sawbones

[sawbones]

Future Plans

A small comic featuring my version of Loboto at age 17/18, getting asked about his future career by his mother, though only given the illusion of a choice.

[Note: in this Version his parents had him undergo a brain surgery some years after the lobotomy due to a small residue of psychic powers/ general issues with the after effects of said lobotomy, trying to “fix” him further.]

[sawbones]

my beautiful children fuck and you

[sawbones]

homestuck doodlies with a new brushie i got

[sawbones]

i feel so bad for the lady on the line yesterday like i was talking abt some of the gore ive seen and she was just like 😐 That Sounds Like Itd Be Upsetting! like maam have you ever seen someone implode due to pressure. would you like to.

#mick mack

[sawbones]

just wanna take it easy

[sawbones]

I had a dream I was playing a TTRPG with a group of friends of a person i sort of knew, who all knew each other but who I didn’t know, and there was a complex mechanic for tracking your character’s emotional state which I will draw for you because it was insane. I don’t know what the game was about. They kept saying “it’s not hard, you’ll pick it up so quick.”

I have no idea how it worked, only how it looked

The other players insisted it would make sense in a few rounds

I don’t know what oonduh and eönduh meant. I think eo means horse in a tolkien language but this game was more sf-alien-politicking-themed than fantasy-themed

This was a card game with events and points

I don’t recall what character trait/ emotion i had chosen for my upper righthand quadrant. You could choose what to put in each quadrant

I wound up with two pegs in the Succumb zone for anger and asked “is that bad?” And the GM said “not necessarily” and that i could “flip it for a character choice” since she (my character) was 15

“Flipping succumb pegs” visually meant exchanging two red pegs for a slightly larger red lentil-shaped disc, and in gameplay meant… i have no idea what it meant.

I was having a wretched and confusing time at the table

[sawbones]

he sucks<3 ilove him <33

[sawbones]

its cool that ive been replaced and erased on my dads side. they finally get the three kids who are picture perfect and they finally get to pretend i never existed. just how it was supposed to be i guess. its like i was never there at all.

#i get that i fucked up beyond repair but. i was a child. theyre banned from even talking to me. it wouldnt be Safe is what i was told. #its great. its fine. its cool. at least none of them are getting abused. guess that was all i was good for

[sawbones]

‘‘jesus is my homeboy’’ photographed by david lachapelle for i-D magazine, september 2003

[sawbones]

The "God" we made from unethically sourced flesh and metal won't talk to us anymore so I'm gonna abandon you guys and the project and hope it doesn't remember my name or face

[sawbones]

Horrific Necktie

[sawbones]

playing disco elysium while taking all the drugs in my house as god intended. i call this the True Harry Experience. superstar cop style. youstart with adderall washed down with booze some amanita chocolate then three big puffs of 87% oil then a little delta. repeat until you feel like the world is a big cloud. this is how i got great st being a detective :)

#mick mack

[sawbones]

. envision the warmth of an infected cut, feel its inviting redness upon the back of your hand as you lightly press against it there on your wrist in tenative investigation.

you never noticed this was here before.

now imagine the slight bruise around it, tender, the jaggedness of the cut itself, the show of exertion required to create such a thing. why did it take so much? was it not a knife? look deeper. imagine remembering how it was aquired- self inflicted? accidental, purposeful, but not your choice,

you victim.

what is it?

have you decided, or decided not to decide? you don't care. look at it. closer and closer. the pink central dampness, the dry red crumbs of scar around the edges. now lap at it, the serum, the slight amount of blood mixed in with a clear fluid, lacking pus, lucky bastard, taste the saline. press your lips against it,

feel its complex ridges in ways your fingertips can't, gauge the red heat radiating.

smell at it. scratch at it. why won't you just let it rest? why won't you leave it alone? it festers upon and within you, in a tampered state since before your awareness of it.

You could never leave it alone, could you?

you wish it were worse. you wish it were deeper, you wish more filth had gotten into it, you wish there were more of it to always touch, to always feel its burn, the proof and awareness, and force to keep gaping and dripping and letting god-knows-what in- into your system and onto your bed and into your blood and lungs and bowels, underneath your fingernails, in between folds of flesh, coating the scalp, the soles of the feet, between the breasts, behind the ears. the entire world as but a scar in one place, being cut over and over and over, a sore limb with a needle stuck into its crook in the same puncture hole, over and over and over, just over and over and over again, the dull thud of the axe, the most sensitive parts of the body repeatedly violated, injured, come to harm, for the sake of nothing at all.

You go think of that. I'll gotta e-mail tumblr staff. Just found out that #poop is in grave danger.

[sawbones]

[sawbones]

why is it always the fancylad boy-king type whos the bottom. maybe his tough loyal knight who uses his body to protect and defend him and lives to serve him wants to get railed

[sawbones]

[sawbones]

I love u ib remake u are so good