#oceansvanidicus

memes. / always accepting.

　It burns and prickles. Those words coated with disapproval and criticism almost as if they came from a gruffer, crueler, less forgiving voice. The tone is what gets him – the words are just an added scorching. ‘Cause was it that damn obvious he’s never put any consideration into anything that didn’t serve him? Even in his rare moments where he doesn’t just react and puts a little thought into it he’s only doing so because it benefits him. His shoulders square and his jaw tightened, eyes electric and ready to meet any opposition. Even if it was just someone staring the fuckin’ truth about him: he was a piece of shit.

　It's easier when he doesn't know the people. There is no risk of attachment. Just another night that will blend into others and be forgotten after some time. Soon, the other male's face would be indistinguishable in a crowd and Billy could go back to pretending, burying these urges and killing that ache that surfaced in him every so often.

It's harder when they're his type. Pretty, gentle-appearing, and making Billy want to melt in them. He's always gotten carried away. It's why he even does this — find strangers so he will not have to see them again, will not have to face any truths he rather keep hidden, and protect the soured heart he kept in his chest locked behind bone and regrets.

"You could have woken me." He would have left. His eyes follow the other male's movements and he sighs, relaxing some in the bed now that the surprise has washed over him. He should be leaving soon. But he doesn't quite want to just yet. "If I was going to make it all the way to your bed I might as well lose my clothes too," Billy mumbles more to himself than others, deducting on the events that are a little fuzzy from the night prior. He should have been kicked out already, clothes tossed afterward, and night promptly behind them.

memes. / always accepting.

　It was not like he was anyone noteworthy or exceptional in any regard. He was far from the grandiose image his family would have liked for him to become, battle-gloried and honorable. In fact, Hyunsu would have much preferred to not exist at all, dying with his shame and disappointed painted on his tomb as a reminder. However, it was extraordinarily hard to kill a titan - much less his, the winged titan. After a while, he let those thoughts die with time. He might not value his own existence but there were people who needed him even if it were only for him to be shield, a sword, a sharpened blade in which they fought through.

Brows furrow as he looks down. He didn’t even realize Armin was there honestly till he tugged at his shirt. Hes too quiet sometimes.

◈   @oceansvanidicus said:   ❛ 🌿 — for Annie 🥺 ❜ // send 🌿 to accidentally get caught under the mistletoe with my muse.

In the aftermath of an apocalypse, nothing that endured was pristine.  Snow fell in a grimy muddle, coating the ruined earth in grey.  They stood as two darker stains on the landscape, two blotches convening.  Annie felt Armin’s approach in the feathery brush of an exhalation against her frozen cheek.

The closest they came to warmth was when they made love beneath the cold light of stars, rubbing against each other cautiously, two fragments of broken glass, all jagged rasps and crystalline moans.  Both attempted to stitch wounds that would never close, that had no hope of healing.

Annie did not turn, not immediately.  Above them, among the brittle branches of a long-dead tree, one no longer condemned to annual rebirth, there clung a small green clump.  At its leafy heart, bone-coloured berries gleamed like pearls.  Mistletoe.  Annie could not recall the last time she saw something verdant, something so stubbornly alive.

@oceansvanidicus

It was always interesting to know that fiction writers had no idea they were telling stories of the supernatural and describing their weaknesses perfectly. That simply meant that a library was actually a great place to go to do research when you needed to learn more about your enemy. Was it always spot on accurate? No, of course not, but that usually happened when writers decided they wanted to create their own representation of the creature. Vampires usually got the worst of it.

Josiah walked up the steps into the library and took a moment to examine the area. He scanned the room, clocking where other people were and where the checkout counter was. He figured he might start coming here more often if it proved to have what he needed.

He made his way slowly over into the horror section right away. Unfortunately with how library books were sorted, it meant he’d have to look over almost every single book until he found one specifically about what he was hunting. Wendigo’s were popular in folklore, but Josiah didn’t have the hindsight to know which culture it stemmed from the most. He cursed himself in his head.

@oceansvanidicus​ asked : it’s not my fault, it’s 4am and you’re fucking yelling at me! — for Sirius from Draco!