#Jigsaw Machine

[nanmo-wakaran]

jigsaw patchwork made from jeans

[lecliss]

The world's worst stick figure and the bravery it takes to post it online has more value than anything genAI could ever do

[eternalstateofoctober]

local woman tries to dyke it up by learning woodworking, starts crying just looking at the disk sander

[funtimeisparty]

🦔🩸☠💀📚🤡🎈💉⛓🔪👻🧸🔪🎪🩸🤢⚙😈🕸🦴🐰🩺✂

Horror Characters Cypher(SONG)

🦔🩸☠💀📚🤡🎈💉⛓🔪👻🧸🔪🎪🩸🤢⚙😈🕸🦴🐰✂🩺

[jenevas]

assembling furniture is like Lego for butches

[slushi-chan]

I love that John Kramer’s whole thing is he wants people to survive the traps and live because he’ll be like here put a knife in your eye to dig out a key even though you can literally stab the brain through the eye socket, who the fuck is like I want you to live take a blade to the eye by the way YOU’RE TIMED that’s a recipe for disaster

Or like you’re chained up here’s some saws meanwhile he stuck them in bacteria paradise, he just fucking threw them a room with god knows what bacteria and disease and microbes hope you don’t get fucking staph or something

There’s also the dude who barbed wired himself into the fucking stomach trying to get out like John just puts people in traps with no precautions sometimes to ensure that they do what they are told and don’t accidentally kill themselves like how are you supposed to avoid accidentally cutting yourself too deep on fucking blades or spikes in a fucking death trap when you are confused and terrified and timed I’m new to the saw movies but I will die on the hill that he doesn’t actually think about his traps as much as it seems, unless he intentionally makes it so you can do what he asked and just die which just still defeats the purpose of wanting people to survive and testing their will to live I’m sorry this is annoying probably and long but I can’t stop thinking about the fact that it’s just too easy to die while doing what he asks it’s so funny he espouses I don’t kill anyone they make the choice I test their will to live meanwhile will to live doesn’t mean shit if you sever an artery or cut your stomach open

Addition: For the record I’ve seen 1-6 I haven’t seen the final chapter or jigsaw or X

[mynewrefblog-yo]

[tigersizedmonitorlizard]

I had maimed my way through five or six lawyers before a chord of morality twinged in the back of my mind. Was this ethical? Was this right? My quarrel was with their agenda, not their lives; was I just as bad as their employer, if not worse, if I didn't show them mercy?

Then someone hit me on the leg with a bat and, lunging to grab their too-slow arm, I decided that no, no, this was perfectly fine the way it was. ^-^

Being the bigger person that I am, I'm willing to accept responsibility for the impression I made upon arrival. I should not have bitten the head of the research at the Multidimensional Supercollider Universal Institute. That was, I admit, a mistake, and it set the tone in a rather hostile way, even though it felt at the time a very reasonable course of action - between the bulky hazmat suit and needlessly loud geiger counter, she was rather indistinguishable from a Vyperlonion Mordionite, individuals of which had ruined a considerable amount of my week already. How was I to know some humans would ever decide to look analagous to them?

The injury wasn't that bad, but even after apologizing for my rashness, the other scientists at the facility did not seem keen to let me out from the supercollider module I had dropped into by accident. Something about "dimensional integrity" and "contamination risk" and other big words that made them feel good about themselves. I explained that I posed no danger and would be on my way if they let me, but no!

Can you blame me, then, for taking matters into my own metaphorical hands?

It was a simple matter in my mind. I would break out of the supercollider, sneak out of the facility, and lay low until another travel opportunity arose. Please note the lack of killing anyone involved in this outline.

Step one went according to plan. The door did not hold up to my claws, and the soundproofing of the area worked to my benefit, not alerting anyone outside to my predicament until I was already functionally out. The breach alarm went up within five seconds, a stroke of bad luck on my part, but not impossible to deal with - all I needed was an exit.

The first hallway I found led me to a series of labs, all of which I ignored as the people inside them scrambled to defend against a nonexistent onslaught. The next left took me to a cafeteria, partway evacuated - I ignored its inhabitants as well, though I didn't appreciate the tray of nuggets and half-eaten broccoli thrown at my back as I peered at the fire evacuation map by the doorway. The idea of finding whoever threw that and paying them back in kind was tempting, but: no. I had a goal. No need for extraneous violence.

Down the next hall now and to the right, next left, up the stairs, break down the door and go straight for four junctions until it ends perpendicularly, then take the left again. I was halfway down the last hall when the alarm shut off mid-screech. Great, I thought! They've realized I'm not a threat!

Then a voice crackled over the intercom, and I scorned not having gone back to bite the nugget-thrower earlier.

"Yeah, nice try, you're not getting away that easy. Stand down before you get to the loading bay or things are gonna get messy."

Enn. Of course. Because my day couldn't get any better. Someone must have recognized me from their posters and gotten them on the line, and of course they must have dropped everything to turn up here doubletime. They would be stupid to miss an opportunity like this.

I paused long enough to listen, and to judge whether anyone was coming (they weren't), and then I continued on my way to the loading bay. There wasn't anywhere else to go, other than Enn's nefarious clutches, and I had no intention of giving them any such satisfaction.

The door to the bay slid open unhindered, to my vague surprise. Inside were a few boxes of unopened cargo and a gaggle of lawyers, equipped with weapons of varying sophistication. No guns this time, I mused. They were learning.

"You gonna be smart this time, or do we need to tire you out a bit before you agree to come with?" Enn crackled over the intercom. "I think you'll find my class today to be more than up to the task."

[i think i'll just leave], I said aloud, more for the benefit of their lackeys than them. It would be unfair not to clarify my intent before a potential confrontation.

"Hm. You have two minutes before I ask again. Students! Get it!"

As a cohesive swarm, the lawyers rushed towards me, weaponry readied and clearly expecting numbers to be on their side. I bolted towards them in kind, scattering their valiant force, and grabbed the slowest one by the ankle and swung. He collided with two classmates, knocking them to the floor in a satisfying heap before a fourth person took the chance to spear my side with a pitchfork.

An admirable if impractical choice; I whirled, and tackled them to the ground with a dubiously-fatal crunch. The weapon was just beyond my reach, and would have to remain until something else jostled it loose. No matter - escape was all that counted.

The lawyers were scattered now, hiding in pairs or trios behind the storage boxes. They may have been briefed on what to expect, but they were still leagues behind knowing anything that would actually help them face-to-face. Perhaps this way they would let me leave, though. Wouldn't that be nice? A peaceful resolution for us all. The two grievously-injured-if-not-dead ones beside.

I had made it halfway to the looming garage door when I heard running feet, and a weight - no, two - landed on my back. Frantic chatter and quick hands wrapped something around my neck and then, apparently using it for stability as I thrashed in a circle, the pair maneuvered a cage-like implement over my head. It was large enough I could still open my mouth, but bowed out in front of my jaws to prevent me making contact with, say, any unsupervised flesh.

The thing was secured quite snugly and I had to hand it to them, it was an excellent tactic. I'd remember this next time. There would be a next time.

I slowed to a standstill and my unwanted boarders audibly high-fived, doubtless assuming this was the end of their trials. Whoever brought me in was sure to land an excellent position at any company they wanted, board-level or higher; a reward well worth the risk to life and limb.

Their classmates had begun creeping into the open again, varying levels of caution displayed on their faces. I watched. I waited. Then I took off, racing away from them, towards the door from which I came but veering before I reached it, skidding on the polished floor and crashing into the wall. Noises of pain from my adamant riders. Good.

Without pause I scrabbled for traction again and plunged towards the scattering-once-more lawyers who had thought their victory assured, throwing my body sideways to hit as many of them as I could with another uncontrolled slide. The pitchfork handle impaled one of them in the shoulder, which provided the leverage I needed to shake it loose from my own body. Very kind!

At some point in the commotion my would-be riders were finally dislodged, to my relief. Counting the pitchfork, that made three fewer problems to contend, leaving only the remaining lawyers and this bothersome muzzle. It was unusually sturdy, showing no sign of wear regardless of whether I clawed it or bashed it against a wall. A creative challenge. For this, I would need a creative solution.

I looked back at the pile of lawyers steeling themselves for another round and spoke, enunciating carefully through the static of my now slightly-scuffed voicebox. [i promise a truce with whoever takes this implement off me.]

Uncomfortable glances in the moment I gave them. One lawyer looked more smug than the rest. I kept this in mind with my next attack, bursting from a crouch into a sprint and dodging a blow from the one with a hatchet. The one with a claymore was luckier, and the sound of metal on metal screeched above the wail of shock as I tackled the slowest of the bunch with claws outstretched, digging hard across their back. Before they'd fully collapsed I was already turning, launching at the one with the claymore. Their weapon skidded away as they hit the floor hard, pinned by my front legs; I readied to start shredding them, too.

"Wait, wait!!" I paused, tipping my head sideways to look at the lawyer beneath me. Their empty hands were palm-up to me, placating, reaching for the attachment points of the muzzle at the back of my head. A few seconds later and the basket slipped to the floor. "Sorry, sorry, please don't kill me-"

To my left, the hatchet-wielder gathered their wits, screamed in determination, and began running at me with their weapon hefted over their head. I ignored the helpful lawyer, lunged for my new assailant, met them in the middle (their middle, specifically) with my newly freed jaws, and shook. The hatchet went flying. I jostled them for a few seconds before dropping their limp body to the side. Not many left, now.

I couldn't help but wonder - was I being the villain here? Was I in the wrong for defending myself against these students, when I had the option to end this carnage and simply comply?

Another lawyer came rushing at me and, before I could dodge, whacked my left hind leg with a metal baseball bat. The impact rang like a gong across the loading bay.

No, I decided. No, at least some of them they had this coming.

I lunged and bit the bat-wielder before they could flee out of range, wrenching their arm down with a crunch and tossing them to the side.

By my count, excepting the one I was obliged not to attack and who was pressed flat against a shipping container in fear, that was every assailant accounted for. The garage door still stood open a few lengths away, my escape unimpeded. Behind me lay strewn a carnage of lawyers in varying states of injury. I spent a dozen or so seconds standing still, braced for another wave, but none came. Enn had gambled on her fools again. And lost, again.

I scanned the ceiling for a camera, fixing it with a single eye once I found one. Certain that Enn was watching and seething. [i told you i was leaving.]

It didn't have the zing I'd have hoped for, but it was a clean callback, and Enn wasn't likely to be giving it much thought anyways given the mountain of paperwork growing before their eyes. Another escaped asset. A facility thrown into disarray at their whims. A whole class of star students, none of whom were likely to stay in the field of patent law after this. Oh, yes, they would be miserable, if only for a while.

A while was long enough, for now.

I sauntered unhindered through the garage door.

[starlit-miasmas]

"i want to draw" i say, then immediately go and do 12 different arts

[lilianzenzi]

[shirazeetraders1]

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[goatmilksoda]

Me: in 2024, I'm going to work on the hobbies I have and not buy anything extra that I don't need. I'm starting my first full time job next week anyway :)

Me today anyway: mmm jigsaw pubble

[garykathleen]

Unleashing Precision and Power: The Krost 37V Jigsaw Machine

Introduction:

In the ever-evolving world of power tools, the Krost 37V Jigsaw Machine stands out as a symbol of precision and power. This cordless wonder combines cutting-edge technology with ergonomic design to revolutionise your woodworking experience. Let's delve into the features and advantages that make the Krost 37V Jigsaw Machine a must-have for enthusiasts and professionals alike.

Precision in Motion:

One of the standout features of the Krost 37V Jigsaw is its ability to deliver precise cuts with unparalleled ease. The cordless design enhances manoeuvrability, allowing you to navigate intricate patterns effortlessly. The variable speed settings provide control, making it adaptable to various materials and project requirements.

Powered by 37V:

The heart of this jigsaw machine lies in its 37V power source. This high-voltage battery ensures a consistent and robust performance, making quick work of both soft and hardwoods. Say goodbye to the limitations of cords and embrace the freedom that cordless operation brings to your woodworking projects.

Versatility Unleashed:

Whether you're a woodworking hobbyist or a seasoned professional, the Krost 37V Jigsaw caters to your diverse needs. Its versatility shines through as it effortlessly cuts through curves, bevels, and straight lines. Tackle a range of materials with confidence, from plywood to metal sheets, knowing that this jigsaw machine has you covered.

Ergonomic Design for Comfort:

Long gone are the days of hand fatigue and discomfort. The Krost 37V Jigsaw is crafted with user comfort in mind. Its ergonomic design ensures a secure grip and reduces vibrations, allowing you to work for extended periods without sacrificing precision or your well-being.

Durability That Endures:

Crafted from high-quality materials, the Krost 37V Jigsaw Machine is built to withstand the rigours of your workshop. It's a durable companion that will endure countless projects, providing reliable performance every time you pick it up.

Conclusion:

In the realm of woodworking tools, the Krost 37V Jigsaw Machine stands tall as a testament to innovation and functionality. Whether you're a seasoned craftsman or a DIY enthusiast, this cordless jigsaw brings precision, power, and versatility to your fingertips. Elevate your woodworking experience with the Krost 37V Jigsaw Machine—a tool that empowers you to create with confidence and precision.

[bledgacy]

TAG DROP

VISAGE — she; the inheritor to this bloody legacy & mastermind behind the jigsaw murders. MUSINGS — what thoughts swirl around a mind filled with nothing but loss and trauma? MANNERISMS — each action carefully calculated; leave nothing to chance. WARDROBE — practical clothing for the task at hand & yet even she has an interest in the world of fashion. ABILITIES — it's simply a mistake to underestimate just how far she'll go to survive. MEMES — inner machinations of the game. MUSIC — the song of vengeance rings through my veins. DASH GAMES — hello [name]. i'd like to play a game. DASHBOARD COMMENTARY — for you see. . . nothing escapes my gaze. OUT OF BLOOD — it's just fake blood all over us. really.

[luveline]

I can’t remember if you’ve done one yet of Jack being jealous of the new baby not because of his dad’s attention but because of readers!

“Jack, Jack, Jack,” Aaron says, hands on Jack’s shoulders where his son sits at the kitchen table, “I forgot to tell you, I got you a present.” 

“What kind?” Jack asks, used to presents by now. There’s been books, crayons, and enough toy cars to fill his parking garage to the brim. 

“What kind do you think?” 

He likes when his dad speaks like that. Aaron’s a peppy dad, he says everything in an altered bubbly tone that makes Jack smile, but his best voice is the soft one. Lightly teasing. He hugs Jack with one arm from behind, pressing his nose to Jack’s hair momentarily. 

“A big one?” Jack asks. 

“Sort of…” Aaron smiles. “Do you want me to go get it?” 

Jack’s about to say yes with a laugh, his excitement like a warm flame just below an outheld hand, but he stops when he hears a familiar gurgly sound and your loving laughter. 

“I know, baby.” That’s your voice, tired and soft as his father’s. “You’re exhausted. Let me give you a little squeeze before you sleep, hm? You’ll cry yourself awake if I don’t, you get all those trapped burps.” You laugh to yourself.

Jack sighs and turns back to his drawing. “Okay, dad,” he says, clearly monotonous. 

Aaron frowns behind his head. “Okay, buddy. It’s in the den.” 

“Okie dokie.” 

“Jack,” he says, and not a lot else. 

Aaron can’t wrap his head around it. Jack was so, so excited for Noah. He bragged to everyone at school that his step-mom was having a baby, that he’d have a little brother, and that they were all moving into a big house with a nice yard to play soccer. Jack and Noah Hotchner, best friends since the minute Noah was born. Or, that’s what you and Aaron hoped for.

It started well. Jack is gentle, and he’s understanding; he realised the baby would need extra care, and he’s done nothing but kiss and cuddle his new brother whenever they’re together. You got him a sound machine and some custom fitted earplugs for the long nights of crying, you never put Noah before him if you could help it. Aaron even pencilled in an hour of Jack time each day, but it isn’t working anymore. Jack’s just sad. 

The present is a jigsaw puzzle. A thousand pieces of guaranteed time spent together, but Aaron doesn’t have high hopes. 

He takes the two short steps down into the den to meet your eyes, shaking his head slowly. “I don’t know,” he mouths. 

You pat the baby’s back. “Well, I might have a suggestion.”

He couldn’t want to hear it more. “Tell me.” 

You hold his baby (your baby but his more urgently, the feeling an ache in his chest and hands) still as small and curled as a rabbit against your chest. Noah’s legs twitch in his onesie, his dark hair short where it brushes your lips. “I think maybe Jack misses me. I miss him, and I’m the grown up. I feel like I barely see him even though we’re living in the same house.” 

Aaron pauses, resting the jigsaw puzzle on the sideboard.

There’s no point in underselling the importance of you in Jack's life. You’re integral to Jack’s happiness, and Aaron can’t believe he hadn’t thought of your suggestion before now; he’s amazed by his own ego. Of course Jack misses you. You spend half your life nursing, which is half a life away from you he didn’t feel before.

“That’s what it is,” Aaron says. 

“Yeah?” you ask. 

He takes Noah from your arms, settling him on the slope of his chest. “If it isn’t, we might be out of answers.” Aaron rubs Noah’s back with delight. It’s nice to see a solution to Jack’s upset in sight, and nice to hold the baby while he’s in a good mood. “Seriously, honey. I think you’re right.” 

“What are we gonna do if it isn’t me?” 

“Give this one back?” 

“That’s not funny.” 

“Sorry, I’m kidding!” He gives Noah a little soft kiss. “Just kidding, beautiful. You’re all mine.” 

You take the jigsaw and give him a smile that borders shy. If his arms weren’t full he’d take your wrist in his hand and hold it for a while, but there’s stuff to do. You emerge from the den to the kitchen and Aaron follows. 

“Jack.” 

Jack immediately spins in his seat. Aaron doesn’t need to be a profiler to know your theory is correct. The change in Jack is unmissable. 

“Y/N,” he says, hiding his hope poorly. 

You show him the jigsaw. “I know it’s supposed to be your time with dad, but maybe it can be time with me instead? What do you think?” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah!” You pop the jigsaw in front of him without crushing his drawings. “Can we? I miss you.” 

“I miss you!” he says. 

“Yeah?” You brush his hair back. “You do?” 

“I do, I want to do the puzzle with you! Can we do it?” 

Your smile is part relief, part love. You hook a chair with your ankle and pull it under you as you sit, fingernail already scratching at the plastic wrap on the puzzle to pull it open. “We’re gonna do it right now.” 

The puzzle is a lot of pieces, you’ve barely completed the frame when it’s time for everyone to head to bed, but, reluctant, you and Jack sit at the table where Jack’s climbed into your lap for a ‘better view’, and you’ve wrapped your arms around him, occasionally loosing an arm to direct him to a right piece. The baby put to bed, Aaron pretends to pay more attention to cleaning the kitchen than he’s truly doing, finding himself leaning against the counter with a sterilised bottle in hand as you stroke Jack’s hair. 

“You know I love you?” you ask quietly. 

“Duh. You tell me all the time.” 

“I don’t want you to forget.” 

“I don’t.” 

Jack snaps a puzzle piece in to place and preens at your murmured, “Good job. Maybe we can try to do some of this every night you’re home?” 

Jack doesn’t cry, but it ties Aaron’s heart into a knot anyways when he turns into your chest to hug you tightly. “Okay,” Jack says, voice muffled by your t-shirt. 

You pat his back. His hands scrunch up like he’s worried you’re gonna pull away. 

“Can I get in on this?” Aaron asks. 

“No,” you both say. 

“Please?” 

Jack rubs his cheek into your collar. He doesn’t want to share. “No, dad. It’s not your time.” 

He supposes he does get you every night. “Fine. I love you, though.” 

“Love you too.” 

[forsaken-headcanons]

I had a simple idea: what if the survivors and killers swapped roles? And that idea proceeded to snowball into a full-blown yap sesh. I’m so silly when it comes to Forsaken, y’all 😋

(This is a VERY long post, so it’s been split up into two sections. Hope you don’t mind, mod!)

“KILLERS”

Noob - Picture a lone noob, lost in the spectre’s domain. No food. No shelter. Nothing. They finally come across another survivor…or should I say sustenance. That’s right. I took Noob’s whole ‘eating snacks’ thing and turned them into a cannibal. How fun! ☺️ Kind-of takes the role of Jason with a hint of Guest 666? That comment will probably change when 666 comes out, but for now, their kit revolves around tracking down survivors one by one. They can turn mostly invisible for a short period, too.

Chance - Two Face with a touch of Jigsaw. Gambling has completely overtaken his life, with his favourite being betting on lives. Never his, of course. And gods forbid he loses… Doesn’t really take the role of anyone. They specialize in ranged attacks, but he has a melee attack, too. He still has the coin flip, but it’s used to give him a random effect (can be anything from speed I to blindness III) and the only way to get rid of said-abilities is Hat Fix. But use it wisely, as that gets rid of the good abilities, too. The only way to earn bullets is by hitting survivors. He can store a max of 3, just like before. No misfiring (🎉), but the gun attack is probably hella telegraphed.

Guest 1337 - Gotta love a corrupt police officer! Well, soldier. But still- I regretfully can’t say who this guy’s main inspiration was, but I can imagine him working closely with Builderman to enact their shared (and crooked) sense of justice. His gameplay loop revolves around running down + stunning survivors. He doesn’t need to block to do a punch anymore. Instead, his block will actually give brief slowness + a highlighted aura to anyone foolish enough to hit him while it’s active. His punch (still) has a delay, but considering how it stuns survivors, I’d say it’s worth it.

Two Time - So obsessed with death/rebirth, they drove themselves mad and proceeded to go on a killing spree to ���share this truth amongst the nonbelievers’. Mildly inspired by the Cult of the Lamb bishops, and takes the role of Jason (aka the free killer). Bro just runs around with a dagger lol. Though they have a considerably low health pool for a killer, TT makes up for it by gaining access to their second life form upon dying. They move much faster while in this state, so it’s actually advised to NOT stun them all willy-nilly, lest you unintentionally buff the killer.

Elliot - Hell hath no fury like an overworked minimum wage employee. Elliot had enough, and now EVERYONE’S gonna pay for it. Especially vengeful towards c00lkidd, and would play a special theme upon him being the last survivor. Sort of takes the role of John Doe? I mean- he revolves around dropping poisoned pizzas/other pizza-themed traps to slow down and weaken survivors.

Builderman - Oh, shoot! He has his banhammer! Oh no! He’s using it on everyone! Builderman believes that his ticket out of here involves purging the spectre’s domain of evil…but has since developed the morality of a corrupt judge. How lovely! As previously mentioned, he works closely with Guest 1337 to achieve his goals. A mix between John Doe and c00lkidd. He still builds machines, but they act like motion sensors for the most part.

Shedletsky - A self-proclaimed master swordsman, with an ego to match. Shed let the power of being an admin get to his head. He’s the most important person in the room, and will strike down anyone who says otherwise. Takes the role of 1x1x1x1. He’d use different SFOTH swords to do different attacks (Venomshank for basic swinging, Icedagger for Entanglement, Darkheart for Mass Infection,  Illumina for Unstable Eye, and Ghostwalker for Rejuvenate the Rotten). Oh, and someone snatched his chicken. I wonder who? 🤔 

007n7 - Slightly inspired by Bacon General from The Last Guest, this version of 07 wasn’t quite ready to retire, even when a baby was left on his doorstep. If anything, a child meant that he could pass down his skills to someone else. And thus he continued to reign chaos all around him, all the while pressuring his son to do the same. As a killer, he still uses scripts and exploits to give him an unfair advantage. Takes the role of c00lkidd, and uses the same moves as OG kidd for the most part. Instead of summoning clones, he instead teleports to the closest survivor (which briefly stuns him upon arriving, just to nerf it a little).

— Respawn Anon

I think you absolutely cooked on all of these. Specifically Guest 1337, Shedletsky and Builderman. These are so creative.