#/ to this day i an PERPLEXED!!!

[vic-does-battlecats]

Minor spoilers for the already revealed chapters of the next A Starless Clan book Wind

[kabutoraiger]

never seen a character look madder to be turned into marketable holiday food items than kouga looks on these

[blowmymongrelmind]

eternally grateful to have made it back to leather jacket temperatures

[sreabhadh]

So. I slipped and fell. And now I have a nearly 2k word long Vortex fic to release into the wild. And yes, I do mean Vortex, not TexAid- this predates Vortex's death. (Don't worry, I'm getting there, I have plans). (There as in Vortex's death. I hope it turns out as juicy as I want it to and is as juicy to others as it is to me.

Mandatory Vortex trigger warning. I would say standard TexAid warning but First Aid isn't in this one.

Blood, gore, death, violence, language, Shockwave. I am scared enough of Shockwave to consider him his own trigger warning lol.

Hope you guys like it!

**********************************************************

Vortex’s vision was filling up with red. Figuratively. They were going to pay. Vortex had figured it all out, and they were going to pay. Vortex checked the time, grinding his teeth with a furious snarl. It’s not enough. Not enough for the bastards that did this. Not enough to make them bleed until their pristine white lab coats are the brightest shade of red. Not enough to make them drown in their own precious fluids, with as many holes and cuts on their bodies as Vortex’s little brother had bandages on his body. A stab of the knife for every stab of the needle, a twist of the knife for every bruise, a slice for every inch of cloth wrapped around him. They brought Swindle to the edge of death then made him dance. Vortex was going to make them beg for such a merciful treatment, and then he would make sure they never came back.

His fingers ran over each of his weapons in each of their hidden pockets and sheaths, memorizing them physically, where each one was and how many he had of each. Technically, he wasn’t supposed to have any of them. Vortex had gotten quite skilled at hiding them though, and his stockpiles had grown substantially over the years. They were going to be quite useful tonight. Tonight there was a meeting of the higher ups, to discuss the recent influx of monsters on the Western plains. Vortex hadn’t received an invitation, but he was writing his own. He’d have to write it after he was already inside, which wasn’t how invitations worked, but he needed blood to write this invitation, and he wasn’t going to use his, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to use Swindler’s. It was fine. He’d just write the invitation so it would be inviting them to hell, instead of inviting himself to the party. They had gotten lax. They’d trained their attack dog, set him loose on monsters, promoted him, given him treats and trinkets, forgetting more and more every day to worry about how his teeth would feel piercing their flesh. Vortex could act like a good boy, walk right in on their party, and unleash hell. And boy was it going to be a hell of a party.

Vortex’s vision filled with red. Literally. It was such a beautiful color. Made a real splash on the decor. Literally. The screaming had already started, though Vortex had only just begun. His first target, the one most responsible for what had been done to Swindle and the others, lay on the table choking on his own velvet-colored fluids as they eagerly ate up the horde of white sheets and notes of paper lining the table edges. Vortex’s remaining party poppers, the other inhabitants of the room had scattered, clambering over one another to get to the door. Which wasn’t working, silly thing. Them and their fancy automatic doors made of fancy metal to keep them safe. Never did work correctly when there were psychopathic murders on the loose and killing everyone in the room. How inconvenient. For them. Vortex grinned like a mad man, hopping up on the table with the glee of a 5 year old on their birthday. Like a normal 5 year old that is- Vortex couldn’t remember any birthday parties at that or any other age. He sniggered, then lost himself in a howl of truly demonic laughter. It wasn’t his birthday, but it was never too late to make up for lost time.

“WELCOME TO MY PARTY YOU ABSOLUTE FUCKING PIECES OF SHIT!” Vortex crowed from his new table for standing on and giving ominous speeches of vengeance (now in deep cherry red, no tablecloth required to provide a pop of color).

One person was still sitting at the table, probably in shock. Vortex ignored them. He could kill them after their panic set in enough to make them scream in terror. Failing that he could just make them scream in agony.

Many in the room turned from their fleeing positions to regard him with horror. Others ignored him, banging and slamming on the door, calling for help. Ha. Idiots.

“I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY WHAT I’VE PREPARED, THOUGH NONE OF YOU CAN STAY FOR VERY LONG-”

Vortex gave the line a moment to sink in their panic-filled heads before continuing.

“AS YOU’LL ALL BE RECEIVING A PERSONAL ONE-WAY INVITATION TO A VERY SPECIAL PLACE!”

“YOU MAY HAVE HEARD OF IT! IT’S MUCH BETTER THAN HERE REALLY, YOU’RE GOING TO LOVE IT!”

“Bloody hell!” someone exclaimed. Vortex shot them in the head. The air exploded with a new chorus of shrieks and screams as vibrant as the colors that had exploded from the skull he shot. The monster-slaying caliber weapon might have been a bit overkill and then some on a human head. Some of the shrapnel embedded itself in other people’s bodies and skulls. It was perfect. The screams were delicious.

“EXACTLY! HELL! CONGRATS YOU FIGURED IT OUT! YOU ALL GET A ONE WAY TICKET TO HELL, FREE OF CHARGE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO EVERYONE, IT’S THE LAST THING YOU’LL CELEBRATE!”

That last line hadn’t come out quite how Vortex wanted, but the lab coats and neck ties were still quaking in terror, so it was doing its job regardless.

Vortex lifted the now-dead corpse on the table by the collar of its tie. This is what they would all get for hurting his family. For hurting Swindle. He wanted to yell that part more ferociously than he had anything else, but he couldn’t. He had been conditioned into not showing any weakness and not giving the enemy anything to work with. He wasn’t going to give them that. They could die not knowing exactly what they had died for, but Vortex would know. That’s what mattered.

Vortex stabbed the corpse a few dozen times for good measure. He’d been distracted enough not to notice when exactly the man had expired, but he wasn’t breathing, and never would, which Vortex took as a good thing. Disappointing that he had gone so quickly, the bastard deserved worse than that, but at least he was gone. He’d never hurt Swindle or anyone else ever again. Now for the others. Cowering and cringing before him like, well, he didn’t have anything pathetic enough to compare them to. These were the people responsible for so many deaths and so much suffering and they couldn’t handle a little blood? A single combatant? There were more than enough of them to have at least tried fighting him, but no one seemed inclined.

Or not. Vortex whipped around at the sound of a scraping chair, ready to defend himself and fell his attacking victim. To put them down like they fucking deserved. The person with the chair wasn’t attacking though. They merely had a hand on the back of it, and their face was turned away from Vortex. The hell was that about? It was the person who had stayed sitting earlier, the one in shock. What were they doing? Were they still in shock? They didn’t look like they were in shock, though Vortex couldn’t tell without being able to see their face.

Alarm bells rang in Vortex’s mind, and he instantly shifted from gleeful murder spree mode to careful predator mode. He couldn’t be sure what this person thought they had up their sleeve or what they were doing, but it wasn’t going to get in the way of his vengeance. Or his fun.

Languidly, they brought a hand up to their face, then cast it aside like a used cigarette. The mask they discarded crashed noisily against the wall and down to the floor, electronic pieces sparking and fizzing as they continued to display the holographic image of a normal person’s face. Vortex felt his heart begin to race. There was only one person on base ever rumored or seen to wear a mask. He hadn’t realized there was a holographic aspect to the mask. He’d never heard of that, but he did know of one person who supposedly wore a mask.

The figure turned, and Vortex felt a wave of terror roll over him. One eye. No face. One eye, glowing with quiet confidence and casual malice. How many people had seen Shockwave’s face and lived to tell the tale? It’s him. Vortex’s knees buckled, almost sending him spilling off the table like a fumbled glass of milk. A number of the other occupants in the room passed out.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit shit FUCK. It was him. He was real. He was real and staring Vortex right in the face. Unblinking with his singular nonhuman eye. It- he, Shockwave- tilted his head. A question. A challenge. That much Vortex could read in the monster’s cold humanoid figure. Vortex no longer felt like a careful predator or a gleeful 5 year old.

He felt very small, and very tiny. As insignificant and meaningless as a dented piece of equipment that had finally stopped serving its purpose. A crippled rat strung up and helpless to the slaughter. Vortex snarled, though his heart wasn’t in it. He lifted his monster-slaying gun by instinct with the battle-hardened limbs and muscles trained to work long after Vortex’s mind had taken a leave of absence. He fired. And fired again, then again, and again, releasing a halestorm of fire. Surely that would work. Surely it had to. Surely. He’d never make fun of anyone for using an overpowered gun instead of a good knife ever again. Sometimes guns were overpowered for a reason.

Sometimes being overpowered wasn’t enough. The gun overheated, safety fail clicking on, rendering it useless. The gun slipped from Vortex’s fingers, then clattered hollowly to the table. Vortex wanted to run. Wanted to hide. Find the darkest, quietest, most remote corner of existence and curl up inside it and whimper like a kicked pup. Fear. Vortex had not felt that emotion, truly felt it, been consumed by it in a very long time. He had banished it, cut it out with his bare hands and removed it forever. No longer. Vortex was afraid. More so than he had ever been in his entire life. More than every terrifying moment and memory of his life combined. He had enough to fill a stadium with, but they wilted in comparison to this. This thing. The monster. Shockwave.

Shockwave stood, unmoved, unconcerned. He, it had not a scrap of clothing left, but Shockwave had no need for human decency. Shockwave was not human. His metallic “skin” fuzzed a moment, then was replaced with the holographic image of clothing. It was a bit blurry, but it didn’t matter. The wall, the ceiling and floor, that entire section of the room had been destroyed. Shockwave stood in the midst, completely unharmed. Completely unphased.

Vortex still wanted to run. Wanted to whimper and hide. But he was dead now anyway, so he gave his best snarl, which came out as a half-choked hiss, and lunged, aiming for that singular sinister eye with his good knife hand.

Shockwave caught him by the throat, and Vortex felt the hologram fizz uncomfortably against the skin beneath the vice grip of Shockwave’s cold metal fingers. Vortex’s body moved reflexively, mind working desperately, but his attempts were as fruitless as before. He could kick, punch, jab and twist as finely as the best trained wolf, which he was, but in Shockwave’s grasp he was but a mewling pup.

Shockwave slammed Vortex into the wall, and Vortex heard himself cry out. It was a far away sound, and his vision swam, the concussion from the blow already threatening to shut his brain down. Shockwave slammed him into the wall again, and Vortex groaned, unbeknownst to himself. His body rag-dolled limply in Shockwave’s grasp. Vortex was out like the light of a birthday candle on a lone velvet cupcake.

[lurkingshan]

PSA: Blue Canvas of Youthful Days has a happy ending… but not one that actually makes sense.

[confused-catastrophe]

Rachel and Bianca do not deserve the insane amount of hate they get from the fandom. Rachel had a crush on a boy who was (kinda) showing signs that he was interested in her. Just because a random blonde girl that she barely even knew liked him too (and even then she backed off after they started dating) doesn't mean she was going to immediately back off. She had a crush and went for it. Afterwards she backed off. Does not deserve the hate. Bianca, for all she could remember, had to take care of Nico. Her life she remembered after the Lethe revolved around Nico's well-being. She instantly felt suffocated with that responsibility. Even when she had the boarding school she was in, they both had to dip because their lives were on the line. A place she could be separate from Nico was gone, so when she was met with another opportunity to live a life of her own and be her own person. she took it. Gods forbid she-a fucking 13 year old-have her own feelings too, right?

It pisses me off how both Rachel and Bianca are heavily disliked. You can criticize their actions, its not wrong to think of bianca's actions as selfish, but at the end of the day they're both teens and both were faced with opportunities that would benefit them. That alone doesn't mean they deserve to be dog shitted on.

[aleisters]

merry chrysler to the people who i just freed from my blocklist who were there unjustly for some reason

[mutimatuti]

The Milf Mobile is BACK with more SWAG than ever!!!!

[trustherkindheart]

Haught being the next keeper called up feels deserved imo, but also very funny to me that a lot of people thought PTJ was for sure going to start getting call-ups when she was keeping for Reign, only to make herself completely irrelevant going to Europe and sitting behind Earps for a year

[know-it-all-freak]

This Monday is dedicated to Paul McGann's perfect profile.

Happy McGann Monday!!!

Part 1: (Part 2 follows in the post below)

[angesaurus]

Here is today’s secret santa gift. A used coffee table book about the Philadelphia Phillies that was published in 2010.

[sweet-potato-42]

Tommyinnit posts scare me. He is so unhinged. Half of the stuff he deos is either really funny or extremely puzzling

i dont think theres any word in english that can express the feeling I get whenever that man posts about tubbo. Its some strange mix of confusion, second hand embarasment, thinking its slightlu funny and idk

[undertheopensky]

Today’s Four sketch is not going well, but for some reason I really like his ears??

[floral-hex]

woke up at 4am feeling the weight of my life crushing me, so I’ve been sitting out in my car for the last couple of hours because I just need. to. be. somewhere else.

[definitionsfading]

some stream of consciousness updates on the simmering Axl Rose hyperfixation as it develops (lmfao)

was not aware of some of the racist/homophobic language in GNR's early discography and it quite literally shocked me to hear, considering Slash (lead guitarist) is biracial, but from what I've been able to tell they've long since deviated from that particular song and some contemporary album pressings don't include it anymore. I guess back in 1986 the world was a different place and they were a hard rock band with a hardcore image but still, zoinks lmao. oof. no like that

Axl seems to have struggled with mental illness most of his life and there's this super intriguing situation that I don't think is well-known outside hardcore GNR fans, where the former nanny of his ex-girlfriend basically became a ""mother figure"" to him in the 90s when he was at a low point....and so this Brazilian woman named Beta and her adult kids are basically Axl's found family now? he never had any children, never remarried, and just lives with these people and his cats. super fascinating, I'm still trying to understand the extent of their relationship, because Beta is also apparently his acting band/tour manager....!? I wonder if something nefarious is going on there in the background but they do genuinely "seem" like a family. weird.

the guy truly loves his cats and I feel like this fact is a green flag despite all the other historical shit, but I could always be wrong lol

cannot believe the way tumblr and pinterest have babygirl-ified him in modern times. like LITERALLY going off with the yassification edits and adding lipstick and eyeliner and nose contour to photos of the man from 1991.........if tween me in 2005 had witnessed this I'd probably be a different person today. y'all are fucking wild but okay I guess

Axl loved and adored Freddie Mercury and was a big part of Freddie's tribute concert after his death; he also admires Elton John and was part of the induction ceremony when Elton got brought into the rock n' roll hall of fame. Axl was also apparently very reluctant/resistant about using hard drugs despite his fellow band members' rampant substance abuse and never used anything other than weed? I never would have imagined lmao but hardcore if true. the anal retentiveness and control issues speak for themselves

[intervalart]

I was gonna put Hong/Sammo in my next comic, but I wound up rewriting it with Lei instead.

I felt bad though, so I gave him his own sketch page.