#can you tell that I've been thinking about cool prosthetics for a while. i just think its rlly neat

[submalevolentgrace]

Hi! I'm very interested in attempting to write a disabled character (not for this blog, I assure, for an book I'm writing) in which the story doesn't fetishize/objectify her prosthetic limb. I'm in many writing circles and have been for a long while, but I've never seen this issue brought to light which I realise is a very important one. I have much to change in my thought process, and thank you for bringing this issue to attention.

I'm curious, and I apologise if this has been asked before, but what sort of design could you see for a functional prosthetic that doesn't go for a plainly aesthetic appearance, or is soully to please others? I do note that you said prosthetics are generally... not that helpful. So is there a way that it could be? Or do you think it would always generally be better to not use a prosthetic, as its mostly for aesthetic purposes, as you said?

I apologise if this ask is too outright or anything, and I don't mean to intrude. Thank you for your time and have a beautiful day!

okay, i want to answer this as in depth as possible, because whenever i talk about having a prosthesis, someone will always tag some variation of "#writing reference" and i do wonder what message they're taking away, and i want to get as much of my experience out as possible to maybe help shape how this is all portrayed in the future. and yeah… this is gonna be one of those rambly smg posts that the expand feature was invented for, so i'll start with the very abridged TL;DR:

if you're writing a character with an upper limb prosthesis; don't. arm amputees are unicorn level rare even compared to leg amputees, and i've never interacted with or even heard of an upper limb amputee that regularly uses a prosthesis, let alone relies on one. fiction has lied to you for the sake of cool aesthetics, don't repeat the cycle. more in depth writing advice including nuance and "but i waaaant to" will follow.

that said, grab your donning parachute and let's get started...

context for everyone involved: i am an upper limb amputee that rants a lot about how prostheses suck, i lost my right hand roughly five years ago at roughly the age of 30 after a very rough decline in health… it was pretty rough. this question is being asked in the context of a previous rant post of mine, and i checked that the ask is about an upper limb prosthesis in particular.

the situation regarding the usefulness of lower limb prostheses is totally different; i am definitely no expert, but by all accounts, prosthetic legs are incredibly useful for many people. getting a good leg can be absolutely life changing and more or less necessary for day to day life for some; mostly because infrastructure and society is just so fucking hostile to wheelchair users. being able to walk - at the cost of pressure sores and rashes and increased residual limb pain - is a preferable option to many people than being unable to fit through a doorway or in a bathroom stall or find out that the key to unlock the only elevator is in the admin office up three flights of stairs (true story).

but upper limb prostheses… see, the thing is, hands are incredibly complex organs that rely on a lot of immediate haptic feedback to work at all. hand dexterity is all about control, you need fine granular movements of the digits yes, but you also need the subtle sensations of pressure and proprioception in order to adjust your movements on the fly. i speak from experience, in the years leading up to the full loss of my hand, i was slowly losing function of it, usually swinging between numbness that made it clumsy at best, or screaming overstimulation from moving it at all resulting in unpredictable spasms… and let me tell you, a half working hand is infuriating to try and deal with. you can never know if you have a good grip on something or if it's slipping because of the wrong amount of pressure, and there's only so many smashed bottles of pickles on the floor before you give up using it all together… so amputation wasn't a great loss there, i had time to adapt.

a prosthetic hand of any kind has all of those issues and more. they're heavy and bulky, the cosmetic faux fingers or gripping claw have crude movement at best, and there's zero feedback (put a pin in this). 100% of the time you're using a prosthetic hand you have to keep your eyes on the grip and visually guesstimate whether or not the thing you're carrying is held tight enough but not too tight, that is if your "heavy duty" prosthesis can even support the weight without the servos disengaging or the wrist attachment socket just busting loose. i dropped a whippersnipper on my foot last week when my socket couldn't take the weight and i think that was the final straw in me desperately trying to prove to myself that there is a single task my prosthesis actually helps with.

this is usually where fully two handed people start talking about bleeding edge DARPA tech, and how we just need to invest more,research more, develop more. better tech, more tech, neural integration, more more more. okay i promise the writing advice is coming! for starters on tech, my experience is already with a mid-to-high end ottobock terminal device: i've got a myoelectric nerve-signal operated proportional control heavy duty greifer; about the only upgrade left for me to get would be a rotating wrist joint if i could coflex. it's not military, it's not "rockclimber that owns a prosthetic company", but it's quality tech. it still fucking sucks. secondly, that high level military tech exists primary for PR purposes so they can say they treat their discarded casualties well, "we can rebuild him, we have the technology" style. every war vet i've read about or heard from that's been gifted that high level tech also abandons it for the same reasons; it's imprecise, there's no feedback (or the haptic interface has to be fully recalibrated every time they put it on), but mostly they're more capable without one.

okay, the transhumanist ableds say (i should know, i used to be one), what if we did more ~research and development~ and got that neural feedback working? then we could have fireproof superhumanly strong robot arms to fix up everyone! here's where i take out that pin we put up before and i tell you that a class of prosthetic arms/hands already exists that has perfect proportional control, fine motor control, and physics perfect pressure feedback piped directly into the patients' existing sensory systems! they're called body-powered prostheses, and they were invented in like the 1600s. you strap a whole bunch of stuff to your arm and shoulders shoulders, and control the operation of the terminal device and elbow through cable tension by flexing your shoulders. they do take a considerable amount of training to operate - though hell i spent 18 months training to use my myo - but based on everything i've read, body-powered prostheses are the best option if you're an upper limb amputee and absolutely need a second hand for some reason.

but they don't look cool and futuristic, and according to my prosthetist, most people give up on using them too. we all give up on our prostheses, no matter the type. my rehab OT was impressed i lasted the 18 months of my training. towards the end, they even asked if the clinic director could drop in to one of my sessions to see my progress; he expressed genuine amazement at me casually using my bulky robot claw to use a brush and dustpan, and made an offhanded (hah) comment about what someone can achieve "if they stick it out to the end", implying it was somewhat of a rarity for me to have done so. several years on, and yesterday i wedged the dustpan between my ankles to sweep up into it, awkward but exponentially less effort than putting my dusty robot arm on. which, by the way, is a whole thing. look up some videos, they're all awful to don. i don't actually know the official technical name of what my clinic calls a "parachute" but it's a bitch to use! have you ever tried to pull back with your arm whilst also pushing it forwards at the same time, and simultaneously lean in to and away from an external force pulling on you? that's how you get a myo socket on.

bare with me, i promise writing advice is coming, and i promise it's more than the tl;dr. but. remember when i said a half working hand is infuriating to deal with? any prosthesis, from fancy myo tech to pirate-era body powered, will only ever be half as good as a working hand, and being juuuust within capability to do something but not quite able to is maddening! but you know what works way better than a half working hand? no hand at all. using whatever residual/vestigial limb you have - whatever "stump" you have, i hate that word - is pretty much always better than trying to use a prosthesis. i can use the inside of my elbow to grip and carry things, i can use the nub of my arm to apply pressure to hold things, open doors, use a computer mouse, turn on taps and lights, if i put a glove over it i can use it to prep for cooking. i have full proprioception and pressure feedback with skin contact, i don't think i've ever dropped and broken anything from my elbow, unlike countless things slipped from my greifer - which, by the way, absolutely will start clenching as tight as it can if i get even slightly too sweaty around the electrodes, which has both broken things i'm holding and also injured me, because surprise surprise but servo operated robot claws have pinch points on them right near the "emergency disengage" lever for some reason!

but i am exponentially more capable without it on than with it. no, i'm not fully independent, i rely on housemates and loved ones to help me out with some tasks that simply just need two handed dexterity, but none of those tasks are things a prosthesis makes me able to do anyway. i used to imagine my prosthesis would be like a bra; a bit awkward and uncomfortable, but i'd wear it throughout the day because it's helpful and take it off in the evening to decompress. in reality it's actually exactly like a bra: an absolute bitch to put on one handed, unbearably uncomfortable because it never sits right, ugly af unless you're a millionaire, and absolutely useless except for the fact that i get gawked at and judged by strangers if i leave the house without it on.

and if you really want to discover how far "no hand is better than a half working hand" goes, brace yourself, and look up the patient's stories (not medical system stories) of people that have had hand transplants. the first man to receive one hated it, he was promised a return to normal function, and what he got was a nightmare worse than being one handed; he wanted it removed again but the doctors refused because it would undermine their grand achievement of the first hand transplant. the doctors and society wanted him to be fixed, they wanted him to be normal, they wanted him to be abled. they failed. they made him less able to do things, denied his autonomy, and left him with someone else's hand slowly rotting on him, prioritising the idea of "scientific progress" and "two hands good" over the physical health, mental health, and ability to function of this man.

he's not alone; every story from the patients' perspective about hand transplants that i've read goes this way, including a woman who was born quad limb different and was promised hands would improve her life, pressured into a double hand transplant, only to find herself after the surgery essentially experiencing disability for the first time ever, because she had lived her whole life getting by just fine with her 'underdeveloped' limbs, but half working hands are worse than useless. you can try to find these stories yourself, but i'm not going looking for sources on any of these cases, because if you look back through enough of my posts you'll get a glimpse of the horrors and abuses that i too was put through by doctors who prioritised trying to "fix" me at any cost, rather than providing me the best quality of life, and in turn traumatised me and left me more broken than any loss of limb on its own could. dear goddess, i promise the writing advice is coming.

so. why do upper limb prostheses exist at all? if they're so terrible and useless, what is their function? i want to borrow something someone else left in the tags of a previous rant here, from someone who i believe works in prosthetics and/or rehab, cleaned up and anonymised at their request:

"upper limb functions are wildly more complex than: 1) bear weight static, and 2) bear weight moving. but every single upper limb amputee i know has a fancy expensive prosthetic just gathering dust in the closet because there is literally nothing it can do like a few years of adjustment and if needed non-dominant hand retraining can't do. the existence of forquarter prosthetics to begin with is just kind of silly and useless and entirely to make OTHER people feel comfortable, especially considering they universally are UNcomfortable for the amputee. i hate the notion that as soon as you get the amputation the prosthetic is The Thing That Will Fix You And Make You Feel Normal again because it universally isn't! but every forequarter person i know had like this ideal of Being Fixed By Magic Prosthetic that they were then obviously wildly disappointed by and had to do yet another grieving process with, versus if the dominant narrative were just one of: yeah. it'll take time, there is no magic fix."

and i think that really nails down what the actual purpose of upper limb prostheses is: they're not for the user, they're for the sake of other people. and not just their comfort when looking at our bodies, although based on the pressure for both amputees and people born limb different to get functionless cosmetic plastic hands, there is a lot of that. but it's not just that.

i fully believe that the reason prosthetic hands exists is to comfort the fears of the two handed. "don't worry", they say, "we can fix you again. you don't have to fear becoming Disabled, you don't have to worry about adapting or your life changing. we can make you Normal™ again."

you would not believe the number of people that have approached me to shower me with pity, to tell me how horrific my life is, how they can't imagine it. people have told me, apropos of nothing, that they'd kill themselves if they lost a hand. indirectly, that my life isn't worth living. unless, of course, i happen to be wearing my cool as fuck looking robot prosthesis! then they tell me how wonderful it is, how lucky i am, how glad they are that we have the technology to fix me. that's what a prosthetic hand says, what all the happy fishing photos on limbs4life posters at the rehab clinic say: don't worry, we can fix you. that's what the bleeding edge DARPA flexi-whatever fully articulated neuro-feedback hands say: don't worry if you get IED'd while hunting civilians for us to drone bomb, if you get hurt, we will fix you, we will fix the fuck out of you, we will motherfucking adam jensen you into a cool as fuck cyborg that your son will idolise; come on boys, don't you wanna enlist just for the chance at being as cool as this? join the bomb squad for a ticket to the upgrade lottery.

and so we arrive at fiction. as much as his dialogue options protest, adam jensen loves his robot arms, they punch through walls, turn into fucking swords! they make him the most special man in the world. what would he do without them? learn to cope? grieve? practice acceptance? take up poetry? just, be disabled? there's no power fantasy for ableds in that.

in fact, can you think of a single fictional character that's an upper limb amputee that's, well, just an amputee? they all have robot arms. not realistic prostheses, not medical devices; robot arms. sleek or bulky, top of the line or broken down self built, steampunk or nanomachines or magitech automail; they're never without them. never just an amputee. never born limb different either! there's always that element of tragedy to overcome, always suffering and misery porn, always focus on the pain and the helplessness without the absolutely vital robot arm that makes them Normal and Whole. the closest amputee example i can think of is furiosa from mad max, who iirc fucking punches max in the face with her residual limb like a motherfucking badass! i can barely lean on mine wrong and she punches a guy! but she still apparently needs a dieselpunk robot hand to drive a truck, something you can do one handed so easily most drivers don't even notice they're doing it! please don't, by the way

and so many disabled fans love to point to robot armed characters as disability representation; the winter soldier, luke skywalker, edward elric, misty knight, that genderswapped furry girl from ratchet and clank, jet cowboybebop, finn the human, and yes, adam jensen…. these are all characters that someone disabled i know has told me they love because they "represent disabled bodies"…. and i know nobody wants to hear this, because i've been screamed at for saying it before, but… they do not. they are not disabled, functionally or within fiction. they are either perfectly able bodied Normal people with chrome paint on an arm, or tortured misery porn we are supposed to pity and feel lucky we're not them. sometimes both!

also you ever notice how it's basically always arms? lower limb amputations are orders of magnitude more common than upper, my prosthetist said i was probably only the 4th or 5th upper limb she'd worked with in her career, with literally hundreds of lower limb fits. but fiction doesn't seem to reflect that, huh? or any other part of the reality of disability. it's always cool as fuck robot arms, never cool as fuck wheelchairs or crutches or dialysis machines or colostomy bags. a fair few "i was blind but now i can see with Robot Eyes and also infrared and xray" around, which again, plays into that "we can fix you and make you cooler" propaganda.

by the way, up above when i was describing body powered arms, if you wondered to yourself why i went with a myoelectric one instead when i clearly believe body powered is better… yeah. i am not immune to propaganda! i too wanted to be cool as fuck. i spent years with deteriorating function in my hand for reasons that are still unknown, was misdiagnosed and medically neglected to the point that removing my hand seemed to be the only option left to offer some relief, and even that was a clusterfuck that left me worse than ever… of course i wanted to believe in the power and prestige of a cool robot arm that fiction promised me.

but fiction promises fantastical lies. and so.

we get to the writing advice portion of the novella that is this post. you asked for advice on how to write a disabled character with an upper limb prosthesis. you've read the tl;dr, you've read everything above i assume, you know i don't want you to do it. the obvious twist is that it's been writing advice all along, me trying to share my perspective on what it's like being an amp with a robot arm and how shitty it is, implying how almost any fully realised and realistic character that's missing an upper limb would give up on a prosthesis at all. you can already tell that every value judgement in me says "don't give her a prosthesis, no matter how functional or cool you make it. don't try to make the tech better to justify it, just let her be one armed, one handed. just let her be disabled, but not helpless. let her show off her elbow or underarm carry strength. let her love interest appreciate how soft and squishy her residual limb is in a moment of tenderness. let her natural disabled body be respected and valued."

but that's a personal value judgement from me, and you are the author of your own work. i know it's trite to say, but you are! even the act of deferring to someone with lived experience in the hope of doing a better job at representation is a value judgement, a good choice in my opinion, but one you needn't necessarily take. maybe you do want to write a character that has a cool as fuck unrealistic robot arm as a power fantasy, or a comfort blanket… i did.

i've been slowly writing my own probably terrible scifi epic for over a decade now, and when my arm was giving me hell back then, i'd take great comfort in this fantasy of my protagonist with her chunky robot arm, the terrible traumatic suffering of her loss, overcoming, the power and ability her advanced prosthesis gives her over others, that she alone has access to, because others are not willing to make the sacrifices required. inspiration porn. awful stuff to me now, but empowering to me then. as i grew and gained direct experience, i slowly reimagined her, rewrote her, ship of theseus'd her into an entirely new character; a reflection of me now, bitter at the whole thing, spiteful that her natural flesh arm evokes fear and distrust, but unwilling to suffer the pain and frustration of her unnatural prosthesis just to make others comfortable and respect her as "whole", however artificial that whole is. and as with the ship of theseus being two ships, once i realised the transformation, i re-added the old protagonist back in whole cloth as a separate character; proud of her robot arm and its power, but in new context, as a foil and antagonist, an in-universe military prosthesis propaganda figure to reflect how i now feel characters like her exist to us, the readers.

i'm not just sharing that as egotistical self promotion, but to highlight that, even if i sit here begging you all up and down not to write characters with robot arms for how bad and unrealistic they are; there's still something genuine and true that their inclusion can say. the great thing about the story that you're writing is that only you can write it, as they say. but i whole heartedly believe that to write to your best, you have to be aware of what you're writing and why. as tempting as it is to feel these characters form naturally in us and therefore we're averse to changing traits about them that feel organic and self evident; as authors we have omnipotent control over the text, every trait and detail is a reflection on us, so we'd sure as hell better understand why we're choosing to write a character with this trait. because anything you write without being aware of intent will take on its own meaning in the space between.

and on that note, if i don't say this, i'm leaving it to be inferred: i definitely don't want to appear to come down on the side of saying "you cannot write an amputee unless you are one", because we are rarer than single young bisexual unicorns! and it would be a tragedy if anyone read through all this and then turned away in fear, deciding to never write an amputee character (with or without robot arm) because they feel they can't do it justice… believe me, no matter what anyone says, some hack writer somewhere is going to keep writing adam jensens and winter soldiers. don't let them be the only voices in fiction! just try to do your best.

so my ultimate advice on the topic of writing a character with a prosthetic limb is to ask yourself one question in two different frameworks, and meditate on what you feel the answer is:

why does she have a prosthesis?

from a doylelist perspective as the kids say, as an author with omnipotent control, why are you choosing to write about this topic? why are you choosing to give this trait to this character? what does it say about how you view ability and disability, what makes a person normal, and what our society values? will you let her be in her natural body? or will you give her a prosthesis, force her to wear it by authorial fiat, or author her a meaningful reason to choose to? if yes, be sure you know; why did you give her a prosthesis?

and from a wastonian perspective, diegetically, inside the story, why does she choose to wear a prosthesis? what does it say about her inner character, and how she interacts with the world? how does she feel about doing it, is she prideful and loves the attention she gets, or does she resent whatever necessitates its use? how do people in this world view ability and disability, what does this society value? and above all, whatever the answer to these questions, whether or not she uses a prosthesis or is badass without one, how does she deal with the eternal freezing cold that every amputee ever feels constantly in their residual limb and why does nobody make a heat pack that fits over a nub without drafty gaps???

i can't outright tell you how to write a good upper limb amputee, but if you at least know why you're writing one and for what purpose, you're on track to write the best character that you can. that's the best advice i can give… other than, like, this whole rambly mess.

and, as a reward for reading this far, please have a very blurry cryptid photo of my cat doing his old man sit:

[cy-cyborg]

It's been confirmed that there are 3 amputees in the main cast of Dragon Age: the veilguard - Neve (leg amputee), Bellara (arm amputee) and your inquisitor (arm amputee). So as an amputee myself, here are some things I'd like to see.

Note: these aren't predictions, just things I'd really like to be included.

The inquisitor doesn't use a prosthetic (I already talked about this in its own post but with 3 amputees, and 2 of them already being shown to use prosthetics that, lets be honest, do look like "perfect replacement" prosthetics, it would be nice to see at least one who doesn't)

We will get to customise our inquisitor in chatacter creation, so I would love, if they do use a prosthetic, for there to be some customisability to it (im not holding my breath there but still).

Neve and Bellara's prosthetics aren't perfect prosthetics, and they are actually acknowledged as being disabled while still being active members of your party.

There's some kind of party banter between Neve and Bellara about some of the downsides/problems with their prosthetics, not necessarily in a "poor them" way, but in a "ugh, don't you just hate it when you can't get the stupid thing on in the morning" kind of way.

I get a kind of jokey/adventurous vibe from Bellara, I hope they aren't affraid to let her use her prosthetic for pranks or jokes. I don't think neve would, but I can see bellara having a blast with it.

I hope the prosthetics come off during down time. No amputee wears their prosthetics 24/7, it's uncomfortable, and they get heavy and sore after using them all day.

I hope we see Neve express some frustration or see her alter her walk animation on rough terrain. It's hard to get a clear look because the trailers she's been shown in are so dark, but her foot doesn't look articulated, which is going to change how she walks, even just a little bit.

I hope the prosthetics don't break - this is a trope I'm starting to notice more and more, where someone has a perfect prosthetic that is only not a perfect replacement when it breaks, usually for plot reasons, at which point the character in question is forced out of the action until its fixed. DA has forced companions out of your party for story reasons before (e.g. solas after you free his spirit friend and he needs to cool off) so I can see this being used for plot, and I really hope it's not.

The inquisitor, Neve and Bellara compair prosthetists (the maker of the prosthetic) and maker techniques.

I really doubt they'll do this but I'd love it if random NPC's approach you if you have any of the amputees in your party to ask what happened and/or make weird comments at them ("but cy, that would be so annoying and inconvenient!" That's the point. So many people do that to irl amputees, and it's never at a convenient or even safe time, and I've never seen it happen in media. A game is arguably the best place to have it happen, in, say, a random event similar to the ones that could happen in origins)

In that same vein, I'd love to see a scene where someone approaches the inquisitor to call them an inspiration- you and the inquisitor assume it's for, you know, beating corripheus (I know I spelled it wrong lol) and saving the world, but it's revealed the chatacter has no idea who the hell the inquisitor is and just means it's inspiring that they're out in public "like that" - referring to their arm. This also happens to me all the time, and you can't tell me some snooty orlesean or tevinter noble wouldn't make those back-handed compliments, lol. You also can't convince me that any version of the inquisitor would just accept that

I hope none of the chatacters are used as inspiration porn ("don't you worry Rook! I can still pull my own weight on the team despite being an amputee, you just have to give me a chance to prove myself!")

At least one of the chatacter's stories of how they lost their limb is left untold in game (we don't always need to know how it happened if it's not relevent to the plot).

Like I said, these aren't predictions, just my hopes. I wouldn't hold my breath for any of these to be honest (bioware has not been the best in term of disability rep in the past) but A lot of them wouldn't be hard to implement and could take the representation from hardly even acknowledging their disability to something actually pretty decent disability rep-wise. It's also pretty rare to have so many characters with the same kind of disability in the cast of such a mainstream piece of media, and I really, really hope they do something with that because you can have a lot of fun with that.

[starry-teacup]

Because of some cool art you made I want to dip my toe into the Mechanisms.

where do I find the story?

So I don't know how much you know about them, but the basics are:

The Mechanisms is a band in which each member has a persona. They are a crew of immortal space pirates, roaming the galaxy in search of violence, fun, and stories to tell. Each persona character can be referred to as a mechanism, as in a member of the crew, but they each also have a mechanism, a clockwork prosthetic of some sort that was installed after they each had their own tragic story and made them immortal.

When they find a good, long, juicy tragedy, they turn it into an album. They also have two anthology albums, with some songs connecting to the wider stories and some completely independent of them, and a couple containing mechanisms lore. Their last album is from the live show of their final performance.

All of these albums stand on their own, and there is no particular order you need to listen to them in. They each contain characters and places from classic stories, putting unique sci-fi spins on them all and following queer narratives. I'd say bury your gays, but honestly, it's more like bury your gays and the entire planet they lived on, along with everything they ever held dear.

here's a summary of each, stolen from the mechs blurbs themselves:

Once Upon a Time (In Space)-

This tale tells of those embroiled in the rebellion against the tyrant of New Constantinople, Old King Cole. It tells of the love of Cinders for her captured Rose, of the treatment of Rose at the hands of Cole's genetic scientists, and of the bold but savage leadership of the rebel General Snow. And it tells of the final fates of all of these.

fairy tale but make it a rebellion. their first album, contains many of their most popular songs. solid. not personally one of my favorites, but the one I'm most likely to be listening to a song from on any given day. our boy jack and pump shanty are excellent.

High Noon Over Camelot-

A tale of hope and despair aboard the Fort Galfridian, long lost to the outside world, where the chaos of centuries of solitude has been brought in check at last by the guns of the Pendragon Gang. But the visions of the mad prophet Galahad, and the schemes of the Pendragons' lieutenants Mordred and Gawain, threaten to cast the station back into anarchy. And all the while, the Sun grows hotter...

arthurian legend has just become a space westerner in which everyone rides motorcycles and a fiery death threatens them all. haven't listened to it yet, but I've heard great things. Blood and Whiskey is a banger, and Arthur, Lancelot, and Guinevere are in a polycule, something I didn't know I needed until I heard it suggested.

Ulysses Dies At Dawn-

Ulysses Dies at Dawn. That's the word on the street, at any rate, if you talk to anyone who saw what went down at Calypso's Bar the other night. Who is behind the thuggish band known as the Suits - Heracles, Ariadne and the others? What is Ulysses's secret? And what is hidden within the security of the Vault?

I'm going to be completely honest with you. I think this is no-contest their best album. It's greek mythology in noir film style, with heavy usage of blues and rock. I don't even like blues, but I love each and every song. This one is also a little easier to follow than the others. I'd recommend starting here.

The Bifrost Incident-

The Bifrost Incident. Any schoolchild could tell you about it. The fall of the old order; two hundred years of Asgardian hubris come together in a single epoch-defining event. The maiden voyage of a train through the stars, vanished without a trace...

Remember how I think the last one was the best one? Well, this is still my favorite. Norse mythology framed as a mystery on a train, with a twist completely out of left field that leaves you reeling. Thus, it is probably the most difficult to follow, or at least, it was for me. The art you liked-which wasn't mine, unfortunately, credit to the artists is on the post if you want to check those blogs out-featured variations of the narrator from this album. let's just say I'm. not so normal about them.

well. ANYWAYS. this was...probably longer than what you wanted. Or than what I should have given. I don't get asks a lot and an excuse to talk about the mechanisms is always something I am willing to abuse.

If you do end up listening to any of their music, please tell me what you think! I'd love to hear it, and it's always nice to talk about them with someone else :)

[erraticalart]

Saw Fortress II

Well, is this what you've been waiting for?

So, as some of you may or may not know, Saw is getting a new movie, Saw X, in two days and I'm so excited for it to come out! I decided to pay tribute to this movie by making a crossover between Saw and, of course, Team Fortress 2. I've been getting interested and invested in the Saw franchise, from its story to the characters and especially the creative but deadly traps. Took me about 22 days to create as I had classes and needed to take breaks every once in a while, but I finally finished it and presented it to my brother as a birthday gift (as well as an official Fallout cookbook).

Now, for the fans of both Saw and TF2, I'll explain the reason why I chose the characters and their designated roles. It's time to play a game.

Character Comparison and Roles

Warning: Spoilers for the Saw franchise

RED Engineer: John Kramer aka Jigsaw - Well it's pretty much obvious why. They're both engineers. They both are talented in creating many different unique contraptions that are beneficial, but deadly and dangerous. Engie also has his morals, although it's way different from John's. Let's not forget that Engie can be somewhat a little sadistic and loves seeing his enemies go down, although John hates sadistic people despite the irony in his traps. Also, are we gonna ignore his Gunslinger taunt kill and his sinister, evil laugh? I'm not sure if Engie should have the Gunslinger with him, but I think it would be pretty cool to have it on him. Maybe in this version when he attempts to commit suicide and fails, but all he's left is a completely maimed hand, he cuts it off entirely and replaces it. It would be a pretty cool backstory as to why he has it and would make a really cool reveal to show to the audience. I wonder what Engie sounds like saying the iconic line "Game Over"?

BLU Medic: Dr. Lawrence Gordon - It's also pretty obvious why. He's a doctor. (Can you guess the reference?) Dr. Gordon is my favorite character in the series, and I love seeing the change and progress in his character from a doctor and trap victim in the first Saw film to John's favorable accomplice and in his words, "My greatest asset" in Saw 3D/Saw: The Final Chapter/ Saw VII (Yeah, I can't believe that movie has multiple names). In a way, it makes sense to have Medic as Dr. Gordon because just like how it was shown at the end of Saw VII that he and John worked great together, Medic and Engie are also seen working together in Expiration Date as lab partners. They both would work great as an amazing sadistic duo. Also, I think it's kind of cute to have Engie give Medic a prosthetic foot after he too cuts it off entirely. Not only would it make sense because Engie knows a thing or two about prosthetics, but it would show that Medic and Engie both have something in common: cut off what's unnecessary to help with your survival. Medic would also try to justify and reason Engie's actions. Also, I love Dr. Gordon's "Game Over" line, it's soooooo good!!! It's my personal favorite (Of course nothing beats John's iconic classic version). I could totally imagine how great Medic would sound saying that line!

BLU Spy: Detective Lieutenant Mark Hoffman - Ok, this is where things start to get a little interesting. Hoffman became John's accomplice after replicating his ideas and making his own traps that John never made himself. In a way, he's becoming Jigsaw. Just like how Spy can become and replicate any class, Hoffman also became more mysterious and secretive to his fellow colleagues and tried to frame Special Agent Peter Strahm as Jigsaw. In the end, when he gets caught, he goes against everyone and executes them, so the secret never comes out. Also, another reason why Spy is Hoffman and please tell me if I'm not the only one here who thought this when watching Saw: Did anyone else get Hoffman and Strahm mixed up because they almost look like the same person and it's always confusing when there's a scene that focuses on one of them but it's actually the other? I decided to have two Spies in the story with the BLU Spy as Hoffman and the RED Spy as Strahm since they look the same minus the color.

Miss Pauling: Amanda Young - You're probably thinking, "Why her? Is it because she just so happens to be female and I just filled her in that role?" Well yes, but actually no. It's because Amanda was very loyal to John, looking up to him, defending him constantly, and was very close to him. Miss Pauling fits that role when it comes to the Administrator, but here she's loyal to Engie. I feel like she likes Engie the most out of any other class, so she would definitely help him out as well as get advice from him. She also can get shit done when being asked to accomplish a task. Sadly, we know what's to come for Amanda. Just like how in the comics Miss Pauling fails to bring the Australium, Amanda fails in John's tasks as he reveals to her that she's part of another game. I do feel like Miss Pauling was stuck playing around in the Administrator's game and it was also implied that every year the Administrator sends people to assassinate her to see if she succeeds as if it's an employee review. So, yeah, Miss Pauling and Amanda both are stuck in pretty tight situations.

RED Pyro: Billy the Puppet - Ah, yes, who could we ever forget? The main icon of the series. Both Pyro and Billy have terrifying appearances that'll leave you quivering on sleepless nights. I used to fear Billy as a kid, but now I see him as endearing and strangely, but freakishly, adorable. Pyro is freaky-looking, but he's such an adorable bundle of flames. I could definitely imagine seeing Pyro riding on Billy's iconic tricycle. That would be so funny, cute, and scary. As for Pyro's voice, since Billy is voiced by John (and Hoffman, I think? Idk), I'm not sure if Engie (or Spy) should voice Pyro since Pyro speaks in muffles. Maybe they should, idk. I also don't know if Pyro should speak in mumbles from time to time or whether he should have the ability to move and just walk around or just remain seated. And, of course, I don't know if Pyro should do his iconic laugh (maybe sometimes, idk). What I do know however is that Pyro should definitely have the iconic Billy laugh.

RED Balloonicorn/The Combustible Cutie Cosmetic (Yeah, I know it's pink, but it's the RED team's version which is why it's pink): Pighead Mask - Oink! Or in this case, Neigh! The mask that John and his accomplices dress up as with the iconic robe (though I'm not sure if this robe should remain red and black or pink and black, maybe the first option should be for Engie since he's the leader while the accomplices get the latter, or not, maybe they should match Engie, idk). At first, I chose Balloonicorn since it's related to Pyro and I know he'll love seeing everyone dress up as one, but then I remembered that there's a cosmetic for Pyro as a mask called "The Combustible Cutie" that resembles Balloonicorn, and boy does that mask look freaking scary!!! It's really fitting for both Saw and TF2 as a whole! It's pretty funny and scary to imagine getting kidnapped by a herd of pink unicorns all because you've been very naughty.

I hope fans of Saw and Team Fortress 2 enjoy this lovely piece of fanart as this has become one of my all-time favorites to create. I was also listening to the Saw soundtrack specifically the Zepp/Main Saw Themes. My favorite being, of course, "Hello Zepp". It fits Engie and John's character theme even though it's Zepp's (although you can argue that it IS John's since it's his perspective since he's saying hello, which I agree). But my actual favorite is "Zepp Overture" because to me it sounds like a holy church. I especially like the way the string instruments sound. Yeah, I know you can argue that Dr. Gordon has a theme at the end of Saw VII called "Dr. Gordon Montage" and "The Final Zepp" but to me, I think this theme fits Medic the best because, y'know, he replicates that sound by playing an actual saw when you taunt which is both funny and adorable. And it really fits his character to be seen as a holier-than-thou and especially a God. This might also fit Spy, but idk. I'm not sure which themes work for Spy and Miss Pauling or even Pyro (if you want Pyro and Engie to share the same theme, then that's fine by me). I might need to go back and listen to all of them depending on the movies that Hoffman and Amanda appear in. Maybe some of you can suggest one. But anyway, please go listen to the Saw soundtrack, especially the Zepp/Main Saw Themes, it's soooooo good!!! I might as well argue that it's one of, if not, THE best horror themes out there!!!

Here's a link to listen to it while you look at the art or whether you are interested in the Saw series and its music:

Welp, like I said before, I hope you fans enjoy it!!! I just can't' wait for Saw X to come out soon on September 29!!! I just hope and pray the movie is good though. Well, let's just wait and see. But until then,

GAME OVER!

[obimaulartfire]

Meet the Sith!Obi-wans!

Hello friends! I've been working on this post for quite a while. I wanted to show you all my Sithywans, including art reference for them!

First up, we have Darth Vain, the masked figure who works in the shadows to improve the galaxy. (Or so he thinks)

Text: Darth Vain

Was Dooku's Padawan. Fell to the Dark Side with his master.

His death was faked when he left the Jedi Order. Obi-wan Kenobi is officially deceased.

Legitimately thinks he's helping the galaxy.

Wears a mask to hide his identity. (And, it's looks cool)

Operates in the shadows

Only reason he's Darkside is because he feels it is too late to turn back. (He is so sad)

Arm and leg cut off by Maul (pointing to his prosthetics)

Mask! (next to mask reference)

Elaborate obi (pointing to his waist)

Appearances: Here!

Next we have Darth Lurus, the seductive, arrogant Sith who craves power above all else.

Text:

Darth Lurus (pronounced like "Lure-us")

Embodies "seduction" to the Dark Side.

Relies heavily on soft power. e.g. Charm, negotiations, etc.

Freelance Sith (no master). Took (jedi) Maul as his apprentice.

Has seduced many to his cause, and used his allies to kill the Emperor.

Politically married to Satine. Rules as Emperor.

Has many hairstyles and outfits. (pointing to Lurus)

See-through sleeves (pointing to sleeves)

Here for vibes, mostly (pointing to...Lurus, again)

Appearances: Here, here, and here. (He's fun to draw!)

Finally, we have Darth Judicious, the revenge-obsessed, horror movie monster-esque Fallen Jedi.

Text:

Darth Judicious

Turned right after Qui-gon was murdered by Maul. (Qui-gon was unable to tell Obi-wan about Anakin)

Obsessed wth revenge and justice.

Thinks he can never go back to the light, but fully embraces his violent tendencies.

REFUSES to go down in combat. Will do ANYTHING to gain the upper hand.

Clings tightly to his past. Keeps torn Jedi robe with him. Obsessed with Maul.

INSANE. DO NOT ENGAGE.

Pupils are red when light shines on them. (pointing to eyes) (Disclaimer: do not ask me how this works, I have no idea. I just think it's fun)

Torn Jedi robe (pointing to the ribbon around his waist)

Keeps moving, no matter how badly he's damaged. (pointing to his broken foot and the blood on the floor)

Appearances: Right here! This is his visual design debut though :)

I hope you enjoy them! I adore these guys, and will hopefully write them/draw them more in the future!

Tagging @mcu-supersoldiers bc they asked for the ref

[drabbles-of-writing]

for mermay can u tell us what type of mermaid hunter would be in the mermaid au?

I believe I already said this, but I wanted to give some updates, so I shall say it again!

Hunter is an orca, more specifically one who'd accumulated a lot of algae that gave him a yellowish hue (which does happen in the wild!), and the fact that juveniles are often yellowish, he lives up to the Golden Guard name. From his tail fluke and a little bit up is a prosthetic that Belos made. Debating if it's because Hunter had some fucked up Grimwalker juice or Belos went so far over a line that it might as well not have existed anymore. But most of the rest of his tail has these metal wires (inspired by this post) that connect to important moving parts and assist in movement, as also due to an incident with Belos or by way of being born funky he has some weakened joints + muscles in his tail. All of it is crafted together with intricate designs and some good blending in that it looks like purposeful decoration/flashing off importance. The prosthetic itself is thought to be a fancy piece of armor.

Still not quite sure what would make Belos and Wittebro 'different' from the others, since Luz isn't human in this AU, she's just a selkie, which is still noticeably different from mers. I'm not sure, merrow? Ceasg? Adaro? No idea. But I know the basis of an orca was something slightly edited from whatever Wittebro was, so it's something off of what Belos is (something something "I'm a mer with a wonky tail. A lot of mers in my family were the same"). Not quite an orca, but I'm still not sure if I want to go down the megalodon route.

Back on Hunter, my guy is all kinds of sickly looking. He's got a floppy dorsal fin that he tries to hold up with wires similar to the ones used on his tail but they never quite work properly. He's got a few more noticeable scars since any underwater cloak is only gonna go so far, which leads even more people to believe he's much older than he actually is, even if he's pretty small for an orca. Being a killer whale and bearing that many scars certainly does quite a number for his reputation, which works in his favor as the Golden Guard. He's going through a lot

[komotionlessqueenmm]

One man's trash, is another man's treasure.

(3-4)

Short story # 6

2,216 - Words

Fandom - House of Wax (2005)

Pairing - Bo Sinclair X Reader

Summary - The reader finds herself & her 4 month old son stranded in Ambrose. While Bo finds himself enamored with the woman, wanting nothing more than to protect and provide for the two of them.

Warnings - Some dark topics, talk of abusive relationships, eventual blood & death, eventual smut. (I'm not sure what else tbh)

Notes - At this point both Bo and (Y/n) are really feeling that connection between them.

Pt. 1 ~ Pt. 2 ~ Pt. 3 ~ Pt. 4

----

By the end of the day (Y/n)'s jeep was all fixed up, but with as late in the evening as it was she decided to stay another night, with some encouragement from Bo of course. While (Y/n) and Von slept soundly in the guest bedroom, Bo met his brothers down at the garage, discussing what they should do, and if they should do anything in the first place. "I don't know Bo, her ex tried killing her because she was pregnant... She'll be running her whole life from a man like that." Lester sighed, not wanting anything to happen to (Y/n). "So we let her stay here, we can protect her from him easily." Bo shrugged. "What about when she realizes what happened to the people here? Or she finds out about Vincent's projects." Lester argued. "We'll explain it, make her understand." Bo countered. "How?" Lester asked feeling a little concerned. "I don't know yet." Bo admitted with a sigh. "I think we should start by introducing her to Vincent." He continued his thought, glancing to his twin, who made an almost concerned groan. "If she can accept him, I'm sure she'll accept the rest." Bo lit a new cigarette after finishing his statement. "And if she doesn't?" Lester asked. "That's not an option." Bo's smirk made worry spark in Lester's heart. Despite this however he chose to keep his mouth shut, and allowed his older brother to do whatever he had in mind.

When morning came, (Y/n) woke up early and cooked breakfast. "Morning." Bo murmured with a sleepy smile on his face, having been woken from the smell of bacon. "Morning Bo, I hope you don't mind." (Y/n) smiled sheepishly as she looked to what all she had cooked. "Not at all." Bo shook his head, happily accepting the cup of coffee she handed him. "Great." (Y/n) smiled brightly, the pair of them taking a seat beside eachother, eating their breakfast in a comfortable silence. Excluding the occasional hum of approval Bo gave when he bit into something new. And by the time they finished Von began crying from upstairs, cueing (Y/n) to fetch him to begin his morning routine.

"Hey I was going to do those." (Y/n) pouted playfully when she entered the kitchen, finding Bo working on the dishes. "Eh don't worry about it, you cooked I'll clean up." Bo winked making (Y/n) blush as she sat at the counter, adjusting herself to feed a fussy Von. "My brother wants to meet you before you leave." Bo stated casually. "Really?" (Y/n) smiled softly. "Mhm." Bo nodded his head with a hum. "I'd love to meet him." (Y/n)'s grin widened a little, feeling honored that he'd want to meet her. "We'll meet him up at the house of wax in an hour." Bo confirmed as he finished up the last dish. "Sounds fun, I've never been to a house of wax before." She hummed as she propped Von onto her shoulder, burping him. "I'm gonna go take a quick shower, let me know when you're ready." Bo insisted casually as he moved to wipe the spit up off of Von's chin. "Okay will do." (Y/n) smiled with appreciation, hopping up from her seat to get herself and Von dressed.

Once inside of the wax Museum (Y/n)'s attention was drawn to just about everything within sight, making Bo chuckle as he watched her ogle everything. "I take it you like it?" Bo mused with a grin. "I'm a little obsessed, is everything in here really made of wax?" She asked turning to look Bo in the eye. "Just about everything, most of its wax, but some of it isn't." Bo shrugged a little. "The vase?" (Y/n) asked as she pointed to the large decorative vase. "Wax." Bo nodded. "The couch?" She pointed to the couch two wax figures sat upon. "Wax." He chuckled. "How about the...." (Y/n) looked around before realization struck her. "The building?" She turned her attention to Bo, her eyes widening when he nodded his head yes. "Wow that's insane." (Y/n) chuckled with astonishment. "But you like it yeah?" Bo asked. "I love it! I can't imagine how long this must have taken to craft all of this, but it's very impressive." (Y/n) beamed making Bo chuckle softly. "Vincent will be happy to hear that you like his work." Bo mused. "Wait he did all of this?" (Y/n)'s eyes widened. "Not all of it, but a lot of it." Bo explained. "Wow I wish I had that kinda talent." (Y/n) chucked softly, jumping when a statue in the back moved. "Alright no need to scare her." Bo chuckled with a shake of his head, the once statue approaching the pair. "I was not expecting you to move, I really thought you were a statue." (Y/n) chuckled nervously.

"(Y/n) this is my brother Vincent." Bo introduced the two, the masked brother timidity offering (Y/n) his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you." (Y/n) smiled looking at his mask with curiosity. "Is your prosthetic made of wax?" She asked without thought, but he only tilted his head to the side. "Your mask." She clarified, smiling when he nodded his head yes. "That's very cool, did you make it yourself?" (Y/n) asked chuckling when he nodded his head again. "You don't talk much huh?" She tilted her own head a little. "He can't." Bo clarified unknowingly making (Y/n) suddenly feel guilty. "Oh I didn't know, I'm sorry." (Y/n) ducked her head down, feeling stupid for opening her mouth. "Vincent do you wanna show her?" Bo asked his brother, who hesitated for a moment before nodding his head in agreement. (Y/n) picked her head up, watching in amazement as Vincent removed his mask. "Wow." She muttered under her breath, taking in the sight of his face, frowning a little when he looked away from her. "What happened?" (Y/n) turned to Bo. "We were born as Siamese twins, and our daddy was an unorthodoxed doctor. He was able to separate us as infants." Bo explained suddenly feeling subconscious himself. "Wow... That's incredible." (Y/n) murmured softly. "You're both incredible." She chuckled softly looking back to Vincent, who smiled back at her before putting his mask back on.

--Later that day--

Having decided on stay one more day (Y/n) sat with Bo in his living room talking about this and that, and joking about nearly everything. "(Y/N)!" A voice yelled from outside, cutting off (Y/n)'s laughter, a look of terror filling her eyes in an instant. "(Y/N)!" The man yelled from outside for a second time. "It's him... It's Trent, he's come for me!" (Y/n) panicked, explaining to Bo why she suddenly got so fearful. "(Y/N) I KNOW YOU'RE HERE!" Trent yelled, sounding a bit closer to Bo's house now. "I'll keep you safe." Bo promised before he rose to his feet, grabbing the shotgun he kept near the front door. "Wait he's dangerous." (Y/n) rushed to follow Bo outside, leaving Von in his crib asleep. "COME OUT COME OUT COME OUT!" Trent taunted from the center of town, his attention turning to a pissed off Bo Sinclair. "Found yourself a gullible local huh?" Trent sneered at (Y/n) who ignored her fear and continued following Bo. "I suggest you get outta here and forget about (Y/n)." Bo warned, resting his shotgun on his shoulder, standing about eight feet from Trent, who only scoffed at his threat. "How about you go fuck your sister, and leave me to my business." Trent hissed, his words only fueling the hatred Bo felt for this man. "Your business best consist of you getting outta my town." Bo glared Trent down, who only chuckled. "Sure I'll get outta your town, once I have her." Trent pointed to (Y/n), but Bo only pushed (Y/n) to stand back a little.

"That ain't gonna happen." Bo shook his head with a mocking grin on his face. "How did you even find me!?" (Y/n) asked the question that had been plaguing her mind. "Remember my buddy Stan? I had him bug your car with a GPS tracker." Trent mocked as he flashed them the receiver of the tracker. "Now get over here." He growled as he pulled a pistol from the back of his belt. As Trent trained the pistol, Bo stepped in front of (Y/n) training his shotgun on Trent. "I'll only warn you one more time." Bo hissed, resisting the urge to just blow the motherfucker away. "Fuck you, you fucking redneck." Trent taunted before he pulled the trigger, but his gun jammed and Bo smirked. "Nah fuck you." Bo retorted before pulling the trigger, blowing open Trent's chest. (Y/n) screamed at the sound, her heart racing in her chest. Almost like everything was moving in slow motion, (Y/n) watched Trent's body hit the ground with a thud, dead as dead gets. Bo was quick to spin on his heel, gently setting the gun on the ground he scooped (Y/n)'s shaking form into his arms. "Sh darling it's alright, I've got you. You're safe now darling, I've got you." He murmured against the crown of her head, carrying her back into his house. "It's okay (Y/n), rest now. I'll take care of everything, I'll take care of you." Bo promised as he laid her down on the couch, lovingly stroking her hair, before he kissed her temple. The events suddenly flipping a highly protective and tender switch within Bo, not that (Y/n) was complaining in the slightest, taking great comfort in his words and actions.

A few hours passed and in that time, (Y/n) had calmed down, and thought about a lot of things. Bo had dealt with the body and come back to (Y/n)'s side within the first hour, allowing her to cuddle into his side and think. "Bo what is this place?" (Y/n) asked with worry laced in her voice. "What?" Bo frowned his brows, a confused smile on his face. "Please don't lie to me anymore, please tell me what this place is. This town its just not right, in all the time I've been here I've only seen you Lester and Vincent." (Y/n) explained, suddenly feeling concerned for her baby's well being. "I want to tell you, I've wanted to tell you for a while now... But I don't want to scare you away." Bo hung his head. "Not telling me is scaring me, Bo please tell me." She insisted. "You know I would never hurt you or Von right?" Bo asked, his eyes the tiniest bit glossy. "Of course I know that." (Y/n) licked her lips, ignoring the worry bubbling at the back of her mind. "The town been abandoned for a decade, me and my brothers took it over a few years ago." Bo began. "Brothers?" (Y/n) asked having caught the plural. "Lester is mine and Vincent's younger brother." Bo explained frowning a little when (Y/n)'s eyes filled with worry.

"Lester convinces people to come to Ambrose, and me and Vincent kill them." Bo revealed, his confession making (Y/n)'s breath hitch in her throat. "Lester called me after he dropped you off at the gas station, and he told me to help you out, he insisted that we spared you." Bo licked his lips nervously. "I wasn't going to listen to him, but when you didn't snoop around town like everyone else, I was curious about you... Then I seen you, and your baby, and any dark thought I had washed away in an instant. The more we talked, the more I was intrigued with you... The more I wanted to protect you, especially when you told me about your ex." Bo admitted, his words surprisingly soothing (Y/n). "I'm sorry..." Bo muttered under his breath. "I forgive you." (Y/n) smiled softly, sitting up she adjusted herself to straddle Bo's lap. "I forgive you." She repeated herself as she took his face between her hands. "You've been better to me than most people in my life, and while the knowledge of what you and Vincent do... Is almost heartbreaking... I forgive you. I know you won't harm me or Von, to proved yourself to me today when you saved me from Trent." (Y/n) leaned in and gently kissed Bo's lips, pulling away all to soon. "I don't want to leave, I want to stay here with you... To love you despite the things you do, to love you despite the monster you can be... I want you for who you are, darkness and all." (Y/n) confessed, making Bo's mind go hazy with adoration. "Please stay." He muttered subconsciously. "I am." (Y/n) rest her forehead against his, smiling when he wrapped his arms around her waist.

----

Part three is complete!!!!

Part four will hopefully be posted tomorrow evening.

（＾_＾）

[rokas-magical-gateway]

Undeniable Truth

Count Lucio x Gender Neutral MC

EDIT: I recently re-realized that this is the first thing I've seriously written in literally 10 years so, constructive criticism is definitely welcome... Thank you!

Fanfiction inspired by these pieces of art:

Left: @jyuukichannart

Right: @imaridraws

Tags: Scars, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

Rating: PG-13?

He shivered a little as they gently grazed the tips of their fingers along the scar on his ribs, already lidded silver eyes falling the rest of the way closed as a soft sigh slid past his lips...

The fingers of their other hand continued to reverently caress thick, golden locks as they slowly glided through the silken strands, but then the fingers of their previous hand ghosted along fair skin to lovingly trace the occasional lines that mark it: his ribs, across his toned stomach to jump to his wrist, caressing the lines that criss-cross that arm...

He almost wanted to tell them to stop; he hated it when people paid so much attention to his scars; he had other, far more lavish features to admire, he could never understand the bemusement toward the abhorrent imperfections. He melted under their touch, though, & despite his mild uncertainty, he found himself keeping silent to simply enjoy the feeling of their hands on him, the touch he always craved.

Fingers tenderly continued along across his neck - earning the slightest shiver as he was brought back from his musings - to the mark leading to the junction of his shoulder & neck, falling lazily to trace along his clavicle until it met cool metal, where it changed course to begin to outline the anchor for the golden prosthetic & before either could think his other hand had their wrist in a vice like grip.

The sudden force surprised them & they couldn't help the flinch before they looked again & their eyes met the steel of his irises beneath his now deeply furrowed brows. It winded them for a moment, that stare, before they recalled that the only steel in that gaze were the bars put there to hold the emotions in check. After a moment's hesitation, their free hand continued through his hair, just as reverently, nothing but love as they managed to hold those guarded, yet burning eyes.

"Please...?" They pleaded gently which drew a flush to his cheeks, immediately softening the rest of his features a little.

He was certain they'd said "please" before, but the weight of the plea despite the softness of their voice would have floored him had he not been resting in their lap already. Even on the occasions when he took the dominant role he couldn't help but to love & spoil them without abandon, unable to leave them want for anything, but...

Searching their eyes for some answer, his grip on them relaxed just enough & they brought their hand away from the place that had so offended him to caress the side of his face. He'd started worrying at his lower lip so they leaned down to take it from him, gently sucking it into a kiss as they used their hands along his face & in his hair to pull him to them just a little, earning another soft sigh as he relaxed a little more.

"Please...?" They whispered again, a little breathless, but just as weighted.

"Yes, anything you want," he answered so quietly, unable to resist them, but so reluctant.

They didn't move away as their hand slowly, *carefully* eased back down his neck & along his shoulder again, instead pressing reassuring little kisses to the corner of his mouth & down along his chin.

He shivered again tangling his fingers into their hair & hoping to distract himself from his nagging thoughts as his partner found the anchor again & traced down along it until they found the deepest scarring where the prosthetic met his shoulder. He nearly whined with the effort to keep from snatching up their wrist again, instead tightening his grip in their hair, tangling his fingers a little deeper, his golden hand starting to tremble a little.

"It's alright," they found themself gently cooing against his lips as they affectionately rubbed their noses together. "I love you, Lucio."

"I love you, too," he breathed lifting his still trembling hand to slide underneath their hair & rest against the back of their neck, the cool metal making them tremble just a little before he pulled them in to close the short distance between their mouths, eliciting a soft whine of surprise before they melted into his trembling lips.

Their hands continued caressing him, one barely resisting the urge to tangle & pull his pretty blond hair, continuing instead to adoringly stroke him like a treasured pet & the other falling to continue following the line of his prostethic, tenderly stroking along all the scarring there. As they traced the junction of flesh & metal underneath his arm, his fingers tangled painfully tighter into their hair as some sound between a whine & a moan escaped from him into their mouth making them shiver & pull back just a little to gaze down at his flushed face. They were taken aback by the tears as they began to slide from where they'd collected around his silver eyes, causing them to glitter beautifully despite the heart wrenching expression across his normally proud features.

"Oh, Lucio..."

Both of their hands made their way to his cheeks so that they could caress his face, carefully thumbing away the tears & trailing eyeliner around his eyes; a fruitless effort as they continued down his cheeks & their hands anyway.

"Why...?" He managed to choke out around the sobs he was trying to hold back.

At first they didn't understand & they didn't want to hesitate too long while he was so fragile, but thankfully as they opened their mouth to respond, they realized what he meant.

"You're beautiful, my love; I just crave to touch you," they answered, managing what they hoped was a convincing smile which was hard with how worried for him they were.

He looked away. Actually turned his whole head to look away. They didn't like that; even fully submitted to them, he didn't do that.

"Not that part..."

"Yes, that part!" They used their hands still on his face to make him meet their eyes again. "ALL of you! Every centimeter!"

His eyes widened a little before he turned them away, teeth finding his lip once again. He'd planned to disagree, but knew better & bit back the protest.

When they shifted his head from their lap, freeing him from their grasp & convincing him to loosen his own, so they could stand up, he was certain they'd given up & would leave. He almost wished they would, but he knew that if they did he'd remember how worthless & alone he felt & yearn for them again only to have chased-

Familiar weight settled across his waist & the plush couch sank beneath him as he gazed with tear blurred vision up at the being straddling him, moisture collecting & threatening to fall from their eyes, too. While they had his attention again, they leaned down over him, curling their arms around the back of his neck to tangle their fingers back into his hair as they pressed their body as close to his as they could, crushing their mouths together once more. They shivered against him as he moaned into the kiss, wrapping his prosthetic around their waist while his other arm snaked up their back so that he could rest his hand along the nape of their neck, pulling them impossibly closer.

They stayed like that for a short time: tightly wrapped up in one another while they eagerly explored each other's mouths, gasping desperately between soft sounds of delight as they lost themselves in one another, their tears momentarily forgotten in their affection for each other. But, finally, the pair parted for an actual breath; they stayed hovering inches over him while both of them gazed into one another's red-rimmed eyes.

"I love you, Montag," they declared shakily, "I love every part of you. All I could ever see when I look at you is indefectible beauty, why don't you believe that?"

His breathing picked up a little at the sound of his birth name on their lips. They were the only one he allowed to know & use it, though they seldomly did. He hung on to every word, silently cursing himself as he felt his throat tighten again.

"How can..." he had to swallow back the tears once again, "how can you say that any of this," he stopped to shift his shoulder a little beneath them, emphasizing his prosthetic, or rather, the scarring associated & surely the rest of his scars, too, "is beautiful?" His voice started to waver making his already distinct accent a little more pronounced. "If I'd been stronger, I'd have been able to better protect myself. What kind of warrior loses an arm? & days after the fact to AMPUTATION?!" He was frantic, nearly seething by the end.

"A *strong* one," they pressed firmly, emphasizing it with a slight tug on his hair to redirect his attention back from within himself to out there with them. "A warrior who could have died, but *lived*. A warrior who has seen countless battlefields & endured much pain to get to where he is." They allowed their voice to soften as his expression did; he was truly listening now. "A warrior who *perseveres* instead of submitting to death under the guise of honor. A true warrior."

A hand slid from his hair to gently rest along his neck, thumb stroking along the underside of his jaw. His face wasn't wholly relaxed yet, but he looked a little more serene under the touch, his eyes softening slightly & his lips parting just a little; he was processing what they'd said.

"Y-you really believe that."

It could have been a question, but the tone made it a statement. They felt a smile tug at the corners of their mouth at that child of a man. Gods how they wanted to just hold him tight & help him forget all the bad things that had made him grow to feel the way he did about himself.

For the time, though, they ghosted their lips along the other side of his jaw, earning yet another shiver & a soft gasp until their lips reached his in a featherlight touch so they could give him their answer:

"Absolutely."

His own lips parted with some other sound, but they swallowed it in a kiss that had him trembling beneath them as soon as their lips met his. Fingers eagerly slid up into their hair inspiring them to trail theirs down his chest to rest over his fluttering heart with a gratified moan.

"Mm, Montag~" They managed, pulling back only enough to focus on lidded silver eyes.

"Yes, my Deity," he answered, his voice slow & husky.

His golden hair was tousled beyond any quick fix, strewn here & there with a few pieces having fallen felicitously in his face, drawing to his eyes. The makeup was smudged & streaked & they were still a little puffy & bloodshot from his tears, but it only made the softness behind, those foxy eyes more apparent; the truth he tried so hard to hide from everyone laid bare for only them to see: he just wanted to be loved & to share that love in return without fear of admonishment.

Their lips brushed the shell of his ear as they whispered to him,

"Let me show you how comely I think you are~?"

A gently posed question, with deep promises that finally brought some of that familiar mischief to his face; his eyes starting to twinkle as the smile began to play at his lips.

"I am putty in your hands ready to be molded to your whims," he started with quiet confidence only to writhe with a whine as they licked along his ear to gently nibble the lobe. "P-p-please show me h-how fet-fetching I can be..." Their lips trailed to his neck nipping a little so that he moaned the last part. "I'm yours~"

And sometimes it was absolutely impossible to believe but, as they sat all the way back to admire the flushed, disarranged mess that was the Count of Vesuvia, more at ease & completely vulnerable below them, it proved to be absolutely undeniable truth.

[queenlokibeth]

THANK YOU so much for posting your comments about the scene with Bucky's arm... I could not agree more. I've seen so many garbage takes people are posting about that scene. Like, no, it is NEVER okay to mess with someone's aid or prosthetic! Disturbing that so many people literally do not understand... An interesting swap as an "ableism test" is to pretend the prosthetic was a flesh arm. Mind exercise for people who are NOT understanding the implications of that scene for people w disabilities!

Thank you for your message anon! It means a lot. I kind of added my comments thinking they would go mostly unnoticed but I've been so happy to see how well received they have been and I'm so glad that others are finding validation in that, too.

Ableism is alive and well and unfortunately it doesn't get spoken about in fandom/regarding media as much as it should. One thing that personally really bothered me was people turning this into the oppression olympics as dismissing us criticising that scene under the guise of calling our criticism racist, when race was never involved at all. Racism and ableism can coexist, just like any other issues, and it's absolutely not right for either party to be silenced due to a lack of empathy, arrogance, ignorance, and entitlement from some individual people. Falling into this extremism of "this is a white man therefore he can't have any issues and no viewer is allowed to relate to his experiences" is extremely dangerous.

I'd say that most of us speaking up about this scene are disabled ourselves, and/or work/live closely with other disabled people, and are speaking from our own experiences. Getting our comments dismissed as this being just pointless whining from Bucky stans is violent and shows a scary fundamental lack of compassion for other people. One of the main points that this series has shown so far is that EVERYONE is flawed. All the characters are complex and they all have faults, and this includes Ayo and the Dora Milaje. No one is "cancelling" them at all. I still think they're fantastic characters and want to see more of them, but as a disabled person it's also within my right to discuss the media I consume in comparison to issues that I have first-hand knowledge with.

I've seen the comparison with a flesh arm, and while to ME it makes sense, I'm afraid abled people focus on a different part: they'll focus on "ripping out someone's arm is painful and horrifying!" Which, yes absolutely, but it's ALSO incapacitating, a violation of your body, a shock, and it brings a multitude of instantaneous and long term effects, and that's the part that's similar to getting a prosthesis or aid ripped off.

A big part of being physically disabled is the associated mental struggle produced my environmental ableism. From my own experience and that of other physically disabled people that I know plus prosthesis users I've worked with, those mental struggles of feeling isolated, lacking autonomy, frustration, etc. More often than not come from the way people and spaces interact with your disability, not necessarily because of your physical limitations themselves. For example, if I'm in a wheelchair and can't enter a place I want/need to go to because it's not accessible, I'll feel pretty frustrated, a bit annoyed, discouraged, and sometimes a bit embarrassed because I might need to ask someone to go in for me (lack of autonomy), but if you notice, none of those struggles stem directly from "oh I can't stand today", they come from "wow i really just exist in a place full of obstacles". This is where a lot of the impact of removing someone's assistive device comes from, and I don't expect a lot of abled people to understand this. I have had my crutches taken away while i was sitting down, with no prior warning. It's terrifying. On a lighter note, to the people saying "the arm is a weapon!!" (It's not) I'll just let you know that I know way too many crutch-users who have used them to beat someone, usually someone who's trying to take then away as a "joke". I hope these nayseyers get hit by someone's assistive device.

I personally became (mostly subconsciously) a fan of Bucky BECAUSE he's disabled. As I mentioned in another post, this character came into my life at the same time as I got my diagnosis, and while i HAVE been disabled my entire life and will be until I die, coming to terms with accepting that that's what i AM (stigma, shame, you name it) has been a long road, to the point where the first time that I got the courage to call myself disabled was only a few months ago. I can't possibly tell you how hard these past years would have been without representation, without one of my fav characters being disabled. I literally got the courage to start saving up for splints (they're expensive lmao i'll get them one day) because younger-me decided that they WOULD look cool on LIKE BUCKY'S ARM when I wore them.

Anyways, thanks anon ily, sorry for the bible lenght response, i just have SO many thoughts on this.

[theguythatdraws]

Meeting Skurd

It started like a normal day. Birds were chirping, sun was shining, and Lycidas was getting ready for class.

After putting on his clothes, he went to the bathroom, and brushed his teeth. That's when he met with a Hufflepuff student, who looked kinda shaken up.

"Sup, dude? How's today treating you?" He said, twisting his toothbrush onto his prosthetic.

"Something weird happened to me. I don't know what the heck it was, but this weird green thing attached itself to my shoulder, and grew a third arm from me. But when it left, it said ' Good news. Your genes aren't that interesting.'"

"Oh, that's too bad, buddy. Can you tell me what it looked like?"

"Like a big green booger."

The rest of the day, Lycidas looked out for a big green booger. Chances were it was an alien that he needed to take care of.

Finally, during History of Magic...

"JESUS, WHAT ARE YOU?!"

He saw it. The big green booger. It attached itself to another student.

"Oh relax, I'm just trying to get a free meal. Even if it tastes quite foul."

Lycidas got up. "So you're the booger I've been hearing about!"

"BOOGER?! I'll have you know I'm not mucus! I am a Slimebiote! Skurd's the name!"

"Slimebiote? Never heard of that species before." He thought.

"Well, whatever you are, you need to stop attaching yourself to people!"

"Very well, maybe your DNA tastes better than this chaps!" Skurd said, jumping onto Lycidas.

"Wait, don't-"

Lycidas blocked Skurd with the Omnitrix, but instead, he attached to it.

"Oh my goodness, this device, it's like an all-you-can-eat buffet! So many exotic strands of DNA, all for me!"

"You wish, slimy! The Omnitrix belongs to me! Get off!"

"I only come off when I want to! And right now, I never want to leave! This DNA is like necter of the gods!"

"Are you serious? I'm stuck with you now? Great, a DNA eating booger attached itself to me."

"Don't be so negative, boy! Think of it as more of a partnership. I get a free meal, and you get a new partner!"

"Fine, but try not to get in the way." Lycidas said, sitting back down and getting back to work.

"I do believe that's not how you spell 'controversial'. It has an 'e' in it."

"This snot wad is going to be a pain in the ass." Said Lycidas, under his breath.

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

Finally, the school day was done. Lycidas stared at the Slimebiote attached to the Omnitrix.

"So, do you do any tricks, or do you just stand there and look pretty?" He said sarcastically.

"My dear boy, my species can manipulate DNA itself! And with that device of yours, the possibilities are endless!"

"Ok, show me."

Skurd moved up Lycidas' arm, covering it in his body.

"Hey, what are you-"

Lycidas' arm suddenly shifted, and when the mucus cleared, his arm was made of crystal, and in his hand was a huge crystal sword.

"Whoa! You did that?! That's pretty cool!"

"At your service..." Said Skurd, taking a bow.

"So, this sword is made of Geodefoot's DNA, huh? I think I'll call this the Crystal Cleaver!" Said Lycidas, swinging the sword. "Hey, uh, I'm sorry for calling you a snot wad."

"Its alright, boy, I probably would have done the same." Said Skurd.

"So, do you eat potatoes, or is Omnitrix DNA fine? If we're going to be together for a while, we should get to know each other better."

"I do like potatoes." Said Skurd, shifting Lycidas' arm back to normal.

"In that case, let's get some dinner." Said Lycidas.

[cubeswhump]

Will Not be a Victim for my character, Blondie.

The neglected Blondie. I need to get back to my Powers Verse too. And the immortal bitches. I have a Sweetie and Michelle story drafted though.

Warnings for mentions of violence, referenced torture, bit of ableism. Pretty tame compared to what I usually write.

The phone rang from her nightstand, and again, and again. Then it started pinging with texts: Terry-Ellen has spoken to me but my own daughter won’t answer her phone.

I’ll be arriving at your house at 6PM.

Blondiw growled and dialled the number. The phone rang only twice before the deep voice came on the other line: “Oh, so you’ve decided to stop ignoring me?”

“Fucking hell, Dad. I’m twenty-three,” Blondie reminded him. “Chill.’

"Language, Melinda,” he scolded lightly. “I don’t care of you’re eighty-three. You’re still my daughter and we just got you back. I need to be sure that you’re okay.”

"I'm fine, Dad."

"Are you really?"

Blondie pinched the bridge of her nose. Don't call him a nosy twat, don't call your dad a nosy twat. She breathed out. "You hired a fucking bodyguard for me. "That's humiliating enough, and now you're prying into my life like I'm a child."

"Language. Good lord, you take after your mother," he sighed. "Who are you embarrassed in front of? You haven't left your house in more than two weeks." His voice was so even and annoyingly calm. Blondie swallowed back the snarl crawling up her throat. "Is it really prying to be concerned about my daughter? I just want to know that you're okay. I haven't seen you since-"

"Okay, okay, I'll stop by tomorrow. No need to stop by." She knew her father would have some words if she saw the state her house was in. Tej wasn't hired to clean after the slob, and no one had patched up the hole Blondie punched in the living room.

"Are you sure? If I come over you can stay home and rest," he offered.

"You just got on my ass for staying in my house!"

"You know that is not what happened, Melinda."

"I'll be there at eleven in the morning, okay?"

"I'll expect you by twelve."

Blondie huffed and hung up as he chuckled.

***

Tej was prodding her. "Get up. We've gotta go soon."

Blondie lifted her head abd ahot rhe other wonan a glare. "There's no we. You're staying home."

"You know that's not how it works," she said, unfazed. "I'll make you coffee."

"Don't." Blondie pyr one foot on the floor and grabbed one crutch. The other must have fallen over at some point in the night, and Blondie whacked Tej with the crutch in her hand when the thin woman tried to help her retrieve the fallen one. "Scram, bitch."

"Very nice, " Tej said sarcastically, handing her the crutch anyway. She caught the crutch Blondie swung at her. "Have you ever considered treating the help like people?"

"Go on, call me a bitch. There's nothing in your contract that says you can't insult me, yeah?"

"I'll leave you to get dreased," Tej said dryly. "Your hair looks nice. Did you wash it?"

She shut the door behind her just in time for the television remote to crash into the wood.

Blondie had only worn bath robes and undergarments for the last few weeks and she hadn't gotten to modifying any pants to her new body. Skirts? No, fighting in a skirt wasn't a great idea - if she needed to fight. Fights were always possible.

Shorts. A pair of shorts, one sock, one combat boot. The left bood sat all alone and sad. She kicked it over. Hair in a bun.

"Your coffee, Blondie." Tej shoved the steaming mug right in her face while Blondie was trying to sneak out the front door.

"I told you not to make me coffee," Blondie grumbled.

"Coconut creamer and one Sweet-N-Low," Tej tempted her, voice sing-song.

"I'm getting coffee on the way to my dad's, shithead." And she was out tje door, slamming it behind her - or trying to. Tej caught it just before it closed and slipped out after her.

"Want me to drive? You can relax," Tej offered, reaching for the keyring in Blondie's hand. Blondie jerked it away.

"I'll relax when you're dead. It's my fucking car."

"Cool, cool."

Tej was in the passenger's seat before Blondie had even opened her door so she couldn't even lock her out. Tej smiled at her knowingly. Blondie gripped the steering wheel sp hard her fingers turned white.

Tej tried to make conversation throughout the drive and Blondie turned the volume up a few notches every time she opened her mouth. After a million years, she pulled up in front of the coffee shop.

"I'll get you an iced mocha cappuccino," Blondie said as she got out of the car. Tej was stepping out too.

"Nah, I wanna look at the menu," she replied. Blondie squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth, reciting the "calming phrases" from her counseling sessions as a teenager.

When was this place ever this busy? Blondie sighed as she joined the line, Tej at her side. "You know, you're paying for your own shit."

"That's fair," Tej shrugged. "Your daddy pays me weekly."

Blondie sneered at her.

The line inched forward. A woman and her child joined. Seriously, did the entire fucking town want coffee right now?

"Wow..." the woman said, her voice hushed. "What happened?"

Blondie didn't realize the woman was talking to her until she felt a tap on her shoulder.she turned around, finding the woman's wide eyes on her still-bandaged stump. The little girl stared too, reaching for Blondie's crutch. Blondie jerked it away from her sticky hand and scowled, but neither noticed.

"What happened?" the woman asled again. "Why don't you get a prosthetic leg?"

"I pesteres someone with intrusive questions and she pulled out a machete," Blondie snapped. The woman recoiled.

"Ma'am, you're being very insensitive, and you should teach your child not to touch anyone's mobility aids." Tej launched right into a lecture. "Please treat my friend as you would treat-"

Blondie's temper boiled over. She raised one crutch and bashed it into the woman's knee. Tej's hand clamped over her own mouth as the woman fell over with a screech, dragging her daughter down with her.

"Oops. My bad." Blondie turned her back on the pair.

"Did you see that?" the woman cried as she got back to her feet. The cashier looked over from the customer he was dealing with, frowning.

"I'll be out fast," Blondie promised the cashier. "No trouble."

They walked out with their coffees and gluten-filled breakfast, Blondie's coffee spouting steam that smelled of coconut... Something she could have gotten at home. Tej predictably got a mocha cappuccino.

"I mean," Tej finally said during their resumed drive, mouth full of bagel, "not that I blame you much, but public battery isn't a food luck."

Blondie turned the radio up higher.

The guard let them into the gated, cookie cutter community. Towering houses were identical, painted a cream not a shade lighter or darker than the house nextdoor. Perfect gardens, no blade of grass even a centimeter overgrown. One house had flowers a different shade of pink than the rest. Blondie might have struggled to differentiate the houses if Chase weren't waving frantically at the end of one driveway.

"Melinda, love, how are you?" The large man was coming at her with open arms as she stepped out of the car. She was too slow thinking of an excuse to get out of hugging her stepdad, and he squeezed her tight.

"Peachy," she told him.

He hugged Tej too before letting both women into the house. He was talking a mile a minute and Blondie let Tej handle the conversation.

"I see you brought beverages. No tea then?" he asked. Blondie shook her head. "Oliver's in his study."

"Tell him hi for me," Tej chirped, and Blondie decided she would not do that. She hurried away when the other two started discussing how much they lift at the gym.

115 pounds? Unimpressive, Tej.

She didn't bother knocking on the mahogany door, throwing it right open. "Yo."

Oliver swiveled around in his chair like a James Bond villain. He even looked the part with his coiffed grey hair and serious expression. "Good morning, Melinda. You were almost on time. Have a seat."

"Nice to see you too," Blondie said sarcastically, falling back ontp the plump sofa.

"Oh, no, you're covered in crumbs! Why didn't you brush yourself off outside?"

"Just vacuum later. I had a muffin."

Oliver sighed, turning back to his laptop. "Depending on your recovery time, we'll get you fitted for prosthesis." He flicked through images. Some were very realistic and even matching her skin color, others clunky and robotic, some abstract and hardly resembling a limb. "We should find a design that fits your activity level, preferably a more realistic one. No one has to know. At that point we'll get you to that physical therapist I've been talking to, and-"

"Whoa, hold on a minure. Don't I get a say?" Blondie snapped. "And who said I want a realiatic one? Maybe I don't want to pretend I'm fucking normal."

"Whatever you want, darling. But I'm not going to let you hold yourself back."

"You tell me to take it easy abd slow down and then you get on my ass for being behind the curve. The fuck is that?"

Oliver sighed. He turned back tp his daughter, choosing his next words carefully. "I know how much you enjoy your hobbies. I think it'll be better for your mental health if you get back into dance and martial arts soon."

Back into dance. She was already the largest girl in the studio, dwarfing the tiny instructor even when she was twelve. Skilled as she was, she never had a ballerina's body and her instructor's main complaints were her thundering footsteps and "unladylike gait". Well, at least pointe shoes wouldn't hurt a prosthetic leg.

"It's my body and my life," Blondie reminded him.

"And it's my money that pqid your medical bills," he shot back. She rolled her eyes. "Melinda, you know I just want what's best for you. I want to help you. I need to help you."

"Help yourself first," Blondie snarled. "How's your boytoy?"

"I've been married to Chase since you were eight. Stop calling him my boytoy," Oliver sighed. Any other time, Blondie might have laughed at how annoyed her dad got when she mocked his husband. "And fifteen years isn't such a significant age difference when you're out of your twenties."

"He's a gold-digger."

"He's well worth what he costs, and he loves you like his own daughter. Come on, stop changing the subject. You mean so much to me. You were the victim of such a-"

"I'm not a victim," she hissed, leaning forward in her seat. Her eyes narrowed. "If anyone's a victim, it's that bitch Camilla. You know, queen of the cabbage patch."

Oliver's eyebrows knit together. "Cabbage patch?"

"Because she's a vegetable," Blondie said, and her father sighed heavily.

"I'm not denying that she's a bad person, but you don't need to be discriminatory. Other, much nicer people live with brain damage."

"Dad, shut the fuck up and listen to me," Blondie demanded. "I fought my way out. I'm not a victim!"

"Yes, yes, you're a survivor," he said in a voice like he was placating a toddler.

"No, I'm Melinda fucking Van Doren."

He lifted his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Before anything, you're my daughter and I want what's best for you."

"I actually know what's best for me because I am me."

"I'm your father. I know you pretty damn well."

"Yeah, okay. I'll keep in tough." Blondie started to stand, but Oliver held a hand up.

"Stay for lunch. Samantha made two extra plates."

It still weirded her out that her father had a cook. Her mother missed having servants after the divorce, but Blondie tried her best to keep her home free of employees. And she got stuck with Tej, the most intrusive Van Doren employee.

Chase brought two plates of chicken parmesan to the damn study.

"Workaholic," he said and rolled his eyes, kissing Oliver on the cheek. Blondie rolled her eyes. "Well, I've been having a lovely chat with Miss Tej while you two have been bonding."

Bonding. Sure.

Blondie stabbed into her chicken. She imagined it was the Queen - no, Camilla - that she was stabbing over and over, making sure she never recovered. Because she wasn't the Queen's victim.

She was Melinda "Blondie" Van Doren. She was a fucking hero and people would know that soon.

[the-writing-dump-bin]

So I've recently had an obsession with Gyro and need some love for him. I thought maybe you could do Gyro with a s/o with prosthetic legs if its okay with you.

Sure thing! I actually work with a guy who has prosthetic legs. I hope this was okay for you! (It was really the only thing I could come up with)

SFW

The soft music played overhead as you made your way down the aisle of the grocery store. Running out of a few things at home, you decided to venture out on this cool night and pick them up.

The store was quiet this time of night. Most people were at home having dinner or spending time with their families. But you found this time perfect to stroll peacefully through the store. Well, to your best ability.

The fact you had prosthetic legs didn't kill your vibe. You had learned to embrace it; you could walk, you could drive, hell, you could do anything you wanted. Nothing could stand in your way!

Reaching the aisle that sold bathroom tissue, you heard a loud noise coming from in front of you at the other end of the aisle. "What the hell?"

Two men were obviously making the noise, laughing like idiots as one sat in the cart while the other pushed with alarming speed. They were coming right towards you, obviously not looking where they were going when- SMACK!

Both carts slammed into each other. There was no way you could keep your balance after the force you felt, so you landed on the hard floor with a thump. "Owww! What the hell is wrong with you?! Watch where you are going, you morons!"

"I-I'm so sorry!" Said the man who was pushing the cart. He extended his hand, offering to help you off the ground.

You blushed a little when you got a good look of his features. Green eyes, sharp jawline, long, blonde hair, tall... Shaking your clouded head, you scowled at him. "I can get up myself, thanks." Grabbing your cart, you pulled yourself up.

The man came a little closer, hands held up as if ready to catch you if you fell. "Are you sure you're alright? Let me help you with the rest of your shopping, it's the least I can do. I feel really bad about knocking you over."

Your eyes narrowed at him. There was no way he could know about your situation since you were wearing pants that went down to your shoes, so this random stranger was actually apologizing in the form of helping you shop for groceries. Guess he really did feel bad. "Y-You dont need to do that." You said, cheeks brushed with a light shade of pink.

"It would bother me for a while if I dont help you." He extended his hand. "Names Gyro. This here is Johnny." He pointed to the other man in the cart; blonde hair peeking out of the hat her wore. He looked a few years younger than Gyro.

You were silent for a moment; contemplating if these two were dangerous or not. They didn't seem it, but you could always ask the staff for a walk out if you felt threatened. "S-Sure."

During the rest of your shopping, Gyro pushed his cart (Johnny still inside) beside yours. Kind of odd for a grown man sitting in a cart, so you asked why he was in there.

"I had an accident and my legs don't work." Johnny answered then pointed to Gyro behind him. "Gyro helps me out to get to where I need to go most of the time."

"Shut up, Johnny! You're making me sound like I'm your caretaker." Gyro turned to you. "I'm not, but we're roommates so I tend to help out when he needs it."

That pulled at your heart a little. Gyro seemed kind, especially to help out someone whose legs didnt work either.

Finally, you finished your shopping. After paying for your items, Gyro even helped you load everything in your car. "Hey, um, sorry again for crashing into you earlier."

Actually having a pleasant time with him during the rest of your shopping, you smiled and waved it off like it didn't happen. "Dont worry about it." Opening your car door, you sat behind the wheel and looked up at him. "Thanks for helping me out. I'll see you around some time."

Gyro stood in place as he watched you pull out of the stall and drive out of sight.

---

3 DAYS LATER

The cool night air kissed your skin as you walked next to your friends, laughing and joking around as you strolled through the fair that had rolled into town. Rides, food stalls and games were set up in a field just outside of town. Finding the washroom, you excused yourself for a moment. "I'll be right back."

On your way there, you passed by a group of drunks who saw you hobbling towards your destination. They could see your prosthetics as you were wearing shorts, it had been hot earlier when you arrived. They started mocking you. You were used to people acting this way so you rolled your eyes with annoyance and continued to the washroom.

Before you could enter, a couple of them broke off from the group and came over and kicked at your legs, causing you to stagger backwards. "What the hell!" You yelled at them, pushing back as you tried to keep your balance. Why do people have to be so cruel to others? They laughed at your struggle with them, calling you hurtful names.

But that was soon outlived when you were scooped up into a pair of arms, then gently placed back on the ground, away from the drunks picking on you.

Gyro grabbed one of them by the shirt and pulled him close to his face. "What do you think you're doing? Who the hell raised you to think something like this was funny?" He was furious. Letting go, he pushed the man back into his group of friends. "Get out of here. You're not worth my time." The group shuffled away defeated.

Turning to you, Gyro asked if you were alright. "They didn't hurt you, did they?"

You shook your head. Confusion and admiration playing on your face. "I didn't think I'd run into you here."

"I'm full of surprises." Gyro smiled. He looked down at your legs. "And so are you, it seems."

Looking down as well, you could tell he seen your prosthetics. "Oh. Yeah." You said flatly. "Long story."

"I'd like to hear it." Gyro got a little closer. "I've got time. Do you? We could walk around, maybe grab something to eat?"

That actually sounded like a good idea. Gyro just defended you from a bunch of inconsiderate drunks, the least you could do was give him some of your time. "Sure. Just let me text my friends and tell them I'll be a little while."

While you were texting, Gyro brought out his out his own phone and texted as well.

"Okay, let's go."

---

The evening was really fun with just the two of you. He listened intently while you told him the story about your legs as you shared a bag of cotton candy together.

Sitting down on a bench away from the main crowd, you wrapped your arms around the giant teddy bear Gyro had won for you, even though you told him not to waste his money on you. But he was determined to win you that bear.

"Thank you." You said, hiding a little of your face with the bear. "For this whole night. When you saw my legs, I was scared you would be off-put by them."

A smile formed on Gyro's face as he brought up his hand and rested it on your cheek, turning your head to look at him. "I could never be off put by something like that. I am having a great time with you. But," He let his hand drop to his lap. "I have a confession to make."

You blinked and cocked your head to the side. "Huh?"

"You know the other day when we met? Well, I had actually seen you a few weeks before that. You were breathtaking and I wanted to talk to you. So finally, the other day, I had the idea of bumping into you at the grocery store."

Your eyes widened. A few weeks? Then he definitely knew about your legs before tonight. Your heart skipped a beat, he had already liked you dispite your situation. "So, your pal, Johnny? He can walk? And tonight, did you know I would be here?"

"Johnny really can't walk; that's true. And, before you get weirded out, I really didn't know you would be here. I just happen to be walking by when I saw what was happening."

Shuffling closer to Gyro, you grabbed his hand and laced your fingers with his, your head leaning on his shoulder. He was right. He really was full of surprises.

[seashanties-and-tales-blog]

You're taking requests? Do you think you could write for Mr. Compress, give him some love after he lost his arm, so maybe a scenario involving his s/o or crush reaction/reassurance after he lost it/got a prosthetic. I've been waiting since he appeared in Training Camp to actually request stuff for him since I wanted to see this pan out little more and he got more panels this chapter, so I'll celebrate by loving him all the more.

This is set during that time he’s getting a prosthetic put in by Giran. When Tomura is telling Toga and Twice to go work for the Yakuza.

The members of the League all lounged around the room in various locations. Dabi on a bed in the corner, Toga sitting on the floor before a desk, Spinner sitting in a chair, and you sitting beside Compress.

He lost his arm to that Overhaul guy after a ‘business meeting gone wrong’, and though he insists it’s not a problem you’re still giving him support. Tomura is speaking in the background about his plans, plans that mostly involve Toga and Twice at the moment. The two of them start to have an issue with this, but you don’t pay it any attention.

“Well? How’s it feel?” Giran asks, stepping back after properly applying the new limb.

You lean forward, curiously observing the result. Well, it’s better than having no arm. In fact, it’s not bad at all. Still, you’re sure Compress would rather have the original thing. 

“Hmm, fine, I think. Yeah, not bad at all…” He moves it around, watching it as he opens and closes his fingers. 

Giran nods his head and steps back, putting his cigarette back into his mouth. “(Y/N), what do you think of it?”

You glance in Giran’s direction for a moment. Why is he asking you what you think? Regardless, you reach over and gently hold the prosthetic. As you move your hand closer to Compress’s, he felt an odd sensation. As if he can actually feel your touch there, and it made his heart begin to race. More than that, you’re leaned in close, body brushing against his own. 

“I think it’s great,” you finally say, smiling not at Giran, but at Mr. Compress. You certainly can’t see for yourself, but behind his mask, he’s red.

“Mhm,” Giran hums, chuckling in a way to indicate that he knows something you don’t. Sneaky bastard. “Suppose that’s the most important thing.” 

You aren’t sure what he means by this. You don’t get a chance to ask either, since he walks away to another side of the room while looking through his phone. 

Now that you’re alone, you sigh and stand up in front of Mr. Compress, between his legs as he’s on the edge of the table. 

“My, (Y/N), what are you doing?” He asks, flustered. He turns his head away from you as if you could even see him blushing in the first place.

“It’s actually kinda good.” You comment, ignoring his question. “At least now you only have to worry about one arm instead of two!” Well that’s certainly a way to look at it.

Compress looks at you once again, quiet for a moment. Then he looks down at his arm. He didn’t notice until now, but you had taken his robotic hand in yours, lacing the fingers together. “So then what happens if I lose my other arm?”

You pause for a moment, as if in truly deep thought. “Then… you can worry about your legs and just hope you don’t lose those too.”

Somehow, you can tell he’s smiling behind the mask. Mainly because you hear him laugh a little, but also because you’ve grown to know him so well. 

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.” He says, your hands not having disconnected yet. 

With sigh with a content smile. Then, with your free hand, you grab his mask and pull it off of his face, revealing only his eyes and mouth. Now that you can finally see his eyes, you can finally see the emotions that he’s feeling. “You’re still handsome. Actually, even more so.”

Compress slouches over a little and looks off to the side, scratching his cheek. “There’s no need for that.” Mainly because his heart is beating really quickly and it would be un-villain-like of him to lose his composure because you’re embarrassing him. 

You cover the sides of your faces with the mask, shielding view away from everyone else in the room. Then, you lean forward and kiss his cheek, giving the prosthetic hand a gentle squeeze and Compress a reassuring smile. “And you’re still cool.”

Compress looks into your eyes and, with his blush already having been there forever, it just becomes even stronger. He’s speechless for a while, caught up in the speechless way you make him feel. But, finally, he clears his throat and gives you a small, charming smile of his own despite his nerves. “Well, so long as you think so.”