#phantom limbs and phantom sensations

[frameacloud]

"Trans[gender] phantoms are bodily sensations of gendered body parts that a person was not born with. [...] Phantom perceivers uniquely experience not only the awareness of what is missing [...] but also the physical sensation of it. [...] It has been theorized that this phenomenon [...] is analogous to aplasic phantom sensation, which is experienced when a person is born without a limb [...], suggesting that cortical representations of congenitally missing body parts may exist[. ...] About 18% of congenitally limb-deficient people report phantom sensation[. ...] 33–85% of amputees report phantom presence[. ...S]tudies on trans phantoms [...] suggest that trans phantoms are more prevalent than limb-deficient aplasic phantoms."

- Excerpt from pp. 1-2 of this academic article: S. J. Langer, Taymy Josefa Caso & Louisa Gleichman (2023). "Examining the prevalence of trans phantoms among transgender, nonbinary and gender diverse individuals: An exploratory study." International Journal of Transgender Health. DOI: 10.1080/26895269.2022.2164101 https://www.researchgate.net/publication/366920201

Note: The academic article in question goes on to describe how the authors' study found that almost 50% of transgender people across all sexes and genders experience trans phantoms (pp. 1, 4). This means that trans phantoms happen within the same range of prevalence as amputees' phantoms, and are indeed more common than aplasic phantoms.

Some other notes about this article: This particular study didn't ask about how often trans phantoms are painful or not. However, it did find that the majority of trans phantoms had erotic sensation (pp. 5-7). It also found that many of the respondents had trans phantoms for as long as they could remember, or since adolescence (p. 7). The researchers cautioned the reader that "trans phantoms may not, and should not, be considered a requirement for recognition of TGD [transgender, nonbinary, genderqueer, and gender diverse] identities" (p. 8).

[interstellarsystem]

Imposing/projecting headmate presences is great because you're a little bit uncomfy, in pain and trying (but failing) to sleep? Boom, sensation of eldritch distortion monster cuddling you.

[morverenmaybewrites]

I haven’t even met him yet, but I am so fucking ready to make all sorts of hurt/comfort headcanons about Caleb and his metal arm.

The lack of the sensation of touch?

The possible nerve damage?

The phantom pain?

Perhaps…the lack of control in one’s strength when it comes to new limbs?

The possibilities are endless.

[lazywriter-artist]

( @eldritchlunch )

He’d explode I think—

Like sure he’d start off all fine and thankful for the time off

Then it’d kind of set in after the fourth snapping of the reinforced quills

Then ya know, he kind of gets his old man knee pains knowing the Orks are up to SOMETHING

And inkwells just really don’t squish the same as fungus or flesh 😮‍💨 and the stains are less intimidating

Then he’d have to break out the emotional support grot before he crushed the table as well

Then I think three guardsman would show up stuck in the rafters and he’d be gone for the next five hours before returning home covered in blood, who’s? No one knows.

[otherkin-therian-culture-is]

other-kin/ therian culture is wondering why phantom limbs are so accessible and normal but as soon as it becomes something you can see you are then villainized and shunned, funny isn’t it? 

it is to be honest 🐾

[jthm-opinions]

i've been going through a hard time, just needed to make a vent. my fp took longer than five minutes to text back, so i set fire to my rug using hairspray and a lighter and started writing my will. if he does that again i'll probably mail him a decapitated cat head and slash his tires, but it's fine now, i think. sometimes he berates me for hours and threatens to kill himself when i beat him in mario kart or won't kinmatch with him, but he always lovebombs me afterwards, so it evens out. he's my soulmate. - mod darkness⸸

[frameacloud]

Page two of my comic about therianthropes and otherkin, Theri There, from September 5, 2005. The image description is in the alt text.

First and previous page | Next page

Notes: A certain phoenix (who wishes to remain anonymous) suggested a strip where someone absent-mindedly uses a phantom limb to gesture, which xe has done a few times. Thank you!

Here's the discussion forum for this page.

[fanciedfacts]

You have this itching urge, but the spot keeps changing location

[interstellarsystem]

I was having a conversation yesterday morning about phantom limbs and remembered that back when we joined the otherkin/therian community, around the sort of spiritual side of it, there was relatively common talk of how they affected the real world.

Children commenting on them, animals acting as if you had them while you were shifting, or people walking around them or staying out of their way in general. We mainly heard mention of peoples interactions with children saying things like "bird!" or "fluffy!" or something, but we heard other stuff too.

Is this still a thing that's talked about? We've never experienced anything like it as far as we can remember--not that we pay attention to see if people avoid walking through our wings or tails--but we do remember it being spoken of enough for us to take note. Maybe it was just the communities that we were in, seeing as they tended to lean spirituality-based?

Honestly just curious as to if this is a thing that's still spoken of, it's a part of what we grew up around that we don't tend to see anymore and I'm wondering how common it is. Do people just not talk about it, or was it a thing that doesn't happen all too often and we were just in the right spaces to hear it?

[sealcore]

questioning if extinct felids are included in my cladotherian-ness because last night i almost felt like i had phantom saber teeth 😭

[hyacinthcollective]

AC: *jokes about sharing information that isn't shared*

False: Absolutely not. *forces AC away from front as quickly as she can*

[otherkin-therian-culture-is]

Otherkin / therian relationship culture is snuggling up to your partner and feeking their phantom wings wrap around you :33

therian/otherkin culture is

[f0restteeth]

trying to process some alterhuman business through doodles don’t mind me

for anyone curious:

black = my human body

brown = werewolf

purple = shapeshifter

green = night fury

[raqi-marr]

mech pilot who got separated from their mecha when their civilisation was domestication and their military got dissolved. despite all attempts to help them, they still have persistent phantom sensation from the limbs that they used to have but no longer do; constantly missing the feeling of a rifle in hands that don't feel the right size, feeling blind and deaf without all of the enhanced feedback from sensors capable of a hundred times greater acuity than their own body

eventually, however, one particular affini reads their medical file and comes up with an idea. she files a notice of intent on the pilot, then swiftly heads over to their hab and whisks them away the next morning. they don't even bother resisting; having long since given up hope that things will get better, and unable to imagine any way they could get worse

the affini takes them home and lays them down on a surgery table, promising them that soon, everything is going to feel right again. they expect nothing, presuming her to be lying to them, but they feel a great weight behind their eyes, and a moment later, they fall closed.

it feels like they've only blinked, but when they reopen them, everything is different. every sense that was missing is suddenly there again. they look down at their arms to find them just the right size; their body no longer one of flesh, but of gleaming white metal plates, pulsating with thin green lines of a material they don't recognise. it takes them a moment to realise what it is: under their metal skin are muscles and tendons made out of vines, their former optical sensors replaced with sight blossoms, and their rifle woven back together from a mixture of bark, chambered with rounds made of amber

most of all, they are no longer alone. they could feel their mech before, but it's different this time; as if the sensation surrounding them isn't quite their own, but a body that is both theirs and not. a faint, slow pulsing that shifts in time with every movement, guiding them to know exactly where to look, and what to do. moments later, they hear a voice whispering- not into their ear, but directly into their mind, just like their onboard AI used to:

"Good morning, my precious little Pilot."

[aeluteria]

Pillows and glass walls

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆ summary: you develop a habit surrounding yourself with pillows when you sleep — as if trying to replicate certain someone's presence. ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆ pairing: MC!reader x Caleb ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆ word count: 1,666 ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆ general info: hurt/comfort, fluff, not established relationship, longing Caleb if you look really close act surprised here ────── ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆ notes: proofread four times and all but it's possible there's still some mistakes since English isn't my first language. Enjoy!

After Caleb’s death, you’re haunted by nightmares, and you get used to sleeping surrounded by pillows. There’s something comforting about the way they press against your body from all sides, almost wrapping you in their softness. The pretty spacious bed narrows down to about half a meter all thanks to at least four pillows around you. One under your head, one in front of you, one under your arm, and one behind your back. The desperate longing for the phantom sensation of something's — someone's — presence is almost unbearable.

When you and Caleb used to stay up late watching yet another late-night show, he would often fall asleep next to you, allowing you to throw your arms and legs over him, even if it meant he’d have to spend the rest of the night in the same and probably — definetely — not so comfortable position. He knew he would wake you up the moment he tried to move away. Back then, you shared the narrow seat of the sofa in the gran's living room, squeezed together with your limbs intertwined.

Now, you try to recreate that feeling by placing a pillow behind your back, nearly trapping yourself between it and the one you so habitually throw your arm and leg over. The pillows are too soft; they don’t compare to Caleb’s strong, toned body, which you remember so clearly in your embrace. But… it’s something, at least. 

It becomes your ritual — a small tradition you follow almost religiously, day after day. 

One pillow goes under your head — as it should, just like most people sleep. 

The second one is tucked behind your back — a barrier, a false sense of protection, because you don’t like to sleep with your back exposed. 

The third one you hug, throwing a leg over it, pressing it as close as possible in an attempt to recreate that warm, familiar embrace. 

The fourth, the smallest, goes under your free elbow, covering your side and chest. 

You pull the blanket over yourself, hiding beneath its soft folds. And finally, you allow the warmth and weight to lull you to sleep.

The same ritual every night. 

A quirk that has become a necessity. 

Sometimes you wonder if it should be the first and only thing on your list of bad habits.

──────

After Caleb’s return, you continue sleeping surrounded by pillows. Caleb notices. Of course he does — how could he not? — and silently buys you a few more pillows, leaving them in your room in his Skyhaven apartment. He doesn’t ask where you got this habit from, but you feel like he’s already figured it out. Staying over at his place, you don’t change your ritual, turning the huge bed into a plush-pillow sanctuary. 

Caleb is back, but it feels like he’s further away from you than ever. The bed sheets and blanket smell of his cologne — fresh, familiar — and in those fragile evening moments, you desperately want to believe that you and Caleb are truly home again. 

That the muffled muttering from the living room isn’t reports and endless briefings that follow Caleb even outside of work — but the forgotten TV, its volume turned down to a minimum. 

That the lights of the city breaking through the curtains are in fact soft moonlight, cradling the summer night in its embrace. 

That you’re not in this big, almost lifeless apartment desperately clutching a pillow — but on a couch in the not-so-big gran's living room holding a drowsy Caleb, wrapped in the warmth of summer that you’ll spend together.

Caleb has returned to your life. But now, it feels like there’s a glass wall between you — right where the warmth, the tenderness, the infinite trust used to be.

It’s starting to crack. And behind the cracks you can sense all these familiar feelings and emotions trying to break through. But it’s not enough. 

You’re afraid that this glass wall will never shatter.

Even after Caleb’s return you’re still haunted by nightmares. Waking from them in the quiet of your own home became familiar long ago. But in the silence of the room at Skyhaven screaming in desperation and fear feels almost like a crime. You cover your mouth with your palm, your fingers tremble. The bed is a mess, pillows scattered across the floor except the one under your head. The nightmare’s grim reality still flickers in your mind, and you blink rapidly, trying to push it away. You don’t hear hurried footsteps down the hallway, only noticing them when they stop with the sound of a door opening. Caleb is standing in the doorway — disheveled from sleep, but alert and tense, like a spring ready to snap at any moment. He quickly scans the room, and finding no danger, softly approaches the bed, sitting on the edge. The mattress dips under his weight, and you hurriedly wipe your eyes with the back of your hand, brushing away the tears. But Caleb still notices.

“Are you okay?”

His voice is slightly hoarse from sleep, and a wave of shame and guilt rises in your chest and washes over you. You nod quickly — too quickly for it to seem truly sincere.

“Yeah, I just… just had a nightmare. Sorry for waking you.”

Caleb reaches out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. It takes a lot not to lean into his touch, seeking comfort. Caleb notices — he himself touches your cheek with his palm, and you press into it, closing your eyes for a moment to catch your breath. Caleb caresses your cheek with his thumb, wiping away the damp trails of your tears. 

For a moment, it feels like the world narrows down to the two of you sitting across from each other. 

Almost like before, almost like in the past. 

Except that now everything feels completely different.

“Don’t apologize, pipsqueak. Want me to make you some warm herbal tea? It’ll help you calm down.” 

You know there are only a few hours left before his alarm goes off, but despite that he’s still willing to spend those precious minutes with you. You swallow the lump in your throat and shake your head with a faint smile.

“I’m fine, really.” “You’re still crying.”

Caleb traces a finger up your cheek to the corner of your eye, wiping the tear with his thumb. In his gaze you see familiar concern, warmth, and endless tenderness — and for a moment it feels like nothing has changed. 

Like you’re back on the narrow couch in the gran's living room, lazily debating who will fall asleep first. 

Like you're back in those carefree days when the biggest problem was deciding which flavor of ice cream to choose.

Like you’re back together for the whole summer, and even the coming separation when his vacation ends won’t overshadow this precious time. 

You reach out to him, wrapping your arms around his chest in the familiar gesture, nuzzling your face in the spot where his neck meets his shoulder, inhaling the fresh scent of his shower gel and closing your eyes. You feel him hold you back almost immediately. Like he was waiting for this. His breath catches for just a moment, and you swear you can feel his heartbeat quickening by a dozen beats per minute. Your heart seems to echo his.

“I dreamed that you…” “Shh, don’t think about it.” 

Caleb strokes your back, and you feel the warmth of his hands even through your clothes. 

“I’m here with you, and I’m not going anywhere.” 

He briefly kisses your forehead, touch almost ghostly on your skin.

“Caleb?..”

He pulls back slightly, looking at you with those impossibly beautiful sunset-colored eyes, and your heart tightens with unbearable tenderness. You gently touch his cheek, almost as if trying to make sure he’s real, that he’s really here, that he’s truly not going anywhere. Caleb turns his head and softly kisses the center of your palm.

“Stay with me tonight. Please.”

His eyelashes flutter as he blinks in surprise. In the dim light of the room you see his lips curl into a smile, the features of his face soften, and the worry fades from his eyes. Caleb lies down beside you, like he’s done so many times before, pulling you closer and holding you tight. His chest rises and falls, and you rest your hand on it. The cool metal of his pendant brushes against your skin, and you gently trace its contours with your finger. Caleb slowly runs his fingers through your hair, and you feel his breath on your forehead.

“I’ll stay with you forever. Just ask me.” 

He slowly strokes your back. 

His touch barely there, almost hesitant — as if he's afraid to disturb the fragility of the moment.

“...stay with me forever.”

You echo, closing your eyes as sleep takes over. Caleb pulls the blanket over both of you, and the warmth surrounds you completely. You finally let go, surrendering to sleep.

You don't realize that for the first time in many nights you didn’t even think about the pillows scattered on the floor.

You won’t need them tonight. 

And something in you wants to believe that from this very moment you’ll never need them at all.

The glass wall between you and Caleb seems to crack once more — and this crack is deeper than all of those before.

And through it, that familiar and long-awaited warmth breaks through, almost searing in its wake.

“No one will dare to separate us. Never again. I promise.”

He kisses your forehead briefly and his lips linger on your skin just a little longer than necessary. Then they slide down, brushing your cheek, teasingly touching the tip of your nose. Finally, they come to rest near the corner of your mouth.

You’re absolutely sure this warm touch of his lips so dangerously close to your own was just a dream.

And just as absolutely, you’re not sure you’ll ever admit to yourself that you don’t mind these kinds of dreams at all.

[fanciedfacts]

The Invisible Itch or Neuropathic Itch

The invisible itch is a sensation and the urge to itch a spot, only to find out that it's the wrong spot that needs itching. There are several causes for this frustrating sensation that we talk about in this episode of Fancied Facts. Enjoy!