#descriptions of pain

[uncanny-tranny]

One of my biggest pieces of advice for those taking injectable hormones is to make sure you're injecting at the right angle

For intramuscular (IM), you inject at a 90° angle.

For subcutaneous (SQ), you inject at a 45° angle.

Here is a graphic depicting what the angle of your injection should look like:

An image description is provided in the ALT text.

[eldritch-ace]

Ideal hannigram dynamic

[hajihiko]

HOW DOES FUYUHIKO DEAL WITH MIGRAINES !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[katakaluptastrophy]

The Nine Houses must be absolutely terrifying to fight.

And not just because their invasions start with a drop ship full of pimply 14 year olds inexplicably armed with zweihanders whose entire remit is to cause a mass casualty event for necromantic purposes...

We're mostly introduced to the schools of necromancy at the beginning of GTN, before we have broader context beyond "ooh, new magic system." But if you think about it in light of what we later learn about the Cohort:

Second House: they can literally drain your life force to power up their cavaliers. "It’s said they all die screaming"

Third House: that pile of corpses in no man's land? They're being used as a power up. Also, someone's just rearranged your face; your arse is on backwards.

Fourth House: that pile of corpses in no man's land? They're bombs now. And if you corner a Fourth House necro, they're a bomb too!

Fifth House: at best, they're the weird technicians for the Houses' horrifying blood and monolith based FTL system. At worst, it doesn't matter if you kill yourself to avoid capture or if you hold out under interrogation until you expire, they can still interrogate your ghost.

Sixth House: drop a cigarette or shed a hair on a clandestine operation? These guys now know your age, shoe size, and approximate location. They know what you had for breakfast. They know what you held in the last 12 hours.

Seventh House: that pile of corpses in no man's land? They're armed and marching on you now.

Eigth House: why is he glowing? WHY IS HE GLOWING?!

Ninth House: the guy next to you's bones just became an IED.

[badnewswhatsleft]

(source) i have been laughing at this for so long. i think he is cute

I THINK HE IS SO CUTE !!!!!!

[thedisablednaturalist]

"It is illegal for an employer to discriminate based upon disability! So if you have no excuse if you are unemployed!"

Employers:

[ID: Snippets of job requirements. By bromantically]

1. "This position requires the individual to drive either a company car, rental car or his/her own car in the course of performing their job from time to time. Employee must be able to perform the physical functions of operating a motor vehicle, including use of eyes, ears, arms, hands, legs, and feet. Employee must be able to prove that he/she has a current, valid driver’s with no restrictions." The part that says, "Employee must be able to perform the physical functions of operating a motor vehicle, including use of eyes, ears, arms, hands, legs, and feet." has been highlighted.

2. "Ability to repetitively stoop, crawl, bend at the knees and waist, squat and lift 50 lbs; includes body weight, equipment, tools and boxes, in addition to ability to stand for long periods of time on varied surfaces. Must be able to stand up to five hours at a time." End ID.]

[syn0vial]

most relatable Boba Fett Moment™ in the expanded universe is when he very calmly and curtly walks away from what should be a highly emotional conversation (much to the annoyance and disgust of the person he's speaking to), locks himself in a washroom, then proceeds to have debilitating panic attack for several minutes before standing up, composing himself, and walking out in the exact same unruffled manner like nothing happened :^)

[vaspider]

yes I made this. for Reasons.

[audhd-space]

ID :

“I remember you said that thing has caused you so much discomfort/pain, so I actually take note of it and after much careful consideration and hundreds of researches I actually decided to buy/build this for you.”

underneath it there are 14 green flags to emphasize the importance

THIS IS IT FOLKS.

THIS IS MY LOVE LANGUAGE.

THIS IS HOW I WOULD WANT TO BE LOVED AS WELL.

[bewarethewolfarmy]

Things Better Unshared

(A follow-up to A Celebration for Two partially because so many people seemed to have liked it and partially because I happen to have had one of those days. And yes what is described in this story is how I suffer through migraines, which I get on occasion (I am a chronic headache sufferer though). My friend Ash, may her soul rot in the shared POTO hell we are destined for, technically gave me this plot bunny when I told her about my migraine today so hope you guys at least enjoy)

Erik was 1000% certain that you were angry at him or something and thus already rehearsing a thousand different apologies, with flowers and music and begging and crying. Actually he was already crying because again he was more than absolutely certain that you were very much angry at him.

Admittedly he was not sure why you would be mad at him though. He had not killed anyone recently, or honestly at all in the time since you told him you loved him to now and he had sort of wanted to, especially when it came to those guys who sometimes talked to you and especially that one who had actually tried to ask you out and that was certainly not acceptable in any way. But he had held himself back, remembering how murder was one of Those Things that had made Christine run from him and that you had indeed told him that you did not want him hurting anyone. What helped him to remember and internalize it was that you had voiced it as a worry that he would be hurt or taken away from you if he did anything like murder someone again and thus made it into how much you cared about him, and Erik could never bring himself to do something that could upset someone who was willing to say they loved him. He also had been holding back his wish to make you a star and trying to convince you to that effect, and he'd behaved himself with the operahouse managers and he'd even tried to do nice things for them like fix up broken props and ripped costumes. He'd loved listening to you giggle as you had recounted to him how the other performers were convinced they had some sort of guardian angel running around, a nice change from the story of the Phantom; he didn't care about their thoughts and feelings about the situation as much as he loved to know you were happy about it. And actually he was also certain you had been happy just the night before, kissing him gently goodbye before having to return to your usual days in the choir.

Yet he knew you had to be angry at him because why else would you be acting so strange? You were listless and not really talking to anyone, grimacing and holding your hands over your ears as if hating the sound of music that as always filled the operahouse. He'd only been doing his usual thing, watching over you when you couldn't physically be together, and had been looking forward to watching rehearsals, but you had this strange unhappy look on your face and he was certain it was because something was wrong and of course to his mind the only thing that came to him was that you were upset with him and thus he needed to figure out how to fix things. He couldn't bear to have you upset and now he just had to wait until everyone else left and you were alone so he could try to see if he could get to you. You'd already snapped at a few people who tried to bother you though and Erik was now just fiddling with everything he could get his hands on, his cape, some rope, a broken piece of furniture, his scarf, feeling more and more anxious.

It all came to a head as some lights went on and you practically winced, turning away. But not fast enough for your angel, attentive as he was, saw the tears in your eyes and his heart fell like a ton of stones into his stomach. He watched you slip away into a room, getting away from everyone and everything as if to flee, and finally he decided enough was enough. Quickly he made his way there, slipping through passages and hidden ways, through an opening in the wall of that room to grab you.

You flinched, you never flinched with him, and his heart raced to think he might have hurt you, but you looked at him, squinting and then buried your face in his chest. His mind raced but you whimpered and in a small voice, weak and unsteady, spoke, “It hurts so much...”

You were in pain? Physical pain? He didn't understand at first but you clung to him and he instinctively wrapped his cape around you, holding you and feeling all the more panicked.

“What hurts?” He felt so confused; he had been so sure you were.

“It's too loud, too bright, please.” You pleaded, in that sad trembling voice. And Erik, Erik never could reject a request, not from you.

It was easy enough for him to bundle you up and carry you away; walking corpse he might be, he was still strong and you fit so easily in his arms. If the surface was too loud, too bright, too anything, then he would just take you back to his home, to the darkness, to the quiet. He had no hesitation, especially as your arms looped around his neck and held onto him and lord did that make Erik want to know what was so wrong so much faster.

He did his best to bring you back though the rowing of the boat was made a little harder by the fact that you still didn't let go even in the boat. But at the same time he wouldn't complain; you were close to him, you were there in his arms, how could he possibly complain when you were right where he loved to have you so much. And you didn't seem to be angry or upset with him at all but he still didn't know what was wrong and that was somehow even worse because you said it hurt and that things were too much and he hated seeing you in pain, not to mention cry because of it.

The dim lighting of candles and the silent peace of his home by the lake seemed to bring you some peace though still you held to him. He carried you inside and took you to the bed, the easiest to keep holding you; that was what he wanted, that's what you seemed to want, and he curled around you somewhat awkwardly. He wasn't used to being the big spoon, he wasn't used to being the comforter instead of the comfortee; he still didn't know what was wrong and that was starting to make him feel panicked the longer you were silent and clinging so tight.

“Erik's sorry, please tell us how we can help,” he half whined, having brought you this far but having no idea what to do was starting to lose himself to his usual concerns, “Songbird, please, you're worrying Erik, please.”

“My head....”

“Your head?”

“It hurts so much, Erik, it feels like a needle in my eye, like sharpness in my skull, radiating back and forth and back and forth but only part of me, only part of my skull.” Your voice was small, so small, smaller than you, smaller than anything. “I can't focus, I can't see, and everything just makes it worse: the light, the sounds, movement, eating, I can't think about anything but how much it hurts. It all just compounds and makes it throb more.”

Oh. He realized, recognizing what you meant. “Do you see lights, ones that are not truly there, whether after looking at light for a second or simply out of nowhere?”

You nodded without word. He bit a swollen lip. “Then it must be hemicrania, migraine. Erik too has suffered such; the pain is....”

Impossible to truly describe, he knew that well. To think you too were undergoing such pain, unexpected, unwanted, unfair; he could not remember days in which he had one, for the pain took most memory and reality with it, leaving only the haze of existence and the depths of emotional and physical voidness. But he could remember pain, sharp, centralized at first before moving along the divide of his head; for him it was always the right side, the same as his deformity, and maybe it was connected but it never truly mattered. The pain was what did and your pain, that you too had to feel it, was what he cared about.

You whimpered again, a meek sound more suited to a child than the beautiful soul you were to him but he held you close and did what he had always wished someone had done for him in such a state: he covered your head in his cape, kissed you upon the head and spoke in the softest whisper he could muster, “You will be alright, songbird, I promise you.”

“I just want to sleep,” you mumbled.

“Then sleep you shall.”

“I should eat though.”

“Are you hungry?” You shook your head; he was not surprised. Appetite seemed to flee from the pain of the half skull. “Then do not force yourself. Rest; I will blow out all the candles and you will slumber and once you feel hungry then I will make sure to bring you all the best things to help you recover but it would worry me all the more if you had to suffer what happens when you force yourself to eat when your mind is such pain.” Though he'd be ready to hold your hair back and gently rub your back, wipe away your tears and give you water to clear the taste from your mouth. Still he never wished that suffering on you, any of this.

“Erik....” You clung tighter and he kissed you again. How strange it felt to be the one to give the gentle kisses, the love, the care; normally you were the one to comfort him and he had been so prepared to cry and beg your forgiveness before but now he knew what was really going on and all he wanted was to hold you and take all your pain away.

He took off his cape to keep you covered but found it hard to get you to let go of him. Normally he would have been delighted by this, he was before, but in light of what was going on.... “Songbird, sweet love, I need to get up.”

“Please don't leave me, it hurts so much.” You sounded like you were on the verge of tears again and how he hated it, loathed your pain.

It was his turn to whimper, because he was nothing if not weak to you and your pleas, but he had to be strong to some degree and he kissed away your tears. “My beloved songbird, I promise I will return as quick as I can, but I need to darken the room for you, all for you I promise. That way you needn't hide under my cape while you rest.”

Another whine from you but he did manage to break free enough to get up. You curled into a ball, a sad weak ball, and he was quick to move, snuffing out each candle, plunging the room into utter darkness. But he was used to darkness, he had lived in it for years, and to him you were like a beacon in the night anyway; he would always find his way back to your side. He settled into bed beside you again and pulled you close, stroking your hair as you clung once more to him. In the darkness all that could be heard was breathing, yours slightly labored as your body had a hard time adjusting to the pain; he started to hum, softly, careful of all sharp notes, careful of being too loud; it was even and gentle, a lullaby he made up on the fly. But slowly, surely you started to slip off into something resembling sleep and he knew this by the way your grip loosened, your breathing evened, you relaxed from tension you never even knew you'd been holding from the pain.

All the while the phantom held you, humming his slow warm melody, and wishing for all the world he could do more to make you, his beloved songbird, never feel such pain now or ever again.

[uncanny-tranny]

I think when people conceptualize pain and disability, what they think of is something like this:

It's conceptualized as something you are cured from, that pain can be only temporary, and you will one day "get better."

In reality, it's something more like this:

Pain is often non-linear in nature. When you see somebody in low-pain days, weeks, or perhaps longer, that doesn't mean that they have "healed." Not all pain is curable, and the idea that it is is only hurting people who experience pain. Yes, it is uncomfortable to imagine that we might not be able to heal, that we might, in fact, become disabled by pain that will never heal. But running from this possibility is not the solution.

[flowercrowngods]

i'm just gonna write a quick thing is always such a scam bc i'll be 3.5k words in and the Thing hasn't even started yet (and still i'm surprised every time smh)

[the-kr8tor]

i absolutely love how you write hobie, so tenderly and sweet but still very much hobie😭❤️I was wondering if I could ask for hobie with a s/o with fibromyalgia, maybe fluff hurt/comfort? I don't know if you're familiar with it but it's kind of a chronic pain disorder, (I just got diagnosed oof), totally okay if you're not comfortable with it tho!

I'm sorry that you're going through this, I hope this helps lift your spirits, I'll keep you in my thoughts, hun ❤️ I hope I wrote this okay, I did some research about it, to make sure I'm writing it well for you. Sorry this took awhile, hope you're doing okay ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, descriptions of pain, Hurt/Comfort.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You lay on your back, the old sofa's springs digging into your shoulder which certainly doesn't help the throbbing pain in your entire body. You're in too much pain to move into the bedroom, especially with the sharp pain digging in your feet. Hissing out when a wave of pain sends shivers through you.

Hobie holds out a cold glass of water near your head, the condensation drops on your cheek, Hobie reaches out to wipe at it quickly but carefully, so as to not cause you anymore discomfort.

"Sorry," his long fingers grazing your cheek gingerly. Hobie crouches down to your eye level, eyes gauging your emotions. " 'm sorry, love" you don't know if he's apologizing for what happened, or if it's because you're in pain.

He hates seeing you like this, your face scrunched up, eyes glistening at him. Hobie wishes he could just take it away from you. Fight it for you. He drops the glass right next to him, you crane your neck to look at him, despite the dull pain, a tight lipped smile.

"It's okay, not your fault" you softly say.

"You haven't drank water in a bit, sorry"

"Stop apologizing, I know you mean well" you raise your finger at the knit on his forehead, trying to straighten it out. "I'll take that water please"

You lift yourself up, Hobie rushes to help you, his hand warm on your hand and back, his grip on you is soft, fully aware of his strength. You exhale, thanking him with a small smile.

Hobie crouches in front of you, he wipes the glass, getting the condensation off it, before handing it to you. You gulp it down, not realizing how thirsty you've been.

"Thank you" he grabs the glass from you, careful not to touch your fingers.

You notice he's been avoiding touching you, opting for small careful touches, you completely understand his sentiment, not wanting you to feel any additional discomfort from his touch. But you want it though, he doesn't know how much it helps, how he helps.

Hobie can't read your mind, so you hold out your hand towards him. "Can I hold your hand?"

Hobie smiles "I'll always say yes to that" he lifts his palm over yours, drawing small circles over your wrists. "This okay?"

"Mm-hmm" you tilt your head, watching as his large hand envelops yours. He places a small kiss over your knee, heat blossoming on your face from the affection.

"It'll be okay, yeah?" He stops himself from resting his forehead on your leg. Instead he watches as you look at him through half lidded eyes. His heart aches for you.

You answer him by squeezing his hand three times. He knows what you meant, so he squeezes back gently, three times, then a small kiss over your fingertips.

"Do you want me to carry you to the bed? This old couch won't do you any good" you know he's not scolding you, genuinely concerned how the bumpy couch isn't helping you.

"Okay"

He stands up, delicately holding onto you. He's cautious of where he's stepping, as to not jostle you too much. Hobie lays you gently on the bed.

"There, let me grab you another glass" before he could leave, you grab his hand, stopping him from his tracks.

"Stay? Please"

"Of course" he goes around the bed, laying next to you. You shuffle closer to him, your fingers intertwined, helping you fall asleep, knowing when you wake up he'll be right next to you.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Thank you for reading ❤️ please consider reblogging if you enjoyed ❤️

[maidofmetal]

NEUROPATHY

[IMAGE ID: a painting of a neuron silhouette. the background is red. the neuron is black and the branches split off as if irritated]

[askedwardelricanything]

♚ Carrd ♚ https://windrider01.carrd.co/  

[spookyshape]

i'm 100% sure Mayuri could create some sort of a machine made specifically for doing his makeup everyday, but i love the fact that he's doing it himself