams. 

“Do you know that I’m crazy about you? Or do you say things like that not even knowing?” 

“I don’t know,” You say, burying your face against his chest. “I just know you take good care of me. I want to take good care of you too,” 

A spectrum of emotions pass through Caleb’s features at once at the admission. It’s the most vulnerability he’s ever shown you.

His body stiffens. He takes a deep breath before pulling away from you. You watch him innocently as he pushes himself up closer to the headboard. Rolling onto your stomach, you stare at him as he rolls onto his side. 

“More comfortable this way, right?” 

Consider without trying, your face warms. Caleb’s voice is whisper soft. “C’mere.” 

You push yourself up until you’re closer to him, legs no longer hanging off the edge.

Within his reach, Caleb’s hand find your waist. He’s strong, you forget it all too easily—until he’s manhandling you to be in his grasp. Careful but demanding. Rolling on his back, he pulls you onto his lap until you’re straddling him. 

The view proves too much for you both. His face is pink. A sheepish smile on his face. 

“Regretting it?” 

You shake your head quickly, careful not to rest your weight on his lap. He rests one of his hands on your thigh, closer to your knee and steals a glance at you. 

Like this, you become aware of him for the first time. Consciously, as if he’s become a completely different person. All the things you’d never allow yourself to consider, slowly draw into focus. Like seeing him with a new set of eyes.

You notice every detail. Sparking arousal and curiosity, you put your hand on his chest and just stare. Unconsciously, your fingers reach for the dog-tag necklace you gifted him - straightening it. Metal warmed underneath your fingertips, you center it on his shirt. At the dip of his muscles where his chest is. 

Fitted tank-top shows off enough to give you an idea of what’s underneath. Smooth, alabaster skin. Muscles bulking underneath the ribbed cotton - soft and supple from lack of tension, rising and falling with each breath. Your thumb smooths over the silly apple-shaped pendant, the raised letter of the dogtags. The brief skin to skin makes the air feel electric. 

You do it unthinkingly, really. Following your instinct, you rest your hand on his chest before sliding them up closer to his neck. Defined clavicles, the long  column of his throat and how it leads to the angled curve of his jaw. Eventually, your hand finds his face. His boyish features—handsome but youthful. Caleb leans into the touch. His usual, playful teasing nowhere to be found. It makes you jolt in surprise. His expression is painted by desire, a rosy flush to what's an otherwise perfect face. 

His voice grows thick. An octave deeper than you’re used to. “Having fun?” 

“Nn,” You shift under the weight of his gaze. “Sorry,” 

“S’fine,” He says, pressing his cheek to your palm. “You can touch me however you want.” 

Hearing it embarasses you. But your reply comes quickly. “You too,” 

Caleb smiles shakily. His hand slides up your thigh. It’s slight, barely there. His hands are trembling. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

“We’ve kissed before,” 

He shakes his head. “It won't be like before.” 

“I don’t have any experience,”

Caleb laughs breathlessly. “I don’t care.” 

You frown, but let yourself fall forward. Suddenly inches apart, your eyes widen. Caleb is staring at you this time. His eyes soaking in your expression, gaze falling onto your lips and staying there. They flicker back to yours for silent permission. 

You meet his eyes completely assured. He swallows and cranes his neck, his hand coming up to your face to cradle it. His thumb traces your lips, inching himself closer and closer. You can hear his breath. Feel it on your face from how close you are. 

Cupping your nape, he presses his lips to yours with unfathomable tenderness—undercut with the hottest flames of desires you’ve ever felt. It’s hard to describe it. All of the kisses you’ve ever had in your life have been Caleb’s, but this one really is different.

An unfamiliar desperation fills it despite being a gentle press of lips. He pulls away and you miss him. Try to chase it as he speaks against your mouth. 

“Open your mouth, baby. Breathe through your nose,” 

You listen to your older brother obediently, mouth parting as he leans in to kiss you again. Soft at first before pulling you down deeper into him by your. A moan escapes you subconsciously and you feel Caleb shiver. Eyes closed, you let him guide you through it. He controls the depth, the pace. You kiss deeply like that, holding each other before he pulls away again. 

Every time you part, you feel a strange pang of sadness. Caleb never leaves you like that for too long 

Your mind is hazy with desire as you fall into a pace with him. He breathes hard each time he pulls away from you, seems overwhelmed each time he kisses you again. Switching between deep kisses to chaste one, your lips throb from the overwhelming intensity of it. His mouth perfectly warm, lips soft and full. Wet as the kiss deepens but not unpleasantly. A tingly sensation that makes your skin prick. 

You make a noise of surprise when Caleb slips his tongue against your mouth. But you don’t dislike it. Rather, out of curiosity, you copy him. 

(A habit of your childhood—to copy your older brother and keep what you like from him as your own. )

Caleb inhales when you mirror him. Your eyes flicker open briefly to see his face, pleased by the draw of his eyebrows, before letting them close again. 

There’s nothing intimidating about kissing Caleb. Every fear you harbor about how you should do it is washed away by the sheer force of your lust for one another. Like a gap of communication has finally been bridged—with your soft tongues sliding against each other, brushing against his palate, open mouth panting, subconsciously rocking your hips. Each second of doubt is brushed away by the overwhelming feeling of mutual, lovesick desire. It flows through your veins with more naturality than even your blood. Nothing more righteous, more sure. 

You kiss like you’re telling him every secret you’ve ever kept—lips incapable of anything but honest confession. Holding onto each other in desperate, desperate necessity. A lifeline. A lifetime of holding it in, unraveling like the seconds couldn’t pass quickly enough to answer for it. 

It feels like the beginning of devouring. You’ve never felt so hungry for something in your life. It gnaws at your conscious thoughts. 

Desire simmers as you subconsciously settle your weight on Caleb’s lap, rocking your hips against the pleasant hardness meeting it. Not entirely sure of what it is your even touching. Caleb moans softly each time you do. 

“Fuck,” Caleb pulls away finally. You whine and he laughs at you. Kisses you again, just once. “Shh, baby.” 

“Nn, you don’t wanna kiss?” Your words come out slurred, even to your own ears. 

“Not that I don’t want to, but you’re—” His laugh comes out higher, breathier. “Doing a little more than kissing,” 

“Mm?”

He looks up at you. Amusement mixed with arousal. “You don’t even know what you’re doing, do you?” 

“Feels good,” 

“You’re this weak to a little pleasure,” Caleb says. His hands are hot as they squeeze your hips. “Can’t you feel what you’re sitting on?” 

The question sobers you. Caleb hold you steady to stop you before changing the pace. Uses his strength to hold your hips down as he grinds you over the full length of his…

“Oh,” You’re startled. You’re grinding against—

“You’ve been grinding against my dick like that without thinking about it at all. Isn’t that dangerous?” 

A shiver wracks through you. Caleb’s voice is husky, low when he says. It’s crass and to the point—something you could never imagine hearing him say. But now that you have heard it, it makes it feel like your whole body is melting. Sticky arousal climbs through your limbs, leaves your mind muddled as you moan. Shivering, you fall forward in his arms. He closes them around your back, grinding his hard-on against your clothed cunt. The way it catches on your clit so indirectly feels so good you could cum from it. 

His lips find your face, your jaw. His kisses affectionate. “Feels good, huh?” 

“Mmm,” You press your face to his neck. “Caleb,” 

“Do you want to cum like this? Or do you want me to make you feel even better?”

“Better?” 

“Yeah,” Caleb says, a promise. “Better. Promise. Do you want that?” 

You nod. “I want it,” 

“Gonna lay you on your back, okay?” 

You make an affirmative noise as Caleb flips you on your spine with ease. Surprised by his strength again, you gasp a little as he turns you over until he’s over you. He kisses you sweetly. 

Your head feels full. Too heavy on your shoulders. You want to put your tongue in his mouth again and you don’t feel all the way there. Caleb looms over you. 

“You’re beautiful,” Caleb says, breathless. Your eyes go wide. “Really fucking beautiful,”’

“That’s…” 

“I think it all the time. Want to say it to you all the time, but I never wanna scare you.” Caleb hums, a hand on your thigh. 

“Why would that scare me?” 

Caleb chuckles like it’s obvious. “You get skittish easily, you know? When I act less like your brother and more like…” 

You finish the sentence for him with a pout. “My boyfriend?” 

He hums like just hearing it feels good, eyes lidded. “Yeah. Like your boyfriend.” 

“Well that’s….” 

“Do I make you nervous?” 

His expression is playful. Makes your stomach flip. Your hand finds the hem of his shirt. 

“So what if you do?”

“It’d make me happy,” 

“You want me to be nervous? How mean,” 

He leans into your space. You kiss again and feel disappointed when it’s over. Were you always so desperate? 

“Don’t put words in my mouth. It just feels good to know you think of me that way, yeah?”

Something about it, about him like this makes your stomach tie in knots. You make a face, head tilted trying to tempt him into doing what you want. Caleb knows without you speaking a word, always does. Dips his head down to appease, lips firm and steady. Soft and full enough to make you melt. Your arms around his neck, a little breathless, mewling at the way it makes it feel like there’s electricity in your skin. 

“You really like kissing, huh,”  Caleb says. He pulls away again. Casts a brief glance your way before he peppers kisses all across your face. Draws his lips down your jawline, hot and wet as he noses against your skin. He finds your pulse and darts his tongue across the sensitive skin of your neck. 

You keen. It’s a sudden sound, sensitive. Your body shivers. Caleb makes an affirmative noise and does it again. Scrapes the same spot gently with teeth.

Another pitchy moan escapes your lips. Caleb breathes from his nose like laughter. Places more experimental bites and licks all along your neck. Your voice slips before you can catch it. 

“Harder,” 

He appeases you. Just like always. Feeling his teeth in your neck makes your mouth fall open and you moan his name like a small prayer.

His teeth leaves marks along your neck at your request, hands at your waist to hold you in place as you learn more about your body. You can feel your shorts dampen as he does it. It overwhelms you, makes you tremble with every light breath and every sordid bite. You don’t have any experience, have nothing tangible to compare it to except the things you did alone in your bedroom. 

It doesn’t compare at all, though. No amount of relieving your sexual urges as a desperate teenager or fumbling against a stranger in a club even kind of helps your mind make sense of it. Caleb kissing and biting down your neck, his hands touching your skin—it’s the first time in your life you’ve ever felt it. First time you’ve known touch like this. 

First time your mind has been rendered so useless to think. 

He rests his mouth as his hands slide up your sides. You gasp slightly as they go underneath your shirt  but you don’t make any move to stop it. Further and further they go until the reach for your back. Searching for something.

“You’re not wearing a bra,” He whispers.. 

“I don’t at home,” 

He lets out a breath like the winds have been knocked out of him. “Right,”

“Are you into that?” You ask before you can stop yourself, surprised by the sound of your own voice. Caleb just laughs like he’s in disbelief. 

“Take a guess,” 

“I just don’t get it,” 

Caleb doesn’t say anything to that. But his hands maneuver. Stopped just underneath the swell of your tits, his eyes look up at yours and ask for silent permission. His shoulders sag with relief when he receives it. 

The way your chest fits in Caleb’s hands makes your breath hitch. Squeezing the fat of them, relishing how they feel between his palms. He’s quick after that, pulling your shirt up until it’s gathered underneath your neck. There’s an impatience to it that surprises you, something uncharacteristically lacking composure as he halfway undresses you. 

His eyes linger like that for a long time. So long it makes your face burn. 

“Stop staring,” 

“...I don’t know if I can.” 

There’s something like awe in his gaze. Your spine tingles, goosebumps appearing on his skin. The way his hands hold onto your waist. He presses his cheek just below your sternum with an loving sigh, kissing it as he picks his head back up. It’s sweet to the point it almost nauseates you. It might if it were anyone other than Caleb. 

His thumbs draw over your nipples, hardened from arousal. Your chest rises and falls in anticipation, in ache. Thighs squeezing together in a silent admittance. His touch is experimental, careful in observing what elicits the most reaction out of you. 

Chest tender, takes one of your nipples into his mouth without warning. You gasp, hand covering your mouth as you feel him smile against your chest. 

The air shifts again. Hotter, heavier—there’s a sudden carnality to the way he’s touching you. Mouth latched onto your nipples tenderly, grazing them lightly with the blunt end of his incisors like he can guess everything you like. His mouth on your chest is overwhelming. It baffles you that something can feel that good. Each time you think you can’t be surprised any more, Caleb makes good on making you feel better and you’re forced to eat your words. 

Between your legs is throbbing hard. Whatever Caleb can’t fit in his mouth, he teases with the rough pads of his fingers - brushing and squeezing and twisting. Alternating as to make sure nothing goes neglected. Your hips cant against air, frustrated by lack of friction. Caleb is relentless, but does not make any move to sate your growing desires. 

“Caleb,” 

His eyes are washed over as he looks up. A look on his face you don’t know, have never seen until now. His voice is low in the back of his throat, strong hands cupping your chest and squeezing. 

“‘Mm?” 

A sibling bond like this, you think, is to blame for understanding so quickly what Caleb wants. Something you know innately, deep in your subconscious that makes your cheeks grow hot. A hot, prickly feeling goes down your back and all your clothes suddenly feel restrictive. He sits and remains steadfast, but you can sense it too. 

It feels good but something is missing. Something is off. 

Despite his restless desire, he’s taunting you. Goading you. You groan and Caleb laughs.

“Don’t—Caleb. Please,” 

“Did you want something?” 

Another groan leaves your lips as his smile remains unfaltering. 

“You promised you were gonna make it feel better,” You say, so petulant and childish to your own ears you wince. 

Somewhat predictably, this works on Caleb right away. Overwhelming lust tucked carefully behind a thoughtful smile. “I did, huh?” 

“Don’t be a jerk,” You reply. He laughs but not for long.

He has something flash on his face at your reply. You just kind of know. “Sorry, sorry,” 

“Stop holding back.”

He looks surprised. “I’m not—” 

You nudge him with your knee. “You are. You think I don’t know you? Didn’t you say you wanted me to see you differently? Stop acting like a cool older brother. It’s annoying,” 

His expression is one of awe and amusement. It’s not quite that he’s irritated, but you can sense that you just barely get under his skin with the implication. 

 “Weren’t you the one who was crying about not wanting anything to change? Now you’re chiding me? You were acting so spoiled just a minute ago to get your way and now you’re saying you don’t want me acting like your big brother, hm?” 

Your eyes widen at the change in character. It still feels like Caleb, but it’s so intense. Too sincere to be completely playful. A strange mix of lust, nerves and fear wash over you. “Just—” 

He pushes himself back up to hover over you, swift as a hand cups your jaw, forcing your gaze up. Pure arousal shoots through your veins, almost unwittingly, as you catch sight of Caleb’s gaze. An vengeful quality to it. 

“Meimei,” He says, and your breath hitches. Your head is clouded with the immoral lust of hearing it this way. “Your older brother didn’t teach you how to lie, right? If you want something, say it with your mouth. Say it clearly,” 

A flush crawls onto your face, eyes darting away. Caleb allows you this much mercy. To let you look away feels kind. 

It’s an uncomfortable sort of feeling. To acknowledge what desire, what reaction you’re seeking. It’s unfair, and childish - since Caleb has done nothing but love you from the very moment you met him. Kind, gentle, considerate—you love him so deeply that it hurts to breathe just thinking about all you’ve experienced. 

Something about what you’re asking of him is ugly. Born of selfishness, the desire to have all of him, too. 

“Ugh, just—stop saying you want me and show me,” You say, full of distress. 

You see it in his eyes when something clicks. 

And then, with a sudden force, he kisses you. It’s rougher than the ones previous, deeper, greedier. What you want. You moan into his mouth as Caleb licks at your lips, pulling away to kiss your cheek. Sweet as always. 

“Don’t regret it,” 

The change is immediate. In a way, he’s still just answering to your desires - but you don’t dislike this part of him. Your heart rate kicks up as Caleb strips you of your shirt completely before settling himself back down to where he started.

From just beneath your breasts, all the way down the place of your belly and navel - Caleb places hot, wet kisses to your skin. No longer languid but hurried, long fingers curling into the very edge of your waistband as he drops down further and further before settling between your thighs. He glances up at you when he begins to pull down your shorts but doesn’t ask you for permission and it makes you feel a strange thrill when he doesn’t. 

Caleb tugs your shorts off and helps you wriggle out of them in one go - an audible groan escaping his mouth. Plain, tattered cotton panties hug your hips as you lay with your legs up. He nudges your thighs open as you place your feet flat on the bed. With your legs spread, your clothed cunt is readily visible.

He lets out a soft breath. When you look down, your eyes meeting—there’s something almost animalistic to him. A completely and utterly ruined expression, blush dusting across his nose and cheekbones. 

“I want to make you feel as good as you can, okay?” Caleb says breathlessly. 

He brings his mouth to your inner thigh, closer to your knee and places a sweet kiss on the skin. Both of his hands are gripping hard onto your hips, as he breathes in the scent over and over. It sets your body alight to see it in glimpses. His brow is furrowed as he sucks and bites sloppy hickies into the soft fat of your thighs - working his way up slowly. When he finds you properly marked on one leg, he repeats it on the other. 

You can feel the ache of fresh bruises. A sensation that coaxes a completely new wave of arousal straight from the deepest depths of your body. An impossible wetness soaking the paper-thin cotton, sliding down the curve of your ass from how keyed up the touch makes you. 

It’s less that he’s satisfied in his markings with you, more that his desire for you grows too heavy. Caleb stares at your pussy with eyes of pure, unmistakable reverence.

You have never been able to picture another human being looking at you the way he does. 

So much ardor. So much bone-deep, blood-red voracity in a single gaze. The shakiness of his breathing, the harsh grip of his hands, that unsteady look in his eyes as his nose and mouth hover over the soaked panties over your pussy. As if you can see the words repeating in his mind: want, want, want. Nothing more certain. 

Your whole body wracks with a shiver. You whimper with your hands fisted at your sides in anticipation. 

A startled gasp escapes you as Caleb doesn’t do anything but press his nose firm to your pussy and breathe. Deep and unrepentant like he’s trying to memorize the scent of you, use it to track you like a bloodhound. Embarrassed warmth floods your system and you squirm in protest of his actions. 

But you’re trapped there. Completely and utterly, rendered helpless by his gri. His eyes flicker up unfocused but quickly go back to being closed. It’s all the communication you need to know he intends to do exactly as you’ve begged him to do. To expose the extent of his unsavory appetite. Inhaling the scent of sweat and skin, of a day of lounging and leaving your pussy completely confined.

He looks so madly-in-love in the moment you find it hard to breathe even a word of protest. Your clit throbs unhelpfully in response. 

Your mouth falls open in a silent scream when Caleb finally, finally drags his tongue over the seam of your panties. He doesn’t pull them off—instead sucking the wetness from the material. Puffy clit helplessly pulled into the force of it while trapped under your panties, you buck your hip up against his tongue. Caleb obliges you. He points the tip of his tongue and slides it over the small bud through the cotton - completely stiffened from arousal. You shake at the touch, the wet promise of pleasure. How the drenched fabric of your panties gives the most gratifying, mind-numbing friction. You moan loud. You can’t help the sound that leaves you when he licks your pussy. 

You’ve never felt anything like it before. It’s the first time you’ve ever felt this way, but you’re under the impression that most people will never know a pleasure like this in their life. 

When your underwear is completely saturated with spit - only then does Caleb let off from you. Without a single word of warning, he tugs away the material. Exposing your pussy, bare and throbbing - he blows warm air onto your clit and watches as you squirm. 

Another beat of admiring before his mouth latches onto your pussy again. Panties tugged away haphazardly, his tongue sliding from wet hole all through the seam, the soft folds of your pussy - settling at your clit. He licks experimentally, wading through your moans. When his tongue tastes your clit just the right way, you practically scream. 

With newfound dedication, he commits to worshipping your pussy with his mouth. 

It’s humiliating. Purely euphoric and undeniably stimulating, boneless as Caleb’s tongue laps desperately at your clit. His eyes shut, completely blissful - brows furrowed and moaning into you. He eats you out like it’s what he’s wanted to do his entire life and this is the last opportunity he’ll have to make good on his dreams. 

The corrupted thought lights fire under your body anew. To think of Caleb lusting for you when he shouldn’t be. Like a forbidden fruit, ripe and sweet and nearly his—nearly within his grasp but always just barely slipping between his fingers. Your kind, sweet, considerate older brother thinking of ruining your mind and body. The idea he’d been torturing himself over it makes you sad but more than that it incites impossible longing. You want him to want you even more than he does now. 

You can feel your body ache for it for the first time. Like a reply to his feelings, you think of how good it will feel when Caleb finally fucks you. Takes you, plucks you from vine  and claims you all for himself. 

But the act of him tasting you like this is more than good. The tender bundle of nerves is throbbing hard against the wet flick of his tongue - hips rutting to meet the perfect motion of his mouth. Something in your belly warms. Sweetens your senses and melts you from the inside like crystalized honey coming to liquid sugar over a flame. Your mind has melted away so utterly you can’t do anything but reach your fingers through his hair and chant his name. 

“Caleb,” Your voice is unfamiliar to you. Worked up beyond any rational understanding.. “Caleb, Caleb, Caleb.” 

Closer and closer, Caleb remains completely persistent in his efforts. Licks your clit and laps up all the arousal that spills - silky fluid like ambrosia to the unending heat of his mouth.

The knot tangled inside of your body unravels with an alarming speed. Makes your eyes go wide before you shut them again hard, your spine arching off the bed - every muscle in your body going unbearably tense as Caleb’s tongue toys with your clit. The filthy sound of licking making your ears ring. 

Your body goes taut. It feels like a calamity. A pure rapture, like God himself is bringing pleasure. The kind that can only be derived from being your maker. Caleb has that in common with him, you think. 

Your voice rings loud, hands fisted in his hair. You’re cumming hard, and fast, and there’s white behind your eye-lids. Smatterings of bright stars as you press them shut. 

You cum so hard you can’t breathe. For a brief moment you’re weightless before it all comes crashing down in one swift go. Caleb eats you out through it relentlessly and your voice breaks on the syllables of his name - asking for mercy and receiving none. It feels so good it terrifies you. Your body is trembling, cunt spasming around his tongue as Caleb continues his assault. 

You feel something wet rush out of you but Caleb is undeterred. He drinks it all down, every last drop until he’s satiated at least some of his endless, terrifying thirst. 

When he pulls away from your pussy, his mouth is soaked in saliva and your cum. He looked the most satisfied you’ve ever seen him in your life. You’ve never been so scared of someone while being so unbearably aroused in the same breath. 

“You taste so fucking good. Better than I dreamed in my entire life. Need to taste it again. I almost don’t want to do anything else.” He laughs breathlessly. “Almost.”

“Caleb,” You whimper. completely helpless as you try to catch your breath. “Fuck, ‘m still cumming,” 

“Gonna make you cum over and over and over.” Caleb says cheery. “Promise,” 

After cumming the first time, your body's sensitivity increases tenfold. Where you think it’ll cool off the glaring heat, melting you down to your core - all it does is turn it higher, make the feeling more tangible. Caleb’s offer to make you cum again excites you more than it scares you. You stare at him when he comes up for air.

“Kiss?” 

“Even after all that?” 

You nod sheepishly. 

“Jeez. How cute can someone be?” 

He comes up for a kiss, surprised when you lick into his mouth. You like tasting yourself on him, tongue dipping in for more. Caleb smiles at your enthusiasm, eyes lidded when he pulls away. 

“Open your mouth,” 

You give him a blank stare but do as he says. He puts a hand on your throat, tipping your head back before you feel something warm hit your tongue. Your eyes meet Caleb’s in surprise, instinctively swallowing the spit as it slides down your throat. Caleb meets you with an eager kiss, a gentle affection in his voice. “Good girl.” 

Something washes over you hearing the praise. A soft moan into his mouth that leaves Caleb with raised brows. “You like hearin’ you’re my good girl, huh?” 

Your face feels hot. “...Maybe,” 

“Still so bad at lying, pipsqueak. Some things never change,” 

The affection in his voice makes you forgive him. You know the tone, the sound—the lilting coo of your older brother's voice when he’s teasing you. It’s a way of speaking you could recognize in a heartbeat, the kind of voice that you’re anxious without. It shouldn’t soothe you in this context, shouldn’t make your pussy feel so achy when you know exactly how he’s addressing you. 

Caleb kisses down the length of your body again. Neck to navel until he settles down between your thighs. You can’t mask your surprise. Caleb looks up at you from between your legs. 

“What? You thought one time would be enough for me?” 

Truthfully, yes. You’re a little startled at the thought he’s going to do it again. Make you feel all of that again. An anticipatory shiver makes you squirm but Caleb holds you in place. He presses another kiss to your clit. “One time doesn’t even come close to being enough.” 

True to his word, Caleb starts the process all over again. 

The second time around, he doesn’t let himself up to breathe. You’re locked in place as his increased familiarity with your body has him driving you over the edge even faster. Firm grip on your thighs, face buried between your legs - he laps at your clit for what feels like an endless amount of time. The pleasant warmth of his mouth paired with the focused, precise licks on your sweet spot make your body wrack with an impossible pleasure. It’s gentle enough to not be completely overstimluating - but his endurance, his persistence in doing it makes your experience a new high. A trembling mess of limbs and quiet, desperate pleas. Too much, too fast - toes curled as he hoists your legs over his shoulders to give him full access. Clit pulsating, stiff under his tongue with his nose bumping occasionally. 

It feels so good you’re almost content to let him stay there. Let your mind wash away and succumb to the gluttony tying you to the bed. You cum twice again from the pressure - your body experiencing each one longer. Unable to withstand it, your hands clenched tight trying to level yourself with the feeling. A pleasure you’ve never experienced, the kind you doubt you’d be able to feel with someone else. 

Caleb has always been like this in that respect. Your older brother who set the standard for every other man you ever came across. You were always using him as the gold standard, comparing every man you’ve ever met to him. Especially ones who claimed to like you. What would your brother do, how would he act, how would he treat you. He’d never tell you if you were too much. Never call you spoiled even when you act it, embody it so why settle for less? Why want for something else? For someone else?

It’s not surprising that Caleb touches you with the same level of care he’s always given you. Even less surprising that your body longs for it so desperately. 

Caleb is your big brother after all. He takes care of you like this. No one else gets to have it. It makes you entitled, moody, and emotional just to think of him acting this way with someone who isn’t you. 

Yearning and deep affection well up inside of you as these things cross your mind. Whisper to your longing as a deep, endless need overwhelms your mind. Your third orgasm steals the breath out of your lungs. A shockwave of emotions washes over you, as you tug at his hair. You let out a throaty whine. 

“Caleb,” You whimper, pulling him off. “Caleb,” 

Attuned to your emotions, Caleb is quick to pull away when he hears the audible distress. He pulls away from you, worried. “Shhh, hey. It’s okay, I’m here. Did you want to stop?”

You shake your head rapidly. Caleb gives you a small smile. “Just being a crybaby, then?” 

The truth is, yes, just a little. You can’t voice this to Caleb so you instead give him some unknowable, unreadable look. He reads it almost instantly, shifting himself to hug you tight. Without any words at all, like he knows every single thought that passes through your mind. You wrap your arms around him and nudge your nose against his neck. He smells familiar. 

“This what you wanted?” 

You nod against him. Caleb’s heartbeat is steady in a way that brings you bone deep comfort. 

“Be more pampered with me. More selfish, more demanding, more spoiled. Gege will do anything for you, so don’t hesitate.” 

Hearing him refer to himself that  way makes your stomach flip. You nuzzle yourself deeper into him, aroused by the sound of his laughter - playful but smug. You speak against his chest, words muffled. 

“Want it inside right now,” 

His breath hitches immediately. “Yeah?” 

Another nod. You pull away to look him in the eyes when you ask. You know how to beg Caleb for something. You’ve been doing it your whole life, and right now is the most sincere you’ve ever been. Doe-eyed and full lips, all covetous and coy the word falls from your mouth with ease. 

“Please,” 

It has the exact impact on him you want it to have. Groaning, the outline of his cock twitching with a shameful lust, almost blanking out at the thought. He scrubs a hand over his face. 

“You’re gonna kill me,” 

“Please,” You repeat. Caleb kisses you as if to stop you from saying it again. 

“I have to stretch you out on my fingers. It’ll hurt otherwise,” You open your mouth but Caleb cuts you off. “Don’t say it’s fine.” 

“Caleb,” You whine and he laughs sympathetically. 

“Be a good girl,” He placates, and it works on you just as maddeningly as your begging does on him. “Hm? For me?” 

You melt. How embarrassing.”...Fine,” 

He coos at you lovingly and you make no effort to deflect. You can’t. Your usual fire and wit, your banter is dissipated. Brain thoroughly undone from so many orgasms and the deep, aching want in your cunt - so apparent it makes you want to sob. A desperation to be full that you didn’t fathom existing in such a bodily way, something you thought only existed in porn. 

Sensing how strung out you are, Caleb changes positions again. Instead of laying between your legs, he curls up besides you. He turns on his side, sliding an arm underneath and hugs your body close to him. Like he’s cradling you. Your legs slot together, one of yours between both of his - your other leg on the outside. Caleb hikes your thigh up - high enough to have your legs spread. The arm not supporting your back is supporting you, his forearm underneath your thigh.

At this angle, you’re face to face. Caleb can see you clearly as he cradles you in his arms. A large hand squeezes your ass before reaching around - teasing your clit with long fingers.

You feel…small like this. It’s the way you’re being held. The feeling of Caleb’s arm under your back, sliding up to hold your neck. 

His fingers are exceptionally long. Slender and thin, with thick veins from wrist to pinky, more appearing less visibly to the rest. His palms are big- making up the bulk of their size. You feel yourself fixating on them in their movements. 

On the calluses on them from handling guns, to the few thin scars from your childhood that have remained on his body into adulthood - now scarred. The way his fingers caress you, stroke your clit slowly. He kisses you again with a silent question like: you like this, right?

The eagerness of your tongue into his mouth answers it for him, a puppy keen on greeting it’s owner. Caleb laughs sweet into your mouth, encouraging you with all the kindness he has in him. His fingers slides through your slick folds impressed until he reaches low enough to be at your hole. 

You’ve put your own fingers in there before. You think you can handle someone elses. 

You find out fast that you can’t. 

Caleb’s fingers are long. They’re thicker than yours, and longer than yours - and just the first one gives you a stretch you're not expecting. You shudder, a noisy breath. It’s an intrusion, a noticeable one. Caleb is careful, though. It’s easy for him to push the digit it when you’re so wet inside. A soft squelching noise makes your skin burn hot but Caleb goes on undisturbed. 

His finger reaches deep. He fucks it in so slowly and so carefully but it feels like it never ends. All the down to the knuckle with just the one, you find yourself shuddering. Caleb is quiet, but you can hear the labor in his breaths. Feel his cock pressed against your inner thigh and twitch. 

You moan his name instinctually - not for any particular reason and he says nothing. Just thrusts his finger in and out. How can something feel so different on the basis it’s someone else? You can’t hold still, rocking your hips against the sensation. Caleb groans unabashed. 

“You want it so bad, huh?” He says, half-delirious and so pleasantly smug. You nod  immediately. 

“A little more. Hang in there, okay?” 

Okay, you think. You’d do whatever it takes in the moment for Caleb to fuck you more quickly so you bite in the side of your cheek and try not beg stupidly each time he repeats the process. Another finger, longer than the last - stretching out, reaching deeper than anything has ever gone in your life, thrusting until your pussy takes it. It surprises you to know just how much you can take when you take three and you really feel  it. How soft it is inside.

“Enough,” You whisper hoarsely. 

Caleb doesn’t heed your request. Another finger goes in. It takes four for him to finally feel like it’s enough. Four fingers stroking from the inside out, an almost brutal precision curling against your g-spot. Not enough to cum, just enough to get so wet he can’t pull his fingers out without the filthiest noise you’ve ever had to follow it.

Completely out of your mind, you grab onto him weakly. Every ounce of shame and sense gone. 

“Caleb,” Your voice is a pant. “Fuck me. Please, please—just do it,” 

His own voice is no better than yours. “Gotta grab a condom from my—” 

Your voice is vicious. Like you’re lashing out at him. “No. Fuck me.” 

Caleb is quieted by it. Unsure of how to react. “Don’t be like that, baby.” 

A reprimand. Soft as ever. Tears well up in your eyes immediately. “Please hurry,” 

“We have to use a condom next time, okay?” 

You hear nothing that comes out of his mouth except the words next time, and nod. 

He gives in. You’re thankful he always does. You’re at your wits end and you don’t know if your body can handle any more waiting. Not getting what you want with Caleb unsettles and upsets you. Especially this strung out. 

Caleb rolls onto your back again after he pulls his fingers out. You whine at the loss, unwittingly falling onto your back with both legs open. Presenting yourself in some impossibly obedient way that you can’t catch quick enough to stop, knees bent and up in the air. Waiting impatiently for Caleb to follow. 

He follows suit moments later. His hand resting on your knees to spread your legs for him, taking in an eyeful of you as he stands on his own. 

At the angle you’re laying and with nothing to distract your senses - you can see Caleb in full shape. Your body responds in kind for you, throbbing between your legs as you cut his figure. Tall and strong and broad, visible muscles and deltas. There are veins above the lowcut of his waistband, thick and tempting. A little lower than that - a patch of dark hair that leads to…

Your throat feels dry seeing Caleb’s cock standing to attention, just underneath his sweatpants. Eyes blinking rapidly trying to make sense of it. How it strains, a wet patch where it ends. Your breathing slows significantly. Your mouth watering, mind fizzling like a bottle of champagne. The ache in you urges deeper, hand going between your legs to soothe it. Or maybe welcome what's coming. 

Caleb is breathless. Amusement undercut by lasciviousness. “Enjoying the view?” 

You nod stupidly. Caleb grins a little. Makes a show of hooking his thumb into the top of his sweats and tugging all the way down. A thick trail of hair and the smooth, uncut outline of his cock has you gasping. When he tugs his pants all the way pas his thigh, you feel completely speechless. 

He’s huge. Utterly. Too heavy to stand on its own, uncut, veiny. You blink in disbelief, like everything in the room has paused. It’s burly. Ridiculous. Thick enough to look like someone’s forearm. Pearls of pre-cum dribble of out of the tip, pulled back to be revealed. A ruddy reddish brown and angry. It’s darker then the rest, throbbing in a way that looks almost painful. It’s not the first time you’ve seen it but that was on accident in a bath before it was—

You stop your train of thought and just stare for an unknown amount of time.

He looks sheepish. The tips of his ears crimson red, all the way down to his chest. You make an unintelligible noise at the sudden change in attitude and also at everything else. 

A sensible person would feel fear. Not your strong suit. You don’t know if it’s bravery or lust that inspires the reaction in your body. You just know you want him to fuck you so bad you might jump  on him to get it. 

“We don’t have to get in today, princess. We’ve got time to—” 

“If you try to deter me one more time I’m going to run away from home,” 

Caleb closes his mouth. He just mumbles something, but obliges you right after. 

In what can only be considered a miracle, Caleb finally settles between your legs. His hands are on top of your thighs as he taps his tip against your clit, rubbing the pre-cum into the mess, The feeling of skin on skin elicits a gasp out of you both. His voice is shaky. 

“Might not last,” He says hoarsely

“S’fine.” You put a hand between your legs and spread your pussy open for him a little wider. A move from porn that works on him instantly. He swears hard under his breath, not giving himself a chance to indulge in the feeling long. 

Tip nudging through slick folds—Caleb finally, finally slides in. 

Another synchronised moan, sweat breaks out onto your skin as you feel the thick tip of Caleb’s cock finally come through. You feel full. It’s completely different from four fingers, more invasive on your body than ever. . 

It elicits a chain reaction. You watch Caleb above you, death grip on your hips trying to keep his composure and not fuck a hole through you. A horrible part of you almost wants him too, even knowing you absolutely wouldn’t be able to take it. 

You’re trembling. It feels ridiculous but you’re so worked up that - 

“Gonna c-cum,” 

Caleb’s eyes blow wide. “From—fuck. That ain’t fair, you can’t,” 

You buck your hips up and groan. He’s stretching you out so fucking good. One more time and it’ll hit that spot and it’ll feel so perfect, so right. You need it. Caleb shakes over you. 

“Mercy,” He says, not sober enough to laugh. You’re going to lose your mind soon. Maybe you already have. 

“I-s it all in?” 

“Half,” Caleb grunts. You moan at the thought. 

“Fuck me. Shit, please,” Your voice breaks high on the last syllable. Caleb looks like he wants to protest, wants to tell you to take it slow. But you can see it in his face that he’s reached his limits. Or maybe he reached them a long time ago and he’s already far gone. 

But he listens. Your jaw goes slack and he pushes in. Inch by tortuous inch until you feel him bottom out. Feel his hips on the back of your thighs. His cock is throbbing inside of you, silken walls clinging onto the shape like you’re being pried open. It doesn’t take anything. He shifts as he bottoms out and your voice comes out in garbled, unintelligible noise. 

“O-oh, ‘m cumming, cumming, ngh,”  Your back arches up that leaves your mind blank. Completely white out, nothing but static as you cum again. Cum around the hard, intrusive length of your older brothers cock - bullying into your cervix until it’s wet and pliable and fuckable for him. Stretching out like it’s his to shape and mould. You can feel it in your body, each vein and each curve. Caleb lets out a whistle. Sharp and so fucking dark, it exicites you helplessly. 

“She’s clingy just like you,” He says, fond but sneering. 

Your head spins when it dawns on you on what he’s saying. 

“Caleb—” 

“I feel conflicted. Are you naturally this gifted?” He laughs, folding over you. Overtaken by something. Bending you under his weight. “Or is it because it’s mine that you’re making it so easy?” 

“I was worried, you know,” He pulls out. The disappointment and gaping emptiness are brief. You hear the way your body refuses him pulling out. “Worried about how such a tight hole would fit something so big. Worried about your body, but you’re taking me in so fucking well. So perfect,” 

You’re panting. It feels so good. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, limp under the weight of it as Caleb gives you a slow few thrusts to get you used to the size. But you’re so stretched and sensitive it just feels fucking incredible from the jump. 

“Be a good girl and let me in.” You clench down on him. He grins to himself. “That’s it,” 

He bottoms out again. Slams hips and fucks you in one swift, unforgiving motion. Groaning, he puts his hands up under your knees, driving his dick into you with animalistic need. 

“Your pussy feels so fucking good. Too good. I’m never gonna be able to think about anything else. It’s not like I was before but you’re-” Out, back in. You haven’t made a single coherent sound. “You’re just too good. It’s warm and wet and still so tight, how are you still so tight, huh? It’s like you don’t want me to leave.” 

For a brief moment, the two of you make eye contact. The vivid color of his eyes burns bright, pins you underneath the weight of his gaze. It goes straight to your stomach, making it flip in one smooth go. 

“Tell me it’s okay,”  Caleb says, barely restraining himself. 

You look up at him confused. He suddenly looks like he’s at his wits end. 

“Tell me it’s okay to fuck you hard,” 

Like a woman possessed, you reach your arms around to squeeze his back and biceps. You put your mouth close to his ear as you bring him down towards you. 

“Gege,” He twitches inside of you. “Fuck me as hard as you can,” 

You underestimate just what effect it’ll have on you. On him. As quick as he possibly can, he pushes his hands under your knees and folds you into a mating press so deep it makes you scream. He’s pistoning you instantly, pounding into your pussy like he owns. Your nails dig into the muscles of his shoulders without realizing. 

“I love you,” are the only words that come out of his mouth. It has you clenching down even harder. “Gege loves you more than anyone else in the world, okay? More than anyone.” 

Just like that, Caleb fucks you. Given up on being gentle but still trying to make you feel good, trying to touch somewhere no one ever will again - he folds you up under the weight of his body and fucks you with relentless stamina. Your mind is gone. His cock is fat and heavy inside of you, splits your pussy open as the tip knocks against your g-spot with each thrust. His balls smack against your ass on each go. 

It’s too much. For your brain, for your body, for your insides - getting permanently rearranged like he’s crushing your womb. A feeling like it should be painful, but it isn’t because he’s got you so good and open. This a reward for you both. For his patience. Every thought wrung from your head, impressed by your body’s own avarice for cock. Addicted to the feeling of getting strethed, gaped completely open. It feels like you’re cumming without a clear end. 

Wanting Caleb to cum inside of you is a distant thought. Pleasant like a lullaby as your body yearns for it. Another sharp orgasm builds. It builds and builds and builds - and you know’re going to be fucked through it again. 

But this time Caleb is close. Right alongside you. Sweating and panting in your ear as he pounds into your frenzied. 

His voice comes out like a whine and it turns you on even more. You say it before he can think of pulling out, tightening your legs around his waist. 

“Cum in me,” 

Caleb grinds himself deeper. “Gonna cum in you, baby. I love you, I love you—fuck!” 

Pure euphoria floods your entire nervous system as Caleb bottoms out one last time. His cum fills your pussy in thick, long spurts. It feels hot as it takes, makes you shiver with how it feels. Disappointed at the idea it’ll flood back out. 

Caleb, still balls deep - continues suddenly. Where you think he’s gonna pull out, he doesn’t. Instead he fucks you again, this time more clear-headed as he rubs your clit - a hand between your bodies. His voice is shot. 

“Sorry. Don’t wanna be selfish. One more nice and easy, then we’ll clean up?” 

You have no room to protest. After all, Caleb is nothing but relentless when  it comes to spoiling you. You let him fuck another orgasm out of you until you’ve got nothing left to give. 

He collapses on top of you after your pussy milks what's left of him

You kiss when he does, sweaty and tired. You look at his blissed out face and kiss his nose with affection. 

“I love you too, Gege.” 

He pauses then laughs. Brightly. Hopelessly. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” 

__ 

You aren’t sure when exactly you pass out. 

You remember lingering with Caleb in his bed before limping into the bathroom. And a bath too, if your memory serves you right. You must’ve fallen asleep in the tub with Caleb, the broad warmth of his chest lulling you right to sleep. You’ve got good endurance from being a hunter, but you’re tuckered out just thinking about earlier. 

Also a little embarrassed. 

You wake on the couch of the living room. Cleaned, changed, and tucked into with a blanket over you. There’s a scent and the quiet sizzle of a pan. Your limbs feel heavy as you pick your head up. It’s still dark out but it seems like morning. 

You rub your eyes as you swing your legs over and place them on the floor.

Standing to your feet, you find slippers at the end of the couch and feel your heart swell ten sizes. You put them on before padding into the kitchen. 

Caleb is at the stove like you thought he’d be. You flush seeing his back covered in scratches and a bite or two - none you remember leaving. You know your body is in the same state if not worse.

You walk up to him and wrap your arms around his middle, pressing your face against his broad back. Your voice is small, embarrassed. Everything feels brand-new. 

“G’morning,” 

Caleb turns the heat down and puts the spatula on the counter top, turning to face you. He looks down at you with a boyish grin. Unfairly handsome, making you pout. 

“Morning, sleepyhead. Feel okay?” 

You tuck your face into his chest and nod. “Just a little tired. I don’t hurt or anything.” 

“That’s good, then,” 

You make a little mm sound and stay there for a while. Caleb is content to hug you until you pull away. 

“Caleb?” 

“Hm?” 

Your face feels warm. “...Kiss?” 

He stops, then beams. Dips his head down to catch your lips in a kiss that feels romantic and practiced, but doesn’t make you feel strange in a bad way. You’ve never had a boyfriend, not a real one. Does everyone feel butterflies like this? 

Maybe there’s something wrong with you. He pulls away and presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

“You’re less moody than you usually are when you wake up,” Caleb teases. “Good to know. An effective way to deal with your attitude is always welcome.” 

You frown at him, feeling furious for more reason than embarrassment. It’s really unfair how flirtatious he is. “Shut up,” 

Subconsciously, your hands are fisted as you cling to Caleb’s chest. With no shirt to hold onto you, your muscle memory finds it the most steady. They’re clenched hard from embarrassment and a flood of other feelings you need soothed. 

Caleb grabs your hand and unfurls them for you. Strong, warm, big hands grasp yours in their palm and open them both softly - fingers interlocking until you’re no longer so tense. Just melted away. 

“I’m right here,” He says. A wave of emotions passes over you. 

You hold his hand and squeeze it. Once, twice - it has a steadiness the grip of fabric doesn’t. 

You smile to yourself. Helplessly happy. Overwhelmed with pure, unrelenting love. 

“Yeah,” You say, more to yourself than anyone else. “You are,” 

[afeelgoodblog]

The Best News of Last Week

🦾 - High-Five for Bionic Hand

1. Houston-area school district announces free breakfast and lunch for students

Pasadena ISD students will be getting free breakfast and lunch for the 2023-24 school year, per an announcement on the district's social media pages.

The 2023-24 free lunch program is thanks to a Community Eligibility Provision grant the district applied for last year. The CEP, which is distributed by the Department of Agriculture, is specially geared toward providing free meals for low-income students.

2. Dolphin and her baby rescued after being trapped in pond for 2 years

A pair of dolphins that spent nearly two years stuck in a Louisiana pond system are back at sea thanks to the help of several agencies and volunteers.

According to the Audubon Nature Institute, wildlife observers believe the mother dolphin and her baby were pushed into the pond system near Grand Isle, Louisiana, during Hurricane Ida in late August 2021.

3. Studies show that putting solar panels over waterways could boost clean energy and conserve water. The first U.S. pilot project is getting underway in California.

Some 8,000 miles of federally owned canals snake across the United States, channeling water to replenish crops, fuel hydropower plants and supply drinking water to rural communities. In the future, these narrow waterways could serve an additional role: as hubs of solar energy generation.

4. Gene therapy eyedrops restored a boy's sight. Similar treatments could help millions

Antonio was born with dystrophic epidermolysis bullosa, a rare genetic condition that causes blisters all over his body and in his eyes. But his skin improved when he joined a clinical trial to test the world’s first topical gene therapy.

The same therapy was applied to his eyes. Antonio, who’s been legally blind for much of his 14 years, can see again.

5. Scientists develop game-changing vaccine against Lyme disease ticks!

A major step in battling Lyme disease and other dangerous tick-borne viruses may have been taken as researchers announced they have developed a vaccine against the ticks themselves.

Rather than combatting the effects of the bacteria or microbe that causes Lyme disease, the vaccine targets the microbiota of the tick, according to a paper published in the journal Microbiota on Monday.

6. HIV Transmission Virtually Eliminated in Inner Sydney, Australia

Sydney may be the first city in the world to end AIDS as a public health threat by 2030. Inner Sydney has reduced new HIV acquisitions by 88%, meaning it may be the first locality in the world to reach the UN target to end AIDS as a public health threat by 2030

7. New bionic hand allows amputees to control each finger with unprecedented accuracy

In a world first, surgeons and engineers have developed a new bionic hand that allows users with arm amputations to effortlessly control each finger as though it was their own body.

Successful testing of the bionic hand has already been conducted on a patient who lost his arm above the elbow.

----

That's it for this week :)

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[wisteria--thegirlinpurple]

Being Threatening is How He Makes Friends - Part 5 | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Final Part of a series I'm writing. Can be read as a standalone confession!fic. Though you might wanna read some of the other ones for context!

“You know, your S.T.A.R.I.N.G. isn’t going to get you anywhere?”

Bucky’s head turned to the infuriating Tony Stark, who’d laid out on the couch next to his with a hot towel over his eyes. Bucky suspects he was nursing another hangover, since the man seems to be doing so every other day. He hadn’t seen Pepper around recently, so the likelihood that Stark was drinking himself into a stupor was quite high. 

Still, he’s hosting the whole team at the Avengers compound, which is bankrolled by Stark Industries. So Bucky tries to keep his frostiest comments to himself. 

He has some level of self preservation, unlike that idiot he grew up with.

“What staring?” He decides on instead.

“Y might be a witch, but I’m pretty sure mind-reading isn’t part of her arsenal.” Tony dragged the towel down his face, his tired bloodshot eyes coming into view. “If you actually want to go out with her, you’re going to have to do it in words. Or develop telepathy. Did they install that into you when they were scrambling your brain in HYDRA?”

This— Tony’s complete lack of filters and boundaries— was infuriating. Still, Bucky had developed much thicker skin now thanks to exposure therapy, so he didn’t snap Tony in half no matter how satisfying it would be to.

“Now you’re staring at me.” Tony sighed, replacing the towel on his eyes. “Great.”

“Who’s staring, Bucky?”

Bucky groaned, Sam walked in with Steve in tow. The pair of them must’ve wrapped up their training. 

“I’m not staring.” He insists, although none of the men seemed quite convinced. 

“The bionic staring machine’s staring at Y again?” Sam quipped, a teasing smirk on his face.

“Yup.” Tony replied, popping the ‘p’.

“I was not staring.” He insisted again.

“You…do kind of stare, Buck.” Steve said apologetically.

Bucky threw his hands up in the air, exasperated but didn’t comment. He knew he was staring, but he was finding it harder and harder not to do that when Y was in the room. He found it ridiculously difficult to tear his eyes away from her no matter what she was doing. Reading. Eating. Laughing. Tying up her hair. He found himself almost compulsively tracking where she was and slipping into whichever room she was in. 

He still had the keys to her apartment, although she stayed more often in the compound now and finally took a room. Whenever she would be back at her apartment, Bucky would sneak in the way that he did before his stay at Wakanda. He’d read in her living room, pass out on her couch, and wake up to a half-amused, half-exasperated (Y/N) staring down at him.

How was he supposed to resist though? Y had stayed with him throughout his time in Wakanda, holding his hand as they measured him for a new arm. On nights when he’d stay in his little hut with the goats, she’d drop by with a bottle of whiskey that they’d share under the starry skies. 

On particularly bad days, when the screaming in his head wouldn’t stop, she would let him bury his head onto her shoulders. Her hands would gently run through his long hair, murmuring ancient words that held no meaning to him. (And he spoke 30 languages fluently, thank you.) 

She once explained that she draws small wards of protection and peace-keeping on him, and wards to fend off nightmares, all to help him stay sane as the Wakandians combed through his brain and weeded out the brainwashing. It explained why he always slept better on her couch. There were nights he wouldn’t let her into the hut, choosing to sob into his bedding. She would acquiesce, but leaving a small parchment with a rune drawn outside his hut. Sometimes it helped him fall asleep. Sometimes it helped him come out of his panic attacks. 

She never let him deal with it alone, not even one night when the Winter Soldier came out by accident and broke three of her fingers. (Ayo came in just in time before he could do more damage) Even then, she returned the next day when he came to, mockingly moaning about how he’d have to take care of her now since he hurt her dominant hand.

So he stares—because he find it hard to, and because he doesn’t really know what else to do. In the 40s, before the war and before the Winter Soldier, Steve said that he was a lady’s man and a charmer. But that felt like a whole other person and a lifetime ago. Now, he was nothing but a bum living off his best friend’s good friend’s money, occasionally kicking ass and helping with HYDRA clean up. He didn’t have a rank, or even his own place. It was hard to see why anyone would want to be with him.

“It is getting kind of ridiculous, Buck.” Steve said, snapping him out of his thoughts. He was probably staring again. “You should just tell her how you feel.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah Steve—“ Sam teased, “Bucky isn’t swooning over Y like a lovesick puppy, trailing her into every room and basically sitting on her lap.”

Bucky snapped, throwing one of the ridiculously soft pillows and it landed straight in Sam’s face. The man yelled in surprise, barely steadying himself before he caught it in his hand as it fell. 

“Attempted murder!” He screamed with a shit-eating grin on his face, “His program is returning!”

“Knock it off, Sam.” Steve said, a bit exasperated.

“Am I the only one who is sick of seeing you swooning.” Tony sighed, “Like- get it over with. Get your heart broken or get married or whatever, this is getting old.”

Bucky opened his mouth, but he found no good retort, so he shut it again. He gave Tony a good glare, but since he wasn’t looking, it wasn’t all that effective.

“Why don’t you just ask her out, Buck?” Steve said, folding his arms over his chest and looking over where Y was sat. “I’m sure she’d say yes.”

“…You don’t know that.” He muttered. 

“You should’ve seen the way she sat by your cryo tank in Wakanda.” Steve said

“Really?” Bucky’s head shot up, he could feel his heart rising in his throat, “Like how?”

“Like you were the most precious thing to her, Buck.” Steve said, he was blushing a little now, and he scratched his head a bit sheepishly, “She would read The Hobbit to you, and play 40’s music in the lab, then blast popular music.”

“It’s just Pop, Cap’” Tony quipped.

“Yes, pop music.” Steve finished, “She said she had to catch up to this century”

Bucky visualised the scenes as he let out a chuckle, and sinked into the seat underneath him.

“Alright I’m happy to see you suffer in your self-imposed torture but Y’s a good kid,” Sam added, “and if her type is a bionic killing machine,” The man shrugs “then who am I to judge?”

“Fuck off. Samuel.” Bucky quipped, but he dragged a hand down his face to hide the grin underneath.

“So you doing this or not.” Sam rolled his eyes, staring down at him. “We have bets going on and I actually thought you’d have the balls to do this by now.”

Bucky got up, and flipped the bird. But he began to walk towards you, ignoring Sam’s cheer and whistling behind.

He hope Y didn’t hear it, but was instead so engrossed into her book that she weren’t paying any attention to what they were saying at the other end of the room. Super-hearing wasn’t part of her skillset, Bucky hopes anyway.

He dawdles as he reached, playing with his gloved hands. His right hand— his human hand— gingerly reaches out and taps the witch on the shoulder. She looks up from her book, a wordless question phrased in the furrowing of her eyebrows.

“Uh— Doll.” He wanted to punch himself. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“What?” Y quipped, tiling her head.

He felt the nervousness rush at him in a tsunami. She was looking at him so innocently, fingers thumbing the book she was reading but her eyes at full attention. Watching his every move.

God— he can’t do this.

He draws his eyes to the floor.

“I- uh. I’ve been- I’m in love with you. I’ve been for a little while.” He starts, what was he saying anyway? “I couldn’t have gotten through it all without you, and I honestly want to spend the rest of my life with you as well.”

He looked up, she looks puzzled, why is she puzzled?

Oh- he hasn’t actually asked—

“I guess what I’m trying to say is—“ He bites down, “—wouldyouliketogooutonadatewithme?”

She tilts her head, one hand from her side reaching upwards—was she going to slap him? Maybe tell him that he’s misconstrued the whole thing and he’s really just a sad pity friend for her—

He watches in horror as her hand reaches her ear— and pulls out an AirPod.

Bucky freezes.

“I’m sorry Buck, I had that on noise cancelling.” Y says apologetically, “Could you repeat that?”

Behind him, Sam bursts into laughter and Bucky swears if thoughts could kill the man would be dead four hundred times over.

“I said—“ Bucky groans, “Will you go out with me?”

“Sure,” Y nods, then tilts her head in confusion “where are we going?”

Behind him, Sam has lost it. He topples to the ground, curling in laughter.

“What’s wrong with Sam?” Y tilts her head so she could see Sam behind Bucky. The Falcon was punching the floor now, wheezing between his bursts of laughter.

“Hold on a second, doll.” Bucky flashes a strained grin, and Y nods. 

She watches as Bucky marches over to the other side of the room. It wasn’t just Sam, after all. Tony had his hand in his face, groaning. Maybe he was nursing his headache? But Steve also had his head in his hand, and he was shaking his head. 

Y looked on, puzzled.

Bucky grabbed Sam by the collar, and dragged him out of the room with the efficient ruthlessness of a trained soldier. Before Sam could protest, Bucky could hear something tumbling down the emergency staircase at the end of the corridor.

In a flash, Bucky was back. He stood over her, like he had before. His hair was messy now, like he was throwing something over his head. 

“Y.” Bucky said, lowering himself onto one knee so that he was at level.

“Yeah, Buck?” Sensing how important this was, Y reached up, and removed the other AirPod. “What’s up?”

“Would you like to go out with me, Friday night?” Bucky looked into her eyes sternly, “Go out as in date, as in let’s go out not as friends. As in I like you, and I would like to take you out.”

Y opened her mouth, and tried to find the words. Her mouth wobbled open and close for a moment.

“—Okay.” She decided, her mouth shut and pensive. “Just to be clear— when you said take me out you mean as in on a date and not like you’re going to shoot me in the head with a rifle—“

“It’s tipping closer to that other one the longer you drag this out, doll.” 

At his response, Y laughed. A chuckle ringing throughout the room.

“Yes. James Buchanan Barnes.” Y smiled, reaching out a hand to smooth out the parts of his hair that was uneven, “I will go out with you. As in on a date. As in not friends. As in I like you too.”

“Okay.” Bucky smiled, “I can’t wait.” 

“Yeah.” Y tapped gently on his nose. “Looking forward to it.”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 |

[cy-cyborg]

It will never not be frustrating to me that amputees appear in fiction ALL. THE. TIME. and yet they're almost never acknowledged as such. The Cyberpunk genre is especially guilty of this: amputees and prosthetics becoming a normalised part of life are a defining part of the genre/aesthetic and yet no one even consults with any amputees about how we get represented there. Most writers in those genres don't even consider that giving your characters cybernetic arms and legs means they're an amputee.

CW: Ableism, dehumanisation

This makes it REALLY uncomfortable to engage with stories in the genre because another common aspect of cyberpunk is the idea of losing yourself and becoming something distinctly not-human anymore because you have too many cybernetic augmentations/implants. Shadowrun even has mechanics for this, which state if you get too many prosthetics, which is what cybernetics are 9 times out of 10, your character becomes a monster. These mechanics and discussions surrounding "how many robot bits make you not human anymore" are really, really uncomfortable when you remember this isn't something that's unique to a far-off future setting. Those people you're discussing the humanity of already exist. They're called amputees. If you reframe the question as "how many amputations can you have before you stop being a person" I hope you can see why an amputee like myself is not going to feel safe around you or in your fandoms.

And it's a shame, because I REALLY want to like Cyberpunk. I really, honestly do. I love the aesthetics, I love the idea of big corporations being the villains and the anti-capitalism at the heart of the genre, and I love the idea of prosthetics being not only destigmatised, but desirable. When written from a disability-inclusive lense, it honestly has the potential to be an incredibly uplifting and empowering genre. but as the genre stands right now, it's actively hostile to the very folks who are usually the stars of its stories: amputees, all because people just refuse to acknowledge us.

Cyberpunk isn't the only genre guilty of this, it's common all throughout sci-fi as a whole, but Cyberpunk is the only one where it starts becoming a serious issue due to its rampant dehumanisation of a real group of people. In other sci-fi settings, it's just kind of annoying and while it can be a form of erasure, it's not usually harmful, just...frustrating. Fantasy does it on occasion too, think pirates with a hook and a peg leg, but nowhere near as much.

If you, as an author or creator, use any of these words to describe a character or their tech in a sci-fi setting:

cybernetics/cybernetic enhancements

bionics

robot limbs

cyborgs

augmentations

You are probably writing an amputee. Please, at the very least, acknowledge it, and be mindful that those are real people who actually exist, not just a fantasy group you can speculate about.

edit:

I originally posted this article on my old Tumblr account and lot of people commented/reblogged to tell me that originally in cyberpunk, the "less human the more robot bits you have" only applied to people who opted for their limbs to be replaced by cybernetics, because it was seen as "renting out your body to corporations for money" but people who had to get cybernetics out of necessity weren't impacted. The thing is though, I really don't think that makes it better, for a few reasons. For one, where do you draw the line at "opting" to get a cybernetic prosthetic? This isn't a black and white thing, even in real life. Most amputations are done out of necessity, but there are situations where it's not the only option, just the best one. Talking from personal experience, I lost both my legs below the knee as a baby, that was a pretty clear cut case, I had a blood infection and gangrene and they had to act fast. But the infection caused lasting side effects and impacted my physical body's development and growth. By the time I got to my early 20's it was causing a lot of pain in my right leg, in my knee specifically, and when I got a bone infection in the end of that stump, I chose to have the whole thing amputated up to the knee. They only needed to take a few inches off the end of my stump, but I asked them to go higher, because of the ongoing issues in that knee, issues that would have been made worse by the shortening of the leg. I choose to remove the whole thing, knowing the joint was degrading and I probably would have lost it later in life anyway. Even if it was salvageable, it would mean much more surgery, and I've had enough of those. A boy I played wheelchair basketball with was born with a partially formed leg, it was half the size of his other leg and he wasn't able to use it al all, it was just dead weight, so he opted to get it amputated too for convenience and so he could use a prosthetic on that side. I worked with a girl who's hand didn't form properly in the womb, resulting in a normal palm, but tiny "finger nubs" (her words) with no bones inside. They weren't actively harming her usually, but she opted to get them and the top of her palm amputated after an incident at work where we were tying balloons and one of her nubs got stuck in the knot. She decided to get them amputated because it meant accidents like that would be less likely, and she could use a prosthetic more comfortably. All 3 of these are considered "optional" amputations, so would people like us be penalised in your setting? does it make sense that the technology in your setting can tell the difference, or that corporations would care about the how and why? Even stepping away from medical grey areas, if your character opts for a cybernetic arm because the corporations will financially reward her, and she's struggling to put food on the table without that help, is that really optional?

Don't get me wrong, I do think that idea could work but it would take a lot of work to do well, and most works I've seen don't do the work. Even if they did though, it doesn't change the fact that most modern uses of this trope don't mention that bit or actively ignore it. It doesn't matter in most cyberpunk works I've seen if the amputation was optional or out of necessity, they still are more prone to being seen as "less human" and in most of the sci-fi writing communities I've been part of, the authors are genuinely shocked when I ask them to remember "people with cybernetics are real people already, they're not some far-off-distant future fantasy group, they're just called amputees". Like it didn't even cross their minds. These are the people creating the works in this genre. Even if it wasn't the original intention of the genre, it's still an issue in the modern version of it. Edit 2: Elaborated a little more on why I don't think the "only people who choose it" argument works in the edit. Also, please stop telling me that old cyberpunk doesn't have this issue, I literally address that in the post lol.

[emilygrayce91]

From Bucharest

Chapter 21 - Winter

New to this story? Start Here: Masterlist From Bucharest

Summary: Bucky and Bec may become more than just fellow assassins.

Trigger Warning: 18+ for Sexual Content, Violence, Trauma, Torture, Drugs, Death, Language.

"So, you've never had one of these before?" Bec asked between mouthfuls of the sweet crunchy dumpling. The juicy center, filled with plums, brought back memories of the fruit stand, a recollection she knew Bucky would most likely not be able to fully recall. 

Bucky shook his head, examining the the toasted potato dough before taking a small bite. He chewed slowly, contemplating the flavors before letting a genuine smile spread across his face. 

They had agreed to allow themselves some time to fully develop a plan, a strategy to rescue Emil's daughter, Ana. They were both certain her life would be spared until the address, which allowed themselves enough time to cover all their bases before confronting the Baron. 

While his stature and initial appearance had neither of them too worried, the fact of the matter was that he was an unknown player, a ghost with no real dossier. He could be entirely harmless, or the complete opposite, so strategy and discernment would be required. 

But first they needed to refuel, restock, and recharge. A tired assassin made for a poor assassin. 

"Can I ask you a question?" Bec said, between long savoring bites of the sweet treat. 

"Haven't you already been doing that?" Bucky asked, setting the dumpling aside to clean the powdered dusting from between the metal plates of his bionic hand. 

Bec smiled sarcastically before continuing. "How old are you, exactly? I mean I know in terms of actual years, you're technically what, 99?  But do you count the years you were frozen in cyro sleep? I mean technically, you weren't really alive, right?" 

Bucky cocked his head, considering her question. "I haven't really given it much thought. I suppose I still feel 28, at least my body does, and my mind, well what's left of it anyways, feels 28." He paused. Bec could see flashes of recognition, of memory, as if he were watching a reel of his life. "I remember it. I remember being The Winter Soldier, but it's almost like I was watching a movie of someone else's life." He trailed off, letting his gaze settle on something behind her. 

Bec reached across the table, nudging the plate of food aside with her arm. She could sense his anguish like a wall of despair and all she wanted to do was comfort him. She touched the back of his metal hand. He stopped, his breathing hitched. He tried to pull away, but she gripped his hand, pulling it toward her across the table. 

"This," she said, staring down at the metal arm, "Does not define you. It's a part of you, sure, but it's not what matters."

Bucky cleared his throat, pulling his hand from hers. She shifted in her seat, glancing down at the empty plate in front of her. 

"Should we go back?" he asked, standing abruptly and nearly knocking the chair out from behind him. She sighed, nodding as she placed a few Leu on the table before standing as well.

They were silent the whole walk back to the apartment, but Bucky could sense frustration coming from Bec. He hadn't intended to make her feel bad, her words had meant something to him, but he realized he wasn't ready to hear them let alone accept them. He needed time to process, and a few supportive words weren't going to be enough, for a while. 

"We should get some sleep when we get back, and then we should start planning," she spoke finally when they spotted the apartment building a few kilometers ahead. Bucky was exhausted, every muscle and bone ached, and while the gash across his stomach was completely healed, there was still a lingering echo of the damage it had done. He rubbed at his shoulder, always attempting to ease the pain there that was seemingly never ending. 

"You take the bed," Bec said as she closed the apartment door behind them. She nudged off her boots and aimed for the couch. Bucky grabbed around her upper arm, a little harder than he had intended. She paused, glancing down at his hand. 

"We can share the bed," he said, dropping his hand as he recognized her surprise. "No point in one of us not getting any sleep." He moved for the bedroom, feeling her following him.  

He removed his tactical gear, save the cargo pants and the tee he wore under the vest, and slid onto the bed facing the door. Bec removed her socks and hesitated a moment, staring down at her leggings before also sliding into bed, seemingly thinking better of shedding any of her clothing. 

************************************************************************

Bec felt an almost sense of agony as she stared at Bucky's back, wanting more than anything to reach out and touch him, be close to him, but she refrained, wanting to respect him, to give him the space she knew he needed. 

"Bucky?" 

"Yeah?" he said, keeping his back to her. 

She hesitated, not really sure what she had intended to say, only realizing too late that she had just wanted to hear his voice again. 

He shifted next to her, causing her to realize that more than several moments of silence had passed. She looked up into his blue eyes, startled that they were now facing one another, but not enough to look or turn away. 

"Thank you," he said, brushing a long strand of hair from her cheek. 

"For what?" she asked, leaning into his hand. His touch was soft, but she sensed some hesitation, or was it restraint. She was slowly losing her own. 

"I can't really explain it. All I know is that I haven't felt like, well, like myself in a long time. Even after D.C., I never fully felt like Bucky. I think the Winter Soldier was still desperate to hold on. But there's something different this time, and I think it has something to do with you." His hand drifted down her cheek and along her neck, his fingers leaving goosebumps as they trailed lazily across her skin. He stopped at her strap, letting his finger drift under it. 

"Bucky..." 

She meant to say more, but he closed the distance between them, his lips a soft muzzle across her own. She leaned into him, letting his body press across hers. He was heavier than she imagined, but the weight of him over her was perfect. She gripped his shoulders, letting her hands drag up and across his shoulders. His metal arm was cold, but the sensation made her toes curl. 

His tongue dipped past her lips, exploring with that same restraint. She pushed herself up, taking away the choice and nipping at his lower lip. She felt a slight smile as his fingers tugged her straps down until her tee was just hovering over the peak of her breasts. 

He pulled away abruptly, creating too much space between them. He let his hooded gaze linger on the bare skin across her chest above the thin piece of fabric. One more slight tug and her breasts would fall out. But his breath caught and she recognized the regret.  

"Bucky, it's ok." He explored her face, the pain and shame visible in every line etched across his skin. "It's ok." 

Bec expected him to pull away entirely and leave the bedroom, but he bridged the gap, slamming his lips down on hers before pulling her straps down until her tee was just a strip of fabric around her waist. 

His right hand lingered over her breast, letting the electricity between them crackle across his skin. His metal hand remained on her shoulder, lifting her up so he could get a better angle to kiss her more fully. Now that he was giving in fully, Bec let her own hands roam across his body. 

His stomach was a marbled work of art, each muscle defined and rippled beneath her fingers. She leaned into his hand that was now rubbing circles around her nipple. His kiss had softened as he let himself explore other parts of her. Bec tugged at his pants, wanting for this, whatever it had become between them, to round that inevitable corner. 

Bucky groaned into her mouth, as she let her hand slide down past his waistband. He was slick and hard against her hand, but he stilled, taking in deep breaths, the wisps of air tickling against her lips. 

"Bec?" 

It was a question filled with so much, layered with so many implications. 

She simply nodded. 

Follow me on Tumbler, AO3, and Wattpad!!

[docgold13]

Cartoon Heroes Paper Cut-Outs

The SilverHawks

Developed by Rankin/Bass Productions, The SilverHawks tells the tale of a group of law enforcement agents who were mechanically enhanced so to operate in outer space. Their bionic-augmented bodies are covered by a full-body, close-fitting metal armor that only exposes the face and an arm. This armor is equipped with a retractile protective mask, retractable under-arm wings, thrusters on their heels, and laser-weapons in their shoulders.

The SilverHawks are composed of Quicksilver (voiced by Peter Newman), who leads the team with his cyborg-bird companion TallyHawk at his side; fraternal twins Steelheart and Steelwill act as the team’s technician and strongman (voiced by Maggie Wheeler and Bob McFadden respectively); the country-singing Bluegrass (voiced by Larry Kenney) pilots the team's ship; and the Copper Kidd is an alien mathematical genius who speaks in whistles and computerized tones. A sixth member named Hotwing (voiced by Adolph Caesar) joined the SilverHawks midway through the show's run.  Along with his bionic abilities, Hotwing also possesses magical powers.  

The team was recruited by Commander Stargazer and assigned to an area of space known as Limbo. Stargazer brought them to Limbo to aid him in addressing the menace of the tyrannical Mon*Star... a being of terrible power who threatens all the cosmos.  Mon*Star can transform into a mechanical behemoth when empowered by the reflection of the mystical Moon-star of Limbo.  

The SilverHawks debuted in September of 1986. The show ran for 65 episodes and was accompanied by a comic book series and line of action figure toys.  

[stargirl-writes]

safety net part two

pairing : force healer! jedi reader x anakin skywalker

word count : 1 k

masterlist | part one

summary

finding safety in a world deranged by war became a distant dream until your childhood friend, anakin skywalker, comes back to your life.

tags : angst, fluff, romance, friends-to-lovers

warnings : mentions of dressing a wound

notes

part two of this one but can be read as a stand alone !

also, i think it'd make sense if i say that as a demisexual, angst is my version of a smut haha!

Anakin would appear every Wednesday.

The clone war broke out and healing Anakin became more difficult. For every wound that you closed, another would appear.

By the fourth week of your treatment, his bionic arm was nearly finished. You've gone to extensive lengths to gather beskar alloy. Which worked out in the end, because Anakin's synthetic arm became a sort of shield.

There was absolutely no reason for him to keep coming to your med-bay station. You knew he could've easily submerged himself in a bacta tank, which he developed a deep hatred of, or used a stim, but he persists.

And you can't entirely find it in yourself to not welcome him.

Anakin was a part of your childhood that felt like how home always felt. Even if you can no longer identify with most parts of your past, Anakin was... well, it was nice having him around.

"I'm starting to get the idea you're hurting yourself to see me" You teased one late night when Anakin welcomed himself to your quarters.

He lets out a soft chuckle, shrugging his shoulders.

You step forward, hand finding a way to his cheek out of instinct.

Exhaustion. Warmth. Excitement. 

You withdrew your hand, he was alright.

His gaze felt warm on your skin, you caught your eyes locked with his.

Your heart races and you step back, searching for something to occupy yourself with.

"I still don't get how you do that" Anakin's voice echoes from behind. You open the drawer of your closet to find your kit.

When you turned, Anakin was curiously stirring the pot of soup you were preparing.

"Do what?" You asked absentmindedly, laying out the cotton, the antiseptic, and the salve neatly on the table.

"You can tell how I'm feeling by touch?" Anakin searches the cupboards for the bowls and cutlery.

"I've been trained to" You answered, then gestured Anakin to sit down so you can dress his wound.

Anakin walked over and started taking off his robes. He winces under his breath. Recognizing his careful movements, you helped him unbutton his shirt.

A large blaster burn was marking the back of his shoulder to his collarbone.

"You should've gotten this checked by a med droid" You lectured, surveying the wound.

"Thought I could use gentler hands" He still delighted in himself.

You huffed a laugh. Then, you began cleaning the wound.

"I'm applying the salve now" You narrated what you were doing, a habit you developed after realizing Anakin does not like being surprised by the sensation.

He nods and you continue. Finally, you focused your intent on fully healing the wound. You closed your eyes, focusing on breathing at a steady pace. It had been a few moments before the skin was new again.

"Thank you" Anakin mutters, rolling his shoulder to feel the pain had gone away.

You stood up and turned the heat off the soup. Anakin pulls the chair and waits for you to sit. Once again, it was just you and Anakin sharing a table, isolated from everyone else. The way it always used to.

However, when morning comes, the reality of it dawns on you. You can only ever steal a few moments of safety with Anakin, but the truth is there'll always be a war.

On most days, it felt like the losses were unending. On most nights, Anakin would make time to hold you as you wept when the weight of it all felt too heavy.

You weren't really the person to cry in front of other people. But with Anakin, you fall to pieces. Perhaps, you were comforted by the fact that he won't judge you, even if some nights you'd utterly be inconsolable.

"We'll be alright" He'd promise.

Even the fact that you have Anakin Skywalker so definitely became a cause of fear.

Because there he'll always be. You know his eyes like they are your own. You can hear his laughter when he is not laughing. You can come to Anakin and there he'll always be.

What happens when he's not?

You hadn't even realized how much you were depending on Anakin. Because it was always about taking care of each other.

So it came unexpectedly.

One quiet evening Anakin insisted on staying the night.

And you let him in, holding the door wide open so he'd know he could leave anytime he wished.

"I didn't think I'd ever be this happy to be back on Coruscant" You sat on the edge of the bed. Taking a deep breath as you leave the tormenting memories of the day fade away with the light.

"I make you happy?" Anakin half turns with a boyish smile.

His resilience was something you admired. You were certain he was carrying an equal amount of grief. And yet, here he was. Brave and confident, so competent, so certain that he, too, has something to offer.

"Of course, you do," You said, to yourself or Anakin, but you couldn't decipher.

He was telling a story of how he started implementing this game with Ahsoka, a competition of some sort to revert her focus away from the truths of the war. His words blur as you stare and think to yourself, Oh.

He has that power over me now. 

It felt like a surrender. In a world terrorized by a raging war, he built a home that made you feel safe.

He notices your silence and sits down next to you, his finger tracing the necklace he gave you, and you find yourself running yours through his hair.

"We're going to be fine," Anakin said. "It's okay, it's going to be alright," he said in a firmer tone.

He'd been there when you needed him to. So, he'd always reassure you.

"I'll always take care of you, you know what, right?"

"That's my line" You chuckled.

Anakin mirrors your smile. "Right, well, I mean it".

Your mind quiets, and you can't hold the pose of defiance when Anakin presses your head to his chest.

"Doesn't it get tiring? Fighting and fighting..." You trailed, voice barely above a whisper.

"It does." He answers. "But we have to, otherwise, it's like handing the galaxy in the hands of a cruel tyrant"

You turned your face upwards to hear more, and your nose touched his.

"Alright, chosen one" You teased his heroic remark.

He grimaces at the title. He still doesn't believe it to be true. And you'd never miss the opportunity to call him that.

"At least you're already chosen by someone" You looked up through your lashes.

Anakin shakes his head and his lips curl to the side. "Well, you're my chosen one"

did anyone catch the dramatic irony haha!

[mothica-mothica]

Halo reach survival au bc yes

Tw: severe injuries, suicidal ideation, nightmares, grief.

Oh hey look I'm not posting about sonic the hedgehog? Whaaaatt

Anyway here we go

Carter

You know how the pelican exploded? Yeah I gave him hearing damage. He has hearing aids.

His face was covered by his arms, but he does have scarring on his neck from being kersploded.

Just to make it more depressing, his normal calm and collected attitude is an actual farce.

He lives in constant agony. Mental and physical.

"Its all falling apart. "

He's a bartender during the night.

Six and Kat are regulars.

He lives with Kat and jun.

He turns his hearing aids down when there's an argument between the ex members of Noble. He doesn't break up the issues anymore.

He's learned ASL.

Kat

Frequent nightmares.

Works from home, as a Software developer.

Her injuries were minimal.

She often stops talking in the middle of conversations. Especially with carter.

"It should've been me."

She makes a habit of drawing random devices she wants to build.

Often salvages things she finds in the dumpster.

She learned sign language for Carter because when he was still in the hospital he couldn't hear well.

Also ignores any arguments between ex members.

Jun

Works as a recruiter for the spartan IV program.

Asks Carter for advice when he doesn't know how to deal with the recruit's.

Isn't home very much, but he takes care of his fair share of rent.

He's the most mentally sound of all the members.

He wasn't hurt at all on reach, only emotionally fucked this time.

When he gets home, he likes to do mundane tasks before he inevitably collapses on his bed.

Emile

He ate liquid foods until his stomach was completely healed.

Has a large scar from the wound in question.

Had a blood transplant.

Lashes out at Jorge quite often. Once he even called him 'weak' because he couldn't come to terms with what happened.

Is the main source of team infighting.

Six beat the hell out of him in a fit of rage because he lashed out and blamed her for everyone's injuries.

He lives with six and Jorge. The three are pretty close now.

He's not trying to be antagonistic, but he wants revenge, something to punch, someone to blame. That's what he's used to.

He's yelled at carter before. But Carter just stood there and turned down his hearing aids.

Often crying in his room.

"I've lost everything...."

Jorge

Still the same gentle giant as before, big and cuddly.

Six sees him as a father figure, they’re often found curled up on the couch.

He doesn't understand why Emile won't quit antagonizing the household.

He's trying to go home. He wants to go home.

Spends a lot of time baking. Works as a baker in a coffee shop.

Often making food and dropping off where jun works.

"I wish I could sleep forever."

Six

Her heart has been replaced.

She's got a bionic arm.

She's missing a whole lung.

She works as a barista.

A frequent at the bar. She likes to bring pastries for Carter and Kat.

She's the one who breaks up the arguments now.

"I could've done better."

She likes to read, and does it quite a bit.

She stayed at the hospital even after she had recovered because she wanted to make sure everyone made it out.

When carter gets quiet, it worries her.

She knows Emile is struggling, often does some light sparring with him despite her breathing issues.

She doesn't mind curling up with Jorge anymore. It was awkward at first.

Kat enjoys her company now. It helps Kat to hear her chatting.

She feels obligated to keep contact with everyone.

[imaginedanvrs]

my demon gave me everything

part 10 l masterlist

summary: dark!natasha romanoff x reader. Natasha Romanoff saves the world. Morals, lifestyle and past aside, the fact is that she puts her life on the line for everyone else. And for this, she believes she’s owed something. She saves billions of lives on the regular, so why not take the occasional one for herself?

word count: 3.2k

warnings: established kidnapping, physical and psychological abuse, power dynamics, manipulation, developing stockholm syndrone, fingering,

Learning to walk independently again didn’t come easy. It took a lot of time, patience, bruises and declining numerous offers from Natasha to help. You were adamant that you do it on your own but it proved harder than you expected. Your left leg continued to be incapable of holding any of your weight whatsoever and you saw no change happening in the horizon. Most of the time you ended up ungracefully hopping from one room to another while trying to ignore the questioning looks from the Russian. 

  You hit the floor with a heavy thud that could be heard from the other side of the apartment. Natasha had watched you go down from the bathroom where she was cleaning, something you hadn’t ever imagined an Avenger doing, and observed as you laid still against the cold flooring. Usually, you got back up immediately, keen to brush yourself off and start over enough times before you called it a day, but that time you were too discouraged to try again. You hadn’t entirely given up, but it felt close. 

  Natasha’s boots paced across the apartment towards you as you lay staring out at the city beyond the glass with a blank expression. You had miscalculated how far the kitchen island was and toppled to the ground when you were unable to grasp onto the edge. Your left hip and elbow ached as the redhead knew they would from watching the way you fell. 

  The redhead crouched down in front of you and brushed the hair out of your face to reveal a faint bruise on your cheek you had acquired a few days prior. It angered Natasha that you had been hurt due to your own careless mistake as opposed to something she had inflicted. Though in a sense those minor injuries were partly down to the redhead as there was one thing Natasha hadn’t felt inclined to share with you: she controlled the bionic leg. You could never put any weight on it simply because it hadn’t been enabled yet and the Russian wasn’t going to turn it on until you asked her for help.

  Thinking you would have given in sooner, Natasha hadn’t hit or fucked you in weeks and it was proving harder to hold back from doing so. She wasn’t even entirely sure what she was waiting for. For you to come to her? You still ignored her majority of the time and Natasha knew it would be far more satisfying for you to come crawling back to her instead of the redhead making you. But perhaps there was some other reason the Russian couldn’t quite place. The uncertainty didn’t frustrate her as much as it used to and instead sparked a curiosity. 

  “Come here, moy lastovichka,” Natasha said as she placed her hands under you and lifted you in one swoop. You put your hands around the back of her neck for support to allow the redhead to carry you bridal style, too tired to stop her and instead decided to make it easier for her. You sighed and rested your head against her shoulder as she started walking, breathing in her scent that was wholly Natasha. 

  It was only once the redhead began walking up the stairs that you realised you weren’t going back to the bedroom. You suddenly became more alert in her arms as Natasha approached the heavy door you hadn’t come face to face with in a long time. The Avenger paused by the door and gave you an expecting look so you rested your chin back on her shoulder so that you couldn’t see the pin she put in. You suspected she changed it frequently anyway but you found you had no immediate desire to know what it was. You observed your surroundings as the redhead took you through the landing and noted the aspects you remembered such as the large desk and monitors and the two doors along the corridor. You averted your eyes as you passed the main door though once you arrived at the one at the end Natasha opened another door with her hip, letting you into her room.

  Your eyes scanned the space wildly, immediately recognising that it must be the redhead’s bedroom despite never having considered she had another one. While still fairly unpersonalised, it certainly had more character to it than the larger room downstairs and you tried to take in as much of it as you could as Natasha continued through the space to another balcony. Again, the area was strikingly different to that of downstairs, the main factor being the sizable hot tub that took up the majority of the space. 

  The redhead sat you down on the chair, which you assumed was meant to be the pair to the one downstairs, before turning on the hot tub and altering some of the settings. You watched as it sprang to life while Natasha disappeared back inside to take out two bottles from her minifridge tucked next to the wardrobe. In a matter of seconds foamy bubbles covered the surface of the water and the sides illuminated an electric blue. Though the balcony was outside, there was an outdoor ceiling cover and two posts on either ends of the open side of the balcony that gave off a faint hum. As you peered closer, you noticed a subtle shimmer between the posts, as though there was a film covering it. 

  “It’s kind of like a privacy screen,” Natasha said. You turned to her to see the redhead removing her clothes and quickly averted your eyes. You had seen each other naked countless times but you still weren't used to the etiquette. “There’s no physical barrier there, just a little something to stop the world looking in on us,” She explained. Just as she did you felt a light breeze brush against you that made your uncovered arms raise with goosebumps, making you want to jump into the water even more. 

  You contemplated for a second before taking your sweatpants off but leaving your shirt on as Natasha came back towards you. She held out her hand for you to take and you took it. She didn’t hide her smile of triumph and you struggled not to give one back. You liked when the redhead was happy. She eased you both into the perfectly warm water that went higher than you expected and grabbed the two bottles she had already taken the tops off of. Both beers, yours being non-alcoholic of course but you appreciated it nonetheless. You didn’t feel like getting drunk anyway. 

  “I didn’t take you for someone with a hot tub,” you quipped and Natasha smiled again. Inside, part of you beamed at the accomplishment you hadn’t realised you wanted.

  “Fury set up this apartment for me. He added the hot tub as a joke and told me it might help me relax,” she recalled. You had to bite back a laugh. 

  “Go ahead and laugh,” Natasha said easily. You glanced at her and couldn’t help but admire her features. She had changed a couple of her earrings to hoops instead of studs, they looked nice. Her hair was up in a plait again, though there were more loose tendrils that hung loosely from her face to her neck than usual. Her cheeks were slightly flushed from the sudden change in temperature to her body though they were subtle against her tan. The widow really was beautiful. 

  Despite yourself, you shuffled closer to the redhead so that the outsides of your thighs touched under the water and you wondered if she felt the same tingle dance across her skin that you did. You enjoyed being close to her, even if there was always a small voice in the back of your mind warning you to be careful. Natasha hadn’t hit you in a while, but you knew that didn’t mean she wouldn’t do it again. You weren’t as scared at that fact as you should have been. 

  You sat like that for a while, in a comfortable silence as you gazed out at the midnight city you were positive there was no better view of. You were on top of a world you realised you might never experience again and you weren’t sure how you felt about that. Staying with Natasha didn’t feel so much like a prison anymore, mainly due to the fact you no longer had any hatred for the redhead. You weren’t sure you disliked her either. You were wary of the Avenger, but it didn’t stop you admiring her beauty and skill. She used to be your favourite hero and everything you used to admire about her was being seen under a new light. You never thought they would be used against you. 

  You sat with that thought a while, not entirely sure what to make of it. It was daunting, that was for certain. 

  “You make me think too much,” you said suddenly, not registering it until you saw Natasha look at you. She seemed as though you had peaked her interest. “I don’t want to think,” you admitted, deciding you might as well go with it. It was true, there were so many conflicting thoughts battling it out in your mind that the noise was becoming overwhelming. 

  “How long have I been here?” You asked when Natasha didn’t respond. 

  “Two months, one week and four days,” the redhead answered without any hesitation. That was longer than you thought. It had been impossible to tell how much time had passed when you were ill. 

  “Two months and I only tried to leave once,” you stated. “And in that one time I didn’t even really want to.”

  “You didn’t?” The redhead pushed as she watched you intently. 

  “I don’t know,” you sighed, feeling the turmoil start up again. “It was a lot to think about in such a short amount of time and…I don’t know.” You both let your words hang in the air. “Did you want me to leave?” You asked suddenly, never having considered it before. Natasha looked as conflicted as you did.

  “I don’t know,” she mirrored. “They always do so I guess I was expecting it but there was a moment where I thought you wouldn’t and…” the Russian struggled for words though you could tell it was more that she struggled to admit them. “I guess I didn’t want you to. I thought you were different.” She turned to you and saw the flash of hurt across your features, thinking she had given up on you. “Maybe you are,” she stated. You whipped your head back to the redhead and met her eye. 

  “Tell me about the others,” you said slowly, not sure if you really wanted to hear it or if Natasha would even want to tell you. 

  “None of them have ever been in here,” she started. You frowned, looking around at the space.

  “Really?” You asked, not sure you quite believed the redhead but she hummed in response anyway. 

  “The only times they ever got upstairs was when I wanted to see if they were going to leave. I didn’t test all of them like that but when I did I only did it once.” 

  “And none of them got ill after?” 

  “Not from what you did. A couple got sick randomly but…” Natasha shrugged, not feeling it necessary to inform you of how she dealt with it. 

  “Were they all as inexperienced as me?” You asked bluntly, trying to interpret what the bigger picture was to Natasha.

  “Mostly,” she said simply. 

  “What is it you wanted from them- from us?” You corrected, reminding yourself you were a part of it all.

  “I told you. I think I should get something back for everything I do,” she said plainly, not a single doubt in her philosophy. 

  “People say the world owes you an unpayable debt,” you said after a beat.

  “They’re right. They’re just lucky this is all I want,” the redhead was quick to say.

  “This is it?” You asked, momentarily forgetting how fucked up it was what Natasha was doing. She nodded once and you couldn’t help but feel a rush of guilt at the fact you had tried to deprive her of that, that you all had. How selfish. 

  “Do you want me to stay?” You needed to know for definite, deciding that you would take whatever Natasha told you as face value. Trustworthy or not, you wanted to hear her say it to help you decide what it was that you wanted. The redhead didn’t answer for a few moments. She watched as the bubbles swirled around the water in unison, breaking up in sections to attach onto new masses. 

  “I think so,” that was enough for you. You held onto the outside of the tub between you and used it to help bring your leg over Natasha’s lap so that you could straddle her, moving gradually enough that the redhead wouldn’t perceive it as hostile. You brought your hands down to the Avenger’s shoulders, letting your thumbs graze across her neck just light enough for the redhead to allow. Glancing into her eyes once more, you closed the distance between you and pressed your lips against her awaiting ones. Natasha was practically soaring when you kissed her, it being the first time you, or any of the others, had made a move on her. 

  The need that you put into it was insatiable, no matter how closely you pulled yourself into the redhead or where she let your hands grip her, it wasn’t enough. You wanted to make all of the hurt go away, for both of you. You wanted everything she did that you weren’t sure how to give. Your lips moved together in perfect sync, barely pulling away for air or for you to mutter against her. “I’m not leaving.” Natasha exhaled heavily and gripped your ass to pull you flush against her. 

  “Say it again,” she demanded, rough voice returning but you didn’t care about what it might mean or lead to.

  “I’m not leaving, Nat,” you repeated desperately, needing her to know you meant it. 

  “Again.”

  “Don’t let me leave,” you begged, grabbing Natasha’s hands and bringing them round to your front and pushing them down your underwear. The Russian sighed heavily when she felt your throbbing clit and didn’t hesitate in rubbing small circles against it. You whined, bucking into her hand at the contact you had missed dearly. 

  “Look at how needy you are, detka.” Natasha chuckled as she let her fingers dip down to swipe through your folds. “You’re mine,” she said before thrusting two fingers inside you, grunting as she met the resistance that never seemed to ease. “No one else will ever make you feel like this,” she husked against your ear. You gripped onto the redhead like a lifeline, moaning desperately at the feeling of her fingers filling you up. 

  “Only daddy,” you whined, throbbing around her digits. 

  “That’s right,” Natasha practically growled as she moved her fingers faster and made sure to rub the spot that always made you spin. You panted and moaned, feeling yourself edging for a release and wanting to beg the redhead to keep going like you had countless times before, but the words were stuck in your throat and all you could manage were pathetic mewls that thankfully Natasha understood. She had enough generosity in her that night to deem it enough, thrusting her fingers wildly inside you until you were plummeting over the edge and squeezing her fingers tight enough to almost push them out. 

  You slumped against Natasha as you fought to catch your breath. She held onto you as you came down from your high, feeling utterly spent and still very much on cloud nine. It was more peaceful than you ever had been in your life. Though once you had enough time to bathe in that feeling, it was overturned by a sense of crushing guilt. You had deprived Natasha of so much, thinking your freedom was more important than a superhero’s happiness. Where you, or any of the others, got such a notion from was beyond you, but you had to make it right. 

  “I’m sorry,” you whispered as the weight of what you thought was a huge mistake pressed down on your chest. “I’m so sorry,” you repeated as the dam broke and tears streamed down your face. You tentatively clung to Natasha, not holding her nearly as tight as you wanted to because you didn’t think Iyo deserved that comfort. 

  The Russian let you cry into her shoulder for a while, not quite believing the unrehearsed scene playing out before her. You were apologising and Natasha didn’t know what for. She didn’t want to ask and make you doubt whatever need you felt to do so. She also couldn’t let it pass without knowing. Slowly, she pulled you away from her shoulder so she could peer into your watery eyes so full of sorrow.

  “Tell me what you’re sorry for,” she said with the air of authority you craved. 

  “I’m sorry for fighting you,” you sniffed, looking at the redhead as though her forgiveness would mean the difference between life and death. Natasha took your chin gently in her hands as she fought the urge to laugh. You looked pathetic apologising for such a thing, yet the assassin was in awe of it. She had you wrapped around her little finger in a way she couldn’t have foretold, desperate for her forgiveness for the crime of being human. Well it was okay, Natasha had rid you of all those impractical thoughts and instincts and would make sure the only thing you had to concern yourself with anymore was pleasing the redhead. 

  “It’s okay,” she shushed, kissing your tear stained cheeks. “We’ll make it okay.” 

  “How?” You whispered, afraid you wouldn't be able to. Natasha basked in the sight. 

  “You’re gonna behave for me now, aren’t you moy lastovichka?” You nodded quickly and Natasha squeezed your chin.

  “Yes, Nat,” you corrected, earning a content hum from the redhead. 

  “Let’s go back inside, it’s getting late,” Natasha said as she pushed you gently off of her lap. You missed the contact immediately. She stood from the tub and went back inside to grab several towels before coming back to help you out and dry off. You peeled the wet shirt from your skin and Natasha took it for the wash, telling you to stay when you tried to follow her and guided you to her bed when she came back. 

  You were confused at first, not familiar with the change of scenery and not believing you deserved to be in such a personal space. Your worries were eased when the redhead pulled you flush against her chest as close as possible and allowed you to hold her back. This time, your peacefulness wasn’t interrupted by any sudden guilt and you were able to fall into a peaceful slumber within minutes. Natasha, however, stayed awake for a while longer as her mind ran wild with newfound possibilities.

[amethystgoldenwind]

A Masterlist of all my Rottmnt Headcanons

What it sounds like! The plan for this is to list everything out as a concept. If I want to expand on it, I'll make a more in-depth post on it, which will be linked to the concept. I'm going to make the list first, and then the expansion posts over time. I'll reblog this list every time it's updated with a link!

I will be adding a couple links tonight, but I won't reblog it since it's very new.

Full Headcanons

These are the ones I believe wholeheartedly as true. When I watch the show, this is what I see. There typically is some sort of 'evidence' to back the headcanon up, though this isn't required. There just cannot be even a smidge of counter-evidence.

Donnie has a primarily a hypersensitive sensory profile, and his goggles combo as noise-cancelling headphones to help him cope

Raph has generalized anxiety disorder

Raph is the second to develop PTSD, after the S2 finale. The other three join him after the movie.

Splinter is the first to develop PTSD (Battle Nexus, anyone?)

Leo is gay. This has been known since he was a tot

For years, everyone knew Donnie was autistic but Splinter, but he does know by the time the movie takes place

My calculated weights are their actual weights

Casey Junior lost his right arm below the elbow and was built a bionic one by Donnie

Leo has a disgusting culinary taste. A fun twist on him being a disaster in the kitchen.

Fic-Canons

Headcanons that I will include in my fanfictions, but don't really see them as canon to the show itself. These do not have any evidence at all and are for fun. Some of these are just fun useless facts.

All the turtles know ASL (their 'dialect' dubbed TSL) to a varying degree

My chosen eye colours for the turtles

They make turtle noises

Donnie has a borderline eating disorder (dubbed 'weird eating disorder' by Leo)

Donnie has chronic tinnitus because he must suffer with me

The turtles have tails

Donnie & Leo have retractable webbing between their fingers and toes. Raph only has it between his fingers. Mikey is a terrestrial turtle and has none.

Leo & Donnie often team up as the medic

Donnie is asexual and has only ever crushed on fictional characters. He did know know until he was a teen.

Everyone has custom contact names

Each turtle has a varying blood & gore tolerance

The turtles each have unique body temperatures due to being mixed with cold-blooded and warm-blooded species

The turtles have unique swearing profiles, with Leo swearing the most often

The five senses of the turtles have varying strengths based on their human/turtle ratio

The aquatic boys have retractable webbing that they can use for swimming

[agaypanic]

Reader is Chase’s best friend and Bree has a massive crush on her and everyone teases her about how obvious it is to everyone (except to reader who’s oblivious but reciprocates her feelings) maybe reader is very affectionate with her friends and seeing her with Chase makes Bree confess out of jealousy.

Very 2 idiots in love brothers best friends vibe 🫡

I Don't Wanna Be Your Friend (Bree Davenport X Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Everyone knows that Bree has a crush on Chase’s best friend, except for his best friend. 

***

There were many things that Bree had to look forward to ever since Mr. Davenport let her and her brothers out of the basement. She got to go to school and socialize, she had a phone, and she no longer had to strictly eat power pellets.

But the best thing that came out of leaving the basement was you.

You were in all the AP and Honors classes. So, of course, Chase was the first Davenport you met. The two of you quickly hit it off, becoming best friends. One day, when Chase said he was having a friend over, everyone thought it was a joke.

When you showed up at the front door, Chase’s siblings were a bit stunned. One, because he had an actual friend who was willing to be around him outside of school. Two, because that friend was a pretty girl.

You and Bree hit it off right away. She was so happy to have a girl friend, especially when she had spent literally her entire life around boys. You were so sweet, always down to hang out with her when she wanted to do something. Although Chase was your best friend, you grew very close to his sister.

It led to her developing feelings for you, which she didn’t know how to handle. She didn’t want to say anything for fear of you rejecting her and leaving. But at the same time, she couldn’t help but space out and stare at you from afar, trying to memorize every detail of you.

“You staring at her all the time isn’t gonna do anything,” Leo said, startling Bree out of her trance. You were on the couch studying with Chase, and Bree didn’t know how, but you somehow looked even prettier today.

“I’m not staring,” Bree mumbled, taking another glance at you from the kitchen. 

“Yeah, you are.” Adam laughed, grabbing something from the fridge. “It’s, like, so obvious that you like her.”

“Shut up, Adam.” Bree hissed. The last thing she needed was for you to overhear this conversation. She looked over at the living room to see if you and Chase had caught wind of what was being said, but she saw something even worse.

While Chase was going over something in your textbook, you leaned against him and rested your head on his shoulder. Chase put an arm around you as you were getting comfortable in this new position. You both continued studying as if this was normal. Sure, you were affectionate with friends, but Bree had never seen this before.

Suddenly upset, Bree stormed off down to the lab. Leo and Adam tried to stop her, but she didn’t listen. And she was too busy trying not to look at you and Chase that she didn’t see that you were watching her leave with a concerned look on your face.

She shouldn’t have been surprised to see you and Chase be so cuddly. You and Chase made sense together. You were both insanely smart, and meshed together well. And she wouldn’t be surprised if Chase had a crush on you. Although, it would baffle Bree a bit if you had a crush on her brother. You could probably do better.

Bree felt selfish to think that she was what’s better.

“Bree?” You startled the girl with your presence. You slowly approached, seeing that she was upset. “You okay?”

You had only been in the lab once before. One day, Chase and Adam were fighting before you had arrived to hang out, and bionics got involved. When you opened the front door, you missed the laser Adam had blasted at Chase from his eyes by a second, and only because Bree used her super speed to get you out of the way. You demanded an explanation, and the siblings told you about their bionics.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Bree responded, clearly not fine. You sat on the stool next to her and nudged her.

“You sure?”

She nodded, but you weren’t convinced. You wished she would tell you what was wrong, wanting nothing more than to make her feel better.

“So…” Bree said, and you perked up, showing that you were listening. “What’s up with you and Chase?” The question confused you.

“Nothing, I think. Why?”

“It’s just… I’ve seen you guys be all cuddly and close and stuff.” Bree played with her fingers, trying to distract herself from looking at you. “If you guys are together, you can tell me. You know, since we’re friends and all.” She said ‘friends’ in a somewhat bitter tone, which you picked up.

You laughed loudly, the thought of you and Chase together seeming absolutely absurd. Bree frowned, confused by your reaction.

“Bree, I don’t like Chase like that. Never in a million years.” You laughed some more, making Bree relieved. “It’s nice that you care about my love life, though. You’re a good friend.” You patted her shoulder, and she made a sour face at the word ‘friend.’ You noticed and tilted your head. “Anything else on your mind, B?”

“I don’t wanna be your friend,” Bree said abruptly, her jealousy and slight anger giving her the courage to look at you. You were clearly taken aback, and Bree realized how that could be taken the wrong way, but it didn’t falter her expression. “I really like you, Y/n. Like… like you, like you. And I don’t like you being all cuddly and cutesy with Chase because-”

“Because you want me to be cuddly and cutesy with you?” You asked. Bree couldn’t tell if the small smile on your face was a good or a bad sign. Either you were smiling because you reciprocated her feelings or because you were about to laugh in her face.

“Yeah…” Bree said, much more quietly than before. She looked down at her lap, cheeks hot with embarrassment. She probably just ruined your whole friendship because she couldn’t take seeing you around her brother anymore. Bree felt so stupid.

But she was quickly distracted from mentally berating herself by you grabbing her face in your hands and putting your lips on hers. It was a simple kiss, but it still made Bree dizzy.

“I don’t wanna be your friend, either.” You muttered against her mouth before giving her another kiss.

[lyssophobiaa]

Misc. Design Notes and Ideas; Piers Nivans

Synchronization Between Prosthesis and Senses

Augmented Reflexes: His bionic arm could have a feedback system connected to his heightened senses, allowing it to respond to auditory or visual cues faster than he can consciously react. For instance, if he hears a sudden change in someone’s heartbeat behind him (indicating they’re approaching or tensing up), his arm could twitch or adjust as if ready to defend or counter.

Haptic Feedback in the Arm: The prosthesis could have sensors that translate environmental data into subtle vibrations or pressure signals, which Piers can feel. For example, in low-light or when he’s using his thermal vision, his arm might subtly vibrate in response to nearby heat sources, giving him a “sixth sense” of people around him without needing to look.

Sensory Overload Thresholds and Control Mechanism

Virus-Triggered Sensory Intensity: When the Virus exerts more control, his senses might intensify to the point where every heartbeat, heat signature, or movement becomes sharply defined and almost overwhelming. This state would enhance his perception but at the cost of mental strain, making it harder for him to focus or maintain rational thought.

Adaptive Mutation in His Arm

Augmented Physical Connection: The prosthetic side of his arm might integrate more closely with the mutating side over time. This would create a unique “fusion” effect where the prosthetic adapts, mirroring changes in the mutation, like absorbing textures or contours that appear on his mutated tissue. This would blur the line between machine and biology even further, reflecting his struggle to retain his humanity.

Predator-Like Instinct Mode

Automatic Threat Detection: If his hearing detects an elevated heartbeat or his eye picks up sudden movement, it could trigger an “instinct mode” where his sensory focus shifts fully onto the target—heightening his reaction time and awareness of that individual’s actions. This would make him hyper-focused on potential threats, though it risks distracting him from other surroundings.

Animalistic Responses to Stress: When the Virus exerts control, Piers’ responses could become more instinctual. For instance, if his mutated eye detects an unexpected heat signature, his body might involuntarily tense, his senses heighten, and his arm adopt a defensive posture. He might also develop reflexes that resemble predatory behavior, like tracking movement without moving his head.

Tags: (Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!) @astertaster @fonulyn @theyproblyhadsomethingtodowithit @mangoflavouredkisses @mmosscatmoss @essanocollagen @menacing-manicotti @sxnicgoesfast

[dontforgetukraine]

US-Ukraine startup Esper Bionics makes robotic prostheses that are currently being used by over 30 Ukrainian soldiers serving in Russia's war and 80 veterans in Ukraine.

While the bionic arms and hands are not for military use and are not durable enough for combat, the wartime setting has yielded live feedback for the company from soldiers and veterans. One such example of Esper Bionics striving to meet the needs of their clients was making the fingers in the hand out of metal so that it could withstand more stress.

The company never planned to provide bionic prosthetic hands that would help soldiers return to combat back in 2019 when it was founded, but Russia's full scale invasion changed the startup's course. Now, research and development, assembly, and production all take place in Ukraine.

Through its donor-funded program Esper for Ukraine, the company is able to donate all the hands it produces to Ukrainians in need of prostheses.

In an example of artificial intelligence being used for good, Esper Bionics wants to incorporate AI into their bionic hands so the prostheses are more "context-aware" and "better able to predict its user's movements" and what the user wants to do in any particular situation.

The idea behind Esper Bionics' AI-powered future hand will be to create “an entire ecosystem” that can pass information from a series of sensors attached to its user to cloud-based software that constantly analyzes data to learn its users' habits.

The robotic look isn't just for functionality either, but a company goal to avoid the "uncanny valley" look. With attractive branding and designs, Chief of Marketing Dmytro Ganush says Esper Bionics seeks to promote the idea that people with limb differences don’t have a medical issue but “a really interesting lifestyle” or, if anything, “a gadget just like any other."

---

Ukraine is highly likely to become the country with the most prostheses used among its population. The effort to normalize and de-stigmatize disability must start now, and I'm glad Esper Bionics seems to have this in mind with their designs. The enthusiasm users have in the design of the bionic hands is promising, and I hope everyone involved has a bright future.

Source: Ukrainian startup Esper Bionics makes cyborgs a reality

[resurrection-if-game]

Hey there!! Since we talking wheelchair I thought I'd bring my grain of salt to the table!!

Sadly, the way transhumanism is going it does look like the popular consensus to fixing all our problems would be going the terminator way, which I kind of disagree with. I am deathly, mortally, absolutely afraid of machines in my body especially since we live in a capitalist hell hole that would make me pay monthly for my knees and would make them rot if I did not pay my bills.

So, I have a few ideas about wheelchairs! A lot of them are based in pure fantasy, mostly because I suck at engineering and robotics.

If you wished to keep wheels on the chair, then there are multiple ways about modernizing that : Magnetic disks of different sizes and shapes could be cool, kind of like click on wheels but with different purposes (eg, use them as a holographic computer when you're not using them to move, use them as potential shuriken, or even a secret stach for drugs!), Replacing the wheel by Tank like one (slower but would be interesting to make a tank-chair, armed with cannons), or even just having a painfully normal old looking wheelchair FULL of secrets and surprises! A techy wheelchair that doesn't ring any alarm bells because it looks... Outdated.

Now, if you're wheeling (see what I did there ... Willing, wheeling... That's a pun if I know one!) to change the very concept a wheelchair, there are many many ways to go about that too!! A flying chair could be a good idea gliding instead of wheeling, overboard style (creepy that that is a real life thing, by the way). Mecha chair is also a funny one (Octopus chair, great for artisans and mechanics who'd need to adjust their height for projects AND for being an extremely dexterous little fuck when push comes to shove). There's a chair made of nannobots, big hero 6 style, an amorphous mass spilling towards you.

I have SO many ideas I am SO willing to brainstorm if you need. Hope these ones could help as well.

Omg I'm basically vibrating rn I'm so happy to see this! I personally do not use mobility aids, but one of my greatest friends has SMA and she is in agreement with you about people resisting the idea of bionics (or having AI connected to your brain). Like, some of these procedures give you a less autonomy of your body than before (and gives people/companies access to your body that you might not even be aware of!)

I'll put this under a cut because I got very chatty.

For anyone that's wondering why I think that a near-future setting should/would have wheelchairs: A real detriment to the progress of wheelchairs or mobility aids in general is that too many people assume that cures will happen soon (while gene therapy is an option, it's something that addresses known symptoms or specific mutations and will never be ahead of the genetic curve -- it's also impossible to tell what the long-term success rate of it will be for each condition), or that everyone should get robot legs or exoskeletons, which can help, but it's not a sustainable solution, considering many bodies would need highly tailored models, or if the spinal cord is compromised and the signals are too weak for detection. As for AI aids or BCIs, what if you're cognitively at a level where you cannot rely on AI to correctly interpret your intentions? And even assuming these technologies become available and are widely accepted by everyone ever, how many people can afford to have a set of bionic AI legs? In this capitalist world? Definitely not the poor! Realistically, it's just not gunna happen! Someone, somewhere, in 100 years or even beyond, is going to need/prefer a wheelchair or something like it.

Also, as soon as humans decide to colonize space, most health research will probably be diverted into figuring out ways to keep humans from losing all their muscle mass and prevent the development of osteoporosis from long-term space living. Who cares about health on Earth when space is the future, amirite? (But hey... if they do lose enough muscle mass we can... give them a wheelchairs.)

Workshopping wheelchairs!

For some reason the idea of click-on wheels calls to me -- like even if they're there for the illusion of wheels. Deceptively making it look like it's a very out-of-date model in order to catch people off-guard when you pull out a wakizashi from the back support.

Going full spiderman with a Doc Ock backpack would also be fun as hell. Same with the nanobot swarm. Like why have a mobility aid when you can become a living Cryptid?? This is going to live in my brain for a long time. 😂 (No one be surprised if I use this premise in the future, somewhere, somehow. I love it.)

I think what I might end up settling with is closest to the gliding wheelchair idea. If a space station's habitation areas are made up of... let's say nickel and if it's far enough out of Earth's magnetosphere, there could be a good justification that the station would have it's own magnetic field for radiation protection... and therefore granting rights to hoverchairs that use magnetic repulsion to levitate. Wheels could be attached if entering areas made from non/low magnetic materials because of sensitive equipment etc. It sounds science-y enough for me! I'm not too gung-ho about making it all hard sci-fi, but believable enough to give it some interesting limitations lol.

What do you think?