Latest Posts by localunhingedwomenapologist - Page 2
Some Evidence in Favor of Jade
One thing I've constantly seen in Jade hate posts is the idea that she's trapping good and innocent people like Aventurine and Topaz and chaining them down to the IPC.
But I actually think it's this act--choosing Aventurine and Topaz to be her proteges--that tells us a lot about whether Jade is a fundamentally bad person or not.
First, it's key to understand that Jade is in a significant position of power within the Stonehearts. When Diamond chooses not to appear, it's often Jade who goes in his place and acts as his voice. When it comes to making administrative decisions on who will get to join the Stonehearts, Jade had a direct hand in supporting Topaz's ascension (by accepting recommendations) and an even more direct role in Aventurine's ascension, choosing and testing him for the job herself.
So Jade is a character with enough power to have a strong say in who gets to become a leader in the IPC. She possesses enough authority and trust from Diamond to catapult a wanted murderer like Kakavasha straight up 45 ranks in the Star Rail universe's single most powerful corporate entity. She helps to decide who rules.
And who has she picked with that power?
Aventurine and Topaz are both good people. Although they'll do whatever is needed to advance the IPC's aims, they're both essentially kind-hearted and unwilling to put others at unnecessary risk. They both deeply value friendship and exhibit many of the other positive traits one associates with heroes--loyalty, generosity, gentleness, and honesty. Topaz takes a hit to her own reputation and rank to protect Belobog. Aventurine, infamous for high-stakes gambles, specifically spells out that he absolutely refuses to cheat his way to victory.
In an organization that is otherwise known for the literal colonization and extermination of civilizations--in an organization that puts wealth and material value above anything but their own god--in an organization with people like Obsidian who literally want to turn things into a bloodbath--Jade's top picks are both quintessentially good characters.
She is extracting value from them. She is profiting from their work for the IPC.
But Jade had the power to promote complete monsters into the Stonehearts. She could have picked heartless, profit-driven villains who would have forwarded the IPC's goals at the expense of the human element entirely. She could have promoted more evil into an already evil organization. But she did not. Jade chose to support two disadvantaged young people who had clawed their way up from the bottom while still maintaining their principles. At least two of the Ten Stonehearts are people the Trailblazer can associate with without extreme moral guilt, thanks in part to Jade.
The people that Jade chooses to throw her support behind mean something. Topaz and Aventurine's presence in the Stonehearts indicates that Jade is capable of not only recognizing goodness--but has actively chosen to elevate (at least relatively) moral people into positions of authority. This act, choosing to promote and support inherently decent human beings, speaks greatly to Jade's sense of who deserves power--and, from there, to her own sense of justice.
Just something worth thinking about, I feel.
Me and @localunhingedwomenapologist call them Cigaretteshipping
😃
Swear, dudes, there will be normal art soon
Robin !
Just needed an excuse to draw her in some of her outfits, her sense of fashion is just that good.
penacony game night! 🍕🎮 (zoom in for a bunch of easter eggs :])
Mini comic I made after reading this thread;
https://x.com/_angeistone/status/1790401343187730927?s=46
TW: mentions of emotional abuse
More of Bobby in the post-3d au (I’m basically treating this man as an OC at this point but it’s fun okay)
Pig mask + alt version to showcase the scars
Let us Save you
Please don’t resist
how to SLAY the meat grinder look
->
Hey guys whose route did u pick on your first play through?? any advice??
they used to comfort each other when one of them got hurt
“It’s okay, Ali. You’re gonna be safe…
…here.”
oh boi
Completely self-indulgent and based on my chaotic post saw-3d au thoughts.
Basic plot: after locking Hoffman in the bathroom Lawrence gets so paranoid about him escaping and coming back for revenge that he decides to save Alison before Mark gets to her. He kidnaps and hides Ali locking her away for days.
He believes he‘s doing the right thing but Alison, not knowing who did this to her or why, is terrified. All she saw was the pig mask. All she knows is that Jigsaw made her his hostage once again.
(Alt color version below)
been thinking a lot about a universe where Amanda and Hoffman got along better :,)
Thank you @yezhk for the translation! Go to this account, there is incredibly beautiful creativity
"Dinner Time"
It was not the first time Gordon watching the recordings, but it was the first time when he noticed the chain lay wrong. He moved closer to the TV and leaned over, peering into it. Something was wrong. Something was unreal. Something…The chain just was on the wrong leg. Confused and embarrassed, he frowned.
How many names Adam got? One, double? Were these documents real actually? You should never trust a person, who makes money by spying. And you should not think that such a rascal could have found a way out. Adam had a gift being such an unordinary idiot – he was not prepared for life, but he wanted to live, no doubt.
Whether on cameras or in the bathroom, the sight was ridiculous. The corpse’s head dropped and pressed to his chest. Cheeks were stained with pale blue, shadows inked eye sockets and cheekbones. Adam’s build was unrecognizable. Even the clothes looked different: they were longer, had another color, they were grey and dry. The collar was lower and wider than on That day.
There are dozens of tapes near the TV, but not a single recording of Adam’s death. Gordon sat down, stretching out his leg and hitting the button on the remote control. The first recording, second, third. The images changed like evening channels, as if he was at home, and people on the other side of the screen were no more than actors in stupid TV shows. One horror movie after another, one after another, and none of them glisten with familiar blood stains. Gordon knew the bathroom in every crack; he would never mix it up.
When he found a recording he needed, he realized that it broke off at the sight of a closed door. Nothing else. The darkness. Long and black.
***
Dark. The clock has not strike eight yet, but the sun had long set. Autumn was empty and desolate. Gordon walked with his head down, used to returning alone. He shared the street with the cars parked on the right and with the man who was wandering in front.
Cold. The coat warmed his wrists, but his back and stomach froze in the wind. The leg ached. The shiver hardened below the knee, and the ankle seemed to crack under the boot. The man in front was not wearing a jacket. He walked slowly, kicking puddles. It was stupid, but the only thought lit up in Gordon's head.
Adam.
Adam.
What did he look like?
Not much time had passed, but Gordon no longer remembered what his face looked like. In his mind a bullet wound remained, a white T-shirt, a cigarette and... nothing.
The memories were blurred. Instead of Adam's face, there was only a pale spot. Gordon winced. He felt as if something personal had been stolen from him, something that belonged exclusively to him. Not a jewel, but a body part. An eye, lips, or finger. Adam belonged to him as an object. Not only because he was dead, but also because he was still part of the trap. Kramer wanted Adam to be just a story, and Gordon remembered it in every line and detail. In every scream, drop of blood and electric shock. But the face, the only thing that cannot be torn out of memory, dissipated.
The man was approaching, and Gordon flinched, trying to control his trembling. Adam survived. He survived. And that meant that Kramer had found a place for him in Saw's plans.
The part of the body that was responsible for the danger buzzed inside.
The next time he saw Adam was in the hallway. The whitish light lay on him like a robe. The meeting was short and accidental. Gordon refused to hug, but ran his palm next to the T-shirt several times, checking if it was real. And, right, the T-shirt was soft as cotton, and a little cold, as if after washing.
It was fine with him.
The first minutes went into the void. Gordon tried to keep a calm expression on his face, but it did not suit him — his glance changed, lips curled. He was disgusted, no doubt, but only with himself. Of Adam, he felt something akin to paternal pride.
Lawrence saw Diana a year ago. From that moment on, she changed, became all grown up. Time goes differently when you live alone, and Gordon often watched the clock. Diana returned from school at two o'clock, and Alison started cooking dinner at four. Gordon returned at six [at best], and at seven the spoons would clink. The evenings of the last few weeks have passed without food. Gordon had lunch, through force. At home he couldn't even eat a piece of food. His throat ached, he felt a spasm as if he was being choked, and the urge to puke crawled inside.
Adam caused a similar feeling, somewhere between waiting for Diana and sickness. Adam was living, loud and bright. The survivors of the Games follow one of the paths: suffer from self-hatred or feel unstoppable, almost sectarian, happiness. Adam chose the second one. He reeked of love for life, for every day, for the fact of his existence. Even though he was poor. Even though he was alone.
Slowly pride gave way to envy. One more meeting. And another one. Every day after work. There was a persistent lump in Gordon’s throat.
“That’s enough, Adam.”
“What?”
“What did you just say?”
“I wanna go to a concert.”
“Mmm,” Gordon made a sound resembling a low humming. There was nothing strange or stupid about the concert, so swearing, insulting, making a remark did not come to mind. He fell silent, not finding how to throw out the stuck phrases. “You have nothing to be happy about and nothing to live for. Idiot”, he thought.
“Come o-o-on. I see. I’ll just get another job or something like that.”
“What kind of?”
“A photographer.”
“Offi…”
“Yeah, officially. No one knows what I did before, so…”
“Are you sure?”
“Yep.”
“And…this will be enough?”
Adam raised his eyebrows in kind of a cartoonish way. Enough for what?
“For…living.”
Maybe the only one who had nothing to be happy about was Gordon.
He wakes up to a rumble somewhere between a sob and an iron friction. In some ways, this sound resembles a fly stuck in glass. Rushing around. Back and forth. Rushing around.
Then Gordon smells blood. He gets up, confused, trying to figure out if he is imagining things, and he found Adam. Half of the shin is cut off, the saw is fidgeting inside, moving firmly after the handle. Adam is persistent, with a sharp movement he lowers and raises saw blade, lowers and raises, moves it left and right, right and left, and for the first time Gordon sees determination on his face.
“Why…”
Adam's voice is high but harsh, flaring up and melting into screams, sobs and tears. The saw does not suit him, it seems strange, but fascinating, as if to see a child with a match surrounded by canisters. Gordon is frightened by this freezing, even the screams seem to be silence before the explosion, but pity loses to helplessness. He watches Adam, and himself from the outside, and his little hope.
The flesh, bent under its own weight, looks like a wrapping. It is like Adam's leg is nothing more than a bone surrounded by foil. The foil rustles as if he is unwrapping a present, cutting ribbons with a knife, how would Gordon do it on Christmas or his daughter's birthday. And inside the box, inside…
Adam's foot remains on the floor, and he howls, seized his skin. He is too weak to cauterize the wound, so he just sobs on the floor. Weakness shakes his shoulders, and panic disturbs, known only to those who remain without a part of the body. Then it creeps over his face. Gordon had never heard such a mournful, rhythmic howl. When he cut his leg himself, he seemed to be silent. And Adam [it's part of his character] can't shut up. His resolve fades, and Adam sobs incessantly, often swaying absurdly with his forehead on the floor.
Finally, Gordon comes out of his stupor. The body, inflamed with horror, begins to move and breathe.
“Adam,” he whispers, without closing his mouth. The jaw remains in the air, and there is not enough strength to clench the teeth. “What are you doing…at my house?”
He wakes up in a cold sweat. The room is dark, moonlight is shining through the window. There was not even a stain on the carpet, red with blood a moment ago, crushed by Adam's weight and his shadow.
Nightmare. A bad dream. Gordon grinned, turning on his back. The ceiling is the same today as it has always been. Except that Gordon feels more meaningful when he looks up.
The chain is lying…wrong.
***
Maybe he was too cruel?
Gordon rolled over onto his side and watched the outlines of the wallpaper. The sun was blurred by the glass, and even the bedroom now resembled a hospital room.
When Diana cried, he tried to be with her. He found the right words, stroked her head. Gordon was happy when she was happy, and he gave advice when she was guilty. It was worth learning to argue like Alison, but he did worse — he left when Diana wanted to talk, and when she was waiting, he did not return. More and more often, until he disappeared.
Waking up in the bathroom meant disappearing. He was sure he was dead when he opened his eyes. The calm was overwhelming, but as long as Alison and Diana were okay, even with the chain on his leg, he felt the same as in a hotel room with another woman. In fact, these circumstances made no difference. In any way he “left at the wrong time and did not return at the wrong time”.
Sometimes the thought came: how does Diana live without this advice? However, Gordon quickly found an answer: Diana lives the same way. But without any hope of getting them.
Adam's face was just as blurry. Neither the meeting, nor the flashbacks did not get rid of the blurred, empty features. Now, staring at the wall, Gordon reflected that he only occasionally saw Adam's eyes, and his gaze was not filled with the joy that sparkled in the words. And the next meeting was no different from the previous one:
“I wanna become a photographer”, “I wanna go to a concert”, “I’ll cherish my life”, “I’ll make it up to my family”, “I’ll get back together with an ex”. Adam talked, talked and talked.
“I had a dream where…you cut off your leg.”
“Huh?”
“I had a dream…” Gordon repeated, trying to keep a tone to his voice. He did not have to continue the phrase.
“That would be probably painful.”
“Yeah. Much.”
“Ouch,” Adam’s voice shrank like a piece of paper, and he could not help laughing. “I’ve forgotten you had cut off your own leg.”
“It’s hard to forget…”
“Come on…Seriously, I’ve forgotten you’re a cyborg.”
Gordon looked down. A glint of silicone appeared between the pant leg and the boot. It cannot be seen. Just the edge. He wondered how quickly Diana would have get accustomed to the possibility of leg being taken off. And then again
“I wanna become a photographer”, “I wanna go to a concert”, “I’ll cherish my life”, “I’ll make it up to my family”, “I’ll get back together with an ex”. Adam talked, talked and talked.
In fact, his self-belief is amazing. Not everyone can make dozens of plans. One day Adam wants to go to another state, then get a dog. The next day, he tells Gordon how he shoots models, and how he dreams of photographing Lana Rhoades.
After a couple of weeks, he still manages to make up with his parents. It takes effort and time, but Adam, happy and alive, gives hope that Diana will have the same fate. Sometimes you do not need advice to be happy, and Gordon smiles as he listens and swallows tears. Sometimes Adam's chatter becomes unbearable. Especially when Gordon finds a recording of his death in the drawer, but the world remains as calm as ever, plans remain plans and there is no dinner at seven o’clock.
found this old saw lineart decided to color. early morning supply run!
Continuing my 3d propaganda with some yuri yayy
amanda young, lesbian icon of the horror genre
Lithuanian stained glass, details
woah… lesbians…
Alternate color version + reference
siblings!
Hello, Tumblr. you don't know me, but I know you. I've been watching you for quite a while and now I decided to come out of the shadows.
yeah I basically decided to post some of my edits here, since TikTok rules are kinda ruining it rn. uhm. hii!
For normal guys who are always tense and startle easily
Believe it or not but I created a tumbl account for the sole purpose of consuming saw posts
Now it’s time to do the sawposting oh boy-
You make Amanda appreciate life, valentine! ❤️
[SAW Keychain preorder open today!]
realism it’s what
🛐🛐🛐🇨🇿🇨🇿🇨🇿🇨🇿
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