This could be entirely in my head but I feel like a lot of fan artists for The Pitt avoid drawing Jack Abbots prosthetic leg.
(If you don’t know in the Pitt one of the characters is a below the knee right leg amputee and I feel like fan artists do anything in their power to avoid drawing his prosthetic)
This is deformimisia/disfiguremisia.
A lot of excuses I have seen from people avoiding drawing prosthetics is "well, i don't know how to draw them!" and I think this reflects a wider issue of art communities not teaching people how to draw disability aids or any disability traits, really.
Assortment of different prosthetic limbs. These range greatly in sophistication and functionality. I think they also span a great deal of time and all serve very different functions for their owners.
So just imagine Xialing Yao carrying his asleep s/o in his arms. And their head lolls to his right shoulder, because i imagine his prosthetic takes also part of his shoulder. And the moment the head hits it, the s/o let out a quiet, sleepy 'ow' before just going back to sleep.
-Smooch Anon 💋
Metal and Warmth
Summary: After a long day of experiments at Huaxu Academy, Xiangli Yao carries his sleeping partner back to his quarters. When their head accidentally bumps against his prosthetic shoulder, they let out a sleepy "ow" before drifting back into slumber. Struck by the small moment, Xiangli reflects on the duality of his existence—his scientific ambitions and his deeply human connections—and cherishes the quiet bond he shares with the person he loves.
Tags: Xiangli Yao x Reader, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Moments, Soft Xiangli, Introspection, Gentle Romance.
Warnings: Mentions of prosthetic limb (brief mention of trauma-related backstory), light emotional themes.
Xiangli Yao walked quietly through the softly lit corridors of Huaxu Academy, the faint hum of the automata around him a comforting backdrop. The day's experiments had taken longer than expected, as they often did when he lost himself in the endless possibilities of Automata Mechanics. Yet, as much as he loved his work, there was one person who grounded him, reminded him that life wasn’t just about equations and discoveries—you.
You were nestled in his arms, fast asleep, your breathing steady and peaceful. He hadn’t meant to carry you all the way back to his quarters, but when you had dozed off during his late-night explanation of resonance theory, he couldn’t bring himself to wake you. The way you had curled up against the lab couch, arms loosely wrapped around yourself, had tugged at his heart.
He adjusted his hold on you slightly, mindful of his prosthetic arm. It extended from his shoulder—a sleek, intricate blend of metal and innovation, a constant reminder of his past and the powers that came with it. The cool surface hummed faintly, a result of the latent thunder energy coursing through it, though he kept it subdued.
As he moved through the hallway, your head shifted slightly, lolling to the side until it came to rest against his right shoulder. The moment your temple touched the metallic surface, a quiet, sleepy “ow” escaped your lips. He froze, his heart clenching at the sound.
“Sorry...” he murmured, though you were already slipping back into slumber.
He shifted again, carefully cradling your head with his organic hand to cushion you from the hardness of the metal. For a moment, he stood still, gazing at your peaceful expression. There was something profound in this small act of trust, in the way you let yourself be so vulnerable in his presence.
Xiangli often thought about the duality of his existence—his ability to manipulate metal through his Resonance and his deeply human longing for connection. Moments like these reminded him of why he pursued knowledge: not just to push boundaries, but to protect and cherish the people he cared about.
As he reached his quarters, he gently laid you down on the bed, taking a moment to tuck the blanket around you. The soft glow of the room’s lighting illuminated your face, and he couldn’t help but reach out, brushing a strand of hair away from your cheek.
“I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt next time.” he whispered, a small smile playing on his lips.
You stirred slightly, murmuring his name in your sleep, and he felt a warmth bloom in his chest. He sat down beside you, his prosthetic arm resting on his lap as he watched over you. For all the mysteries of the universe he sought to uncover, this—the quiet, unspoken bond between you—was a truth he cherished most.
Would love to feature some real people in this blog's header image instead of stock photos! If you're happy for your face to be shown*, submit your pics via an ask
🩷💛🤍🩵💚
Open to all mobility aids and prosthetics.
Please only send photos with a decent resolution.
Please don't send more than 5 photos.
*Photo doesn't need to show your face but if your face is in the picture you send, I want to make sure you're ok with it being shown in the header.
Submitting a photo doesn't guarantee it will be featured.
Little Goblin with a LOTTA PUNCH
Here's a new DnD OC of mine: Gritta Geargrinder, a tough-as-nails Goblin Blacksmith/Artificer. An accident at the forge cost her both of her arms, but she wasn't about to let that stop her! She got herself some new ones, by gum
I had a great time designing Gritta, and I finally got to implement the over-sized arms trope that I've always enjoyed
I hope you all like this Feisty Forgemaster
