#right above knee amputee

[amputeewomen]

Check out this amazing dancer owning her moves on crutches! Her energy is contagious as she embraces every beat with style. A true inspiration for everyone, showing how being an amputee only adds to her unique groove. 🌟💃

[ampguy123]

Brenna Huckaby RAK Athlete and Model

Brenna Huckaby

[cy-cyborg]

Writing and drawing amputee characters: Not every amputee wears prosthetics (and that's ok)

Not every amputee wears prosthetics, and not doing so is not a sign that they've "given up".

It's a bit of a trope that I've noticed that when an amputee, leg amputees in particular, don't wear prosthetics in media its often used as a sign that they've given up hope/stopped trying/ are depressed etc. If/when they start feeling better, they'll start wearing their prosthetics again, usually accompanied by triumphant or inspiring music (if it's a movie). The most famous example of this is in Forest Gump, Where Dan spends most of the movie after loosing his legs wishing he'd died instead. He does eventually come around, and him finally moving from his wheelchair to prosthetics is meant to highlight this.

The thing is, it's not that it's unrealistic - in fact my last major mental health spiral was started because one of my prosthetics was being a shit and wouldn't go on properly, despite fitting perfectly at the prosthetist's the day before. I'm not going to use my legs when I'm not in a good headspace, but the problem is, this is the only time non-prosthetic using amputees ever get representation: to show how sad they are. Even if that's not what the creator/writer necessarily intended, audiences will often make that assumption on their own unless you're very careful and intentional about how you frame it, because it's what existing media has taught them to expect.

But there are lots of reasons why someone might not use prosthetics:

they might not need them: this is more common in arm amputees because of how difficult it can be to use arm prosthetic, especially above-elbow prosthetics. Most folks learn how to get on without them pretty well. In fact, most of the arm amputees I know don't have prosthetics, or only have them for specific tasks (e.g. I knew a girl who had a prosthetic hand made specifically for rowing, but that's all she used it for).

Other mobility aids just work better for them: for me, I'm faster, more manoeuvrable and can be out for longer when I'm in my wheelchair than I ever could on my prosthetics. Youtube/tik tok creator Josh Sundquist has said the same thing about his crutches, he just feels better using them than his prosthetic. This isn't the case for everyone of course, but it is for some of us. Especially people with above-knee prosthetics, in my experience.

Other disabilities make them harder to use: Some people are unable to use prosthetics due to other disabilities, or even other amputations. Yeah, as it turns out, a lot of prosthetics are only really designed for single-limb amputees. While they're usable for multi-limb amps, they're much harder to use or they might not be able to access every feature. For example, the prosthetic knee I have has the ability to monitor the walk cycle of the other leg and match it as close as possible - but that only works if you have a full leg on the other side. Likewise, my nan didn't like using her prosthetic, as she had limited movement in her shoulders that meant she physically couldn't move her arms in the right way to get her leg on without help.

Prosthetics are expensive in some parts of the world: not everyone can afford a prosthetic. My left prosthetic costs around $5,000 Australian dollars, but my right one (the above knee) cost $125,000AUD. It's the most expensive thing I own that I only got because my country pays for medical equipment for disabled folks. Some places subsidise the cost, but paying 10% of $125,000 is still $12,500. Then in some places, if you don't have insurance, you have to pay for that all by yourself. Even with insurance you still have to pay some of it depending on your cover. Arm prosthetics are even more expensive. Sure, both arms and legs do have cheaper options available, but they're often extremely difficult to use. You get what you pay for.

they aren't suitable for every type of environment: Prosthetics can be finicky and modern ones can be kind of sensitive to the elements. My home town was in a coastal lowland - this means lots of beaches and lots of swamp filled with salty/brackish water. The metals used in prosthetics don't hold up well in those conditions, and so they would rust quicker, I needed to clean them more, I needed to empty sand out of my foot ALL THE TIME (there always seemed to be more. It was like a bag of holding but it was just sand). Some prosthetics can't get wet at all. There were a few amputees who moved to the area when I was older who just didn't bother lol. It wasn't worth the extra effort needed for the maintenance.

People have allergies to the prosthetic material: This is less of a problem in the modern day, but some people are allergic to the materials their prosthetics are made from. You can usually find an alternative but depending on the type of allergy, some people are allergic to the replacements too.

Some people just don't like them.

There's nothing wrong with choosing to go without a prosthetic. There's nothing wrong with deciding they aren't for you. It doesn't make you a failure or sad or anything else. Using or not using prosthetics is a completely morally neutral thing.

Please, if you're writing amputees, consider if a prosthetic really is the best mobility aid for your character and consider having your characters go without, or at least mix it up a bit.

For example, Xari, one of the main characters in my comic, uses prosthetics unsupported and with crutches, and uses a wheelchair. They alternate between them throughout the story.

[saszor]

image description both in alt text and copied below!

third part of my "drawing visibly disabled people" drawing series :-) can't wait to do more TBH! it's so much fun drawing people like me.

[1] [2]

[image description copied from alt text: digital drawing of 11 characters on a pastel background. in the top left are two guys. the first one is white, fat, and wears a face mask. the second guy is white, blonde and an above knee amputee. they're talking. below them are three characters shown from the chest up; a Brown person with a cochlear implant, a niqabi with small eyes and only one of them appearing open holding a white cane (both of them have lesbian flags and matching rings), and a Black girl with Down Syndrome looking at her phone. The first two are giving their excited reactions to her. to the right of them is a family - a Black person without an arm and with a prosthetic leg using a cane, a South Asian pregnant woman with strabismus holding a white cane and their daughter holding on to her mom's clothes. on the right side of the image is a person using crutches, looking exhausted. they have a liver transplant scar and knock knees. next to them is a short Black man with osteogenesis imperfecta in a power wheelchair. he wears hearing aids. behind them is a burn survivor with locs typing on her phone - it has a notification with the OK sign in the colors of the character in bottom left.]

[dekulakization]

Not to be a nerd on main but I've got some shit to say about Curly mouthwashing.

Initial injuries:

How did Curly end up a tetralateral amputee. Why were the amputations PERFORMED for that matter. His injuries apparently reached all four limbs in equal spots. The right eye being covered implies either that the blast was stronger on the right side (AKA that he was turned so that the blast faced the right side of his body) or that he received additional injuries (perhaps shrapnel or an injury as he was thrown backwards by the force of the blast). IF he was turned to the blast with his right side of the body, wouldn't the injuries be more severe there? More damaged tissue, more unsalvageable tissue. If this was the case I feel like his amputations would be up to the hip/shoulder. I've heard the idea that he was perhaps stuck in foam but that doesn't clear anything up for me. Were his arms and legs both equally inside of the foam so that when the blast struck his joints (elbows/knees) were all injured beyond repair?

Even if that's the case, they didn't have the supplies for an amputation (let alone 4) by ANY means. There was no trained medical personnel on board (Anya only finished the company course) and amputation is a dangerous procedure just as any other surgery is. I feel like attempting to perform a botched amputation would be far more dangerous than leaving the tissue be. Though that poses the risk of necrosis. More on necrosis later.

Infection, cardiovascular concerns, blood loss and thermoregulation:

How did the crew stop the initial bleeding? How did they remove whatever they used to stop the initial bleeding? Blood loss had to be severe, and I feel like the crew would get to him far too late to stop him bleeding out completely. And for my second statement, things stick. Tissue paper sticks, cloth sticks, it sticks to tissue. Anything would cause further damage of the tissue.

Is ALL of his skin gone? All of it burned off? Is there still patches of it in tact? Either way, he lost ANY methods of thermoregulation since most of it (that being, the skin) is gone and the crew don't even bother to try and maybe, I don't know, stop him from going hypothermic. Give him a blanket. None of that. He's in a gown and some bandages. How did he not die of hypothermia?

Directly tied to the lack of thermoregulation, the bleeding and the pain, how did his heart not give out from the initial shock and later on psychophysical strain? I genuinely find it so hard to believe that after all of that his heart would still be holding out. It's a muscle that can overstrain itself just like any other.

Why and how in the world did he NOT get anything infected??? Jesus Christ? As far as we're aware he hasn't changed that gown nor those bandages in months. There is no disinfectant on the ship and even if there was using it on him would damage tissue further. Your skin protects the tissue underneath from infection and that's why it's easy for wounds to get infected, because they're breaks in the skin. It should be necrotic. What the hell. Also how's he not blind how didn't his eye dry out he can't blink

The purpose of keeping him alive: torturers tending to injuries

It's clear that the crew can recognise when a mercy killing is necessary (such as shown on the example of Daisuke). So why in the WHOLE WIDE WORLD is Curly left alive? Is it punishment because they think he crashed the ship? Why give him painkillers then? Why are you easing his pain? To stop his heart from giving out, to keep him alive longer?

IIRC Anya DID want to kill Curly but Jimmy was against it. This would not only completely out Jimmy as a sadist but it makes me wonder why is his word valued above the word of someone who has more medical experience than him, even if it was just a company course. Was she scared of what he'd do if she didn't listen to him?? Also why is this not a matter the entire crew is supposed to discuss??? And this leads into my NEXT point:

Why is nobody attempting to establish some sort of communication method with Curly? Hello?? He's clearly conscious and present within the moment, able to see and process the things around him. He literally cannot do anything. The least you could do, if you truly want to ease pain, is to try to stimulate him intellectually. To talk to him like a man to a man. His humanity was stripped from him by his surroundings rather than the crash itself. Letting him stare at a white ceiling with his only stimulation being pills forced down his throat is genuinely inhumane. Nobody is asking him whether HE wants to live or to die. Nobody is taking into consideration that he still has thoughts.

Perhaps I'm taking the entirety of his character too literally. Don't get me wrong, I love this game. I haven't played it myself, I could only bring myself to watch analysis videos, so some of the things I say might be straight up wrong, and I'm willing to take any criticism and discussion that starts. This was just me nerding out about medicine

[katy-133]

Whose Skeleton Is Who? (TF2 Comic #7 Preview)

Regarding the issue 7 preview for the Team Fortress 2 comic, I know I joked a while ago that we as a fandom are trying to figure out which skeleton is which merc like we're reading and analysing that one page from The Castle of Fear by Patrick Burston all over again, but I wanted to take a moment to actually go through each skeleton and tell you the observations I've made, since I've noticed others' interpretations have sometimes been different, which I think is very interesting as someone who likes to compare art interpretations for fun.

Team Fortress 2 pays attention to art principles like colour theory, strong silhouettes, and invoking art history, and that also includes the comics, not just the games, and invites you to draw parallels between things.

So without further ado...

Miss Pauling ^

The preview script we get to read notes that the first skeleton we see (before the wide shot) is Miss Pauling's skeleton, which is in a crawling pose. It's meant to parallel a pose she does with a group of other vultures in an earlier part of the comic:

(Image: Comic issue 6, The Naked and the Dead)

Script transcript of the image below:

PANEL 2 We pull back to reveal a SKELETON, half-baked from years of wind-blown sand. The skeleton looks like it was crawling AWAY from something. It lifts a single skeleton hand out to nothing. VULTURES lurk. Let's try as best we can to mirror the position of the body and vultures from the opening of Issue #6, so it's clear we're insinuating this is MISS PAULING.

(Image: Script preview by writer Jay Pinkerton)

Additionally, her skeleton has two vultures above it, squabbling at each other (I assume over who gets to eat the skeleton marrow), which parallels Redmond and Blutard (the owners of RED and BLU, respectively) fighting each other over land and Miss Pauling "playing both sides" by pretending to only work for one of them.

Scout ^

The skeleton is in a running pose, representing Scout being characterised as the faster runner. The skeleton also has a brown shoe, similar to a pair Scout wears in Expiration Date to impress Miss Pauling.

(Right image, above: TF2 Official Wiki, Argyle Ace)

Soldier ^

The skeleton has the right arm up, similar to Soldier's pose when he's carrying his rocket launcher.

(Right image, above: TF2 Official Wiki, Soldier)

Pyro ^

The skeleton with the missing hip bones (or are hidden in some way by the sand and tree branches). In anatomy, the hip bones are one of the easiest ways to identify the sex of an adult skeleton (owing to the width of the hips being different if there is a birth canal). Pyro is gender ambiguous. The legs are also crossed, which is seen as more feminine body language when a person is sitting. This matches Pyro's body language, since Pyro's canonically done foot popping (a term coined by The Princess Diaries) which is associated with women film stars during the Golden Age of Hollywood.

(Image: The Jungle Inferno Update, Day 3)

Demoman ^

The vulture is pecking out the left eye socket of the skeleton, which is the eye socket that Demoman got cursed upon by reading the Bombinomicon. This creates a kinda visual parallel to Prometheus from Greek myth being cursed to have a bird of prey (an eagle) feast upon him as punishment for giving the forbidden knowledge of fire to humanity.

(Image: Bombinomicon comic)

The left leg is also missing at the knee, or majorly separated from the rest of the body, and Demoman can have a peg leg on his left side in the game:

(Image, above: Weapon Demonstration: Bootlegger, video by OfficialTF2Wiki)

Heavy ^

The skeleton with the largest ribcage, fitting Heavy's body silhouette. The skeleton also dwarfs the skeleton to the right of it, which invokes Heavy's size compared to the other mercs (he's the tallest merc in a lineup).

Engineer ^

The shortest skeleton. Note that the forearms are either missing or hidden in the sand, which invokes the image of Engineer being an amputee (missing his right arm at the forearm) and being the shortest merc when they're all A-posing. The skeleton is also wearing boots, which Engineer wears.

(Image: Reddit post titled, anyone else surprised that Scout isn't the shortest Merc? by Ok-Mastodon2016)

Medic ^

The tall skeleton that has the vulture with its beak poised over the skeleton's heart. Medic surgically removed and replaced each of their hearts, which allows them to be Ubercharged.

(Image: Meet the Medic video by Valve)

Sniper ^

The skeleton with its back lifted up by a stone, creating a visual focus towards it. The vulture is standing over the skeleton, as if it had been pecking at the skeleton's back. This could parallel being backstabbed, and I'm deducing the skeleton as Sniper's because his class is designed to counter Spy, who is the class who does backstabs. This skeleton also has brown shoes, which could be Spy's, but could also be Sniper's if he wears shoes instead of (what I had assumed before were) boots. Another vulture watches over the scene, perched on a higher ledge of rock and focused on that skeleton. Similar to how Sniper likes to climb up trees and higher ground to have a vantage point to scope areas.

Spy ^

The skeleton with a hole through the skull. This looks like a bullet wound from a headshot by a Sniper (again, Sniper and Spy are counter classes to each other).

I know this scene could be a bait and switch and that these aren't the mercs. I actually assume that's what the context is--otherwise, it'd be a pretty upsetting comic! But I think it's neat that the writers and artists went out of their way to make each skeleton characterised like this. The attention to detail is amazing, even in just this one page preview!

[colinmkl]

#WIPTOBER

A diagram of Sloane's leg prosthesis. I've never posted this but I use it all the time as refence.

The middle drawing is her "civilian" legs and the right is her "work" legs. the civilian legs let her walk and jog normally and they fit in pants and most shoes. In civilian mode she stands at 5'9", her approximate natural height. Where as the work legs let her run at more than human speeds as well as kick and jump with power. She can adjust the tension in the front pneumatic pistons with brain impulses to make them more or less bouncy. They also make her 3 inches taller (6'0"). The legs use the same socket thigh pieces and detach at the knee. So, yes, that does mean for the work legs she needs to put on the thighs, then her pants (cut off and hemmed above the knee, of course), then attach the rest of her leg. it's tricky but she's used to it at this point.

On the right you can see the Nanoderm caps on her stumps with the magnetic nodes and the bone spike port on the bottom. I never finished or posted this because I was afraid that drawing looked at bit silly floating there in that pose but I'm overthinking it. Amputees be missing bits, deal with it!

[anironwitch]

Nitpick November 3

Okay, so how does James prosthetics specifically his arm and chest prosthetics work?

Over the years, because of characters like Yang, Mercury, and (Mostly TBH) James. I have gotten into learning more about how prosthetics work.

(Pardon about the image quality being ass)

I have an okay understanding of below-the-knee amputations and above-the-knee amputations (BKA & AKA.) With James and Mercury having AKA amputations, their prosthetics would probably connect with the residual limb in a variety of ways, with suction or connecting pin system being the most common I have seen.

The same applies to Yang and her arm prosthetic, but James not only lost his entire right arm. (Eventually, yes, he loses his left arm, Something, Something, there is no war in Ba Sing Se and Volume 7, 8 & 9. I count it, but how it was acquired is because of Ableism and Racism in the Writers' choices put a rancid taste in my mouth as a Disabled Asian myself.)

James seems to have lost a fair amount of his body, and considering the implant/sensor, James has probably helped him regulate autonomic functions. It makes me wonder how much can he remove his chest prosthetic parts? He has to have them removed when they get wet or dirty, need to repair, adjustments, improvements, etc.?

Are James's prosthetics water-insoluble? They must be since you know he has to shower and deal with snow and rain? Most amputees remove their prosthetics when going to sleep, so does James only remove his right arm and leg prosthetics? Is it comfortable for him to sleep? Knowing James, I could see him being so tired he sleeps with them on anyway? Now, as someone who likes to fanfic mostly in my head, in private, and publishes sometimes. This leaves me with more questions and research I feel obliged to do.

[dannyfm]

Welcome to New York {DANIEL SUTTON} !! They are a {33} year old {CIS MAN} who uses {HE/HIM} pronouns. They’re an {EMERGENCY NURSE PRACTITIONER} who has been in town for {NINE YEARS}. When looking at {DANIEL} you automatically think of {THE CRACKLE OF A RECORD PLAYING, A REMINDER THAT TENDERNESS IS A VIRTUE, FIDGETING HANDS} but that probably makes sense since they also remind you of {JACOB ANDERSON}. You can always hear {VIENNA} by {BILLY JOEL} coming from their place. Who knows what kind of trouble they’re going to get themselves into. [penny, 25, gmt, n/a]

fullname:  daniel rené sutton. nickname(s): danny ( his preferred choice ), dan. age:  thirty-three. birthday: november 12th. gender / pronouns:  cis man ,  he / him. orientation:  bisexual / biromantic. place of birth: new orleans, louisiana current residence: queens, new york. languages: english, french, spanish & asl. height: 5'8. personality: loyal, empathetic, obsessive, stubborn.

( tw ; car accident, drunk driver, injury, depression & ptsd. )

born in new orleans, daniel was primarily raised by his mother ( originally from baton rouge ) and sisters, as his father ( originally from queens ) travelled a lot for work.

his kind-hearted nature and seemingly tireless desire to help people made of his choice of nursing for a career unsurprising. daniel graduated at the top of his class in his bsn and started work in nola as soon as he could.

the relocation to queens around a year later was the first and really only truly impulsive decision danny ever made. he'd been thinking about moving out of louisiana whilst still studying, but figured he'd never be brave enough to do it. he'd joke the endless teasing from his sister about it was the motivator.

he settled in queens, discovering he loved it more than he could ever dream of. with the goal of becoming a nurse practitioner in mind and the solidification of his love for emergency medicine, he took the exam to become a certified emergency nurse and a handful of other certifications. maybe not a necessary step, but one he enjoyed doing -- it felt like progress.

the next step was to get his msn, something he opted to do online. ( TW ) was cycling home from a night shift one morning when he was hit by a drunk driver at a crossing. he woke a couple of days later to a shock ( and thinking that it was funny that someone who worked in emergency medicine would be surprised by his injuries ). daniel had been lucky, really. at least, that's what people said -- at the time he could only think that was an unbelievably cruel thing to say. his right leg had been amputated ; initially below the knee but complications arose and so he ended up an above knee amputee. otherwise, he was pretty much unscathed. a smattering of scars here and there the only other thing to show for his ordeal.

not unexpectedly, daniel was diagnosed with ptsd and had fallen into depression immediately following the accident and suffered during much of his recovery. he refused to even think about his life beyond, let alone work ; his msn was paused and he insisted he would never go back to it for a while. eventually and no doubt entirely thanks to the efforts of friends, family & the professionals around him daniel came round.

by no means have either of those things become a non-issue in his life ( the level of pain he's in & the prevalence of depression are inextricably linked ), but they have dissipated significantly and well, when all else fails… there’s always throwing yourself into work or looking after someone else when you don't want to deal with your own problems. ( TW END )

since the accident just under a year and a half ago, daniel has completed his msn and settled into his role as an enp and overjoyed with the achievement of his goal.

headcanons

daniel has an orange cat called sidney ( sid ) who is a rescue and probably his best bud.

accent is kind of mess. the nola tinge ( non-rhotic, th = d pronunciation) ) is definitely at the forefront, but it's also influenced by the accents of his family from other areas of louisiana and queens. danny is very soft-spoken, borderline mumbly ( kinda will lamontagne-esque if ur familiar with criminal minds asdfak ) but also very aware that this can make him even more difficult to understand so he def has a 'phone / work voice ' he uses to be clearer.

big good samaritan vibes. he has a particular set of skills and Will show up with an advanced medical kit ready to fix anything he can if need be. also BIG into music. plays piano, violin & guitar ( mostly acoustic bc that's his personal preference ) and secretly has a very nice voice but he'd probably actually drop dead if someone ever mentioned that.

probably an ambivert, but also shy as hell. he's definitely got a lot less shy since starting work just out of necessity but still prefers to blend into the background at social events and with people he doesn't know. it's something he's trying to work on. has a massive heart, his friendship is not hard to win but damn near impossible to shake off ( not least bc he knows he was sometimes an A+ asshole in recovery and anyone who stuck around through that deserves at least the same energy from him. )

wanted connections page. pinterest board.

literally everything pls. best friend, good friends, a bad / good influence who encourages him to socialise & get out of his comfort zone more, ex & present day crushes / flings, neighbours, flirtationship, exes & co workers.

[orionisrping]

Name: Casper

Age: 16

Pronouns: any pronouns

Sexuality: bi

Fav Color: blue

Hobbies: embroidery, hanging out

Relationships Status:

A couple likes: hades cabin, horror, movies, talking to ghosts and the dead, spooking younger campers

A couple dislikes: Zeus and assholes

A bit about yourself :

- child of Melionë

- silent and barely makes noice when moving around

- slightly floats above the ground (like 3mm) that adds to the creepy silent walking around camp

- spends time with the hades kids and calls them uncle/aunt

- likes to play board games

- desperately in love with an idiot Aphrodite camper

Name: Ophelia

Nickname: Ophy, cupid

Age: 17

Pronouns: she/they

Sexuality: pan

Gender Identity: demigirl

Where they're from: Toronto, Canada

Fav Color: red and it's various shades

Hobbies: matchmaking people, reading romance books and rom coms, training, board games

Relationships Status: taken by her lovely partners

A couple likes: Valentine's day, all that lovey dovey stuff, flying, swimming, and makeup

A couple dislikes: mean people and homophobes

A bit about yourself:

- daughter of Eros

- has a twin sister named Angel

- very nosey

- likes dying her hair or helping others (makeover night)

- animal lover, especially birds

- hangs around the Aphrodite kids and on rooftops like a bird

- flirty af

Name: Wren Dream Quickfoot

Age: 18

Pronouns: she/they

Sexuality: queer

Likes: stealing shit, running from people she stole from, taking care of the community ...

Dislikes: pain (obviously), fancy dress codes, rich people...

Info: robin hood coded

Image wouldn't connect so its at the bottom

Name: Rio

Age: 17

Pronouns: they/any

Sexuality: fuck if they know

Gender Identity: genderfluid

Fav Color: black (but if we're being pedantic probably like neon yellow or something)

Hobbies: painting, music and studying

Relationships Status:

A couple likes: birds (corvids), tea, mac and cheese, goth music, epistemology, night time

A couple dislikes: the sun, Ares, Zeus, water, being sick (chronically ill)

A bit about yourself:

- plague centric Apollo kid

- chronically ill (they have little control over their legs)

- came to camp later than normal because they got lost

- steals books from the Athena cabin and Will's collection (don't tell them)

- gets sick when they're away from the sun for too long

- has bad eyesight because they keep looking into the sun

Character’s full name: Béatrice Desvignes

Character’s nickname: Bee

Birth date: April 1st

Cabin: 12

Sexuality: queer

Gender identity: nonbinary

Favorite color: purple

Age: 17? (Slightly confused because they were in the labyrinth for about two years)

How old do they appear: 17

Weight: Idk

Height: 5'5"

Body build: pear

Shape of face: oval

Eye color: purple

Skin tone: tanned

Distinguishing marks: shitty floral tattoo on the right arm that is slashed by a large claw mark

Hair color: red but dyed purple

Relationship status:

Physical disabilities: below the knee amputee on the left leg

A few likes: animals mostly cats of all kinds, plants, sunlight (they miss it)...

A few dislikes: bullies, most of the gods (not a fan but not a Luke supporter)...

Good personality traits: cares for people a lot, protective af...

Bad personality traits: gets really into things easily, is highly vigilant...

Mood character is most often in: scared (until they get used to being out of the labyrinth)

Powers: can give people non-permanent hallucinations, can grow vines

Purple hair is bee, green is Wren

[amputeewomen]

Beautiful woman, shows great balance, dancing with a hula hoop. She is amazing.

[dear-indies]

hi cat!! thank you so much for all you do, i hope your day is going well! i was wondering if you have any favorite fcs for a woman in her late 50s-early 70s!

Harriet Walter (1950) - signed artistsforpalestine, for Starmer to stop selling arms to Isr*el!

Tantoo Cardinal (1950) Métis of Cree.

Shabana Azmi (1950) Indian.

Geraldine Keams (1951) Navajo.

Shohreh Aghdashloo (1952) Iranian.

Carla-Rae (1956) Mohawk, Seneca, and White.

Juliet Stevenson (1956) - has spoken up for Palestine!

Sheri Foster (1957) Cherokee.

Kathy Najimy (1957) Lebanese.

Angela Bassett (1958) African-American.

María Telón (1958) Guatemalan [Kaqchikel].

Tamara Tunie (1959) Lenape, African-American, and White.

Elaine Miles (1960) Cayuse, Nez Perce.

Kristin Scott Thomas (1960)

Abeer Issa (1961) Palestinian / Jordanian.

Shobu Kapoor (1961) Indian - has spoken up for Palestine!

Joan Chen (1961) Chinese.

Rena Owen (1962) Ngāti Hine and White.

Michelle Yeoh (1962) Malaysian [Chinese].

Suzanne Packer (1962) Taino, Afro-Jamaican, White.

Alexandra Billings (1962) African-American. Unspecified Indigenous, White - is trans.

Ming Na Wen (1963) Macanese / Malaysian Chinese.

Vanessa Williams (1963) African-American, Welsh, English - has type 1 diabetes.

Sabrina Ferilli (1964) - has spoken up for Palestine!

Famke Janssen (1964)

Michelle Forbes (1965) Mexican, English, possibly other.

Sudha Chandran (1965) Indian - is a right leg above the knee amputee.

Tamlyn Tomita (1966) Ryukyuan, Japanese, and Ilocano Filipino.

Cynthia Nixon (1966) - is queer - has spoken up for Palestine!

Diana Lee Inosanto (1966) Filipino, Irish, Chinese, and White.

Kim Sung-ryung (1967) Korean.

If this has helped you in any way please consider donating to a Palestinian fund me and/or please consider reblogging content about Palestine if you haven’t already!

[cy-cyborg]

Hi, I was wondering what sort of leg prosthetic would work well in a fight? I'm designing a magical girl OC with a prosthetic leg and want to incorporate a rather more pink and sparkly one into her magical girl form. I know you can get blades for running, but would those be better than a normal prosthetic for running and leaping around while bonking monsters with a magic stick?

Hey there, I think I remember seeing your question on my old account right? I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to get back to you!

So a blade probably wouldn't be ideal, but a hybrid might.

Blade prosthetics are very good for running, but are absolutely terrible for literally everything else, including standing or walking. Essentially, blade prosthetics are modeled off of digitigrade legs. For the non-furries on my page, digitigrade legs are what cats and dogs have on their back legs where it bends at the knee, then bends back the other way at a second joint before their feet.

[ID 1: A pair of black running blade prosthetics with yellow edges. Their wearer is out of frame but we can see they are running along a track. /end ID] [ID 2: A photo of a cheetah from the side. In the photo we can clearly see the structure of its legs, as described above. /End ID]

This is actually their ankle, and their "foot" is their toes. This arrangement makes these animals really fast and nimble, but it comes at the cost of lower balance. That's not an issue when you have another two legs to help keep you steady, but when you put that onto a human we start having issues. This is why if you watch any races where the competitors are using these prosthetics, they almost always fall over, especially the double leg amputees. Essentially, the shape and springiness of a blade gives you a massive speed advantage (so much so that amputee runner Oscar Pistorius had to be given disadvantages in order to compete in the Olympics with able-bodied runners) but it essentially moves the ankle joint and heel - the one our brains automatically know to weight bare through - up off the ground. The closest an able bodied person could get to the feeling of running on a blade would be to wear a pair of stilleto heels with the heal removed, and a spring on the bottom.

Hybrid feet though are a combination of blade feet and the regular feet amputees usually get. They are like tiny blades, but they usually have a foot-shell on the outside so you don't see it. These hybrid feet give you some of the extra padding and suspension you'd get from a running blade (which makes running/jumping etc more comfortable) as well as a bit of a speed boost, though not as much as the big ones, and they don't come at the cost of your balance, which you'r character will need when fighting.

Ossur's Flex foot range are a good one to look at for refeance, I used them when I was doing martial arts, as do a few friends of mine who are still doing it. This is a link to their website, it's got pictures of what they look like both internally and when people are using them, and I beleive theirs a booklet you can download on the page as well if you want to read into them a bit more. This isn't the only one of course, but it's the one I've used before:

I'm planning to do a breakdown in a little bit more detail about the different types of prosthetic feet and what they're good for eventually, but for what you described, I think this is what would work best.

[modestvm]

PENNY, 24, GMT; SHE/HER. | if you’re hearing VIENNA by BILLY JOEL playing, you have to know GABRIEL MOORE (HE/HIM; CIS MAN) is near by! the THIRTY-FOUR year old HISTORY PROFESSOR has been in denver for, like, THREE YEARS. they’re known to be quite OBSTINATE, but being ALLOCENTRIC seems to balance that out. or maybe it’s the fact that they resemble JACOB ANDERSON. personally, i’d love to know more about them seeing as how they’ve got those WANDERING EMPTY MUSEUMS, THE GLOW FROM A LAPTOP SCREEN and ROLLED-UP SHIRT SLEEVES AND V-NECK JUMPERS vibes. and maybe i’ll get my chance if i hang out around the DOWNTOWN DISTRICT long enough! 

full name: gabriel isaac moore. nicknames: gabe, abe. gender and pronouns: cis man, he/him. age: thirty-four. sexuality: bisexual. date of birth: july 15th. zodiac sign: cancer ( loyal, creative, sensitive, insecure. ) place of birth:  bristol, england. occupation: assistant professor of history, university of denver.

born and raised in bristol, the youngest of three with two older sisters. as a diplomatic service officer their father was away more often than not, so gabe was raised by his mother and sisters.

his interest in writing, reading and history was a curveball. aside from his father, the rest of the family's interests were firmly rooted in stem. they were ( perhaps justifiably ) worried that gabriel's interests would not give him much success in life. but he was determined to pursue his passion and after graduating top of his class at bristol uni for undergrad, went on to get his master's and phd in history at st andrew's.

moved to london after graduation wondering what to do with himself and fell into teaching. completed his teaching qual and sought out a role teaching history whilst continuing to research and publish occasionally on the side to keep up with developments in the academic world.

( tw: car accident, injury, depression & ptsd ) was cycling to work as per usual one day when he was hit by a drunk driver at a crossing. he woke up just short of a week later to a shock. gabe had been lucky, really. at least, that's what everyone said -- at the time he couldn't only think that was a cruel thing to say. his right leg had been amputated, originally below the knee but complications did not go his way and so shortly after he became an above knee amputee. otherwise, he was pretty much unscathed - scars here and there the only thing to show of his ordeal now.

slightly reeling and with nothing to really do during his recovery, gabriel turned back to the work he loved. this was something of a relief to friends and family as, not unexpectedly, gabe was diagnosed with ptsd and depression immediately following the accident and suffered during much of his recovery. by no means have either of those things become a non-issue in his life, but they have dissipated and significantly and well, when all else fails… there’s always throwing yourself into work or looking after someone else. he wrote a monograph, a social history of black africans in renaissance england that was eventually published just under five years ago now.

riding on the back of the book's success, a desire to return to academia and for a change of scenery he began applying for jobs. the offer from the university of denver came through and he took it and uprooted to denver. this was where his family’s relief was dampened; they thought it was a rash decision ( they weren’t wrong, but gabe was never one to change his mind once it was set and they knew it ) 

gabe has been in denver for three years now, comfortable in his position at the university but also keen to engage with as many people as possible. he runs a sort of 'history 101' evening class at the community college for anyone to attend.

wanted connections page ! gimme literally everything pls.

[divine-descent]

Divine Descent #1 The Fox Hunt

A judgmental sun stared down from the sky.

And a persistently pervasive hunting horn echoed through the forest, calling out to any who would listen. It was loud and proud and relentless. The sound of horse hooves thundering across the dirt, as they sputtered and snorted in their long charge across the earth, their movement throwing up giant clouds of floating dust like so much debris.

Roy Taggart was at the head of this little platoon, atop his mighty black mare, his hair mussled, tousled and tangled from many hard days spent on the road. His leather clothing had tiny marks and bits of mud on it, despite his many attempts to clean it.

Behind him rode his troupe atop their own horses. Legendary mercenaries of all stripes. All creeds, all types of people. Totally devoted to their leader and eager to achieve his cause. They rode in tandem with him, like a triumphant flock of eagles riding astride the earth.

Roy held his hand up over his face, trying to block out the heavy sun as they rode. He took a moment to listen to the sounds of the hoofbeats resonating behind him. When they had begun this hunt, there had been two dozen of them. Now, only 18 remained – either riding with him or spread throughout the woods.

Roy was not a violent man by nature; he was a man of justice, a man of patience, a man of fairness, a man who would look out for the unfortunate and the mistreated, but this particular prey was beginning to vex him.

The sound of the distant hunting horns was getting closer and closer. Roy and his closest compatriots sprinted down the brambled path as quickly as they could, the hunting horns signified only one thing: success. Someone had finally tracked down their target. It had been a long time coming, but finally, finally, the vicious beast he sought was within reach.

It had been weeks since this ragtag band of mercenaries had headed out from Fort Baile in pursuit of their dangerous game. Taggart was wary, so many of his beloved men had been felled by this creature without much warning or fanfare. With, in many cases, only Taggart to remember them fondly.

And now as they finally approached the clearing where one of Taggart’s men was blowing his hunting horn loudly up to the sky, there lay another, another dead man of Taggart’s troupe.

The dead man, or really dead boy, was young Harry, one of the newest recruits, his stomach bleeding all over the ground. A massive cut tearing through the muscles in his stomach. Roy recognised the wound, it was a wound from the Beast. A wound that was becoming all too familiar to him.

Roy dismounted his horse and fell to his knees beside the body of the young lad, his eyes filled with the slightest bit of dew.

Young Harry had been such a bright young lad, an orphan that Roy had run into on the road. A tavern boy at a local pub, scrubbing tables and doing the hard work. The owner had been a callous, and selfish, lazy old man, who was verbally abusive to him. Screaming loudly in front of the patrons and guests. Even hitting him.

Roy had never liked bullies, had never liked self-important bosses, and had never respected arrogance. It was a simple choice, and it was a simple enough matter to intimidate the terrible old barkeep to let his charge go in exchange for a few silver coins.

On the road, Harry had proven his worth. His skills at the bar had made him mindful and strong, and he was always quick to help out his fellow Cu Laoch when they needed it. With food, or moral support. To his great shame, however, Roy could not remember the last time that the two had spoken alone.

Roy cursed under his breath, using his massive hands to hide his despair, lest his men see it.

For a moment, Roy said nothing, until the haggard breathing of his right hand man shook him from his stupor.

The Nuckleavee stood above him astride his horse. In all his imposing terror.

The Nuckleavee was a difficult man to describe, but he was the person Roy trusted most in the world. An amputee, the Nuckleavee was missing both of his legs. The man was strapped into his horse with a half dozen leather straps to keep him from falling off, and Tohmas, the Nuckleavee’s keeper, stood nearby to help him with whatever he may need. The Nuckleavee was a man that Roy had great affection for and whom he never feared, but to any outsider, he may have seemed quite demonic. With long, stringy black hair emerging from a helmet that covered almost his entire head and overcast his face.

Roy collected himself then lifted up the fragile boy’s body and placed it on the back of his horse.

“Should we capture him alive?” the Nuckleavee’s deep, intimidating voice asked, inquiring about their target.

Taggart had to think about the question. He was a man with two masters. He wore the bright blue sash of Clan Brislaine and astride it, the dark, blood red sash of Clan Sionnach. Two clans that had made an uneasy truce had hired him to hunt down this creature, and the two clans were of different minds of what to do with the beast.

The red-bannered Sionnach Clan. The clan of fire and passion and power, desired this beast brought back alive, whole. He was important to them.

While the other, the blue-bannered Brislaine Clan. The Clan of cold steel and ice, of ambition and influence, wished for it to be euthanized in the field. Brought to swift and lethal justice for his many crimes.

But Roy Taggart was a man of justice, he considered himself a man who would do the right thing when given the option, and while the selfish and impulsive desires of his heart tore him one way, and his mind and his sense of duty pulled him in another direction – he knew his desires were nothing more than cruel, base instincts that made him no better than the rabid animal he was hunting. The wants of a selfish child, not of the just hero he knew he was.

“The Sionnachs want him alive, the Brislaines want him dead.” Taggart reiterated to the Nuckleavee.

“I’d like to capture him alive if we can.” the words stung to say, but he knew it was the right thing to do. And he always endeavoured to do the right thing. Even a beast should be brought to justice. “We are not executioners.” 

Roy leapt up onto his horse’s back. He stood as tall on his back as he possibly could, but he was not a dramatically large man. More full bodied and stout than tall or imposing. But he was determined to be as inspirational as possible.

“Even in the face of this savagery, we will serve justice!” Taggart declared, before motioning to his men, who followed closely behind him.

If only Taggart had known how close he had come to finding his prey, for only a few short feet away, hiding in the foliage of the forest, lay his beast, a young 20 year old man in a burgundy cloak, who was laying as low to the ground as he possibly could, spying on the group and hoping not to be found.

—----

Ailick could hear the breaking branches and the sliding of mud far too clearly, as a band of horsemen were not far off. His heart pounding, his forehead drenched with sweat. He had barely slept in three days, and was tired and weary; but he was strong and vicious and determined, and refused to be beaten. He ran at full speed down a slick, muddy path. His heavy black boots splashing in every puddle he strode through. He could hear the sounds of the horses, not far away. He wasn’t sure if they had seen him, but it was a thing he dare not risk. While Ailick was a skilled and accomplished fighter; at his best, he felt he could probably bring down 2 or 3 of the men chasing him, not easily and in his current state maybe not at all. But from the cacophony of horses there had to be at least half a dozen men closing in on him.

He came to the end of the road, which had led him to a cliff. A dead end. He had nowhere else to run and the horses were getting closer and closer. He peaked down the cliff, it wasn’t a terribly long drop, but it was far enough to make him nervous. He could see a figure at the bottom of the cliff, his back to him. He was alone, and looked gangly and weak. 

Even in his exhausted and weakened state, Ailick felt he could take him. The horns were getting very close at this point. Did he have a choice but to do what he was planning?

Ailick leapt from the top of the cliff and landed on the ground, his cape falling up over his head. He heard the gasp of the boy nearby as he pulled his long burgundy cape back up over his head and let it flow behind him. It was not the gasp of anyone who could be dangerous.

Ailick drew his dagger from his boot and bounced at the boy, the boy was green, very, very green, and hadn’t even gone for his sword before Ailick had managed to drive the dagger into his chest. He heard the boy gurgle out something, before the life spilled out of his mouth in a pool of blood. Ailick stared in indifference at the boy for a moment, then pulled the dagger out and sheathed it. The boy fell to the ground in a disgusting slump.

He heard the sound of an approaching man. Ailick quickly dove into the nearby bushes, laying low to the ground, watching. The man ran up, Ailick nervously fingered his dagger again, ready to strike when the moment was right, but the man pulled out a hunting horn and began to loudly blow it. AIlick released the dagger. He was on his way.

After a few minutes, up he rode, the man that was the ire of Ailick’s current existence. A massive sphere of a man, in his heavy leathers, with not one but two cloth banners. One blue and white, the banner of his enemies, Clan Brislaine, the other a deep blood red, representing Clan Sionnach which Ailick perhaps hated even more.

There were few men who disgusted Ailick as much as Roy Taggart, who wore his banners like a collared dog, stamped and branded like a good little servant, so that everyone he met would know who his masters were.

Ailick glowered at Taggart, who had a face that look as if it was carved from clay, with a low brow and a soft and beleaguered expression. Taggart claimed to be a “good” bounty hunter, someone who hunted down people not because he needed or wanted money, but to make the world a better place by hunting down criminals and murderers, protecting the innocent.

In other words, he was a liar.

Ailick lay as close to the ground as possible, as quiet as he could possibly be as Roy Taggart walked up and looked at the body on the ground. He watched patiently and quietly as Taggart spoke to his men, his saccharine wheezing in his ear.

“Even in the face of this savagery, we will serve Justice!” Taggart shouted weakly.

Ailick remained perfectly still and silent as he watched the group ride off.

After about 15 minutes, Ailick was sure that Taggart wasn’t coming back so he got up on his feet and walked into the thick denseness of the woods where he hoped they would not be able to look for him, the sun was beginning to set and it was getting dark. Ailick had always enjoyed the solitude of the woods. The chirping of birds, the way the sun would peek through the leaves at the top of the forest wall. The little bits of dew collecting on tree trunks.

If he was sure that a half dozen bounty hunters weren’t about to jump out from behind a nearby tree and attack him, he would have embraced the moment, but of course he lacked that luxury.

Ailick was almost too tired to walk, almost too tired to speak, he deliberately pushed himself onward, but even so caught himself sliding across the ground a little more casually and carelessly than normal. Once he had put enough distance between himself and the Cu Laoch, he would find a place to hole up and hide for the night.

As he made his way through the woods, he suddenly noticed that there was a set of footprints imprinted into the wet earth of the ground.

Not boot prints, footprints. Bare footprints, engraved into the soft, sticky mud.

Did one of Taggart’s men misplace their boots? Was there some wandering vagabond making his way through the trees today? Or was there something even more devious going on?

Ailick couldn’t help but be curious, so he trailed these bare footprints, not wanting to be caught, and wanting to maintain the element of surprise. In case their owner was a dangerous sort.

The footprints led him through the foliage awkwardly. They meandered and moved about in an extremely random, winding fashion. It was unlikely to be one of Taggart’s men, the footprints were extremely light, this person was probably very small and wasn’t carrying any equipment of any kind. They also didn’t seem to move in any way that felt purposeful.

Finally, he came to their source. A young boy lying face-down in the dirt. Ailick kneeled down next to the body, and flipped him over. He was young and petit. Wearing only a blue-white tunic and short white short pants. It was hard to see in the dark, shadowy glens of the forest, but Ailick recognised him as a Hito. The Hito were the descendants of the ancient Jin people who came from somewhere across the sea. The Hito had their own distinct culture with strange and different customs that Ailick did not particularly know much about. They lived mostly in the south, in massive temples and cities that no longer held any real relevance. To the fields of Dun which stretched from the base of Mount Seijin and the Tengoku Mountains to the dark glens of Faoi Chois. Places that were far, far away. Far to the west. As a result, it was almost unheard of to see a Hito in the forests.

The boy was wearing light clothing, no shoes, and didn’t appear to have any supplies or weapons with him. He was innocent and alone. And when Ailick looked at his face, a swell of emotion overcame him. A feeling he wasn’t accustomed to. He felt like he needed to protect this boy. Nothing bad should happen to this boy. It was almost more than a feeling, it was a compulsion and a powerful one at that.

He tried to shake it. This wasn’t like him. He needed to be independent, he needed to be strong, but this frail  Ailick had always been independent. He had little compassion for those who needed help, he couldn’t afford it.. It was something he had felt he needed. Something that was important.

He noticed a long, thin cut up the boy’s leg. It looked serious, but Ailick didn’t know how to help him. He needed to help him.

The compulsion was growing stronger, and Ailick found himself tearing off a piece of fabric from his cape to tie around the boy’s leg, but before he could, he stopped himself. This was ridiculous. He didn’t know this boy, he didn’t have any incentive or reason to save him, why was he doing this? He quickly took the piece of cloth and tied it around the boy’s leg where the cut was at its most severe.

The feeling refused to go away, and he found himself almost caringly stroking the boy’s face. He’d removed his glove without even noticing. He caught his hand and closed his eyes. He needed to move, Taggart or one of his men could be nearby, and he needed to make as much ground as he could before–

“There he is!” shouted Taggart from behind Ailick. And the chase was on again.

—--

The world was a whole new experience for the boy. It was dark, it was cold, it was unpleasant and wet and full of sensations and feelings.

The boy was overwhelmed. The powerful essence of the woods was almost too much to bear. The stench of the moss, the icky, disgusting texture of the matted leaves that littered the ground.

The boy was experiencing so many new things at once, it was staggering and difficult to even concentrate on anything. He stumbled and struggled and fell to the ground repeatedly, his legs were clumsy and he was not used to them.

His feet fell into something soft and sticky. He had to use a lot of effort to pull them back out as he walked through it. He began to feel faint, the effort of walking draining him. He began to fall to his knees as he walked, and with increasingly large amounts of effort he would pull himself back up to his feet.

As he stood up for the fourth or fifth time, he had trouble counting, a sudden absolute shock of pain went up his leg. His leg had slid down a rather sharp rock on the ground at a strange angle that he hadn’t noticed, slashing it. He winced in pain, the feeling was alien and new to him.

He struggled to stand before falling to his knees, and then falling flat on his face. Succumbing to the pain, he passed out into a deep unconscious state as the world and all its sensations disappeared.

—---

Ailick had pulled the boy up onto his back as he ran, weaving and dodging through the trees. The harsh beating sound of horse hooves and hunting horns catching up to him, getting closer and closer with every second. But Ailick was not to be easy prey, and he was going to make it as hard as he possibly could for the Cu Laoch to catch him.

Ailick ran as fast as he could, dodging tightly around trees and dodging under rocks and limbs. All the while, he was searching for a way out, any way to escape the line of charging horses that were coming up behind him.

Ailick had been in desperate situations before, he had the scars to prove it. Hunts and skirmishes and tournaments. He’d always managed to succeed, despite the bad odds, despite the danger, but he wasn’t sure he was going to make it this time.

He found his only hope finally, as he came around a small cliff-side, a collection of tightly packed birch trees, thick but with noticeable gaps between them. It was up a small hill, across a clearing, he could make it. He had to make it.

He beelined for them, running up the big hill toward them. His lungs were ready to explode at this point, his face drenched in sweat as he pushed himself harder and harder to run. But he dug deep into his gut and found the energy, found the strength to push himself.

But he could feel Taggart, and he knew it was Taggart, getting closer and closer behind him. The path to the trees was flat and open, allowing Taggart’s massive black mare to close in. Ailick could almost feel the heat of its breath on the back of his head. 

Ailick knew if he stumbled or let up for even a moment, he would be nothing but fodder for Taggart’s flail. He pushed himself as hard as he could, he tried his damndest to run faster and faster. And just as his body and legs were about to let up, he finally reached the line of trees, he jumped, trying to make himself as small as possible, as he just barely managed to squeeze his way through with the boy adding to his mass. Just barely avoiding, though he didn’t know it,the blunt, deadly end of Roy Taggart’s flail. He had been a hair’s breadth away from having his skull caved in.

Ailick rolled along the ground, barely holding onto the boy on his back. He had found himself on the edge of a cliff, long and jagged, with nowhere to escape. Ailick peered off the edge of the cliff looking down, his head started to spin, there was no way he’d survive a fall that far. At least not in one piece. But he would have to think of something quick, there was nowhere else to go.

He heard a loud THWACK and turned to find Roy Taggart knocking the frail trees down one by one. His flail swinging wildly. He could try to battle them, but he was severely outnumbered and they were on horseback. It wasn’t a fight he was sure he could win. He drew his sword nonetheless and prepared to defend himself.

Ailick thought about the boy on his back. What dreams he must have, how he had his whole life ahead of him and how he should have a chance to live that life. He needed to save this child. The boy must be protected at any cost, there was nothing more important than that.

He had only a few more seconds until Taggart and his troops were going to come down on him. He had to think of something.

It took him only another second to realise he had no choice.

He had to take a leap of faith.

Taggart finally smashed clear through the trees and came charging at Ailick, Ailick stared deep into his eyes and took a step back off the edge of the cliff – and he made his descent, clinging to the boy’s wrist as they free falled through the air to the earth down below.

—-------------

The moon hung high in the sky as Ailick awoke. He struggled to open his eyes, his body was in deep pain as lay in a pile of damp, deep leaves and the soft earth. While every bone in his body ached, he was still alive and relatively unharmed. His hood had fallen off his head, exposing his bright green eyes and long, thick red hair and the long, sharp scars that riddled his face.

Suddenly, the boy was there, his head hanging above him framed by the moon.

He said something very complex in the Hito language, which Ailick did not speak. But given the massive smile on the boy’s face, it was something good.

“What?” Ailick asked, still in a daze.

“Oh pardon me!” the boy laughed, embarrassed. “What I said was, ‘I think today is going to be a good day.”

[kieranhqs]

[ jacob anderson, cis man, he/him ] — whoa! DANIEL SUTTON just stole my cab! not cool, but maybe they needed it more. they have lived in the city for NINE YEARS, working as an EMERGENCY NURSE PRACTITIONER. that can’t be easy, especially at only 33 YEARS OLD. some people say they can be a little bit BASHFUL and INDECISIVE, but i know them to be DEPENDABLE and COMPASSIONATE. whatever. i guess i’ll catch the next cab. hope they like the ride back to QUEENS! — (penny, 24, gmt, she/her, none)

fullname:  daniel rené sutton. nickname(s): danny ( his preferred choice ), dan. age:  thirty-three. birthday: november 12th. gender / pronouns:  cis man ,  he / him. orientation:  bisexual / biromantic. place of birth: new orleans, louisiana current residence: queens, new york. languages: english, french, spanish & asl. height: 5'8. personality: loyal, empathetic, obsessive, stubborn.

( tw ; car accident, drunk driver, injury, depression & ptsd. )

born in new orleans, daniel was primarily raised by his mother ( originally from baton rouge ) and sister, as his father ( originally from queens ) travelled a lot for work.

his kind-hearted nature and seemingly tireless desire to help people made of his choice of nursing for a career unsurprising. daniel graduated at the top of his class in his bsn and started work in nola as soon as he could.

the relocation to queens around a year later was the first and really only truly impulsive decision danny ever made. he'd been thinking about moving out of louisiana whilst still studying, but figured he'd never be brave enough to do it. he'd joke the endless teasing from his sister about it was the motivator.

he settled in queens, discovering he loved it more than he could ever dream of. with the goal of becoming a nurse practitioner in mind and the solidification of his love for emergency medicine, he took the exam to become a certified emergency nurse and a handful of other certifications. maybe not a necessary step, but one he enjoyed doing -- it felt like progress.

the next step was to get his msn, something he opted to do online. ( TW ) was cycling home from a night shift one morning when he was hit by a drunk driver at a crossing. he woke a couple of days later to a shock ( and thinking that it was funny that someone who worked in emergency medicine would be surprised by his injuries ). daniel had been lucky, really. at least, that's what people said -- at the time he could only think that was an unbelievably cruel thing to say. his right leg had been amputated ; initially below the knee but complications arose and so he ended up an above knee amputee. otherwise, he was pretty much unscathed. a smattering of scars here and there the only other thing to show for his ordeal.

not unexpectedly, daniel was diagnosed with ptsd and had fallen into depression immediately following the accident and suffered during much of his recovery. he refused to even think about his life beyond, let alone work ; his msn was paused and he insisted he would never go back to it for a while. eventually and no doubt entirely thanks to the efforts of friends, family & the professionals around him daniel came round.

by no means have either of those things become a non-issue in his life ( the level of pain he's in & the prevalence of depression are inextricably linked ), but they have dissipated significantly and well, when all else fails… there’s always throwing yourself into work or looking after someone else when you don't want to deal with your own problems. ( TW END )

since the accident just over a year and a half ago, daniel has completed his msn and settled into his role as an enp and overjoyed with the achievement of his goal.

headcanons

definitely the black cat to @jackfm's golden retriever. speaking of cats, daniel has an orange cat called sidney ( sid ) who is a rescue and probably his best bud.

accent is kind of mess. the nola tinge ( non-rhotic, th = d pronunciation) ) is definitely at the forefront, but it's also influenced by the accents of his family from other areas of louisiana and queens. danny is very soft-spoken, borderline mumbly ( kinda will lamontagne-esque if ur familiar with criminal minds asdfak ) but also very aware that this can make him even more difficult to understand so he def has a 'phone / work voice ' he uses to be clearer.

big good samaritan vibes. he has a particular set of skills and Will show up with an advanced medical kit ready to fix anything he can if need be. also BIG into music. plays piano & guitar ( mostly acoustic bc that's his personal preference ) and secretly has a very nice voice but he'd probably actually drop dead if someone ever mentioned that.

probably an ambivert, but also shy as hell. he's definitely got a lot less shy since starting work just out of necessity but still prefers to blend into the background at social events and with people he doesn't know. it's something he's trying to work on. has a massive heart, his friendship is not hard to win but damn near impossible to shake off ( not least bc he knows he was sometimes an A+ asshole in recovery and anyone who stuck around through that deserves at least the same energy from him. )

wanted connections

literally everything pls. best friend, good friends, a bad / good influence who encourages him to socialise & get out of his comfort zone more, ex & present day crushes / flings, neighbours, flirtationship, exes & co workers.