#amputee story

[stoopid-noah]

So on July 14 of 2020 I lost my left middle finger by trying to fetch a ball from my pal's dog he threw over a fence the day before.

Here is the full story:

It was raining and half way over the fence I decided to ditch the idea, since the fence was fairly slippery and I 'didn't want to get hurt' lmao.

So on my way back down I obviously slipped, my ring got caught on the fence and degloved my left middle finger.

I felt a hard tug, no pain at first, tho I had a feeling what just happened... My first thought was: "Do I look at my hand or do I just go home?" Obviously, I looked down and "fuck." was the first thing I said.

I grabbed the bone and remaining flesh with my unharmed hand, to stop the bleeding and looked at my friend (the one with the dog).

I calmly told him: "[Name], don't panic but my finger is gone, call an ambulance. I will lay down on the ground now, okay?" At first he thought I was fucking with him and didn't believe me. Because I stayed strangely calm since he has severe panic attacks and I didn't want him to get one in this situation, since that would be anything but beneficial for the both of us. He only realized I was for real, when he saw red liquid dripping out my hand.

My friend hastily rung all the doorbells of the Apartment building across the street, to ask someone to call an ambulance. (I didn't have my phone on me he had his phone, but forgot that you can call emergency numbers even without mobile credit.)

At one point a guy rode past us on his bike, Martin tried to flag him down, yelling something along the lines of: "Hey, could you please call an ambulance? He (gesturing at me, lying on the ground, bleeding) lost- had an accident." And I'll never forget this mans answer, after throwing one glance at me, in a cheery sing-sang voice he just said: "Noo, I don't have time, sorryy.~" while riding of with the brightest smile. That is still the funniest thing to me lmao. That guy had a great day and was not willing to care for anything or anyone else. Honestly.. Good for him!

Anyways, back to the ambulance-calling problem..

My friend managed to get an old lady to step out on the balcony, where she could see me and she called an ambulance right away.. Well she actually got a little confused and called the police, but they informed the hospital to send an ambulance.

Another lady also approached me to just be there for me, I think. She just rubbed my back and tried to comfort me, which was really sweet. Especially seeing she was the one crying, overwhelmed by the situation. She also shielded me from the rain by covering me with her umbrella. I hope shes okay, she was an absolut Sweetheart.

I was lucky (I guess?) since a woman who lived across the street I was laying on saw me through the window and came to check out what happened. And wouldn't you know, she was a nurse! She introduced herself to me as such, stating: "Hey, I saw you through my window, are you okay? I might be able to help. I'm a nurse and brought my first aid kit, what happened?" So I detailed the incident to her and showed her my injury. Upon seeing my mangled hand she let out an audible gasp and a whispered: "oh, fuck." At which I couldn't help but laugh, saying: " 'oh, fuck'? As a nurse? It's that bad, huh?". She apologized and tried to back paddle a bit, I think she was trying to not freak me out to much, saying something along the lines of: "No, it's just- I just didn't expect that." To which I replied: "Well, to be fair, I  basically had the same reaction, so it's alright." The kind nurse bandaged me up and waited for the ambulance with us.

At that point the pain was pretty bad but not to much to handle. I mainly focused on my friend, constantly telling him to: "Stay calm and breathe!" since "I can't bleed out, so it's alright."

The ambulance (and police) arrived about 15 minutes after the call (they normally would've been there faster but we had a lot of road work in the area at the time). The officers tried to figure out what happened and kept asking weird questions like: "Did your friend pull you down?", "Did the dog eat the finger?" and "Did the dog pull you down?" Etc.. They also 'searched?' for my finger (they basically just looked in and around the bush where it happened from a distance for like thirty seconds lmao) and said they couldn't find it, so no finger saving for me. The EMT's knocked me out with some seriously good shit and drove me to the hospital. At that point the shock settled, I went in and out of consciousness. At the ER they gave me local anesthesia by shoving a needle in my mangled finger and shooting some thick liquid in there... THAT was the most pain I ever felt in my life so far. But right away, just milliseconds after, no pain at all.

In this moment I actually got to look at it in depth for the first time. It looked gnarly. Most of my skin and flesh was gone but the two bigger bones (wich where astonishingly bright white) of the finger as well as the main tendon where still intact. I could actually move my fucking bone-finger!! So I did just that, opening and closing my hand in awe, observing how exactly 'the strings work'. It was fascinating! 

They also took some pictures and I will try to message managed to message the clinic for the photos of the degloved finger because... YES. You can find the link to those photos at the end of this post.

They gave me another local anesthetic, for the operation, this time numbing the whole arm. They couldn't put me under since I've already eaten that day.

Even though my finger couldn't be 'saved' since they 'couldn't find it'. I found the ring three days after the incident tho so that's cool, I guess.

I asked if I was allowed to 'keep' the bones they removed but the doctor said: "That's not allowed, since it's a bio hazard." (Stupid German laws).

They send me home the next day and I got a cute little tattoo after everything healed up nice. (A little pair of scissors on a dashed line, because I'm funny like that.)

When I got home I picked up my dog from my friends apartment (yes, the same friend) and the first thing I said to him was "pew pew" while doing the Spider-Man 'web shooting gesture' with my hand.

I don't really have many long lasting difficulties in regards to the missing finger except for occasional phantom pain or the even worse phantom itch. Both of which mainly occur when the weather switches.

I'm a pretty positive person, so I'm just thankful that it was only one finger and a unessential one, on my non-dominant hand at that.

All in all I'd give the situation a solid 7 /10.

Pos. (+)

The hospital food was good.

The staff was nice.

Neg. (-)

I'm still a little salty about not being able to take my own bones home

I physically cringe every time I think about the incident. (Wich is annoying because I basically live next to the place it happened and have to see that darn fence daily.)

Indiff. (¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯)

The pain was manageable.

If you have any questions, feel free to ask!

And, as promised: → here ← are pictures of the injury if you're interested!

Unfortunately I don't have any better Pictures or photos, now do I have the digital files of these pictures :(

✧⁠(Sorry for any spelling errors I may have missed, English is not my first language.)✧

[atavist]

Layan Albaz is one of thousands of Palestinian children who had lost limbs in Israeli air strikes since October 7—and one of the very few evacuated to the U.S. for medical care. 

The new Atavist story, COMING TO AMERICA, is now live, and also available in Arabic:

The average U.S. public school has about 550 students. Imagine eight or nine schools in an area roughly the size of Philadelphia where every kid is missing at least one limb. Imagine also that their amputations happened alongside a torrent of other tragedies: the loss of family members, friends, neighbors, schools, houses.

Now imagine that the only hope to reclaim some semblance of physical normalcy required those children to leave home. Gaza’s sole manufacturer of prosthetics and its affiliated rehabilitation center were destroyed in an air strike months ago; as a result, many families of children who have lost limbs are trying to evacuate them so they can receive medical care abroad. Social media is brimming with their desperate pleas, and only a few get what amounts to a lucky ticket for the mortally unlucky: Countries willing to take pediatric amputees from Gaza are doing so in relatively small numbers.

The kids who do find a way out board planes for distant places. In Layan’s case, that place was more than 6,000 miles away from everything and everyone she knew.

[u10como]

Some time ago, i released this picture on my DA with a caption, later suppplemented by a short story expanding on the theme, followed by personal afterword regarding my background and themes of the story, which i now decided to present here on tumblr, all joined into one text. Once again, english isn't my first language, it was one of the first longer pieces i wrote and i'm by no means a writer, but i hope some of you might enjoy it nonetheless.

Hope you don't mind

You met her on an online forum about your favourite band and you've been messaging for a month now. She was just perfect: Funny, smart and as far as you were aware she was really interested in you, but everytime you suggested meeting somewhere, she said she's either busy or just changed the subject. Not wanting to push her, you gave her some time to think about it.

One morning a message from her, accompanied by a photo landed in your inbox:

"So...this isn't easy for me, but you seem like genuinely good person and i'd hate myself if i passed that opportunity  because i was insecure. Anyway, this is me. I had an accident with high voltage  power lines six months ago and i'm still insecure about meeting new people or going in public in general.

If you feel weird about it i completely understand and won't bother you any more, but if you still want to meet, i know a nice little pizzeria just around corner from where i live. The owner is an old family friend and could arrange a small room in the back for us so people won't stare."

Why should i mind?

As you read the message over and over, your mind is racing, filled with mixed emotions. On one hand, you're relieved – she really wants to meet you after all. On the other hand you can't help but feel sad – such a beautiful, smart girl, full of life, suffering from such horrible injury. Of course, you never for a second consider saying no to her proposition – she is still the great girl you messaged with the past month. You immediately write your reply:

„Hey! Of course i still want to meet you - i've been asking to meet you for some time now and nothing changed about that! Today, 4 in the afternoon works for you? Just tell me where the pizzeria is and i'll wait for you there.��

In few minutes she replied:

„Oh, you can't believe how relieved i am – thank you for not being weird about it! Yes, 4 will be perfect time. The pizzeria is Giovanni's on the corner of Oak and Harbor st – just tell the owner you're Jana's friend, he'll seat you in the back.“

„Well… I have a date!“ you think to yourself. Rummaging through your wardrobe you struggle to find anything you'll be satisfied with – going all dressed up like to prom seems like overkill, but you don't want to come all casual either – after all, you really care for her and you want to show it. In the end you settle for your least worn cargo pants with a T-shirt of your favorite band – you know she likes them too, so you hope this might outweigh your otherwise way too casual look. You set off early, intending to buy flowers for her. After careful consideration, you buy a nice bouquet of seven pink carnations and set off to Giovanni's.

As you step inside ten minutes before 4, the owner – a rather short, somewhat overweight yet muscular man with large hands and a bushy mustache above his friendly smile greets you. „Welcome to Giovanni's, what can i do for you?“ „Uhm, hello, i am Friend of Jana…“ „Oh, Wonderful, wonderful!“ the owner interrupts you with a big warm smile, A friend of our little Jana is my friend too! Right this way, have a seat, i'll bring you a vase for these beautiful flowers. Care for a drink in the mean time?“ „Yes, i saw you serve a homemade lemonade, please.“ you answer. „A wonderful choice! Comming right up!“ says the owner with a wide smile.

With that, the owner runs back front, returning in half a minute with your lemonade served in beautiful tall glass with pieces of lemon, lime and mint leaves, toped with a bright red straw. „Here you go! When Jana arrives i'll send her right away. Now, if i may ask, when did you two met? Pardon me for asking what might be a personal question, but you see, being friends with her parents ever since i moved here, Jana is like niece to me.“ "Oh, don't apologise, i understand.“, you reply, “To be frank, we haven't met in person yet, we were just chatting over internet and i really liked her – and the feeling was mutual, dare i presume.“ „I see“, says the owner, „So you know about…?“, He struggles to put his thoughts to words, instead just shrugs his shoulders one by one.

„Oh? Oh! Yes, i do. In fact, she told me just this morning.“ „I was just asking.“, nods the owner, „You see, our poor little Jana suffered enough. I just don't want her to leave today with a broken heart, so i wanted to make sure you won't freak out or something.“ „Oh no, don't worry, sir. I was asking her for a meetup for two weeks before i knew about it. I liked her before i knew about it and i don't see why it should change anything.“ The owner nods his head „I see. You're good in my books then, kid. I'm glad Jana found someone so understanding.“ He pats your shoulder as he says that.

There is a ring from the little bell above entrance and a young woman's voice calls:

„Uncle Tigran, are you there?“ „That's her.“ Says the owner and rushes off to the front. „My little Jana, it's so nice to see you again! Your friend is in the back, go, have some fun, and when you're ready, call me and i'll be right back to take your order.“

You stand up to greet her. In few seconds, she peeks inside the room with a shy, almost affraid look on her face. As your eyes meet, she smiles at you and you smile back. Despite the smile, her green eyes show a hint of timid apprehension. As she steps in, you notice her motionless hands, convincing at first glance, but knowing her condition, obviously artificial.

"Hi, nice to finally meet you", you say, holding the bouquet of carnations forward. "Oh, these are beautiful, thank you, she says, leaning in to smell them. Looking into her beautiful green eyes, your heart flutters with happiness.

„I'm really so glad to finally meet you in person“ you say. „You're even more beautiful than on the photo .“

„Oh, thank you. Nobody said such thing to me since…“ she pauses, looking into distance. After few seconds she breaks off, shyly attempting to smile on you. „Anyway, would you mind helping me with my coat?“ „Of course, right away“, you say as you move in to unbutton it. As you remove her coat, the prosthetic arms slip off her shoulders, staying firmly inside the coat's sleeves, letting her little arm stumps show. „Oh, sorry, i didn't mean to, let me…“ you stammer an apology.

„No, that's allright. They were meant to come off. I should have told you. I wear them on the street to avoid the stares, but they are so uncomfortable, so since here i am among people who know about me, i just hooked them to the coat so i don't have to wear them all the time.“

As you sit on the opposite sides of the table, you suddenly don't know what to say. You see she is uncomfortable, so you try to steer the conversation a different way.

„So… This pizzeria – It's named Giovanni's, but i heard you call the owner a different name?“

„Oh yes, uncle Tigran gave this establishment italian sounding name as marketing trick. He is great, though, one of the best pizza chefs around. He says he spent five years in Naples learning about local cuisine, actually. I understand you already talked with him?“

„Oh yes, he seems like really nice, but no-nonsense kind of guy. Told me you're like a niece to him and warned me not to break your heart. Not that i intended to, anyway.“, you add with a smile.

„Yeah, uncle Tigran was always nice to me. He visited me in the hospital almost daily when i…“ once again, Jana's gaze slides into distance.

„You don't have to talk about it, i'm sorry if i reminded you in any way.“ You say hastily.

„Oh? No, don't apologize, you did nothing wrong, it's just… Everything reminds me, you know? Wherever i go, whatever i do, every single thing reminds me i no longer…“ she pauses and sighs, lifting her stumps to illustrate her point before continuing „…have arms. Waking up in the morning, i try to lift my blanket and these useless things just flap about helplessly. Reaching for things, trying to do any simple task, even steadying myself when i trip – everything i do i must remind myself i can't do it the normal way anymore. If it was just one i could deal with it, but like this? I feel so helpless sometimes. The first few weeks in the hospital i had to bother the nurses everytime my nose got itchy, not to mention i had to be showered by them, just standing there, leting them clean me off. Tt felt so dehumanising... I'm sorry i spilled all this on you, it's my problem and i should deal with it myself, you don't have to think about it.“ She averts her eyes, looking down into the table.

„Jana,“, you say, „If i wanted not to think about it i wouldn't be here with you – and that would make me quite a bad person, don't you think? I came because i liked you from the moment we started chatting, long before i ever saw you. If there is anything i can do to help you – even if it would be just to stand by your side to always be able to remind you how great person you are whenever should you doubt yourself – i want to be there and help you.“

With tears welling in her eyes, Jana lifts her head „Really? You would do that for me?“

„Of course i would. You are smart, funny and stunningly beautiful. If i can help it, i wish for you never to be sad again“, you reach over the table with a tissue to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

„Thank you,“ she says, suppressing tears, visibly moved. „I never thought i would hear anybody say that to me. Come on - let's order some food, i'm starving.“

As if waiting for his cue, the owner comes in with a big smile „So, what would you want, my dears? We have excellent Margherita Napoletana, but if you're not into traditional pizza, i might do a regular New York style. Most people prefer that, anyway – beats me why, though, there's nothing better than proper traditional italian pie.“

„I think i could go for your Napoletana, Jana told me you're one of the best pizza chefs around, mister… uhh…“ „Tigran Manukyan, at your service.“, he replies with maybe a little too deep bow, „I presume our little Jana here told you about my little trick already, so why should i hide it anymore? Anyway, what can i offer you, my darling?“ says mister Manukyan turning to Jana. „I'll take the Napoletana too, uncle Tigran. And might i ask you for a glass of that lemonade too? It looks so refreshing.“ „Comming right up, my dears“, says mister Manukyan and rushes off.

„So… Where were we?“ asks Jana. „Well,“ you say, „I just told you you're beautiful and i wish to be always there for you.“

„Oh…“ she pauses, but smiles, finally seeming to be at ease, „I mean… Thank you. I'm sorry, I've became quite bad at taking compliments lately – not that i ever was any good to begin with, but now… i mean, you know, with my…“ she says, wiggling her arm stumps.

„You don't have to explain yourself, i understand“, you calm her, „Jusk know you are beautiful to me and nothing can ever change that. In fact, you were beautiful to me long before i knew how you even look, when we were still just chatting.“

Mister Manukyan comes with Jana's glass of lemonade and a pitcher „I brought you two some more for refills – on the house of course. The pizzas will be done in few minutes.“ Almost unisono, you and Jana reply „Thank you, mister Manukyan /Thank you, uncle Tigran“ and with a smile, he leaves.

„Anyway,“ says Jana, „I know you're telling me that just to make me feel better. Why would somebody as cute as you consider someone ‚beautiful‘ just from an online chat?“ she says, leaning forward for the straw and taking a sip from her drink.

„Maybe because i found a great person to talk to and spend time with.“ You reply, looking directly into Jana's eyes. „Maybe i don't care about looks that much. Maybe i think beauty is not only based on somebody's looks. And maybe, or not as much maybe as quite undeniably surely, you are actually beautiful even if i would step so low as to judge you just by your looks. You have pretty face, beautiful hair and the most captivating emerald eyes i've ever seen. But even without that, you are above all the brave, smart girl i came to know and love – and nothing can change that.“

„Brave? How am i brave? I spent half a year hiding from world, almost never leaving my room unless i had to.“ Replied Jana.

„Yet you came here and invited me.“, you say, “You overcame your anxiety and reached out. That alone was braver than most people would ever hope to be. All i ask of you is to believe in yourself as i believe in you. You are the bravest girl in know and i love you for that.“

„I love you too“, she says, hint of tears in her eyes once again as she shifts closer to you with her arm stumps outstretched. Understanding the hint, you hug her, gently stroking her hair with your hand.

„Oh, young love, what a beautiful sight!“ says mister Manukyan as he comes in with your pizzas in each hand „Here is your food, my dears, Bari Akhorzhak to you both!“

„Uncle Tigran,“ says Jana, lifting her head from your shoulders, „this was the first time ever i heard you speaking Armenian in your pizzeria.“

„Well, i figured i might as well drop the act, my dear.“ said mister Manukyan with a smile. „Pizza is my passion and my living, but i'm no Italian and never will be. Maybe it's time for me to fly my true colors with pride. People come here for good food, not for fake Italian. Of course, a name change would be required, then, but i hope people would come nonetheless. After all ‚Uncle Tigran's‘ has a nice ring to it, no? And i might as well put some of my old family recipes on the menu. Next time you come, i'll make you the best Lahmajoun you ever had, i promise!“

„That would be really great, mister Manukyan“, you say with enthusiasm, „I'm looking forward to it.“

As mister Manukyan leaves with a big, warm smile, you and Jana sit to your pizzas. "Do you need any help?" you ask. "No." says Jana almost too quickly. "Well yes, probably, but i shouldn't. I need to do this on my own - i mean, there won't always be somebody around to help me, but i will be always armless, you know?" You notice her suddenly easing up, as if adressing her condition out loud, without euphemisms or hesitating helped her finally come to terms with it. "Would you mind helping me taking off my shoes, though?"

"Of course", you say as you kneel and gently lift her right foot in your hand, taking off her shoe and sock, then doing the same with her left foot. "Thank you. You're a real sweetheart" she says, lifting her feet up to the tabletop, awkwardly picking the fork with her left foot and knife with the right. As you sit on the opposite side of table, you can't take your eyes off her while she cuts a small piece of her pizza and using the fork in her left food brings it to her mouth with a great effort.

"Oooh!" she smiles with pleasure as she savors the food in her mouth, "I almost forgot how great uncle Tigran's pizzas are! You should eat too while it's hot." Taking a bite from your own pizza, you must agree - this is certainly the best pizza you ever had. As you both eat, you notice Jana's movements becoming ever so slightly more fluent and relaxed with each bite. you can't help but stop and look at her, smiling.

"What? Is something on my face?" she asks as she starts rubbing her nose with her right stump. "No, it's just... When you came you were all tense and apprehensive, but now you seem to ease up." "I just know i'm in a good company", she says, shrugging her shoulders, "I mean, yeah, i knew you are funny and kind from the first time we started chatting, but now, you made me feel... appreciated, normal. Like i matter. I... probably just needed to hear that, you know? Like... from somebody outside of my family." "I see," you say, "But how come you weren't so shy when we were chatting on the forum?"

"I don't know, i guess the anonymity played a part, you know?" she ponders, "Like - on the internet, nobody sees me. Nobody knows. There's no way to tell whether the person on the other side is beautiful, ugly, thin, fat or uses toes to write. That probably helped me there."

"Tell me about it," you say. "Sometimes i feel anxious even making a phonecall, let alone talking to strange people in person!" "You?" she smiles "No way! You seem so cool and confident. After all, you asked me out first, i would have never had the guts to do it myself without you."

"The same magic of the anonymous internet as in your case" you reply, "And if i somehow seem confident now, it's only because i feel like we known each other for ages. It's hard to describe, but i feel like we were meant to be together, you know?"

setting down the knife, she extends her right foor over the table towards you, gently stroking your face with her big toe. Smiling, you take her foot in your hands, planting a soft kiss on her ankle. She giggles "That tickles! But... it feels nice." Kising her foot once again, you let go of it, looking deep into her green eyes with a warm smile. "So, are you up for a little stroll after we finish our pizzas?", you ask her. "Gladly!", she replies as she puts another piece i her mouth. "Do you have any specific place in mind?" "Well," you say, "I was thinking of just going for a walk, but if you want, we might go to the gazebo on the cliff above the city and watch the sunset together?" "Oh, romantic!" she exclaims with excitement. "I like that."

When you finish your pizzas, mister Manukyan comes in to clean up, almost as if he was waiting for his cue. "Enjoyed your food, my dears?" he asks, "Everything was up to your liking? "Of yourse, uncle Tigran," responds Jana with a smile, "I always loved your cooking."

As you leave Jana in the back to pay for the food, mister Manukyan says:

"Thank you for everything, kid. Jana really needed someone to just be there for her. She used to visit me every week, but since her accident she just moved back to her parent's house and stoped going out. I knew what she was going through, but i had no idea how to help. Turns out, all she really needed was for someone outside of her family to just treat her with love and respect and you did just that. I won't lie to you - i doubt if stuff would be just *poof* and everything is okay now, people just don't work like that and i am sure there is still a lot ahead of Jana before she's back to the cheerful self i remember from before her accident, but i feel like you really helped her make a big progress today. Once again, thank you for that."

"It was my pleasure, mister Manukyan." you replied, "She is great girl and i fell for her ever since we started chatting." "I'm glad to hear that. And please, you can call me Tigran", he says with a smile, "Or Uncle Tigran, whole town will know me like that anyway soon, at least i hope."

After shaking hands with mister Manukyan, you return to Jana, who is almost prepared to leave. As you help her tie her shoes loose enough so she can slip them on and off at will, you go fetch her coat.

"No, you can leave that here,", she says, "i'll talk with uncle Tigran and ask him to hide it somewhere so i can pick it up later."

"Are you sure? Your arms are in there, don't you want to put them on?"

"Not really. As i said, they are heavy and uncomfortable. Also, they are purely cosmetic, so aside from keeping people from staring, they are pretty much useless.", she said. "And if that means people will stare, then so be it. I need to get used to showing in public and i thought why not now, when i have you by my side?" "As you wish," you reply. "Shall we go, then?"

"Okay. I hope you don't mind being seen in public with a disabled girl"

"Being seen with beautiful smart girl i love? Why shuld i mind?"

A little afterword is due.

This story, while obviously coming from place of my attraction to women with, let's say, non-standard physique, in this particular case bilateral arm amputees, is a departure from my usual style. My usual character background snippets revolve around happier circumstances - my characters usualy lose their limbs voluntarily, non-permanently or in some obscure magic way, which, while it can't be assured to be temporary, has the peculiar side effect of making them weirdly okay with the changes.

This is not the case. In reality, a limb loss is a powerful traumatic experience to vast majority of people. Overcoming such trauma might take weeks, months, years even, and some people may never recover mentally. I felt like this point was worth mentioning and keeping in mind.

As for overall themes of this story, the main themes are hope, acceptance and dealing with adversity. In that sense, Jana's condition is a stand-in for number of problems which might cause a person to lose their sense of self-worth and shut themselves off from the world. If you are suffering from any condition causing you to feel that way, remember this: You Matter. You are loved. And while in real life, recovery will certainly not come as quickly as for Jana in my story, the point illustrated still stands: Some battles are not meant to be fought alone. Sometimes all you need is to find someone who will help you carrying your burden. Remember, that leaning on your friends in hard times isn't weakness. On the contrary, knowing when to ask for help is major strength. And if you do not suffer from any such problems, then please, be mindful of those who do. Be kind, accepting and unconditionally loving as our unnamed protagonist. After all, the protagonist is reffered as You, because they are supposed to represent the best in every single one of us. Man, woman, trans or non-binary, if you're reading this, i hope you will always be as unconditionally accepting as the protagonist is to Jana.

Some elements of the setting sort of come from my own experience. The overall setting of my stories is this usual culturally neutral americano-european mishmash, made for easier accesibility for wider audience, but certain characters or places might carry something from my personal experience. As some of you might know, i am Czech, so i decided to write Jana as one too - even though this might not be really apparent from anything beside her name, that is her intended nationality. Whether you imagine her as local, thinking of this story's setting as somewhere in Czechia or as immigrant to a foreign country of your choice is up to you. Also, the character of Tigran Manukyan is losely based on my own experience: Where i'm from, a lot of pizzerias are actually owned by people from Armenia, Georgia or Turkey and a lot of their owners are very similar to "uncle Tigran" both in their appearance and in their cheerful, friendly way of greeting their customers. Uncle Tigran's character arc is also about acceptance: Accepting own cultural heritage, because every culture is worth preserving.

So, this is the end of my little PSA. Respect each other, be tolerant to one another and try to help those whose life dealt them the worse hand.

[yardsards]

concept: grizzled badass action hero with a missing body body part

for a long time it's never explained how they lost that body part. maybe everyone's too intimidated to ask them. or maybe people do ask and they tell different, increasingly outlandish story every time. sword fight. rescuing a baby from a burning building. tortured for information. caught in a bear trap and had to gnaw it off.

eventually it's revealed that nah, there was no accident, it's congenital

[publicdomaindisabledcharacters]

Oswald the rabbit is public domain, and now, trans and a cane-user! In the first short film, Oswald has a detachable leg, which I've decided is a prosthetic :)

Here's a link to the HD version of this file on the web archive for you to download and do whatever you want with. Literally anything!

You can also buy this design from my Threadless store!

[ID: A digital drawing of Oswald the rabbit, a black and white cartoon rabbit on a white background. Oswald has black fur, white shorts, and a white face, with round black eyes and nose. In his left hand, which we see on the right, Oswald is holding a sign that reads, "Disabled trans rights". In his right hand, which we see on the left, Oswald holds a cane with a black tip. Oswald's chest has two top surgery scars from a double mastectomy, and his left leg below the knee has a curved line going across it to mark a prosthetic shin and foot. End ID.]

[bambiraptorx]

i think the funny thing about the early days of my art journey is that my equivalent of the "drawing character with hair over one eye so i don't have to draw the other eye" thing was that sometimes i would do stuff like "i don't wanna draw this character's other hand so they're an amputee now :)"

[babblingfishes]

Tired of seeing this disabled person get harassed for her PSA, so I'm making a separate post:

TW for medical horror/abuse in Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom

In her words: "At the very start of the game, Link is injured, and then wakes up to be told that he has had someone else's dead arm grafted onto him, without consultation or consent, as a 'necessity' to 'save his life'. [The game] lingers on and highlights it and its difference from his body constantly."

(If it is not already obvious why this type of non-consensual medical procedure would be traumatic, it may also benefit you to know that disabled people are sometimes given non-consensual medical procedures in false necessity, and that many real-life upper limb amputees have a higher quality of life one-handed than with a graft.)

[emberglowfox]

back on the oc grind. its got robots now

[pepawspring]

The Gamble of Flesh

This was a commission! (client wishes to remain anonymous). If you’re interested in commissioning me for a fic/drawing, feel free to reach out —commissions are open!

Wordcount: 2169

In the heart of the crumbling metropolis of Perditia, life revolved around two things: survival and risk. The city had long abandoned any semblance of law and order, and its people had turned to the one constant they could control- luck. From back-alley dice games to extravagant underground casinos, gambling had become the heartbeat of this dystopian society. The stakes had grown so high that money had become obsolete in certain circles. People were betting things far more valuable- time, loyalty, and even pieces of themselves.

Sera leaned back in a worn leather chair, the dim glow of neon signs from the casino's walls casting faint shadows across their sharp features. They had been here for hours, sitting at the most exclusive table in the room- a space reserved for those who had the audacity to wager their very existence. Tonight's game was the highest of all stakes, and for Sera, it was just another night.

Across the table sat their opponent, an older man with a hawk-like face and eyes that glistened with the kind of hunger that came from years of greed and thrill-seeking. The man smirked, pushing his pile of chips forward with slow deliberation.

"Raise," he said, his voice as gravelly as the streets outside. "I think we both know what's on the line here."

Sera studied the cards in their hand- a decent set, but not unbeatable. They looked at the pot on the table, filled not with mere currency but markers representing each player's most valuable assets. Time, freedom, secrets, body parts—all things considered tradable in Perditia's world. The air around the table was thick with tension as the other players, spectators in this brutal game, watched in eerie silence.

With a nonchalant shrug, Sera tossed in their final chip, pushing the pot even higher. The glint in their opponent's eyes grew more vicious. He licked his lips, sensing victory.

"Well, well, Sera. Do you even know what you're playing for anymore?" the man asked, leaning forward. "You've already bet your money, your secrets. Now all that's left is something more... personal."

Without missing a beat, Sera gave a half-smile. "I bet my left leg."

The crowd that had gathered around the table stirred, murmurs rippling through the room. Betting a limb wasn't unheard of, but it was rare, even in a city like this. The man across from Sera raised an eyebrow, as if surprised by the casualness of the offer. He leaned back, crossing his arms.

"Your leg, huh? I wonder how you'll get around without it." he chuckled darkly. "But fine. Accepted."

The cards were revealed. Sera's heart didn't even race when they saw their hand- three of a kind. Not bad, but the old man had a full house. A resounding sigh passed through the crowd as they realized Sera had lost. The man gave a slow, malicious grin, collecting the winnings.

Sera simply leaned back in their chair, exhaling through their nose. There wasn't even a hint of hesitation in their expression.

"You really are something, Sera," the man said, shaking his head in mock admiration. "Losing a limb over a card game, and you barely bat an eye."

Sera's smirk deepened. "What's life without a little excitement?"

And right before they decided to cut off Sera's leg, a memory flashed in their mind, vivid and searing.

Sera had been nine years old, hiding behind a crumbling brick wall in a narrow alley, the sharp scent of damp trash clinging to the air. They'd been out on the streets, scavenging scraps of food like any other day in Perditia, when they heard it- raised voices, the unmistakable tension of a gamble gone wrong.

Curiosity had always been one of Sera's weaknesses, even back then, before they learned how deadly it could be. They peered around the corner, eyes wide, barely breathing, as the scene unfolded.

There were four of them, hunched over a makeshift table with cards strewn across it. Two were thugs, the kind that looked like they lived for violence, their hands twitching toward the pistols at their hips. The third was the dealer, calm and unflinching, flipping the cards with the ease of someone who had watched too many people lose too much. But it was the fourth man- sweating, frantic, and desperate, who held Sera's attention.

The man had gambled something important. His clothes were tattered, and his hands trembled as he laid down his final cards. The thugs laughed, low and cruel, as they threw their winning hands onto the table. The man's face drained of color. He didn't even have a chance to beg for his life before the guns were out.

The gunshot rang out like a hammer falling, the sharp crack echoing off the alley walls. Sera flinched but didn't move from their hiding spot. They watched, frozen, as the man's body slumped to the ground, his blood pooling beneath him, soaking into the dirt.

The thugs didn't care. They stood, their boots crunching on the gravel, and one of them spat on the ground next to the man's lifeless body. The dealer pocketed the winnings, a stack of blood-soaked bills and a rusted keychain, and the three of them walked away like nothing had happened.

Sera stayed hidden, crouched behind that wall for what felt like hours, their heart pounding in their chest. They had always known that gambling was a way of life in Perditia, that it could turn deadly in an instant. But this- this was the first time Sera had seen death dealt so casually, a life extinguished over a hand of cards. It was a lesson burned into their memory, a moment that would define them in the years to come.

When the coast was clear, Sera had crept forward, their small frame tense as they approached the body. The man's eyes were still open, staring up at the darkening sky, empty. Sera stared back, not daring to touch him, but unable to look away. This could be anyone, they thought. This could be me.

The memory faded, but the lingering weight of it stayed with Sera as they blinked back to the present, seated in a dimly lit underground room where the stakes had escalated far beyond money. They had gambled much since that day, but never forgotten the grim reality of what a lost bet could cost.

The man standing before them now, the one with the blade poised to take Sera's leg, was no different from the thugs in that alley. He had no emotion, no remorse. This was just another part of the game for him.

Sera met his gaze, a cold smirk tugging at their lips. They wouldn't beg. They wouldn't flinch. Losing a leg was nothing compared to what they had seen, what they had survived. This was the cost of playing, and Sera had long ago accepted that everything had a price.

The aftermath was handled swiftly. Perditia wasn't a place for mercy or second chances. They had seen this sort of thing before- losing was part of the game, and the consequences were non-negotiable.

Sera stood, offering their left leg with the same grace they showed at the table. No one spoke as a medic was called over, equipped with tools designed for the grim task. The room was eerily quiet as the procedure was set up, and yet Sera remained as calm as if they were getting a tooth pulled.

The old man watched with interest, his cruel smile still etched into his face. "You know, Sera, most people would beg for their life right now."

"I'm not most people," Sera replied coolly.

The medic made quick work of the amputation, their tools sharp and efficient. Sera barely winced as the blade met skin and bone, severing their leg just below the knee. Blood was staunched immediately, and a high-tech bandage was wrapped around the stump to prevent infection. The whole thing was over in minutes.

When it was done, Sera looked down at where their leg had been, a blank expression on their face. They tested their balance for a moment, then gave a wry smile as if nothing had changed.

"Well, that's one way to lose weight," they quipped, their voice dripping with dark humor.

The old man let out a barking laugh. "Unbelievable. You really don't care, do you?"

Sera shrugged, hopping slightly as they adjusted to their new reality. "It's just a leg. I'll manage."

The crowd, stunned by the casualness of the whole affair, slowly began to disperse. The casino went back to its usual hum of games and chatter, as if nothing extraordinary had happened. In Perditia, this was just another night.

———

Days passed, and life in the city continued as usual. Sera navigated the streets with a crutch, moving through the bustling crowds with practiced ease. They had already scheduled an appointment with a back-alley mechanic to craft a prosthetic, one that would suit their lifestyle- something durable, lightweight, and, most importantly, easy to use in a fight.

The loss of their leg hadn't slowed them down much, but there were, of course, adjustments. Sera couldn't chase down leads or run through alleyways with the same speed as before, and the constant phantom pain gnawing at where their leg used to be was an annoying reminder of the cost of their gamble.

But did they regret it? Not for a second.

Sera had always believed that survival in Perditia required more than just luck or skill, it required the ability to accept loss, to embrace it even. They had grown up watching people fall apart when they lost something important, whether it was money, power, or a piece of themselves. Sera refused to be one of those people. To them, life was a game, and losing was just part of it.

One evening, Sera met up with an old friend, a fellow gambler named Lila, who had been out of town during the infamous bet. They met at a rooftop bar, the neon lights of the city flickering below them as they shared drinks and conversation.

"I heard about what happened," Lila said, her tone a mix of concern and curiosity. "You lost your leg in a card game?"

Sera sipped their drink, nodding. "Yep. Got outplayed. Happens."

Lila stared at them for a moment, her brow furrowed. "You don't seem too bothered by it."

Sera shrugged, a smirk tugging at their lips. "It's just a leg, Lila. It's not like I was using it to win any races."

Lila blinked, then chuckled despite herself. "You're serious?"

"Absolutely," Sera leaned back in their chair "Worst part is, I can't even blame it on a bad hand. I knew the odds and still went all in. Guess my leg's got better survival instincts than I do."

"You're insane," Lila shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "Most people would be devastated."

Sera grinned. "Most people don't know how to lose. Besides, I always wanted a leg up in the game. Just didn't think it'd be this literal."

Lila groaned. "Please stop."

Sera's grin widened. "You walked right into that one. Well, I didn't."

Lila covered her face with her hands, laughing now. "God, you're impossible."

Sera leaned forward, their expression softening slightly. "But seriously, the way I see it, the only way to survive in this city is to roll with the punches. If you get too attached to anything- money, power, limbs- you're setting yourself up for failure. I lost a leg, sure, but I'm still in the game. That's what counts."

Lila considered that for a moment, then raised her glass. "To surviving."

Sera clinked their glass against hers. "To surviving."

———

Weeks passed, and Sera's prosthetic was ready- a sleek, metal limb that hummed softly with every step. It wasn't perfect, but it worked. More importantly, it didn't slow them down. They were back to their old routines, navigating the city's underworld, placing bets, trading information, and occasionally pulling off a heist or two.

The people of Perditia quickly learned that Sera was just as dangerous as ever, if not more so. The loss of their leg hadn't weakened them- it had made them sharper, more focused. Sera wore the prosthetic like a badge of honor, a reminder that they had risked everything and come out the other side.

In the end, Sera's life hadn't changed much. They still gambled, still took risks, still lived on the edge. But now, when people looked at them, they saw someone who had stared down loss and shrugged it off with a smirk. Sera had become a living legend in Perditia- a testament to what it meant to survive in a world that demanded everything.

Because in Perditia, it wasn't about what you had. It was about what you were willing to lose.

And Sera had already proven that they were willing to lose everything.

[modern-inheritance]

Modern Inheritance: Surprise!/Name (Post War)

(A/N: uuuuh, I didn't expect this to reach over 1k words so...I guess it's a fic. I wanted to continue on the babby Fírnen train a little, and officially put down in writing why Islanzadí required Arya to be a crown regent until 2-3 years post war {why Arya and Firnen didn't leave with Eragon and Saphira. I think like a year passes between end of the war and them leaving either way, yeah?}. To put it simply, Iz survived Barst's blow, but it destroyed so much of her arm and shoulder that she lost it at the shoulder joint. Working with Glen helped a lot, but it takes Rhunön a good while to develop, fit and test a prosthetic for her, and it takes Iz a longer time to heal physically and mentally, adapting to this new world as well as her new arm.

But this? This is mostly just cuteness imo. Oh and it's like a sentence, but I'm exploring further effects that use of the Name has. It's not a long term effect but Murtagh, Eragon and Arya all feel/have effects from being in proximity/using it. Cheers!)

~~~

Arya stood outside her mother’s room, staring at the door. It wasn’t without some irony that she was the one there, rather than the other way around. She was sure the scene had played out hundreds of times at her own rooms, Islanzadí waiting for her daughter to shake off whatever effects the war and imprisonment had on her psyche.

She didn’t knock. Just pushed her way in. Shredded the wards the former queen had set to prevent just such a thing from happening with a deft trailing of her fingers. The Name still lingered in her blood, pulsing with each heartbeat. Eragon had reported similar effects, the unintentional reworking of magic at barely a thought. It would have to be studied, but for now…it had uses.

“Go away.” 

Islanzadí’s voice was low and raw. Even from where she sat in the wicker chair with her back to her daughter, Arya could tell she had been crying again. Staring out the hazy half drawn curtains, her remaining hand curled limply in her lap. The blanket around her shoulders hid the new slope her right side ended in, the sudden drop at the end of her collarbone. 

Arya closed the door behind her. “That’s my line.” She couldn’t help the wry tilt to her lips. How odd it was to be on this end of things. “And I know you’ve been asking about where I’ve been.” The grin fell. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have disappeared like that. Especially now.”

Silence hung heavy between them. 

“I’ve been staying at the Crags. Cleaning the place up.” Arya shifted on her feet. It wasn’t exactly true, but it wasn’t a lie either. “I want you to come by and see it.”

“I don’t want to.” Islanzadí’s voice was hollow. “Another time.”

Her daughter sighed. “Glen said you haven’t left your rooms for a week.”

“And you would know that if you ever thought me worthy to speak to.” The sharp barb slapped back. Arya took it without complaint.

Instead she tried a gentle prod. “You need to keep moving. It’ll be worse if you don’t.” The former queen snorted. “Look, mum, I am sorry I didn’t come. There was…something happened. And I wanted to share with you, I did. I still do. But I thought…” The words felt dry on her tongue. “I thought you’d come out. I didn’t think you would need me here. And that was wrong.” 

Islanzadí shifted slightly. It was only to curl in on herself even more than before. “There is nothing out there that I wish to see.”

“You’re being stubborn.”

“Go away, Arya.” 

Arya sighed again. “No. I told you, there is something that I need to share.”

“Go. Away.” There was a growl in the voice this time. Finally. Some kind of emotion. “Leave!”

Despite the anger in her mother’s voice, Arya was smiling. She knelt in the moss and carefully lowered her bag to the floor, shutting the curtains with a word. Islanzadí cursed, but the younger elf paid her no mind as she tugged the drawstring open and helped the bag’s occupant disentangle himself.

‘You’re getting a bit big for this bag, hm?’ A soft pulse of pride at his growth, mirth that he was again being transported as he had when he was inside an egg. ‘Be gentle with her. She’s hurting.’ The nearly two week old hatchling stretched his neck out and bumped his snout against his Rider’s nose.

“Don’t scream.” Was the only warning Arya gave before she let the little dragon clamber all four paws onto her clasped together fists and forearms and helped him launch into the air.

He sailed. Up, over, and promptly folded emerald wings and dropped right into the unsuspecting Islanzadí’s lap.

Islanzadí jolted. Her mouth opened, about to yell a scathing retort at her daughter for being so damn infuriating as to throw something at her, especially when she damn well knew she couldn’t catch anything right then, let alone somethin–

Green. Scales. A set of wings flared out for balance as little talons grasped at her covered knees. Amber eyes, bright, inquisitive, eager, proud, meeting her own.

Dragon. 

That. 

That was a dragon. 

There was a dragon in her lap. 

A small one. A small dragon. A small green dragon. Purring. 

There was a baby dragon in Islanzadí’s lap and her brain was no longer thinking of the feeling of her clenched right hand, her aching shoulder, the new ways her body moved and there was a dragon in her fucking lap and it was flicking the tip of its tail and sniffing her remaining arm and now he was looking straight at her.

A wheeze left the former queen’s chest. 

“What the fuck?” 

The hatchling burbled at her, a big, toothy grin that was somehow oh so familiar. Oh, that was not the first time he had heard that word, no ma’am. 

“Wh…” the words came tumbling out. Elation and shock and even a bit of fear. “Who’re…? Who did you…?”

A pair of hands filled her vision. Just as familiar as that silly little pointy smile. Scuffed, scarred, worked, her daughter’s hands. 

The left palm gleamed with an otherworldly silver mark.

The beaming smile was evident in Arya’s voice. “Surprise!” 

And the emerald hatchling clambered up, careful of her right side, and got nose to nose with his Rider’s mother. 

‘Surprise!’ 

Then, with the proudest puff of his chest, the little hatchling sat back on his haunches. He was getting so good at his words!

‘Fuck!’ 

There was a long silence.

Islanzadí blinked. “Well…that settles any doubt, then.”

“String Bean!” Arya sounded exasperated even through her thoughts. “I told you, you can only say that word when I say that word!”

He looked particularly smug. ‘Fuck.’

Arya dropped her face into a hand. “Fuck.”

“String Bean?” The new Rider peeked from between her fingers. “Please tell me–”

“It’s not permanent.” Arya trailed around the wicker chair and sat with her back braced against the wall below the window. “Actually, it’s part of why we’re here.” She opened her arms slightly in invitation. The dragon dove off her mother’s lap with a chirp and pounced headfirst into the woman’s sternum, eliciting a cough. “He needs a name.”

Islanzadí leaned back and rested her chin on her remaining fist, brows furrowed. “Brom is still here, is he not? Surely he has a wider–”

“We already tried.” Her daughter cut her off. “He didn’t like any of them. The…others. That Eragon left. They didn’t have any he liked either. Ow.” Arya winced at the hatchling’s claws pricking her thigh as he got comfortable. He was certainly growing at a decent pace. 

“Why me, then?” The former queen’s eyes suddenly narrowed. “I cannot allow you to name him after your father.”

“No, no. He’s not got the same…hm, the same presence as he had. He’s different.” Arya rested a hand in the gap of the little one’s spines as he finally settled. “I wanted to ask you before I told him the name of Great Aunt Tenari’s dragon.”

Islanzadí’s eyes brightened at the memory. Her aunt, her father’s sister, had been chosen as a Rider centuries ago. Tenari had been a streak of lightning, a force of nature, in the order’s ranks, driven and more boisterous than many elves dared even during the more freeing time of the golden age’s midpoint. Her dragon had been much the same, a massive teal male with scattered groupings of deep emerald scales that peppered his body like green stars. 

The woman would never forget the feeling of looking into one of his great eyes when she was little. The sunlight that seemed to radiate from their depths, the warmth and booming, rich timbre of his mental voice that felt like laying safe in summer fields of grass and flowers in the Beor mountains, the towering peaks looming above. 

He had been a sight to behold. And even more, he was the perfect companion, the perfect match of energy and light and presence for Tenari. Both so wild and so free, so soaked in the sun and open to the world that they would so eagerly carry on their shoulders if asked.

“I think it would honor them, Tenari and Fírnen both, if this little one wanted to carry on his legacy.” The tilt of Islanzadí’s lips felt almost wistful. If only they could see what had become of their family now, on this very day.

“Fírnen.” Arya tested the name on her tongue, the smile that it brought. How she had yearned to meet him, meet Tenari, after seeing the few fairths that had been saved. She begged Oromis and Glaedr for stories of their adventures and was always disappointed at the meager handful that survived. Tenari and Fírnen, not only Oromis and Glaedr, Brom and his beloved Saphira, had been one of the driving forces for her to take up the fight so young. 

The name felt right. But it was not her decision to make.

“Well?” Arya looked down at the glittering emerald bundle in her lap. “What do you think? Fírnen? As your name?”

The hatchling mulled over it. She could feel him turning the name over in his mind, examining it from different angles. A thread reached out and studied her memories surrounding the name, the fairths she had seen of the teal dragon and her great aunt. 

A soft purr of acceptance vibrated through Arya’s hand draped in the hollow of his spines. The dragon gave a sharp nod, the thoughtful glint still in his eye. ‘Fírnen. Good name. I am Fírnen.’ He nodded again, firm and sure. ‘Good shit.’

“What on earth have you done to him?” Islanzadí’s voice held no anger, just dry amusement.

Arya ignored the comment and lifted Fírnen up, elated. “Fírnen!” She beamed, bright laughter bubbling from her throat. “You have a name now!” Smoke drifted from the sides of her partner’s parted jaws, the same bright beams of sunlight dancing in amber eyes. “Arya and Fírnen! One of the best Dragon and Rider pairs to walk Alagaësia!” Arya laughed again. “No, to Fly! Fírnen, one day we will fly together! That’s incredible! Flying! You and me!” 

Islanzadí couldn’t help her own smile. This. This is what she had wanted to see after so many years. Her daughter, happy. Looking to a future without war. So much had been lost, she had wondered if she would ever see that smile again. 

And even though she could still feel her right hand clenched in an unyielding fist, her elbow bent and shoulder braced against Barst’s blow…Islanzadí knew in that moment, this fleeting piece of time and memory shared with her daughter, her daughter the Rider and the dragon Fírnen. Everything had been gained. 

[callaeidae3]

Whumptober2023 Day 25: "They're not breathing"

After Kyle rescues Yuuki from the river, and from drowning

[emophil1981]

Taylor’s limbless dream

The fluorescent lights above buzzed like disturbed bees as Taylor’s eyes fluttered open. The room came into focus, but everything felt foreign, surreal, like stepping into a dream he never wanted to wake from. His heart raced, an inexplicable mixture of excitement and confusion. His head was still foggy, remnants of a turbulent sleep wrapping around his consciousness like a warm blanket. He blinked a few times and scanned the room, absorbing the white sheets, the IV drip, the monitors beeping rhythmically.

“Where...?” he murmured, his voice a hoarse whisper. Instinctively, he tried to push himself up, but the sudden realization that something was drastically different hit him like a thunderclap. The bed felt both familiar and strange beneath him, an unsettling cocoon that held him captive.

He glanced down at where his arms and legs should have been. His eyes widened, then sparkled with an unbridled joy that he hadn’t anticipated feeling. Instead of limbs, he saw four soft stumps, smooth and unblemished, like two little logs protruding from his shoulders and two beneath his hips. The realization washed over him like a refreshing wave of euphoria, crashing against the shores of his mind and sweeping away the last remnants of confusion.

“Oh my God,” he breathed, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “I really did it. I’m... I’m free!” His voice trembled, imbued with disbelief and thrill. His happiness was palpable, radiating through the sterile air like sunlight breaking through clouds after a storm.

A nurse entered the room, her kindly eyes widening with concern as she noticed his sudden emotional outburst. “Taylor, sweetheart, are you okay?”

“Okay?” he echoed, laughter bubbling up from within him. “I’m more than okay! I’m amazing! Look at me!” He wiggled his stumps, the motion stirring his veins with adrenaline. “I’m a quadruple amputee! This... this is incredible!”

The nurse's brows furrowed slightly, uncertainty flickering across her face. “I know this was unexpected, but you just experienced a major change. It’s natural to feel... overwhelmed.”

“No, no,” Taylor interjected, his voice gleeful. “You don’t understand. I’ve always wanted this! I prayed for it, wished for it—how strange does that sound?” He chuckled, adjusting his position to get a better view of his beautiful stumps. “But this is everything I hoped for! I finally feel truly vulnerable. I’m complete!”

The nurse’s expression softened, her voice becoming gentle. “I’m glad you’re feeling this way, but it’s important to remember that your mind and body are adjusting. It’s okay to have mixed feelings about everything.”

Taylor nodded, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “Mixed feelings? Not me! I get to be someone I’ve always admired. I’m living my dream!”

Suddenly, his laugh echoed through the room, carrying with it an energy that surprised even him. He envisioned life unfolding differently now—people would see him not just for who he was but as a symbol of his desires, his liberation.

As he marveled at his new reality, his thoughts raced through the possibilities. Would he be treated differently? Would men look at him the way he’d always looked at those beautiful amputee models in magazines? A shiver of anticipation danced down his spine.

“Can you help me get up?” he asked, eyes shining as he directed his gaze to the nurse. “I want to feel this new me fully. The world has never seen a man as fabulous as I’m going to be!”

The nurse hesitated but ultimately nodded, an amused smile breaking through her professional demeanor. “Okay, let’s see what we can do. Just remember to take it slow.”

With her assistance, Taylor shifted, tilting his body slightly. He could feel the soft fabric of the sheets beneath him, a sensory thrill that wrapped around him with warmth. Each movement sent ripples of elation through him—this newfound freedom was intoxicating!

As he lifted and maneuvered his stumps, a combination of tears and laughter flowed freely from him. Every little bump and scrape of his body against the world held significant meaning now. It’s as though he was finally peeling back layers of life he had worn for too long, and what lay beneath was radiant and vibrant.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe this is my life!” he exclaimed, emotions overflowing. “I’m vulnerable, I’m open, and I’m ready for whatever comes next!”

In that moment, he felt a profound connection with himself, a joy that radiated from every part of his being. He was excited to meet the world as he had always wished—bold, unapologetic, and completely free.

The soft hum of the hospital room was now a backdrop to Taylor’s bubbling enthusiasm. He had pulled himself closer to the edge of the bed, gripping the sheet with what little momentum he could muster from his stumps. Each attempt to shift his body brought a new wave of exhilaration; he was reveling in the extraordinary sensations of movement, as if every inch he conquered was a victory in itself.

The nurse, whose name he had learned was Claire, returned, this time escorted by a physical therapist named Marcus. He was tall, with kind eyes and an approachable demeanor that immediately put Taylor at ease.

“Hey there, Taylor!” Marcus greeted with a warm smile. “I hear you’re ready to get moving. How are you feeling?”

“Amazing!” Taylor beamed, practically vibrating with excitement. “I’ve always wanted to see what it’s like to navigate the world this way! I mean, it’s beautiful. I can’t stop smiling.”

Marcus exchanged a quick glance with Claire, noting the infectious energy radiating from Taylor. “That’s a great attitude to have. We’re going to start you on your journey to independence, but keep in mind that the first step won't involve walking, per se.”

“Of course! I can’t wait,” Taylor said, his eyes sparkling like stars. “What’s next?”

“Today, we’ll focus on the wheelchair, which you’ll be able to control with a joystick,” Marcus explained, guiding Taylor through the plan. “You’ll steer using your chin; it’s a great way to get around and it will give you the ability to maneuver wherever you want.”

“Seriously? I get to drive my own little chariot?” Taylor’s laughter brightened the room, bubbling up from his core. “Let's do this! I’m ready for my royal ride!”

Claire went to retrieve the wheelchair, and Taylor felt a rush of anticipation. He was about to gain a new sense of freedom. Just then, she returned, bringing with her the sleek electric wheelchair. Sunlight streamed in through the window, glinting off the smooth surfaces of the chair, transforming it into something almost magical.

“Here it is!” Claire announced, positioning it carefully beside the bed. Taylor’s heart raced.

“It’s beautiful,” he whispered, emotions swelling within him. “Let’s get me in!”

With assistance, he was carefully lifted and slid into the seat. He adjusted, feeling the plush contours of the seat cradle him comfortably. His heart soared. “I'm in! I’m really in!”

“Okay, now let’s get you familiar with the controls,” Marcus explained, pointing to the joystick. “All you need to do is tilt it, and it will move in the direction you want. Just a gentle nudge.”

Taylor tilted his chin towards the joystick, excitement bubbling up again. “Alright, let’s see if I can do this!”

“On the count of three,” Claire said, her voice encouraging. “One, two, three!”

Taylor nudged the joystick with his chin, and the chair responded with smooth precision, gliding forward. A squeal of joy escaped him, and before he knew it, he was moving around the room. He spun in a little circle, a laugh escaping as he realized the freedom in his movements.

“Look at me! I’m driving!” he exclaimed, navigating around the small space as if it were an expansive race track. It was liberating; every inch he moved felt like unshackling the chains of limitation he hadn’t even known he was bound by.

“Good job! You’re a natural,” Marcus cheered, clapping his hands encouragingly.

“Thank you! I’ve always dreamed of racing around in one of these,” Taylor said, gliding toward the window. The view was spectacular—an endless expanse of trees swaying in the breeze and clouds floating lazily overhead. Suddenly, being armless and legless felt less like a limitation and more like a ticket to an uncharted adventure.

“Just be conscious of your speed, okay? We wouldn’t want you to crash into a wall,” Marcus said with a grin, but Taylor was too enraptured to heed the playful warning.

“I won’t! I promise!” Taylor assured him, gliding cautiously toward the other corner of the room. His excitement ambushed him, and he fancied himself a knight on a quest, armed only with his courage and the magic chariot he now commanded.

After gliding around for a while, he turned back towards Marcus and Claire, their smiles encouraging and full of pride. “This is more than I could’ve hoped for! I can get anywhere with this thing! I can... I can travel!”

“That’s right, Taylor,” Marcus replied, his tone serious yet encouraging. “With practice, you’ll become adept at navigating not just this room, but when you return to campus, you’ll be able to move around just like you did before, if not better.”

“I’m going to be the coolest guy on campus!” Taylor declared, his heart swelling at the thought. “They won’t even know what to do with me! And… can you imagine? Me in a wheelchair? Totally chic!”

Claire chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re certainly going to turn heads. Just think about all the people who will be inspired by you.”

His mind swirled with visions of vibrant social gatherings filled with laughter and warmth, of coffee dates with friends, nights out dancing to his favorite songs. Taylor was going to embrace this new identity with a sparkle like never before.

As the session continued, he practiced making tight turns, mastering the delicate balance of pressure needed to navigate the joystick smoothly. Each movement filled him with a bubbling joy that surged through his entire being.

“Okay, I think I’m ready to go on an adventure! Where’s the nearest coffee shop?” he joked with a grin, beaming as brightly as the sun streaming in from the window.

Marcus chuckled warmly and replied, “How about we just focus on getting you comfortable in here first? Then we can map out your future adventures.”

“Fair enough. But I won’t forget that coffee shop!” Taylor promised, the thought of fresh coffee and conversation echoing like a sweet melody in his mind.

As they continued the session, Taylor began to feel a profound sense of connection not just to his newfound abilities, but also to the world waiting for him outside these hospital walls. With every movement he mastered, every inch he navigated, he felt more himself than ever. He was ready to embrace vulnerability, to experience life—a life filled with adventure, joy, and the thrill of endless possibilities. And as he zoomed around the room, feeling that electric rush of liberation, he couldn’t help but smile, knowing he had finally stepped into the chapter of his life he had always envisioned.

The overhead lights in the hospital room cast a soft glow, illuminating the sterile white sheets that enveloped Taylor’s hospital bed like a warm embrace. The stillness of the room wrapped around him like comfort, each sound echoed softly, creating a serene atmosphere. Alone with his thoughts and the remnants of his incredible transformation, Taylor was consumed by an exhilarating wave of newfound sensation.

With his heart pounding in his chest, he took a moment to focus, feeling the gentle weight of his body against the bed. Having spent countless nights fantasizing about this moment, he could hardly believe it was actually happening—a culmination of dreams realized in a way he had never truly anticipated. He was four little stumps resting atop a hospital bed, and he was desperately excited to see how much he could move, how far he could go.

Tentatively, he shifted his weight, initiating a gentle push with the stumps protruding from his shoulders. The sensation of the soft sheets sliding against the sensitive tips of his stumps elicited an involuntary gasp of pleasure. It was as if he had uncovered a secret pathway of sensation that had long been masked by the weight of his limbs.

“Oh my god,” he whispered to himself, a giggle bubbling within him. “This is amazing!” It felt almost surreal—the way each small movement connected him to the surface beneath him, stirring something deep inside. The intimacy of the experience sent tingling sensations through him, arousing a thrill he hadn’t expected.

Determined, he continued to wiggle around. His core muscles, still surprisingly strong, engaged rhythmically as he pushed and shifted, trying to gain a little more distance on the bed. The lightest brush of fabric against his stumps sparked a cascade of emotions—joy, a touch of mischief, and a strange, euphoric awareness of his body’s new capabilities.

“Come on, Taylor. You’ve got this!” he encouraged himself, as if his very own cheerleader, pushing himself to explore a territory he’d only imagined. He wriggled again, attempting to enjoy the soft shuffling motion as he pushed himself further down the bed. “Yes! Look at me go!” he exclaimed, breathless with exhilaration.

In that moment, Taylor found pure enjoyment in the simplicity of movement, in the intimate dance of his new form against the sheets. He became increasingly aroused as he was reminded of both the limitations and the unexplored possibilities this new existence provided. The rush of delight tickled his senses, making him feel vibrantly alive.

Just then, the soft creaking of the door snapped him from his blissful exploration. He froze, heartbeat quickening. If it was a nurse or doctor, he might have to rein in his newfound energy; but when he turned slightly, his heart melted at the sight of his best friend, Sean, standing in the doorway.

“Dude! What the hell?” Sean exclaimed, eyes wide with a mix of disbelief and admiration. It was a sight to behold—Taylor, his friend, the incredible force of joy and resilience, moving like a master on his bed, his stumps swirling and wriggling deftly across the sheets.

Taylor paused, flushed with delight and slightly embarrassed, but he couldn’t help but laugh. “Welcome to my one-man show! I call it ‘Wiggling in Unimaginable Freedom!’”

Sean stepped further into the room, the door clicking shut behind him. “I mean, seriously?? This is beyond amazing!” he said, his voice laced with awe. “Are you for real right now?”

“Right?” Taylor giggled, pushing himself a little further down the bed. “I feel like I’ve found a whole new vibe. This is incredible! I shouldn’t even be able to do this, and here I am, totally getting into it!”

“Wait—what are you talking about?” Sean looked at him incredulously, brows furrowing. “You’re not just... okay with this? Like, you’re really happy?”

“Happy doesn’t even begin to cover it!” Taylor declared, kicking off his little performance once more, wiggling with enthusiasm. “I’ve never felt so free, Sean! It’s like I’m shedding old skin, and these stumps? They’re a part of me now! I feel empowered—totally vulnerable yet blissfully alive!”

Sean, arms crossed and leaning against the wall, watched in silence, processing the moment. “I mean, you look incredible,” he finally admitted, a smile breaking across his face. “You’re just—wow. Leading the way and looking fabulous doing it! How are you so... I don’t know, positive?”

Taylor couldn’t help it; he beamed at his friend, the warmth of Sean’s admiration filling him with even more joy. “Because this is what I’ve always wanted!” He paused for a moment, reflecting on the words he had kept tucked away for so long. “I wanted to embrace my complete self. I get to experience life through a totally unique lens now, and it feels... transcendent.”

“Dude, that’s rad,” Sean replied, his voice sincere. “I’ve never heard someone talk about losing limbs like it’s a blessing.”

“It is!” Taylor exclaimed, pushing himself playfully again, feeling the soft caress of the sheets beneath him. “I get it now. This is the most liberating experience ever—shedding expectations and limitations. It’s hard to describe, but it’s like I’ve unlocked a new dimension of myself.”

Sean shuffled closer, leaning on the edge of the bed. “You’re brave, you know that? It takes a lot of guts to be honest about how you feel and to own it like this. I mean, how many people can say they’d be this confident?”

Taylor’s heart swelled at Sean’s words. “It’s all about perspective, really. I’ve spent so long wishing and hoping. And now it’s here! I have to embrace it, right?”

“Absolutely! I admire that about you.” Sean nodded appreciatively, then chuckled lightly. “But, uh, for real though. You should probably keep your little wiggling routine under wraps until you’re out of here. Can’t have the whole world knowing your secrets when this is the real ‘Taylor Show’!”

With a laugh, Taylor rolled his eyes dramatically. “Fine, fine! I’ll be coy and mysterious,” he teased. “But let’s be real—once I get out of here, everyone is going to know what’s up. I’ll have my fan club created by the end of the week!”

“Fans? I can see it now—‘The Incredible Stumpless Wonder!’” Sean joked, mimicking a late-night talk show host. “You’ll be signing autographs and everything!”

Their laughter floated through the room, illuminating the bright moments within this new chapter of Taylor’s life. He felt a surge of hope and excitement, knowing that he was not just alive but truly living, free from the burdens he had once carried.

“And you’re going to be by my side through it all, right?” Taylor asked, looking past the playful banter to find the sincere support of his best friend.

“Always, Taylor. Always,” Sean affirmed, his voice steady and genuine. “You’re not just a friend; you’re family. We’ll figure this out together.”

Taylor smiled wide, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude. In this moment, surrounded by love and support, he felt that he could conquer the world, stumps and all. He was ready to dive headfirst into whatever life had in store for him, living in color, wrapped in vulnerability, and embracing the incredible journey ahead.

The hospital room radiated a sense of calm, the afternoon light streaming in through the half-closed blinds, creating a patchwork of shadows on the walls. Taylor lay there, his heart still soaring from the earlier excitement of his newfound mobility and the joy of sharing that experience with Sean. He reveled in this surreal transformation, finding comfort in his vulnerability and aware that his best friend stood by him, ready to support this journey.

“Sean,” Taylor's voice cut through the silence, genuine curiosity etched across his face, “I have something to ask you. It might seem strange, but… would you be okay with, um, touching my stumps? Just to see how they feel? It’s a bit of an exploration, I guess.”

Sean blinked, a hint of uncertainty flickering in his expression. “Touch your—uh, your stumps? Are you sure you want that? I mean, it's kind of... intimate.”

Taylor shrugged, his excitement bubbling beneath his skin. “I get it. But it’s a part of me now, you know? And I want to feel connected to it—and to you. I promise it’s not weird for me. It feels good to engage with my new body, to have you involved in this.”

After a moment of contemplative silence, Sean nodded slowly, apprehension still evident in his eyes. “Okay. If you’re sure, I’ll do it,” he said, his tone wavering between hesitance and resolve.

Taylor beamed, a rush of warmth flooding his chest. “Thank you! It’s kind of like exploring a new landscape, and I want to share it with you. Trust me, it’ll be an interesting experience!”

As Sean leaned closer, Taylor's heart raced with a mix of vulnerability and exhilaration. He adjusted his position slightly, propping himself on his back to create a more inviting atmosphere. “Just be gentle,” he encouraged, arching his back slightly, a wave of anticipation coursing through him.

Sean placed his hands tentatively on the tips of Taylor’s stumps, the warmth of contact sending shivers through Taylor’s body. His friend’s hesitance was palpable, yet within moments, he began to apply light pressure. Taylor inhaled sharply, the sensation pulsing through him in surprising ways.

“Oh wow,” Sean said, eyes wide as he felt the soft texture of Taylor’s scarred stumps beneath his fingertips. “It's like... they’re alive! I can feel the muscles tensing as you move,” he said, slightly astonished.

“Yeah! It’s wild, right?” Taylor exclaimed, closing his eyes for a moment to savor the extraordinary sensations enveloping him. “I love when I flex them; it feels so… freeing. Like I’m becoming one with this new form.”

Sean’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait, you can control them like that? Just by flexing and relaxing?”

“Totally! It blows my mind every time,” Taylor replied, his voice a mix of pride and eagerness. “Try it—just move your fingers a little… there’s a surprising amount of sensitivity. I promise it won’t be weird for you.”

Breathing in deeply, Sean pressed down gently, his fingers exploring the contours of Taylor’s stumps. He stabilized Taylor’s body, marveling at the way the tips would contract and release under his touch. It was a discovery of delicate strength intertwined with vulnerability.

“Whoa,” Sean whispered, his voice tinged with wonder. “It’s almost like they have their own personality now! It’s kind of magical, Taylor.”

Taylor viewed him with gleaming eyes, feeling a profound connection with his friend in this intimate exploration. “Exactly! Can you feel that? I love this sensation, Sean. It’s not just a touch; it’s an acknowledgment of who I am now. Holding space for vulnerability has never felt better!”

Sean continued to explore, becoming more comfortable with each gentle stroke. He became fascinated, sensing Taylor’s stumps responding to his movements—the hint of muscle contractions, a delicate dance between them that felt alive. It was an experience he never expected but was somehow fitting; it seemed to bridge a gap in their friendship, an understanding forged through vulnerability.

“Taylor, this is so… unique,” he commented, admiration seeping into his tone as he continued to touch and discover. “I never would have imagined... I get why you feel so liberated now.”

“Right? It’s such a more profound connection to my body. I never knew I could experience something like this.” The warmth from Taylor’s body ignited as Sean trailed his fingers along the sensitive tips. Each caress sent electric pulses rippling through him, drawing an involuntary soft sigh from his lips. “It feels so nice, even exhilarating.”

“Oh, wow,” Sean said, his curiosity piqued. “That’s incredible! Can I try moving them more?”

“Definitely! I’m enjoying this,” Taylor encouraged, nudging against Sean’s hand. “Just let your fingers find their way. It’s like a secret language that only we can share right now.”

Sean smiled, a sense of comfort washing over him as he explored further. He began experimenting, applying different pressures and movements, fascinated by how Taylor’s body responded. “It’s like they’re doing the waltz! I can feel you moving in little waves.”

Taylor let out a soft laugh, arching his back slightly as Sean’s fingers brushed against a particularly sensitive spot. “You’re a natural, you know! I never thought I’d find such joy in something like this. It’s just…it’s just so fulfilling!”

As the moments stretched on, the atmosphere became an intimate cocoon, each gentle touch filled with trust and understanding. Taylor closed his eyes, surrendering himself to the blissful sensations rushing through him. With each movement, he felt the connection deepen—not just between his body and the world, but between him and Sean, his unwavering friend standing by him through thick and thin.

“Taylor,” Sean ventured softly, pausing for a moment, “you remind me that vulnerability isn’t something to shy away from. It can create powerful bonds and extraordinary experiences.”

“Exactly! This experience is everything I dreamed it could be,” Taylor replied, a radiant smile illuminating his face. “Sharing it with you only makes it even better. This—this moment—it's about acceptance and celebration. I love it.”

Sean looked into Taylor’s eyes, understanding resonating in the unspoken bond they shared. “You’re inspiring, you know that? You’ve always been unique, but now you’ve evolved in a way that’s beyond anything I could grasp. I’m grateful to be right here with you.”

Taylor felt a rush of warmth and sincerity envelop him like a soft blanket. In that moment, amidst the exploration and the courageous vulnerability, he understood that he was not just a quadruple amputee; he was Taylor—a vibrant, resilient spirit embracing life head-on.

“Thank you for being here, Sean. For being you. This journey—we’re just getting started. I can’t wait for everything that’s to come!” Taylor declared, his heart swelled with hope for the future.

With a renewed sense of purpose, Taylor found joy not only in the tactile exploration of his body but in the reaffirmation of their friendship, now intertwined with threads of acceptance and understanding. No longer bound by limitations, he was ready to journey into the world, embracing every challenge and sensation that lay ahead. Together, they would forge a path filled with laughter, love, and a deeper connection that transcended the ordinary.

The sun hung high in the azure sky as Taylor rolled onto the bustling college campus, a buzz of excitement coursing through him. The air was thick with the scent of autumn leaves and fresh starts. Today marked a significant milestone in his life: he was back at college, ready to embrace his new identity as a quadruple amputee—a transformation that felt, in many ways, like coming home.

Seated in his power chair, he had customized it to suit his needs, enhancing both its functionality and his own sense of style. The sleek navy blue frame gleamed in the sunlight, and he had adorned it with colorful stickers that expressed his vibrant personality. In this chair, he felt powerful, ready to tackle everything life had to throw at him.

“Look out world, here comes Taylor!” he declared, grinning as he steered smoothly through the throngs of students bustling between classes. The chair responded seamlessly, and he navigated the winding paths with confidence, enjoying the feeling of liberation as he zipped past familiar landmarks—the library, the cafeteria, and the quad where he had spent countless hours with friends over the years.

“Hey, look who it is!” a voice called out, breaking into his thoughts. It was Mia, a classmate he hadn’t seen since the incident. She rushed over, her excitement evident. “Taylor! You’re back! Wow, you look incredible!”

“Thanks, Mia! I feel incredible!” he replied, his voice infused with enthusiasm. “I’m finally here, and I’ve never felt so free in my life!”

Mia studied him for a moment, her eyes filled with admiration. “You’ve really embraced this. I’m so proud of you. How has it been?”

“Honestly? Surreal!” Taylor chuckled, taking in the vibrant campus surroundings. “I always wanted to experience what I’m living now. Sure, it was a wild path, but I wouldn’t change a thing. I’m finally living my truth!”

As they chatted, Taylor moved his chair closer to the sidewalk, the sunlight warming his cheeks. He could hear the laughter of students nearby, and it filled him with a sense of belonging. With each word and each glance exchanged, he felt a renewed sense of purpose—he was no longer just a student; he was Taylor, a courageous adventurer ready to face whatever came his way.

After parting ways with Mia, he continued to explore the campus, every bump and turn a small challenge he navigated with growing ease. Each time he steered with his chin, he felt empowered, reclaiming a sense of agency that had once been stifled by his limitations. Excitement bubbled within him to see his classes again, to engage with professors and friends alike.

Finally, he made his way to the accessible dorm room he would now share with Sean, who had already settled in, his face lighting up when he saw Taylor entering.

“Taylor! You made it!” Sean exclaimed, rushing from the kitchenette where he had been organizing their snacks. “How was your first day back?”

“Epic!” Taylor declared, rolling into the room and surveying the cozy space they would share. The room was tailored to be accessible, the furniture arranged to accommodate his power chair as well as the soft, welcoming vibe they had both worked to achieve. “It feels great to be home!”

Sean stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Taylor in a tight hug that spoke volumes—of support, of trust, and of their unbreakable bond forged through every challenge. “I’m so happy you’re here, buddy. This is going to be amazing!”

“I know! It already feels homey. I can’t wait to make it ours,” Taylor replied, his excitement infectious. Then, as always, his playful side emerged. “Now, let me show you how I wiggle around like a boss!”

With a cheeky grin, Taylor maneuvered himself out of his chair, sliding down onto the floor awkwardly but determinedly, his four little stumps making contact with the soft carpet. He began to wriggle and roll, pushing himself around the room with laughter, Sean watching with a bemused expression.

“Dude, you are something else! I did not expect you to just… drop and dance like that!” Sean chuckled, shaking his head as Taylor continued to move.

“I told you! I’m becoming a master of this new-body dance,” Taylor replied, tightening his core and pushing off the floor with his stumps, propelling himself around the small room in a joyful flurry. Each movement was a delightful reminder of his new life—the vulnerability he craved was entwined with every wriggle and wiggle. “This feels so good!”

Basking in the moment, Taylor reveled in the sheer joy of movement and the newfound freedom that accompanied it. As he playfully crashed back onto the carpet and giggled uncontrollably, Sean joined him on the floor, captivated by the lightness of being.

“Okay, show me your best move!” Sean challenged, laughter bubbling up.

With a determined look on his face, Taylor pushed himself off the ground, rotating and sweeping his little stumps with a flourish as he executed a playful spin. “How’s that for dancing?” he joked, beaming as he completed his little routine.

“Absolutely incredible! If this were a talent show, you’d win first place!” Sean encouraged, laughter in his voice. “But for real, watching you thrive and create these little moments—it's inspiring. You own this!”

“Thanks, Sean! It’s all about embracing who I am now. I wish I had done this sooner, but I’m ready to take on the world,” Taylor said, wiping a tear of joy from the corner of his eye, a mix of gratitude and exhilaration washing over him.

As they both transitioned back into a more relaxed demeanor, ready to tackle the homework and projects ahead, Taylor leaned against Sean. “Hey, can we take a moment? I want you to know how grateful I am that you’re here with me through all of this.”

“Of course, man. There’s no way I’d miss this adventure,” Sean replied, sincerity filling his tone. “We’re in it together, always. Your journey means the world to me, and I’m proud to be by your side.”

“Together, we’ll have the most fun.” Taylor said with a gleam in his eye, “And who knows? I might start a trend for limbless style on campus!”

“You totally should!” Sean laughed, tossing a pillow playfully at him. “Limbless chic could be the next big thing! Just think of the fashion possibilities!”

As they devolved into friendly banter punctuated by laughter, a sense of shared warmth enveloped them, building a comfort that was palpable. Taylor felt—more than ever—that he had entered a new chapter: vulnerability not as a weakness, but as a pathway to deeper connections and self-acceptance.

Both soon settled into the rhythm of campus life, doing class assignments together, collaborating on projects, and sharing heartfelt conversations late into the night. Taylor guided his chair through the campus halls, navigating with newfound confidence.

Every laugh, every shared moment was a testament to their journey—a tapestry woven with support, resilience, and the audacity to embrace life in all its unpredictability. As the weeks passed, Taylor continued to wiggle and move about in his dorm, joyful in his physicality, while the world around him transformed—the college experience, once a challenge, had blossomed into opportunity, connection, and unabashed celebration of who he had always longed to be.

With the unwavering support of Sean and the newfound joy in being themselves, Taylor was ready to take on whatever life had in store, embracing every twist and turn with grace, humor, and a relentless love for living authentically. The best was yet to come, and he was determined to meet it head-on—stumps and all.

[afterartist]

My character design skills have not improved in the slightest-

But I spent 6 hours on this rough sketch of the JailBird cast cause I decided that I am gonna rewrite the story (they actually (kinda) look closer to the actual 19-20 collage kid ages they are and not edgy 14 yr old high schoolers now so that’s kinda a win (the uniform doesn’t help but that’s there for lore reasons))

Nyway they have superpowers but have, in turn, been cursed with my same face syndrome big rip

Also here are their og designs from 2017 I hate them never mention these to me again

[hollywoodbabylondean]

have i mentioned you should read godkiller by hannah kaner? because you should read godkiller by hannah kaner.

[thecornerofegg]

Revamped oc design!! Everyone meet Rina!

She's the optimistic protagonist in a sci-fi comedy story about corrupt government, a dystopian city, and a cyborg penguin resque :>

AND XE HAS THE COOLEST WHEELS EVER AAAHHHHHHHH

[vireserein]

TL;DR: Obvious amputee struggles, hidden hEDS hijinks, failed attempt at mooning church ladies with my sexy yoga talents.

Invisible disabilities are still disabilities, and even if people can't outwardly see what you struggle with, you have the right to look "unsightly" or "inappropriate" in public to take care of yourself. This is taking medications, this is sitting down, this is doing whatever you need to do to keep your body happy and healthy. I'm used to being very obviously different with a congenital forearm amputation that doesn't really get in the way of my life besides the occasional inconveniently short microwave handles (can't get my residual joints behind them) or the way strangers and family often treat me in public for it (very poorly; this is my main struggle and I'd go so far as to say social separation is my main lifestyle difference. I am always unsightly in public.) . . . But the less notable side of my body, which is a progressively worsening diagnosis of hEDS that I've been dealing with for half of my life, is something I am still getting used to accepting and managing. With or without a lot of physical therapy, supplements, rest, and preventative care, I have issues that won't go away. Lately, this means that I can't sit up straight or stand for long periods of time, and very often need to do strange little jigs to get my ribs back into their parking spots in my poorly-oiled upper back— essentially, I can't look proper in quiet spaces. As a woman attending a tri-city snooty-suburb church primarily composed of prim-and-proper older ladies and their equally judgy sheltered tweenagers who would have a conniption at the idea our planet Earth being over 6,000 years old or, God literally forbid, people being themselves, I have at least one personal worst place to have three ribs twist themselves out of me so suddenly while mid- un-pretzelifying my body (to avoid back pain on a shitty pew) (also read: standing up like I'm an overburdened robot). That said, I love my community for the things they do correctly, and I love and prefer the church I attend while at my university for being much kinder, more open-minded, science-loving people.

So anyway, you do what you have to do, even if this means gasping like a fish with a harmonica stuck in its throat, squeezing past 10 of those people very forcefully, and lumpily skittering out of the room (picture a constipated armadillo. I'm fond of my parenthetical similes if you can't tell) to the aghast spite of plenty to put your rebellious skeleton back together in the bathroom, hands covered in napkins and ass directly to the door like this:

(I was taught this funny hot banana-pyramid pose by some very good friends of mine. It saves lives.)

Some people will still love you when they see your nice ass at church, and others will be offended over silly things, and even more will have the right intentions but a terrible mindset. . . But you matter most in this context, unless you're bowling over 95-year old grandfathers for bonus points.

And no, I didn't get caught. And, as a final addition, I think this whole connective tissue disorder thing has helped me to start accepting the visible part of me more. As I've mentioned before, I was raised to stamp out the idea that I was different, and to ignore my own support needs to convince others. Those needs were much easier to believe for something new and fresh that I could demand regular appointments for, and the wacky things I have to get up to to avoid pain have helped me to give less of a shit about others, even if it's hard to.