#cw lobotomy

[feverc1imb]

“Operations on the brain are always risky. It's an exceedingly delicate organ and is easily damaged, often irreversibly.”

Source. (https://www.webmd.com/brain/what-is-lobotomy)

Do not repost my art without asking / without credit.

[obosssania]

Matching piercings 💔

[virtualgirladv]

Claire's lobotomy? pshh, how bougie. i did mine with a kit from aliexpress and my sister has never been happier

[astrofals]

lobotomy jimmy 😸on my mind. messilymade

[tiredsn0w]

I'm still thinking about a video I watched recently. Its creator said it would touch on anti-psychiatry, and I was looking forward to that.

I only realised it was supposed to be a 'content warning' after they had already said something along the lines of "psych wards are good, medication is good, you SHOULD take medication, and the goal of medication isn't to change your personality".

Classic example of schizospecs being excluded from mental health subjects, because maybe that's true for antidepressants and such, but antipsychotics? They can certainly help people, and be used as a coping tool, but they were invented as a chemical lobotomy. Physical lobotomies were practiced to turn schizophrenics into "pleasant house pets" (actual terminology used) and chemical ones, in my experience, aren't very different.

Also, while antipsychotics can be helpful sometimes, being prescribed them at a young age (11 or 12, for me) can permanently alter your brain's chemistry and cause you to have worse symptoms. These risks are rarely, if ever, explained to patients- I even had a psychotic friend be prescribed antipsychotics when she went in for sleeping medication, with zero explanation of what the medication was even for from the psychiatrist-- and universally pushing the idea of "meds good" is just untrue.

TL;DR: Psychiatry/mental health isn't just about anxiety and depression, please don't talk about it like it is.

[dozingdose]

an icepick through the eye

[mandyposting]

HEAD CASE

[your-local-vox-enjoyer]

I was thinking of having voxs human form (before he died) have a lobotomy scar to reflect the broken antenna, because 1. there was an attempted surgery, but they decided not to go through with it after messing up, leaving him with only a deep incision and 2. I think his antenna connect to his brain/brain-like organ (in his hell form I mean) and that would be cool symbolism

[cullee-for-beforan-culling]

Wh04, c00l mut4t10n!! 1 d1dn't kn0w tr0lls l1k3 y0u 3X1sted!! D0 y0u h4v3 ps110n1cs l1k3 4 g0ld?? 0r 4r3 y0u sup3r str0ng l1k3 s0m3 1nd1g03s?? - M0d 4m3thyst, @r41nb0w-c0nn3ct10n

== Hm. We are not the most uncommon, sometimes mistaken for cuspbloods, though. Certainly not common. I am stronger than a goldblood would be in my situation, and before the organ was removed, I had limited psionics which manifested more as... a taser than anything flashy. I could charge my husktop. ==

[januscorner]

Medical abuse and the historical treatment of disabled people is so funny!/sarc

But seriously fuck lobotomy jokes

[wcghosts]

stupid fucking charles leclerc doodles + one w carlos in it. uh cw lobotomy under the cut. i drew these all in a 12 hour car trip so i was in a moving car. no judgement pls.

idk if there is even much of a fandom for f1 artists on here but i have very stylized art so i doubt this is gonna get much.

also the og for the c2 one right here!

[peachm1lkk]

Pairing — (Swap AU) Jasper x Reader

Warnings — Lobotomy, explicit gore, kidnapping, the reader isn't a good person but they're delusional about it, non-sexual size difference, reader is short, drugging/roofies, cannibalism, amputation, power imbalance, no dialogue

a/n — based loosely off of this post, Swap au's have a special place in my heart because I get to write reader being a dogshit person

Your intern, Jasper, is just too cute for his own good.  

Thick, dark brown hair that gleams under the fluorescent office lights, striking green eyes that seem too innocent for someone his age, and smooth brown skin that you know would feel like velvet to the touch. He’s got the kind of charm that could turn heads without trying, the easy demeanor of someone who doesn’t know the weight of his own appeal. Jasper is a ladies’ man, whether or not he realizes it, and has the assets to back up the title.  

A little impulsive at times, sure, but always well-meaning. He’s the type who keeps his priorities straight. He’s the guy who spends his weekends hunting, used to own a restaurant, and gushes about his two dogs—one of which, if you remember right, is a Bloodhound mix. You’d know; you’ve spent countless hours gathering pieces of his life, stitching them together like a quilt made from his online posts and casual conversations.  

Some would call it stalking. But stalking is such a harsh word for it, really. If someone puts their life on display, is it your fault for paying attention? For caring? You know him better than he knows himself, and what harm is there in that?  

He was far too friendly for his own good, anyway. Always eager to accept an invitation, even if it was nothing more than a passing suggestion. Like the time you hinted there might be drinks after work, and Jasper immediately latched onto the idea. He’d even pressed you for details, his eagerness almost irritating. Of course, you couldn’t say no. What kind of boss would leave their cute little intern out?

That night, it had been almost laughably simple. A quick distraction, a subtle pill dropped into his drink, and all it took was an hour before he was slumped over, pliant and heavy against your smaller frame. The best part? Your coworkers had thought nothing of it. They even helped you get him to your car, cracking jokes about how ridiculous you looked hauling someone so much taller than yourself.

Now, he wasn’t your intern anymore. You’d taken care of that—drafting a resignation letter on his behalf, citing vague “personal issues” to cover his sudden absence. It wasn’t a complete lie. Jasper did have personal issues now, Busy struggling against the ropes that bind him in your apartment. His once-vivid green eyes are duller now, wide and haunted, but still captivating. He reminds you of how he looked that first day at the company—awkward, out of place, and completely at your mercy.  

You’ve tried to be considerate, really. You sedate him before you take what you need, hating the idea of him enduring unnecessary pain. 

The first time you took a piece of him was exhilarating. A trembling knife in your hand, slicing through skin and flesh, the sharp tang of iron filling the air as blood sprayed across your clothes. Jasper’s choked sobs were oddly Jasper’s soothing, blending into the background as you hacked through bone, your hands shaking but determined. When it was done, you’d drained the blood, saving it for later, and prepared the meat with a simple pan fry.

But the honeymoon phase is over. Jasper’s grown too unruly since you took his arm, his aggression making it impossible to care for him the way you want to. His hair, once soft and lustrous, is now matted with grease, and the sedatives leave a bitter undertone in his meat that you’ve started to detest.  

No, this won’t do. You need a more permanent solution. Something that will keep him pliant and perfect, something that will ensure you can enjoy him without all the fuss.  

You’ll fix him.

It was an outdated procedure, last performed in February 1967. The history, however grim, didn’t interest you. What mattered were the technicalities—the tools required, the steps to follow, the long-term effects, and most importantly, how patients behaved afterward.  

Best-case scenario, he’d be reduced to a toddler-like state, reliant on you for even the simplest tasks. Worst-case, he’d die. Most patients, though, ended up somewhere in between—a vacant shell of their former selves. Not happy, not sad—just existing. Often unable to speak, sometimes paralyzed, or left stumbling through life, needing constant care.  

Only someone truly unhinged would still attempt it, especially with no medical background to speak of.  

But you weren’t a sociopath. Not entirely. Being in charge meant taking risks, didn’t it?  

Obtaining the tools had been surprisingly simple. A little online shopping, a few articles skimmed, and even an old instructional video you played on loop until you’d memorized every motion. Jasper, poor thing, had watched you with wary eyes when you spent hours glued to your laptop, clearly sensing something was wrong. Silly boy. He didn’t understand that everything you were doing was for his own good. Didn’t understand the larger dose of sedative you gave him that night was an act of mercy, sparing him from what little pain you couldn’t avoid.  

Your hands trembled as you lined up the ice pick, carefully sliding it beneath his eyelid. The skin stretched unnaturally, and you winced for him, imagining how unbearable it would be if you weren’t so kind. With careful precision, you angled the pick, your other hand gripping the hammer. Each strike sent a nauseating jolt through you as the pick passed through bone. When it finally gave, you twisted it gently, silently praying the effort wouldn’t go to waste.  

Pulling it free was the worst part. The slick, wet sound of the metal leaving flesh turned your stomach, the pick coated in pink-tinged fluid. You set it aside, staring at the motionless form of your captive, willing him to wake up.  

The next morning, he did. His eye was swollen, nearly shut, but there was a calmness about him now that hadn’t been there before. For the first time, Jasper didn’t fight. When he realized he was on your lap, he stayed still, docile, his body relaxed like a dog finding comfort in its owner’s arms.  

That calmness carried over into the days that followed. When you weren’t home, he’d sit quietly on the couch, his glassy eyes fixed on whatever show you’d left playing. At the faintest sound of the door, his head would turn, eager and hopeful, as if waiting for your return.  

And when you were there, he stuck to you like glue, trailing after you with unsteady steps whenever you left the room for too long. Walking was a challenge now, something he had to relearn, but he tried, stumbling along with the determination of a child—or a particularly clumsy puppy.  

It hurt, a little. This wasn’t the sharp, spirited Jasper you’d grown attached to. His voice was gone, whenever he spoke it was garbled and incoherent. He didn’t have the same spark that had drawn you to him in the first place, even if his blood still carried hints of his former self. Then there were the accidents, the moments of cleanup and care that made it feel less like holding onto a person and more like raising a pet.  

A sweet, stupid puppy. That’s what he’d become.

[thr4shit]

Remembering this one time in an art class or something where we had to make a collage piece from magazine pictures with a theme important to us. And we saw this picture of a dude getting a lobotomy(? I think) in one of the magazines, and we just went "Him. He's mine. He is part of the collage. I don't know what I'm doing with him, but he's part of the collage."

[worm-f00d]

[syscultureis]

plural culture is having certain physical/mental changes from specific headmates

whenever i front (and in innerworld) i show certain behaviors that match some effects of a lobotomy to a certain extent </3

.

[gaywarcriminals]

AU where Shen Jiu is lobotomized and wakes up as “Shen Yuan” after the procedure