#⎛ DEATH MADE ― A SHELL OF EVE. ⎠ ◦ ━━━ 〈 FINGER. P. ◞ IC.

[vvasilisa]

[hand] - Annie @ Pieck

A TALE AS OLD AS TIME, IS IT NOT?   A TALE AS OLD AS THY  ―――――   AN INJURED CREATURE THAT LIMPS NEAR   /   NEVER CLOSE ENOUGH  NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER     /   & A WOMAN,  MADONNA’S LOVED   /  ADAM’S CHERISHED   ―   & YOU STAND BEFORE DESOLATION  /  & the wasted ribs of adam.   annie.    SHE’S SO HESITANT  /   PIECK, YOUR EYES ARE ON HER.     she reaches.     she’s scared?   scared to simply take [take what is yours]    annie,       annie,        annie,  at last, risen from the decay of a self? soaking in that molding state you seem to flourish in  /  a prison of nothingness & less, it has become your comfort  /  you replaced anything gentle with harrowing imitations ― good cannot be, no no no no no no, it cannot   /  have you replace the image of pieck with something vile yet? have you? have you? haveyouhaveyouhaveyouhaveoyou? ? ?   mayhaps, you see her as a cruel keeper?     ah.       who knows,   that little warped mind,  it’s distorted,  collapsing like the remains of sanity-humanity, the compassion you burry your teeth into, tearing,  tearing-pulling――――――so so so so so desperate to keep what shreds you can hold?    to hold    /    hold     /    hold   hold   hold?      ah,  do you hunger for touch  /  or do you just want to hit something  /   feeling anything  /   that sensation.      your bones itch for something more than the loose skin you dress yourself in?   a transparent veil,  dear anne, they all see you  ― under the misplaced id, does that dry & peeling marrow,  does it irritate?   like the dirt stuck under your nails?   the blood staining your flesh,   the clanking of teeth.     does it grind   /  ache   /  reek?    [bone to skin, ribs to ruptured organs,  gore to guts. these entails are in the way,  they should be torn out.]   annie,  is that rumbling in your chest a growl   or  is it a heart?   that restless pattering ― pacing  ―  skipping,  does-has it ever beat for her?   annie,  a jagged lover      /    a distance lover,   more a specter than a companion,   only to be & only to materialize her ever & every thought   /  these phantom pains heartaches, they were the only thing that kept her sane  /   that doomed her to be an open effigy of hopelessness    :   is that so bad?     to hope?                    maybe.  

 & now,  pieck.   you hear it,   you hear it.      it beats,   mere steps away――――an untuned  &  horrid note, being sung unto you―repeated   /  the temptation to strum those heartstrings would be a threat      /    an incident of snapping at the softest touch    ― yet,   anne.   SHE REACHED OUT      REACHED      SHE  REACHED    REACHING OUT      she       REACHED OUT    :   annie, you reach...    like a frightened animal   /   you are so frightened, aren’t you?     aren’t you?    the trembling in your hand, it is the tremble in your legs, pieck, a fear   /   scared & longing  /  longing ?   longing for another    /   for her.    or are you both just lonely.        ――――       this longing,   a lifetime of       ― waiting.

& ―― pieck, there,  you feel her near  /   you barely can contain your breaths, a cathedral of anxiety & dread,  it is deafening, isn’t it?     /  the burnt remains of stability ―a composure of perfection /  remains of a woman you were  /  a girl she knew  /  & now,  the girl you knew   /   she is holding out her hand,   for ........ for you.  for you.  you.   take it?   why are you just staring at it?    PIECK?   is this not what you waited for,   you waited how many years? ? how many days―minutes? seconds? ? ? PIECK, THIS IS THE MOMENT YOU HAVE DIED ONE HUNDRED TIMES FOR  /  YOU HAVE DREAMED A MILLION TIMES OF.         [  are you scared of waking up again?    ]  ― pieck.     [ have forgotten to breathe? ? ?   ]  ― inhale, exhale, in-exhale ― hey.    [  worry about everything else later.  ]  ― & it’s the way you sink into your shoes    /    like your guts are stones, dragging you under   /   your blood is clogging   /  choking on all your intentions & all your paranoia  /   all your fears  /   will you drown over the tears you keep holding in ?   [ the most pathetic way to die now, it would be this way. ]  &,  you watch the smallest motion of her hand  /  the way it shakes slightly,    the shift of skin at her tensing up   /  you swear you can see the blood moving through her veins, the blodded red under a pale wax.   you both are something - not alive, but not dead.     [  & no matter.   she’s scared too.  ]     ―― yeah.    so reach.   ―    you reach.   ―      you reach for the open hand   ―    you reach & hold it like you have a hundred times before  [& how you will hold it till your heart stops.]   may it be in an hour or never.

                                    ‘ ―――― we will be okay. ‘

    〈 *  𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃  &  𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄    -/-  @viivyre              ❛   hand .   hold  out  a  hand  for  my  muse  to  take .

[vvasilisa]

SUNTIDE WILL WASH THE MORNING AIR  /  wind crawling over skin  /  ears will ache   /  sore pressure trails from nape to jaw  [should have brought a scarf]  was that the cold air though,  or was it the raising of discomfort around you  /  how quick stiffness settles -- stress brimming in your chest, this potent feeling,  it will surely result in heartburn  ;   chaos ensuing again.  with everyone being together like this,  you can feel it,  the pitting & obvious notion,  the onslaught of bickering that had been drowning a prior meeting, & a vase being thrown.  that tension is brewing.  ROTTING.   SOAKING IN 

zeke said it would be a good idea to have brunch as a group,  since there was a clear tension between CERTAIN MEMBERS.    sure,   get together, try & set these bonds back in place  /  ironic, how this felt more like splinting a torn off arm  /  setting a broken bone back in it’s skin  /  how vain to mend what is irrevocable  :  &  of course, that man didn’t attend this said union.  [of coooursseeee.]  How foolish  /   how silly  /  how dim you are,   you fell right into his trap.  &now,  you must sit,  mediate the table.  pieck;  ensure annie sits still /  ensure reiner does not poke & prod at such lose threads /  ensure porco or bertholdt does not feed the fire  /   ensure some sense of sanity is held.   ‘  since this is on zeke, order as much as you can.  ’   you try to joke,  you try to sound gleeful, & yet spite is dripping from your lips.      & so,  one by one you sit,   one by one you take a seat   ;   you sit between blondes  / armor & woman /  dividing such a pending doom.   & a boulder now resting on your gut  --  you taste it,  you can feel for the first time a hint of anxiety sprouting from a plot in your ribs  /  organs throbbing with anticipation  /  they might rapture with the slightest threat.   zeke should know this by now,  you can bury all the broken & ugly bones you want,  you can bury the hatchet, but erosion will soon expose it all.  & corrosion will take these bonds, eating  / devouring  /  biting, so famished  -- biting away at rusted & dirty blades / weapons -- they are so bent from war  /  wet too long from blood  /  too damage to fix [but they refuse to toss them away] hmm. 

‘  this will be so fun. ‘  a whisper,  such a flat cadence will hum  /   caught between teeth  /  so wide that smile casts  ;   was that amusement or dread just now?  hm.  annie, she was not the sour note in this melody, no  /  marcel & porco knew this as well.    Oh,   slate stare will sit over pair   ---  how the issue stemmed from reiner and berthold, & their lover's quarrel? again. & again.  how routine.  so shameless,   so outright   /   so crass -- so disgraceful-- [men are truly so trivial.]   & you close your eyes,   cheek resting to hand,  & you listen,     brothers will whisper & men will fumble over short chatter.  how awkward.  [ is there alcohol here.]   ‘ do you all know what you want?  ’

･ﾟgroup starter  ; @gerichteter​​​ & @gepanzrt​​ & @viivyre​​​ & @oncejaw​​​ 

[vvasilisa]

" ever heard of boundaries? " / you know for who

& THE BEAST AWAKENS.   THAT PITCH  -  THAT FALLING TONE.  it’s a downpour of coming disaster  /  a collision of windpipes & bruises expanding on itself  ――   it’s the way that hiss parts those crass & dour lips  -  a motion of muscle under skin becoming far too tense,  the way a throat tightening at the release of these words, as if they were slowly coming up with phlegm   /   cough them out.  these words are spewed out of a deface expression   /  voice merely a whimper  -  that whimper,  it is laced in a venom that stings at deliverance,  & those fangs he has  -  those gnarly / awful fangs  -  canines dripping in the most potent of discourtesy.   [maybe i should yank them out.]   it’s expected,  from such a drab male, lacking any enjoyable qualities  -  causing him any distress would be a far more convenient -  interesting than conversing with someone so rigid, not that he could say much --  & so,  it would be a hedonistic form of teasing.   

 yet.  even in his tragic state,  his presence is rather intimidating   /   you though,   you have never been shy of danger   / those slate eyes,  they have been transfix on him   -  more specifically,  his face   /   the low breathes he takes   /  how they huddle & rattle his disfigured frame.       & this is how you came to stand over him,  &  this is how your hands came to sit against a shallow chest   --   does those limbs even have enough strength to fight  /  to stop you  ―   given if you take the span of his neck  /   hold  -  press  -  squeeze,   & when breath stops,  when you hear the depth of a esophagus collapse  -  you can let go.    PUTTING DOWN THIS MANGLED BEAST.  it would be a mercy. [you are starting to sound like annie.]  instead,  instead of satisfaction - instead of complacency,   you are met with the snarling, you are shocked,  really, that this man didn’t bite at your hand.   to bite at the hand that only want to make an attempt to offer aid  /  alleviate the pain  /  a peaceful end for his now, pitiful existence.   [ a wounded dog,  never knowing when to just lie down & die.  then again.  you both are, you just have the advantage of regeneration. ]   & at his remark, you creates space - steps will replace a response.   you felt the air spoil   /   your hair stands on end, oooh now this is arousing ― pieck, don’t be too unruly.  & your body relaxes.   a malodorous taste veils buds,   shame it was not his blood.  he really does pollutes the wake of his surroundings  /  & you are fettered in the same space as these people - how many times have you tried to kill this man, a reciprocally relationship  /   for this is one of your enemies.   no,   no,   no,    enemies turned allies?   no, allies made from desperation   /   allies till death fractures this sorry excuse of a truce.   it’s impressive how the end of the world can convene opposing sides,  even if it only meant to save their own hide.        

& little pariah,  oh pieck, you cannot help but think,   if failure is the only outcome & marley is destroyed  /   your father   /    your home crushed below a foot of a titan  /  crushed how annie used to crush bugs  -  heel to spine  /  heel to body  /  pressure applied till the crunching of body is heard & entails come spilling out from sides - sides burst from pressure   /  applied pressure till movement is null & fluids & skin are indistinguishable from another. DEATH.  DEATH.  DEATH. THAT ALL IT WILL BE.   [ just like how you chomp down on lackeys, the soldiers like him. you know the sound of a skull popping - fissure apart from the weight of teeth. ]  stop.   stop thinking about this now.  keep it together.    this is depressing.  & you know the validity it holds,    they are helpless  /  they have no merit / no power to stand their ground:  brawn & will & guns & outcry will do nothing  :   they will be stomped out before the instinct to run can form.   you can’t help but theorized - conjure up the worst conclusion possible.  because if you fail.    IF YOU ALL FAIL.  IF YOU FAIL PIECK.  IF REINER FAILS.  IF ALL OF PARADIS FAILS TO STOP THE DEVIL.    will these fragments that remain of them - you - humanity   /   if any live through this decimation, will the warring continue till bloodshed soaks an earth  ―――  & that blood will water the earth to wash the names - wrongdoings   /    eradicate any that stand to oppose.   maybe,   maybe paradis will finish the task to completion.  & when you are all gone,  they will make sure that the bones are all to be collected & structured into some icon of the hell that came to be  /  a titan of her own resemblance maybe    /   a reminder  ――   & may they pray till the holy mary  takes shape   /  founder ymir  /  she will sculpt herself from their delusions of what remains,  & may she herself see the errs of man’s hatred   /   & maybe she slit each their throats & lay them to bed  /  a kiss upon each mark their sliced into their skin  -  each self inflicted bite mark  /  & return them each to neath.  no ending to this nightmare seem desirable.   [may i be first if this fails]   hm,  you can’t fail.  you CAN’T.   YOU CAN’T.    you have to ensure your father safety   /   annie’s  ――― even if you fall in the process, even if you are left  -  guts in marred hands  /   fingers rend like his own,   &  your own intestine hanging out your mouth,  you have to fight.  YOU HAVE TO.  ――  for even annie,   she has time  /  she can live a nice long life without you.  your father deserves to see the promises you vowed become a reality  /   no longer a childish promise.  PIECK.   you have reason to defy ymir  /  to face the devil.     you have no choice.     

  ❛  ohhh?    i have  ― although,  they don’t really interest me too much.   ❛

a laugh.   & this man,   this man might be a damaged piece  /  but,  he is no pawn. 

 ❛   ― geez.  calm down, i was just checking to see if you were still alive, don’t give yourself a hernia, alright.   i will keep my distance.   ❛    for now.

〈 * RANDOM  -/-   @liberons​

[vvasilisa]

u have been ... sinning ...

             pieck vc:   as a holy child of the lord, i beg to differ

[vvasilisa]

With Pieck sat across the table, chatting away and digging into her cake, Sasha watches intently, awaits her opening. It comes when Pieck bites into a strawberry; impeccable huntress reflexes, she leans forward, catches the other half of the fruit with her teeth, fingers guiding her chin (no escaping; it is revenge, after all), lips barely brushing against the Warrior's, a drop of strawberry juice caught between twin mouths. She pulls back, cheeks a light pink. "Happy birthday, miss Finger." :^)

〈 * it was pieck’s birthday    -/-  @amachja

WAS THIS CAKE TOO SWEET ?   IT WAS A LITTLE TOO MUCH NO?  sickly & sweet  / an intoxicant tart of sour berries  /  ah, they were not quite in season / not quite ripe.   &  the sugary taste  /  soaking in buds  / soaking in the sensation of marrow & lips ― the imbue of red  /  blood-like,  you poke a finger into the cake  /  are you wanting it to bleed?    SOMETHING ABOUT ITS COLOR /  maybe it was blood.  no.  no. pieck.   it is syrup,  the honeyed lacquered is dripping off the side  /  blobbing into a little puddle on your plate  /  resembling the effluence of rosette that comes from an open gut   /  vibrant,  sticky & wet   & there,  you drip finger into the saccharine pool,  &  finger-pads are now coated  /  the way lips part ― whole to halves ―― diverging just enough for a tongue to slip out―  a tongue trails.  lapping away   /   lick it clean.   [oh little bird,  a little songbird.   how long do you plan to watch? ]  the way sasha stares  /  how intently, how intimate,  hm, that glee she had  /  athirst for a deliverance of some plot.   does the prey yearn to play hunter?   alright.    & there,  a clanking of teeth  /  mischief will bubble at the base of a throat, a titter humming out   /  swallow the laugh /  play coy  /  you don’t mind playing prey.   & preen your feathers, begin your siren cry ― now,  lean in  ―  pick a berry from your plate & take a bite [will this be the apple of eve? ]  you hope so. her heart would be much more savoury. 

                                        ―――        OH.        "Happy birthday, miss Finger."   that is it?  

        ‘  ah. really? ’   that’s it,  with the separation & the peroration of celebration  / a tease. are we?      oh no.  no, no, no.  you have given her a taste  /  a crumb,  such a measly taste?    & now,  like a starving beast,   those fangs you hide  & those claws you keep far away  /  they itch & grind  -  itch to hold her neck,  grinding to taste something more human.   you want more.   for once you get a taste,  how is that to satisfy such a hungering,  the emptiness of your gut,  it will begin to eat itself if you do not eat   /  a starvation that you held off on, this blistering warmth that is a pitting wildfire waiting to spread   /  yes,  a reoccurring starvation for innate & fictitious inklings  /  & these symptoms of lust  ― & maybe, attraction.  they really are too much for a fragile & tired girl to fight off any longer.  oh,  you intend to finish your cake, & then some.   [have your revenge.]   interrupt,  interrupt the withdrawal of she  /   body falls against table  /  ribs pressing to wood as you crawl over  /  knees being your support.   & fingers pluck another strawberry  /  stealing from sasha’s plate.  fingertips will pose the berry between lips (you bite it in half)  how thoughtful.   /  but,  that maw is a danger  /   the only thing that comes near that is devoured whole.   & the putrescent presence, the anatomy you sleep in   /  the skin you change into  is now anchoring atop the table  /  it is all dirty now.  [ you are on top of the table. everyone is looking. ]  what a fun night.

& hands captures the curvature of woman’s design / that rose complexion is not enough.  you take hold  /  fingers pressed to cheeks  /  pressure applied  / part that mouth huntress,   & open wide, open so wide    ――  those heavy eyes  /  coal will burn out  /  &  pricked rows of charcoal will bat her way  /  this innocence you feinted time & time again, it is so cruel.     CLOSE THOSE EYES   /  steal a kiss  -  lips brushing - crashing against another’s  /  the part of jaw  /  strawberry passed off from tongue to  tongue.  & that tongue didn’t stop there, no.  you invaded her mouth  /  explore it fully-completely,  how far did you search? how far are you wandering down?    /  what are you going to do? shove your tongue & that berry down her throat, you might choke her off at this rate.  [shame.]   &  still,  only after you have tasted everything she has to give.   only then,  you pull away.   & HOW DEATH’S FINGERTIPS WILL DRAG ACROSS THOSE LIPS  /  wiping the mess you had made   /   this gentleness,     index & middle fingers, you suck off the remains.                   it  is   f l e e t i n g.               it is gone. 

& you retreat to your side of the table  /  you lean back in seat.  that grin is far too wide, far too pleased.  

                                   ＇ let me know if you want seconds. ＇     

[vvasilisa]

Arms folded over counter top, Marcel raises his glass and clinks it against Pieck's. In the bustling atmosphere of the bar, they are almost anonymous - would be, were it not for the splash of red attached to their arm, singling them out in the crowd. Marcel chooses not to care. Spending time with one of the few friends he has left on *her* day feels infinitely more important. "Happy birthday, Pieck. Hope you enjoy those five days of being the only grown up in the room." He teases with a grin.

〈 * it was pieck’s birthday    -/-  @oncejaw

COMMOTION AROUND IS A BUZZING,  A BUZZING STUCK IN THE CATACOMBS OF ID   /  THE FOUNDATIONS IS TREMBLING. this ticking / this swelling, it will make its hive in your carcass  /  that hollowed out gorge where that heart shape rot sits.  does it beat? or is it just the bees?   that anxiety you keep poking & irritating /  why can’t you let it be―――― why.    [maybe tonight, they shall set fire & dissipate. maybe you will set this whole bar on fire.]  & that buzzing,  yes, that buzzing like any summer night.     & under all the sounds,  the swarm that drowns out those perceptions far before any ale could   /  &  you can’t ignore it,  the lacking,   a lacking in harmonising  /  it would hum like a dissonant verse of poetry spewed from a hatter  /  maybe, one sung in such atonal husks of fangs, grit your teeth,  & huff out another cheer  /  another utterance of nonsense  /  nonsense & incessant merriment / merriment & ignorance that filled the space  /  babble & shit & babble  /  you will get a headache if you keep listening to them  /   such joy on such a tragic day  ―  really?   & TONGUES ARE ROLLING & SLURRING, dialect is lost / distinction of dialect, it became as nonexistence as sensation  / can you hear it. [hear what.] the shift of sleeves of fabric, it is a soft rustle blurred out under steps / creaking chairs & horsed laughter for celebration  /  stupidity.   ――  &,  there is a CLACKING OF GLASSES & HARD WOOD IS STRUCK BY HEEL,   a clank  /  clank   /  clank  / CLANK ――― bottoms of pints sliding across grain   /   & RAISED & SET - DRINK & REPEAT  /  REPEAT  / REPEAT  / REPEAT TILL A GLASS BREAKS.   simple motions  /  simple actions  /  simple mundane instances.         

   it really was lively tonight.   & on such a tragic day.  

    [mother,  you are dead?  aren’t you.]  isn’t that what you said when you found her  /  you found madonna  /  you held her hand  /   you were expecting her to hold it back?  [what a gift.]   heartache & apathy.   she left you such a gift, yes.  something you cannot forget  /  it’s a ticking,  a swelling,   a buzzing.    & you can’t help but slip between all the background chattering & how slow your heart is beating, again.  that buzzing is fading   /   & that emptiness & that fullness you feel.     is it a bittersweet feeling ?      for grief refuses   /   it clogs your pores & sticks to bones  /  it chokes you till you are gagging on nothingness again.    NOTHINGNESS?  girl, this is sorrow,  this is longing.   this is insignificant.   this is fear.     this feeling of everything-nothing    /  numbness & awareness  / regret for a lack of emotion  & regret for too much.   perhaps father was right,  you have your mother’s heart?  [do you have the same sickness too, the same sick little heart? ha! ]  because this aching,   this pounding that presses /   that crushes  /  that takes & takes & takes  /  that will stop & may you fall dead in your tracks.   this feeling is one you can’t seem to stop.     & you are too scared to stop it.           

                        ――――  what if your heart stops too?     what if.

& so,  you sit in silence sipping - stalling to finish that beer.    & so,  you bite your lip, worried that it make begin to shake.   & so,  so here it is.   here is to another year that has gone.   another gained /  another loss   /   is aging so trivial ?  is death merely a doorman awaiting your visits  /  will your stay be permanent this time?  no, no, you will have to stop by again.   another tryst between you & death.   another night to cough up your lungs   /   cough up all your doubts  /  bury them from sight.  you, will drink,   & drink,  & drink.    you really believe you are drowning these thoughts?  no, you merely water them.    yeah.    yeah.   & every year,  every single year,  you only root them deeper  ―――  silly girl, what a mess  /  your grief is so lovely.   & such emotive notions, they fill the gaps   /   that monstrous irking of flesh, you want to sleep this feeling off   /    that unbearable question,  what if that heart .....what if your heart is running on borrowed time  /  you can’t forget it, even for a night.  even for a moment.   such an evocative presence.  even with marcel so close.     maybe you are the devil.   your birth brought nothing but death.  maybe you were the illness that ruined your mother.    &  you never will tell them,  you can never tell anyone  /  you will never say why you never cared for this day.  because maybe they would say just that.

             PIECK.   COME ON.    you rather be in your room.        [don’t kill the mood, smile a little. marcel is here.]   but even so,  even his company feels lonely  /  a ghost of a man   /  adam, has you lost another rib to eve?   are you offering such things out of pity for a sad girl?  guilt for what she has lost?  stop it.     just drink,  you might feel better,   or less――  we will see.

  ‘  alright kid, alright.  ―――  let’s see which one of us get fucked up first. 

                             & in five days, we can have a rematch.  ’ ​

[vvasilisa]

pieck: annie, you make my left boob go doki doki  annie: you mean your heart- pieck, taking her hand: no my boob, here feel--

[vvasilisa]

 TAG DUMPS ARE INCOMING.                              yeah, i did it, bishes..finally. PRAISE ME wejfiojefoiewfj                  blacklist tag dump / to avoid it...i have like 5-7

[vvasilisa]

"I wish I had let you all die." (Survive AU Frieda -> Pieck).

                              ❛  ――― you are so melodramatic, you know that. ❛

DEVIL’S INHERITANCE MEETS GOD’S.  an audience of two,   but a third has invited himself along,  how improper -     this sudden interruption.  just when it was getting interesting.    [so rude.]    & a budding,  a twisting of organs.      a sensation of consternation  /  constriction of of skin  / goosed flesh,  but dearth of worriment is not there,  deficient of fear, no.   there is a impression of excitement most of all & annoyance  ―  this titillation is such an appalling factor when applied to this odious circumstances.   what can you say?   condemnation has never been so pleasant.  this divine judgment -- your final verdict sermonized in a honeyed lilt  /  flak deliverance from a soft-spoken tone cast upon you?   this.  this is a sugar to taste / a ditty to harken, for sure.  [it is rather entertaining, yes? ]    however, even spring parts & winter settles in ― & that sweet intonation turn so-so crass  /  gospel-spilled recitation caught in repetition― spewing parnassian verses at your stoic response  /   these verses are rehearsed, same as usual  -  they are clumping together like cobwebs, & those cobwebs must be clogging that shallow little chest, the way she huffs   :   ah, & what slips out?   empty barks,  she is bellowing with righteous ire,  like a hungering / babbling mouthpiece.  hm, again,  at least it was easy on the ears... with selective listening that is  --  as long as you could drown out the incessant & indiscernible nonsense she spouts  :    shame though that she sung such a tragic song.  an esoteric song of idiocy at it’s finest  -  such fruitless rambling  -  resemble a bird in the early dawn.  these promises of remission through death   /   the first king’s very decree.  [ how boring. awfully evocative of home  - marley, no? ]   marley oft share this similar sentiment /  lifelong contrition, served out in duty till death / forgiveness not even remunerated through death, no. it was the least you could do? die.  repeat with another, repeat another 13 years. it’s your blood’s only purpose. 

        "  I wish I had let you all die.    "    oh, now that is cute. really.

   & when these mercurial shifts occur / holy intrusion,   & frieda ceases,  &  the first king’s begins respiration again  -  symphony of rehash expressions.       DEATH     /     blab blab blab    /    DEATH     /      sin or some shit    /    DEATH   /    probably more death & blab blab blab, a predictive cycle of shit & more shit, & EVEN MORE SHIT.  REPEAT. shut up. REPEAT.  shut up. R E P E A T. shut up already. REPEAT TILL THESE WORDS ARE INSCRIBE INTO THEIR EVER-WAKING THOUGHTS ―  you feel incline to accept your urges  /  & this notion, a shift in lax disposition    :   how much you want to take her throat  /  squeeze till airways are shut-  collapse   /   till the only sound is a failed gasp for air  /  till static takes the place of her incoherent bullshit.        for even you,  even you have grown tired of these stale topics, topics that seem to always bridge on a tangent of censure for that beating heart you have  /  your existence is an err to god -  to her   /  why are you alive?  PIECK, WHY ARE YOU ALIVE ?   YOU SHOULD DIE?    repeat.   ah.   this conversation, a putrescent narrative [one waiting to be buried again. maybe with frieda.]  & frieda, yes,  thy presence is accompanied by an odor,   & that abhorrent scent - oh sweet, frieda, you are rotting  /   rotten  /  so full of rot & mold / decay is growing in your mouth   /  an open vase,  nourishing all that is vileness.  & how you share it so willingly,  how much you spit it up in her face.   & pieck,   you see it,  the glimpse of something less-weak,   the remnants of innocence under the decay   /   innocence still striving to be -  to exist  /   gentleness torn - uprooted so many times, that gentleness is ripped from those fragile  -  supple bones, so much it barely hangs on   /  her corium to pores, covered in lanky moss   ―  festering with termites & cruelty of man’s shame.   such a rotten girl. a walking corpse,  you anchor curiosity to her wilting bones.   this girl,  a corpse with strings tied to limbs.   this pretty girl.   a corpse, waiting for a grave.  frieda, you really are such a sad sight,  a graven image of a dismembered madonna, mayhaps, the next oblation within the reiss name  /  truly, a beautiful effigy soon to be set to the flames.  yes?  or torn limb from limb.  exciting.   [ such a shame. such a waste. such is normality for them. ]  repeat.

          ❛   now, now, now ― now i really do know which reiss is the fun sister~   ❛

                                a chuckle   /   a  sinking pebble flitting from gut to lips  /  mirth & merriment now TICKLING HARD against lips   :   there it is,   a laugh so loud,      so cruel   /   so shameless, you are so shameless,  to laugh in the face of GOD?  a girl?  no, a girl playing god.  a hilarious analogy, it is.   ❛   i'm sorry, that was rude of me....  ❛    pieck,   you hum,  hide that nasty little smile,  feign a frown or something less joyous.  head thrown back,  & you pout lips,   thinking? ? thinking? ?   no,  pretending too. [ she really went on another 10 minute rant. ]    & slow  -  without concern for the other,  you slumped in your chair  /  sinking till comfort is found  /  legs folded at the knee on the arms  -   now you are the improper one.  [ no,  no, there are two improper ones now. ]  you giggle.  & a hand takes up a glass wine [who wine was this?   oh well. ]   & lips roll over the rim of glass  /  that scent of wine  -  take a whiff.   so bitter,  a fermented stench.  it is really quite an atrocious smell.  ❛   it's just that angry look, it doesn't suit you― not at all.  ❛     that frown seem stuck to her face   ――   oh no, how will thou ever cheer her up,  are you to drop to your knees & repent?  beg for liberation? or gut yourself right then & there?   pathetic  -  stupid.    exasperation is skin-deep  -  caught up in your lungs, each breath could be a sigh at this rate.                so bothersome. 

         so this is it    ―   the first king, he inhabits the roof of her mouth / slumbering till it is convenient  /  & when he stirs,  that is when it happens .... this nauseating theater of animosity, an act so sincere - yet empty.     pieck... you wonder. would she choke on rocks if you were to shove them, one by one - down her throat.    calm down.       hm. either way, it would shut her up   maybe.   no. no.... no.    but.      but,    you do wonder,  while he speaks in place of her  :   you do, you do wonder if she can taste all that bile that pours from her thoughtless little tongue.        you wonder.    again    OH GODDESS―LESS, YOU WONDER ―   if you were to stick two fingers into her mouth, & part those dirty little teeth apart / open that mouth wide  --  would the king bite back,   or would a naive little brat start to vomit up these makeshift  /  impersonal convictions.   [ this is the founder? ]  merely a shell  /  a doll meant to be used.  lacking any discernment of your own  /  to protest is to be rendered without control.  [ to serve the first king,  disgusting.]   tongue clicks,  you have poke at nerves  /  can you provoke the beast further?  can you cause further uproar?   easily ― but.   it’s pointless.    this self-imprisonment.     to live as a vacant soul   --  worse than a death sentence.          teasing is not even fun anymore.    it’s not frieda.

❛    oh, did i upset you?  ― sorry, would you rather i beg for forgiveness, princess?  ❛  & you speak,  you wear that smile like a crown, as if pride is the foundation of elegance,  & you laugh again, teeth clank against glass as you make an attempt to drink away your glee, nearly spilling in the process.  

          ❛   you are no fun when you get these mood swings  ! !                              ―――――― talk to me when you are normal again.  ❛ 

〈 *  RANDOM -/-   @veqva

[vvasilisa]

hunger + Pieck ( Eren while he's holding Pieck and Gabi hostage: do y'all want McDonalds )

YOU SIT.  YOU WAIT.  YOU SIT.  YOU WAIT.  YOU SIT.  & YOU WAIT.  HOW LONG WILL YOU SIT & WAIT.  [ let’s go to the roof   /  i will point out my friends. ] & now, you wait for him.  typical,  chivalry truly is dead,  making a woman wait so long, as expected of such a crass / soured monster-demon.  but,   the longer you wait, the more discomfort will settle in.   but,    there it is,   that discordant sound  /  that awful melody    ;    hunger   /   hunger   /   hunger,   this growing void ―  this growing ache  -  this growing pain that seems to never cease   ;   this growling that burrowed in that gut, grumbling-weeping for any shape & form of viand  /    this cry,  a cry for nourishment,  a cry for something to fill this nothingness    /   does the pit of your stomach bellow-siren for a weaker nature   /   an empty pot without without seeds.  this imposing feeling  /   a pressure that comes-goes   /   a sensation that leaves you feeling out of place   /   leave you hunched over.  & arms wrapped around knees   /     hopeful that it will mute such shallow rumbling [how can you be hungry at a time like this,   how can you want,  how. ] & you can close your eyes    /  count the interim between silence & hunger.  a body,  although this one,   this body   ;  it can be rend-torn   /  pulls apart limb by limb   /  skin slowly sawed from bone.  meat & fibers detaching,  the way you bite down on a steak  /  rip it apart when the bite is too big [ gnaw at what will not tear ] this body,  it can be fixed   /    it can heal    /   it doesn’t matter.  but that aching  /  the panging  /  that hindering distraction set in your core ― you must fulfill it constant demands.  

                                          ‘  you want something to eat―― ‘

your flesh.   & man  /  devil -  you patronize her -- do you take her for a vulture,  picking & playing with the carcass of anything dropped before she  ;    you know it.   neither trust the other  /  two snakes caught at the end of the other’s tail  /  nipping at another to see who slip up first -  but, to... to offer food  /   to offer her something from you  ;  fruits of your hands  /  fruits of your labor  /  fruits of your arrogance ― you might as well show her your heart  & say eat up.  for,  pieck,   pieck,   you rather eat cockroaches that pattered the floor than scraps given from him  - & those cockroaches,  they look rather appetizing in comparison. pieck, the way you daze off from his eyes  /   watch the insect scatter  ;  you can’t help but to laugh ―― swallow them whole,  may they infest your lungs  /  crawl their way down your throat & into your entails & the constant /   ticking  /  flicking of wings you will hear. it will only deafen you.  for,  you will eat,  & if you eat,  may they lay their eggs in your heart & harvest this vessel as their home, a vessel for things that should not exist.   all that hate you push back.  ;   you are already full of decay  /   rotting   /   it is a perfect home for such flirty creatures,  isn’t it? so, eren would belong.   for in truth,  you do not want food.  you want him laying on the floor  /  head-chest cut open  /  exposed.  you want this towering shadow to get away from you  /  you want to back away  /  you want to hurt him ―― for if you were to bite the head of a roach  /   crush his windpipe  /  chew  /  bite the nape  /  lick up what dip from the shells   /  eat the body-soul of this vile man. what would come of it   /    your death.   isn’t it funny.  there is no victory for you    /    yet,  even at the gallows,   this would be more satisfactory than any meal.    eren.   you destroyed my home.   eren.   you took annie from me.   eren.   you are the devil.   eren.   just die.   eren.   you are an evil man.    eren.  please just stop.    eren.   i am so tired.    eren.  i miss my father.   eren.  i want to go hom――――  ❛  i don’t think i would be able to stomach anything, the situation and all, it is a little too much.  a little too exciting. ❛

                & pieck,  pieck,  come on.    look at gabi   ;   that distrust ― fear,  you have deceived her  /  lied  /  she looks as if she wished she had shove that rifle down your mouth-pulled the trigger.  BANG   /   heal.   it wouldn’t matter.      you have hurt her,   hurt her again   /  repeat   /   hurt your father  / repeat  /  hurt porco  /  repeat  ― when will all these lies  /  roaches finally come back up   /   coughing them up.   all your ill - potent intentions  /   you will cough them up one day.   that’s not today.    [she will get over it  ;   if she doesn’t....  it doesn’t matter. in war,  you cannot have a heart... ]   she looks hungry too.  how stubborn are you   /   how far will you go before you leave more graves at your side ―― leave more bodies under your feet.  & you accept  /  take his offering   /   his kindness.  what a joke.   ❛  but, i think gabi is, so― thank you.  ❛    & when you say that,   when you say those words to such a monster  /     your tongue   ;   it is far too ugly  /   far too wicked,  such words,   they stick &  maimed your voice  /   impairing chords  /   like you are eating your own teeth   ――――these words, they fully corrode you  /  you want to remove them from you   /   you want to eat your own tongue  /  you rehearsed your lines so many times,    but god.   god.   you wish to spit that one out.      

                                    you will perish, nightmare. 

〈 *  𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃  &  𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄    -/-  @usurpyr                    ❛   hunger .   give  my  muse  something  to  eat  /  drink .

[vvasilisa]

Frieda at Pieck vc: "Allright lets do this yall. Im adorable (so precious) Im a tween sensation (AH) People think its cute when Im in adult situations. Im gonna rock your body. Girl you know I aint playing. Someone wrote this song for me so Im not sure what Im saying."

eyes will meet,  & you watch  /   a frown taking shape.  ah,  so it has happened,   frieda. it happened,  that feeling in your chest, there it is  ;  heart will stop  / skip,  it strikes you to the core  /   far too deep to just shrug it off, no.  it is indeed,  cringe, that is raw cringe that you feel.   

  ❛   as adorable as you are... .you are a little pitchy, and really cringey right now  ― get away from me.  ❛   & pillow is held-raised  /  ready to suppress  /  silence frieda if she attempted to sing that song again.  ❛ did historia write that, it is awful ― so awful. ―――― if you want me to make dinner now, you have to sing something better.  ❛

〈 *  frieda are u a less bean and?  -/-   @veqva​​​​

[vvasilisa]

Annie vc: *cocks gun* hey pieck, I saw you talking to Historia the other day.

〈 *  aw shit here we go again  -/-   @viivyre​

pieck vc:  babe, i have no clue what you are talking about, i don’t even know who hishortia is --  come on 

                    Conceal, don't feel, don't let her know, hide-hide the other hoes