#and for whatever reason

[goosec0id]

hey man can you come pick up your gerbil. he’s kind of freaking everyone out.

[lady-arryn]

THE WHITE QUEEN 10 YEAR ANNIVERSARY WEEK | Day 2 — favourite villain

[theveryconfusedartistsart-blog]

Study buddies, who are focusing and definitely not about to be wildly distracted. 💖🌻

[i-love-you-all]

We both had a knife

AO3 Link || Youtube Link (Song inspo)

A bit of backstory on this is that I was thinking about a Viper/Omen fic. Playing a bit on my other drabble for this pair and the revelation of how Omen turned... into Omen. Obv, I have a lot of incomplete fics tho so maybe not now... And again, this was originally for Whumptober, but I'm giving up on that lol

~1.4k Words: implied death.

Though scientifically inaccurate, vipers and shadows could go hand in hand. They were both seen as “evil”, and they were widely feared. Was that why Omen found comfort in Viper when they first met? The comfort that there was someone here just as monstrous as him, even if she didn’t look like it?

Like Cypher once noted in a short exchange in the armoury, Omen had never met a “doctor” like her. Someone who viewed humans as just a pest — something to get rid of when convenient. Maybe it was because he wasn’t exactly human that she was ok with him. Maybe he was so quiet, that he has yet to fully draw her ire.

Maybe she did know who he was before he became this ghost, and her guilt prevented her from lashing out at him. But if that last one was true, it went against everything else he had said about her. Mainly, it suggested that she pitied him — and it would mean that she wasn’t as cold or monstrous as him. So, what set him apart?

A stranger to their strange dynamic would call it attraction, but they would surely die at the hands of Viper for a comment like that. What others called closeness, he saw as distance. She did not need to rebuke him ever since she never let him get close enough to be able to affect her that way. In that way, she was much closer with the likes of Jett, Raze, or Killjoy. At least she paid enough attention to those agents to know when they were performing poorly.

“Fred—”

It took one syllable to change that dynamic completely. Fred was a name, and it was a name that was directed at Omen. It was then when that seed of doubt was planted because, despite her continued appearance of ignorance, he knew otherwise.

Omen spent hours after that talk thinking about one name. He could only assume that was his name — Fred. Unassuming, perhaps the short form for a name like Frederick? Frederico? What else could he think of? And what did “Fred” do for a living? Was he just some innocent bystander? Like a mailman that one day found himself in a facility crumbling down on itself? And while everyone else escaped, Fred was trapped inside, exposed to enough raw radianite to strip him of his memories and physical form? And if that was the case, did Fred have a family? Friends? People who would ask where he went? Or perhaps Fred was better off dead.

No matter how much he tried to think back, to grasp onto any hint of a memory he could think of, there were no answers in his mind. All it ended up doing was expose him to every peaceful, calm life that he could’ve had. Might’ve had. Probably didn’t have but apparently, he liked to torture himself by dreaming of it.

For a long time after that slip up from Viper, he wondered if the Omen from the other dimension knew something. That version of Earth had already had Radianite for decades. If that Omen was also the first Radiant, then surely, he would know something more. It was a singular fixation that drove Omen forward in every mission from that point onwards. He requested to be set against the other Omen as often as he could, and in every possible opportunity, he tried to hunt them down to ask the one question that had been plaguing his mind.

The closest he ever got though was when they faced off once across a site. Omen saw the other fade back, a sign that they were going to back off for good, and he took his chance to chase after them. Sova called for him to come back, but this was far too important, and he could always explain his reasoning to Sova later, if still needed.

Just as the other Omen started to fade into the surrounding shadows, he did the only thing he could think of and ask, “Who were we?”

All he got in response was a laugh. One last cruel gift because it seemed like this Omen knew the answer, and he also knew how much the question stung. But he would not grant any peace.

Omen didn’t get an answer until he met Iso. He had been on a scan for anything he could relate to since that final encounter with the other Omen, but he had been unsuccessful. There was no trace of a past identity, no missing persons, and no other leads. Iso was the first time he saw himself in someone else.

Iso had described being a “ghost”. That he had vague memories of what he did for work, and yet he had no idea about who or what he was actually trying to accomplish. In some ways, it was the same as Omen’s ghost history as well.

He listened to every word Iso said in their interactions together. But Brimstone wouldn’t hear him on the similarities. It was always another mission, another target, another person that they needed to reach out to and bring to a separate point.

Finally, Omen’s patience snapped, pushed on by the revelation from Iso that no, he wasn’t some poor sap with a spotty memory and ulterior motives. He said that he was sent here for Omen and Omen only. And that for once, Omen had a solid lead. At once, he demanded a mission to the headquarters.

That night, Viper actually sought him out. From their tenuous friendship, despite how long they’ve known each other, Omen never expected this.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Viper asked.

He didn’t give a response. She had a point to this line of questioning, that much was clear. Even without any facial clues to give it away, he could read her well. They were as close to being friends as they could be. He supposed this was proof, even if he had his doubts.

“What do you know?”

“Nothing that will help you.”

That’s when her face… broke. That was the best way Omen could describe it. Sabine looked… sad.

“I will be fine,” he said cautiously. Was that what she was concerned about? Sabine reached up, as if she were going to grab his hood, but then she pulled back. “Nothing is going to change. But I will have my answers.”

She nodded then walked away without another word.

That was an odd interaction, there was no doubt about that, but it didn’t make sense until he was trapped in stasis. Perhaps the was the face of this man in front of him, or the floating rock this was built on, or even the shooting pains caused by this… contraption.

But between the pangs of pain, he saw bits and pieces. The vial thrown against his face, the shove, the sound of pounding glass… He lived through it again, and he watched as Sabine take small steps back as the machine whirred and as what felt like burning hot needles pierced through his hazmat suit. Though it hurt, and it was clear now that he had failed his mission, he also had that sudden realization that in this memory, he also shared some of the sadness with Sabine, along with the horror and desperation to escape what was coming.

It took all his strength to gather the bits and pieces that constituted his physical form and channel his energy into escaping this beam. He looked at his former boss until he reformed right next to him. Before the man could take any action, Omen dug his claws into the man and threw him out the window. As he watched the bits of glass fall beside the fading figure, he realized something.

Then there was one more memory, one that leaked in like a runny tap that wasn’t done yet.

It was Sabine, younger than he remembered meeting her. The door to this contraption had opened again, and she was reaching for him. To his horror he still grabbed her wrist like he was going to go through with the original plan. Even his own feelings didn’t match the action, and he saw the momentary fear in her eyes. Then, his world started to fade again.

Though she was apprehensive, especially with the wrist on her hands, she asked, “Why? I thought… I thought you…”

Just before he closed his eyes and passed onto whatever was next, he heard her say, “It’s ok. I… I’ll bring you back. Even if you meant it.”

[drakaina-posts]

Today, nearly a decade after I first started reading the series... I have finally finished League of Dragons, and the Temeraire series as a whole.

[shaepschift-a]

SAM WINCHESTER specific plot & dynamics call : you know what to do.

[hs-killjam]

never seen anyone else talk about this but I’m going to do it myself but um

I absolutely hate all the undertale AUs. Like it was fun when there was like, just underfell but like, it really got out of hand (IMO) and all these versions of sans just don’t feel right to me

[iwillputmayoinyourcoffee]

He is simply just a little guy

x

[scramratz]

[lafcoquette]

a les mis headcanon

"bahorel's laughing mistress" is actually named thalia, as in the greek muse of comedy <3

[humming-fly]

I love how Gerald was trying to keep Shadow from spoiling anything about the future meanwhile literally everything Shadow says and does around Maria is the biggest death flag ever

[nanavailable]

squad locking in

[hinamie]

10 years later

[xpurplepiex]

look at these losers dawg they arent even co-workers anymore😭

[shitpostmontgomery]

Those romanticizing dark academia forget that IRL it's being abused by your professors, leaving you stranded in a foreign city with no support and an uncertainty of whether you'll even be able to finish your postgrad degree anymore because all support was contingent on those professors' sign-off. Also you're in poverty. Your socks are wet because your shoes have holes in them and you have to make a decision to give up and go home, or beg on the doorstep of another academic and pray to the gods that they're in a kind mood today.