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#bodyhorror — Public Fediverse posts

Live and recent posts from across the Fediverse tagged #bodyhorror, aggregated by home.social.

  1. I just think that people should get a little weird with the way they hang out in the Puzzle is all.

    It's a slight accompaniment to a fic I wrote earlier last year but not in any direct way. I just really want them to harmonize is all :3 :3


    #Puzzleshipping #Yugi-Muto #Yami-Yugi #YGO #Eye-Strain #body-horror #suggestive #Listen-they-gotta-be-freak-flavored-in-the-off-hours-ok-I-dont-make-the-rules.
  2. Symptom: Social Security Disability Rejection

    61% of Social Security applicants are denied after their first application. I am now on the second appeal, when 49% of remaining applicants are approved, and have hired a lawyer (disability lawyers are only paid if they win your case).

    I set a new goal on ko-fi, in order to get more illmarks pieces into the world. The fundraising would cover framing two Med Art Advocacy pieces, and submission fees + professional scanning for the Mütter Medical Museum, a Senior Living Center, a Health Care Center & 3 other shows.

    If you are able to comfortably, please buy me a ko-fi. We’re 1/3 of the way to the goal!

    https://www.illmarks.com/symptom-social-security-disability-rejection/

    #artmuseum #BetterFutures #bodyHorror #chronicIllness #chronicIllness #chronicPain #crowdfund #disability #disabilityart #disabilityJustice #FederalGovernment #kofi #longcovid #medicalArt #MillionsMissing #pwLC #pwme #redesignSystems #socialSecurity #SocialSecurityReform #SSI #systemsFailing #TransformativeFutures #UniversalBasicIncome #US #usa #ushealthcare

  3. Patrick W. Marsh @patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com@patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com ·

    Shaving: A Greenland Diaries Flash Fiction

    Nigel couldn’t believe his beard had gotten this long.

    It was down to his chest, tangled and frizzy. It was black, but almost brown at its feathery edges. He could hear his father yelling at him to trim it, his high, almost husky voice echoing in his head. His father was ex military. He loved the clean shaven look and forced Nigel to follow that hairless motif, even though Nigel hadn’t picked up a weapon until the Drum started. Now, he always had one with him. The ravaged green world demanded it, even with the Drum destroyed and the Unnamed no longer hunting him at night.

    Nigel wondered if his father was still alive in the nursing home in Saint Louis Park. He had barely been alive before the Drum. It wouldn’t make any sense for him to be spared.

    Nigel had been lucky to hide in his Golden Valley home for most of the apocalypse. He had left for a few weeks to join survivors fighting an Unnamed by a lake that kept attacking them. It had been a hard fought battle. Only Nigel and a few others survived. None of them had the appetite for further confrontations with the Unnamed, and they all retreated to their former hiding spots. Those had been the last people he’d spoken to, except for a band of soldiers passing through who told him the Drum was destroyed, and the Unnamed were nonviolent unless attacked.

    Nigel felt his dark, reflectionless face. His features were gaunt, weathered by a lack of nutritious food. His cheeks were flat, his nose large, his forehead dry. His lips were cracked and bloody in places. The weather had been fine. It was the fear eroding his flesh. The constant worry of the Unnamed returning, or a crazed Reanimated storming through the neighborhood.

    Slowly, above his white bathroom sink, he began to trim his beard. There was no electricity for his razor, so he resorted to a pair of orange handled scissors he kept in his office for trimming documents. They were sharp, but loud as they crushed the fibers between its blades. In minutes, most of his beard was reduced to a prickly edge beneath his fingers. He sighed.

    “I guess it’s time. They said it was safe.”

    Ahead of him hung a wool blanket, yellow and brown, duct taped to the wall in miscellaneous streaks of silver adhesive. It dangled just above the sink.

    It blocked the mirror.

    He’d put it up during the first week, when he noticed the shadows watching him. Now, with the Drum destroyed, survivors passing through told him mirrors and reflections were back to normal. They no longer held phantoms.

    He slowly reached for the fabric, then stopped.

    “I can’t do it.”

    He walked out of the bathroom with a shrug.

    “I can’t believe it’s okay.”

    I really enjoy writing about these quieter moments in the Greenland Diaries, where characters are learning to live again after a horrifying ordeal that shook the foundations of humanity. These bits of flash fiction give me ample opportunity for it. You can learn more about the mainline series right here. Thank you for reading!

    #author #blogging #bodyHorror #books #cosmicHorror #darkFantasy #darkFiction #decay #fantasy #fiction #flashFiction #grief #hauntedLandscapes #horror #horrorWriting #identity #isolation #liminalSpaces #machines #memory #monsters #obsession #patrickWMarsh #poeticProse #prosePoetry #psychologicalHorror #shortStories #speculativeFiction #survival #teraryHorror #theGreenlandDiaries #transformation #trauma #weirdFiction #writing

  4. Patrick W. Marsh @patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com@patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com ·

    Shaving: A Greenland Diaries Flash Fiction

    Nigel couldn’t believe his beard had gotten this long.

    It was down to his chest, tangled and frizzy. It was black, but almost brown at its feathery edges. He could hear his father yelling at him to trim it, his high, almost husky voice echoing in his head. His father was ex military. He loved the clean shaven look and forced Nigel to follow that hairless motif, even though Nigel hadn’t picked up a weapon until the Drum started. Now, he always had one with him. The ravaged green world demanded it, even with the Drum destroyed and the Unnamed no longer hunting him at night.

    Nigel wondered if his father was still alive in the nursing home in Saint Louis Park. He had barely been alive before the Drum. It wouldn’t make any sense for him to be spared.

    Nigel had been lucky to hide in his Golden Valley home for most of the apocalypse. He had left for a few weeks to join survivors fighting an Unnamed by a lake that kept attacking them. It had been a hard fought battle. Only Nigel and a few others survived. None of them had the appetite for further confrontations with the Unnamed, and they all retreated to their former hiding spots. Those had been the last people he’d spoken to, except for a band of soldiers passing through who told him the Drum was destroyed, and the Unnamed were nonviolent unless attacked.

    Nigel felt his dark, reflectionless face. His features were gaunt, weathered by a lack of nutritious food. His cheeks were flat, his nose large, his forehead dry. His lips were cracked and bloody in places. The weather had been fine. It was the fear eroding his flesh. The constant worry of the Unnamed returning, or a crazed Reanimated storming through the neighborhood.

    Slowly, above his white bathroom sink, he began to trim his beard. There was no electricity for his razor, so he resorted to a pair of orange handled scissors he kept in his office for trimming documents. They were sharp, but loud as they crushed the fibers between its blades. In minutes, most of his beard was reduced to a prickly edge beneath his fingers. He sighed.

    “I guess it’s time. They said it was safe.”

    Ahead of him hung a wool blanket, yellow and brown, duct taped to the wall in miscellaneous streaks of silver adhesive. It dangled just above the sink.

    It blocked the mirror.

    He’d put it up during the first week, when he noticed the shadows watching him. Now, with the Drum destroyed, survivors passing through told him mirrors and reflections were back to normal. They no longer held phantoms.

    He slowly reached for the fabric, then stopped.

    “I can’t do it.”

    He walked out of the bathroom with a shrug.

    “I can’t believe it’s okay.”

    I really enjoy writing about these quieter moments in the Greenland Diaries, where characters are learning to live again after a horrifying ordeal that shook the foundations of humanity. These bits of flash fiction give me ample opportunity for it. You can learn more about the mainline series right here. Thank you for reading!

    #author #blogging #bodyHorror #books #cosmicHorror #darkFantasy #darkFiction #decay #fantasy #fiction #flashFiction #grief #hauntedLandscapes #horror #horrorWriting #identity #isolation #liminalSpaces #machines #memory #monsters #obsession #patrickWMarsh #poeticProse #prosePoetry #psychologicalHorror #shortStories #speculativeFiction #survival #teraryHorror #theGreenlandDiaries #transformation #trauma #weirdFiction #writing

  5. Patrick W. Marsh @patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com@patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com ·

    Shaving: A Greenland Diaries Flash Fiction

    Nigel couldn’t believe his beard had gotten this long.

    It was down to his chest, tangled and frizzy. It was black, but almost brown at its feathery edges. He could hear his father yelling at him to trim it, his high, almost husky voice echoing in his head. His father was ex military. He loved the clean shaven look and forced Nigel to follow that hairless motif, even though Nigel hadn’t picked up a weapon until the Drum started. Now, he always had one with him. The ravaged green world demanded it, even with the Drum destroyed and the Unnamed no longer hunting him at night.

    Nigel wondered if his father was still alive in the nursing home in Saint Louis Park. He had barely been alive before the Drum. It wouldn’t make any sense for him to be spared.

    Nigel had been lucky to hide in his Golden Valley home for most of the apocalypse. He had left for a few weeks to join survivors fighting an Unnamed by a lake that kept attacking them. It had been a hard fought battle. Only Nigel and a few others survived. None of them had the appetite for further confrontations with the Unnamed, and they all retreated to their former hiding spots. Those had been the last people he’d spoken to, except for a band of soldiers passing through who told him the Drum was destroyed, and the Unnamed were nonviolent unless attacked.

    Nigel felt his dark, reflectionless face. His features were gaunt, weathered by a lack of nutritious food. His cheeks were flat, his nose large, his forehead dry. His lips were cracked and bloody in places. The weather had been fine. It was the fear eroding his flesh. The constant worry of the Unnamed returning, or a crazed Reanimated storming through the neighborhood.

    Slowly, above his white bathroom sink, he began to trim his beard. There was no electricity for his razor, so he resorted to a pair of orange handled scissors he kept in his office for trimming documents. They were sharp, but loud as they crushed the fibers between its blades. In minutes, most of his beard was reduced to a prickly edge beneath his fingers. He sighed.

    “I guess it’s time. They said it was safe.”

    Ahead of him hung a wool blanket, yellow and brown, duct taped to the wall in miscellaneous streaks of silver adhesive. It dangled just above the sink.

    It blocked the mirror.

    He’d put it up during the first week, when he noticed the shadows watching him. Now, with the Drum destroyed, survivors passing through told him mirrors and reflections were back to normal. They no longer held phantoms.

    He slowly reached for the fabric, then stopped.

    “I can’t do it.”

    He walked out of the bathroom with a shrug.

    “I can’t believe it’s okay.”

    I really enjoy writing about these quieter moments in the Greenland Diaries, where characters are learning to live again after a horrifying ordeal that shook the foundations of humanity. These bits of flash fiction give me ample opportunity for it. You can learn more about the mainline series right here. Thank you for reading!

    #author #blogging #bodyHorror #books #cosmicHorror #darkFantasy #darkFiction #decay #fantasy #fiction #flashFiction #grief #hauntedLandscapes #horror #horrorWriting #identity #isolation #liminalSpaces #machines #memory #monsters #obsession #patrickWMarsh #poeticProse #prosePoetry #psychologicalHorror #shortStories #speculativeFiction #survival #teraryHorror #theGreenlandDiaries #transformation #trauma #weirdFiction #writing

  6. Patrick W. Marsh @patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com@patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com ·

    Shaving: A Greenland Diaries Flash Fiction

    Nigel couldn’t believe his beard had gotten this long.

    It was down to his chest, tangled and frizzy. It was black, but almost brown at its feathery edges. He could hear his father yelling at him to trim it, his high, almost husky voice echoing in his head. His father was ex military. He loved the clean shaven look and forced Nigel to follow that hairless motif, even though Nigel hadn’t picked up a weapon until the Drum started. Now, he always had one with him. The ravaged green world demanded it, even with the Drum destroyed and the Unnamed no longer hunting him at night.

    Nigel wondered if his father was still alive in the nursing home in Saint Louis Park. He had barely been alive before the Drum. It wouldn’t make any sense for him to be spared.

    Nigel had been lucky to hide in his Golden Valley home for most of the apocalypse. He had left for a few weeks to join survivors fighting an Unnamed by a lake that kept attacking them. It had been a hard fought battle. Only Nigel and a few others survived. None of them had the appetite for further confrontations with the Unnamed, and they all retreated to their former hiding spots. Those had been the last people he’d spoken to, except for a band of soldiers passing through who told him the Drum was destroyed, and the Unnamed were nonviolent unless attacked.

    Nigel felt his dark, reflectionless face. His features were gaunt, weathered by a lack of nutritious food. His cheeks were flat, his nose large, his forehead dry. His lips were cracked and bloody in places. The weather had been fine. It was the fear eroding his flesh. The constant worry of the Unnamed returning, or a crazed Reanimated storming through the neighborhood.

    Slowly, above his white bathroom sink, he began to trim his beard. There was no electricity for his razor, so he resorted to a pair of orange handled scissors he kept in his office for trimming documents. They were sharp, but loud as they crushed the fibers between its blades. In minutes, most of his beard was reduced to a prickly edge beneath his fingers. He sighed.

    “I guess it’s time. They said it was safe.”

    Ahead of him hung a wool blanket, yellow and brown, duct taped to the wall in miscellaneous streaks of silver adhesive. It dangled just above the sink.

    It blocked the mirror.

    He’d put it up during the first week, when he noticed the shadows watching him. Now, with the Drum destroyed, survivors passing through told him mirrors and reflections were back to normal. They no longer held phantoms.

    He slowly reached for the fabric, then stopped.

    “I can’t do it.”

    He walked out of the bathroom with a shrug.

    “I can’t believe it’s okay.”

    I really enjoy writing about these quieter moments in the Greenland Diaries, where characters are learning to live again after a horrifying ordeal that shook the foundations of humanity. These bits of flash fiction give me ample opportunity for it. You can learn more about the mainline series right here. Thank you for reading!

    #author #blogging #bodyHorror #books #cosmicHorror #darkFantasy #darkFiction #decay #fantasy #fiction #flashFiction #grief #hauntedLandscapes #horror #horrorWriting #identity #isolation #liminalSpaces #machines #memory #monsters #obsession #patrickWMarsh #poeticProse #prosePoetry #psychologicalHorror #shortStories #speculativeFiction #survival #teraryHorror #theGreenlandDiaries #transformation #trauma #weirdFiction #writing

  7. Patrick W. Marsh @patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com@patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com ·

    Shaving: A Greenland Diaries Flash Fiction

    Nigel couldn’t believe his beard had gotten this long.

    It was down to his chest, tangled and frizzy. It was black, but almost brown at its feathery edges. He could hear his father yelling at him to trim it, his high, almost husky voice echoing in his head. His father was ex military. He loved the clean shaven look and forced Nigel to follow that hairless motif, even though Nigel hadn’t picked up a weapon until the Drum started. Now, he always had one with him. The ravaged green world demanded it, even with the Drum destroyed and the Unnamed no longer hunting him at night.

    Nigel wondered if his father was still alive in the nursing home in Saint Louis Park. He had barely been alive before the Drum. It wouldn’t make any sense for him to be spared.

    Nigel had been lucky to hide in his Golden Valley home for most of the apocalypse. He had left for a few weeks to join survivors fighting an Unnamed by a lake that kept attacking them. It had been a hard fought battle. Only Nigel and a few others survived. None of them had the appetite for further confrontations with the Unnamed, and they all retreated to their former hiding spots. Those had been the last people he’d spoken to, except for a band of soldiers passing through who told him the Drum was destroyed, and the Unnamed were nonviolent unless attacked.

    Nigel felt his dark, reflectionless face. His features were gaunt, weathered by a lack of nutritious food. His cheeks were flat, his nose large, his forehead dry. His lips were cracked and bloody in places. The weather had been fine. It was the fear eroding his flesh. The constant worry of the Unnamed returning, or a crazed Reanimated storming through the neighborhood.

    Slowly, above his white bathroom sink, he began to trim his beard. There was no electricity for his razor, so he resorted to a pair of orange handled scissors he kept in his office for trimming documents. They were sharp, but loud as they crushed the fibers between its blades. In minutes, most of his beard was reduced to a prickly edge beneath his fingers. He sighed.

    “I guess it’s time. They said it was safe.”

    Ahead of him hung a wool blanket, yellow and brown, duct taped to the wall in miscellaneous streaks of silver adhesive. It dangled just above the sink.

    It blocked the mirror.

    He’d put it up during the first week, when he noticed the shadows watching him. Now, with the Drum destroyed, survivors passing through told him mirrors and reflections were back to normal. They no longer held phantoms.

    He slowly reached for the fabric, then stopped.

    “I can’t do it.”

    He walked out of the bathroom with a shrug.

    “I can’t believe it’s okay.”

    I really enjoy writing about these quieter moments in the Greenland Diaries, where characters are learning to live again after a horrifying ordeal that shook the foundations of humanity. These bits of flash fiction give me ample opportunity for it. You can learn more about the mainline series right here. Thank you for reading!

    #author #blogging #bodyHorror #books #cosmicHorror #darkFantasy #darkFiction #decay #fantasy #fiction #flashFiction #grief #hauntedLandscapes #horror #horrorWriting #identity #isolation #liminalSpaces #machines #memory #monsters #obsession #patrickWMarsh #poeticProse #prosePoetry #psychologicalHorror #shortStories #speculativeFiction #survival #teraryHorror #theGreenlandDiaries #transformation #trauma #weirdFiction #writing

  8. 2025_8_19 The symptoms are coming from inside the house.

    2026-3-9 edit: A previous version of this page held steps you can take during the acute infection to lower your risk of Long Covid, or lower the severity of how a reinfection will worsen your existing Long Covid.

    Information on supporting a FULL recovery from SARS-CoV-2 is now more accessible on its own permalink page here, or from the top bar: Information > Got a Covid Infection?

    https://www.illmarks.com/symptoms-are-coming-long-covid-prevention-tips/

    #allergy #art #backToSchool #backtoschool #besafe #bodyHorror #bodyMapping #cdc #chronicIllness #covid #covidIsAirborne #covidIsNotOver #covid19 #covid19 #covidcompetent #CovidIsntOver #environmental #health #healthcare #longCovid #longcovid #maskUp #maskup #mastCell #mastCellActivationSyndrome #mastCellDisease #mastcell #mcas #medArt #medart #medblog #medicalArt #MillionsMissing #pwme #SaltingTheVibes #SaltingTheVibes #sarsCov2 #sars2 #sciArt #SciArt #WearAMask #WearARespirator

  9. Symptom: MCAS Brain Fog

    This post comes to you with a reminder that while “Brain Fog,” is an apt descriptor, it should not be used to undermine the severity of the condition.

    “These are fairly identical functional symptoms that people with Long COVID have, to the symptoms that people within a traumatic brain injury have,” says Dr James C Jackson, psychologist specializing on cognitive rehabilitation and Long Covid.

    “Strictly speaking, this is not a traumatic brain injury (TBI) because there’s no external trauma. Which is why if we go down deep, this will be not a TBI that people experience. It would be something called an ABI, the lesser-known cousin of a TBI. Acquired Brain Injuries (ABI) happen often due to internal processes, not external medical processes, inflammation, the 101 other mechanisms that drive these injuries. And when we look at the brains of some Long COVID patients, we see brain damage on MRIs, we see indicators that are not dissimilar from those of people with mild cognitive impairment or a mild TBI.

    Dr Jackson is the author of Clearing the Fog: a book on navigating life with the cognitive and mental health impairments that often accompany Long Covid.

    Quotes from Dr Jackson’s appearance on the Me Myself & TBI podcast, edited for clarity & brevity.

    https://www.illmarks.com/symptom-mcas-brain-fog/

    #abi #allergy #art #autoimmune #bodyHorror #bodyMapping #brainFog #brainfog #chemicallySensitive #chronicIllness #cognitive #cognitiveImpairment #cognitiveImpairments #longCovid #longcovid #mastCell #mastcell #medArt #medart #medical #medicalArt #MillionsMissing #neuro #neurology #neuropsych #psychiatry #Psychology #pwLC #pwme #tbi

  10. 2025-8-9 Is this MCAS anaphylaxis, anxiety, or anaphylaxis from anxiety?

    I almost didn’t want to share this one, because I’m in a bit of a nervous state, and I was worried about the people who think people with Long Covid are psychological malingerers, etc. When I had to leave work, and filed for US Social Security Disability, I kept my Generalized Anxiety Disorder out of my initial application, afraid of getting the dreaded “just anxiety,” dismissal that many complex chronic illness kin are familiar with. (I was later told this was a bad move, and to definitely include all mental health and neurodivergence things, which I did for the ongoing process.)

    Even as I’m having less anaphylaxis risk, it’s taking time to recover psychologically. I told my therapist how I felt like I backslid over a decade in mental health work overnight from the first recent anaphylaxis episode. She kindly said that while I might feel as scared and threatened as I often did back then, that the trigger was different. I was not feeling that anxious about an email, I was feeling that way about a literal life and death situation, one which I still don’t fully understand the triggers of.

    A decade ago, de-stigmatizing mental healthcare was really important to me too. Now, I’m especially aware of how much these issues intersect, so heck yeah, publishing the medical art about anxiety.

    Lastly, I wanted to include few examples of the ways in which these issues intersect. These are absolutely the tip of the iceberg.

    • Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome, or POTS, is a form of autonomic dysfuntction (when things your body normally does automatically stop behaving normally), and is a part of my Long Covid. It involves a high heart rate, and often symptoms like room spinning or lightheadedness, trembling or shaking, shortness of breath, and poor bloodflow. POTS is often misdiagnosed as anxiety, and The Disabled Ginger wrote about it here.

    Theories that diseases are caused by mental states and can be cured by will power are always an index of how much is not understood about the physical terrain of a disease.

    Moreover, there is a peculiarly modern predilection for psychological explanations of a disease, as of everything else. Psychologizing seems to provide control over the experiences and events (like grave illnesses) over which people have in fact little or no control. Psychological understanding undermines the ‘reality’ of a disease. That reality has to be explained.

    Susan Sontag, illness as metaphor (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1977), p. 55.

    p.s. mental health is physical health and physical health is mental health. you got a literal brain in your body and all of your body is involved in everything that you do. please take care of yourselves and each other. <3

    https://www.illmarks.com/2025-8-9-is-this-mcas-anaphylaxis/

    #allergy #anaphylaxis #anxiety #art #autoimmune #bodyHorror #bodyMapping #chronicIllness #gad #generalizedAnxiety #immune #longCovid #longcovid #mastCell #mastCellActivationSyndrome #mastCellDisease #mastcell #mcas #medart #medblog #medicalArt #medwriting #mentalHealth #MillionsMissing #pwLC #pwme #SciArt #sciblog #sciwriting #symptom

  11. Symptom: MCAS Bucket Explosion
    Triggers Include: Drinking Water, Brushing Teeth, Being Inside

    Seattle area folks who can attend IRL events:
    I will be teaching a respirator-required art workshop related to this project, Bookmarks on the Body, at QTBIPOC Arts Space The Fishbowl on August 27, 6-9pm. I would love to see you there.

    While this is not a hybrid event, I am creating virtual-only and disability-focused workshops! I will be using what I learn from this first workshop to improve the format, structure, and content.

    If you have any questions, please feel free to reach out to me illmarks @ nyx mir dot com

    https://www.illmarks.com/symptom-mcas-bucket-explosion/

    #allergy #art #autoimmune #bodyHorror #bodyMapping #chronicIllness #chronicPain #longCovid #longcovid #mastCell #mastCellActivationSyndrome #mastcell #mcas #medart #medicalArt #migraine #MillionsMissing #pwLC #pwme #SciArt #seatac #seattle

  12. Symptom: Coat Hanger Pain

    I only learned about this term very recently, from yumpsuit on the Fediverse. Thank you so much for letting me know about it!

    I am almost disproportionately thankful to have a handy description for letting people know what I’m feeling, as well as how to look for ways to try to mitigate the pain. Reading about Coat Hanger Pain resonated deeply, in a way similar to how I often feel when I get a diagnosis: a feeling of relief, connection, community, and hope.

    Many people who have not been chronically ill see a diagnosis as a negative. Indeed, many disabled people are never told their diagnoses, and are never told they are disabled. This needs to change, because as Granite and Sunlight explained:

    Many people are disabled for a long time before they get a diagnosis which explains what is happening to them, and there is a resistance in the medical profession to giving long-term diagnoses, especially for young people and for women with chronic conditions which lack good treatment options, because of an outdated belief that labels are limiting and they don’t want people to ‘see themselves as disabled’. The fact they are already disabled, already struggling, is why disability justice advocates are trying to help medical professionals change their approach to this. Most people just want answers and context for what is happening to them – not having a name for it doesn’t mean it isn’t affecting their lives. Diagnosis gives people access to context, support and community who can help a person manage the condition better, but these are not built into the medical response to disability. Despite these delays, the person is still disabled all that time, and still needs access to the support and adaptations which can help them live good lives managing their conditions.

    For more information about this, I recommend Brianne of No End In Sight’s TEDx Talk, Disease Begins Before Diagnosis.

    https://www.illmarks.com/symptom-coat-hanger-pain/

    #art #bodyHorror #chronicIllness #chronicPain #coatHangerPain #coathangerpain #disabilityArt #disabilityJustice #Dysautonomia #eds #heds #longCovid #longcovid #medicalArt #MillionsMissing #neis #NEISvoid #POTS #pwLC #pwme #spoonie

  13. Cinelio: Tetsuo: the Iron Man (1989) de Shinya Tsukamoto (proyección + debate)

    Aula 1401, pabellón 0 + infinito, Ciudad Universitaria, miércoles, 23 de octubre, 18:30 GMT-3

    vagancio.partidopirata.com.ar/

  14. New Blood Splattered Vlog!

    This week The Horror Guru & Count Jackula review I Saw The TV Glow!

    A surreal arthouse horror film filled with 90's nostalgia and a heartfelt trans allegory. From A24, no less!

    youtu.be/_kN-qoODZZw

    #A24 #ISawTheTVGlow #Horror #HorrorMovie #BodyHorror #Movie #MovieReview #HorrorMovieReview #MovieVlog #Vlog #YouTube #YouTuber #HorrorTube #HorrorTuber #HorrorGuru #CountJackula #BloodSplatteredVlog

  15. CW: body horror, nudity, shilling for patreon

    It's late; but I still finished it! Here's Essentia as a halloween pinup on patreon.

    Unlock the full uncensored version by becoming a patron today!

    patreon.com/posts/happy-late-9

    #oc #originalcharacter #bodyhorror #patreon #pinup #demon #demonoc #creature #monstergirl #monsteroc