#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

[animeandcatholicism]

My biggest hot take

Is that, personally I believe that people should try to avoid body modification unless it's absolutely necessary and to accept themselves as they are.

Ultimately, you don't "fix" yourself by getting cosmetic surgeries and pumping yourself full of hormones or to alter your physical condition in order to achieve some perceived ideal that will "solve" your insecurities. The truth is, you have to accept yourself warts and all and nothing will magically solve that.

The only thing that you can control is how you respond to your own insecurities and often the way you do that is by confronting the reasons for that. Stop going onto social media and looking at people's "perfect lives" or consuming content that tells you what you need in order to be "happy". Talk to your friends and family, join a book club, an in person rpg group,go camping, somewhere that exposes you to the real side of life with as little bs as possible. Heck examine architecture and see how even in its flawed state it's still beautiful.

Understand that despite your flaws, insecurities and misgivings, you too are beautiful.

[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 :)"

[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. 

[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.)

[kkkest]

This time it's a horror story, with subtitles. A horror story about a one-legged woman.

[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.

[callaeidae3]

Whumptober2023 Day 25: "They're not breathing"

After Kyle rescues Yuuki from the river, and from drowning

[internutter]

Challenge #04331-K313: Confidence Boost

The child was missing half their leg, they were lucky to have their life. They no longer smiled, no longer wanted to play, until a kind wizard and hir friends brought a puppy, that only had three legs, that day a child regained hir smile.

Healers can only do so much, when resources are thin and talent is off Adventuring. They do their best, but that is not always ideal. Tobi was doing their absolute level best to try to understand that, but it was very hard.

It was especially hard to be five and a half with only one and a half legs.

The other kids were being mean about it, too. Calling them "Hoppy" or "Peggy" as if in anticipation of Tobi's so-far nonexistent peg leg. So they were more inclined to sit around, lie around, and sulk. Until the arrival of the Hellkin, the Elf, and the Kobold.

[Check the source for the rest of the story]

[cepheusgalaxy]

happy STS! Do you have any little world building details you’d like to share?

oh i DO

from my sci fi story that im not currently working on but >//< i love it

ok, so, *i* call it a cyberpunk story, even though im not sure its actually cyberpunk. it's got a revolution plot, and the protagonist is this girl called Amani.

The country she lives in is called New Ubiracipe (ubiracipe means--checks notes--no, actually, i didnt note what ubiracipe means oops. i remember its somethin related to trees with strong wood. anyhow), and everybody that lives in it is divided in three classes:

The High

The Citizens

The Servants

The high are the burguoise and the governants: They are the powerful rulers, the everything, the owners of the place. The citizens are below the high, and their job is to basically obey. They are my slightly brainwashed middle class. They are taught from elementary school that the society is exactly as it should be, and that the high should be exalted. They have a couple rights and aren't doing very bad in general.

The servants are the poor: the workers, the slaves. They are always subordinated to the high and the citizens, and officialy they have a few laws defending their rights. Not like anybody cares about those but they are there.

There is also an "extra" category, the Pariah, that are the exiled. Rebels, criminals, etc.

By rule, all the Pariah are considered criminals, but most aren't really chased after. The ones who do cause big problems, though, are called Capitálios and have bounties on their heads. They usually lead revolts.

The Law also draws clear distinctions between High, Citizens and Servants. There are very little crimes a High can commit, especially if they are about harming lower class people, but there are a few things that are so harmful to the Nation that not even a high can get away with.

Punishment for the Servants that break the laws for them are pretty severe. The crimes that a Servant can commit include: stealing, assassinating a High or a Citizen, insubordination, harming someone of higher class, rebelling, expressing harmful views about their superiors, work negligence, etc. Depending on the crime, they can be exiled and become Pariahs, beaten, locked away or killed.

For the Citizens, their crimes are classified as either "accidental" or "proposital" and the penalty will vary depending on that. Light or accidental crimes are usually met with fines or confiscation, and more serious crimes with prision, turning them into a Servant or exiling them. Citizens also have a "criminal file" that if they commit a lot of crimes, even if those are judged accidental, they become a Potential Problem and are less likely to be forgiven in the future.

I also have different names for "continents" and "countries", and there are also different social movements that want to overthrow the current system, all with different goals and methods, and a few notes on their fashion code (like in the middle ages, depending on your class, you can't wear certain things). Actually, the worldbuilding document on this wip is sixteen pages long :) idk what i was on back then but i cooked a lot lol.

[hollywoodbabylondean]

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