#like it feels like i'm just slowly thawing to the situation and it just made me regress to my initial level of social anxiety

[jade-curtiss]

"Let me take nothing you care about seriously and make fun of your traumatism on top of creating new others, it'll be fun"

"how come you hate me? It wouldn't have happened if I would have listened you communicated more."

[mrmajesticcircle]

A Wicked Wiccan Supper

You save up the merchant ships for all my pain.

Make a hit list for all your gain.

Wipe down the blood spills with a washcloth, mixing it; drowning it in Clorox bleach and Gain.

She hopes to flood her consciousness with sounds of soulful blues, and ole' Campton spirituals, make believe that she can find salvation in her self righteous attitude to sacrifice her very own Oracle ; metallic doll.

She knows by now that it's a financial magnet, but she resistant of the feeling even though it's estrogen cooking within her inner wok a precognitive reality that seemed to like being left to play in a melting pot all alone.

Searing my conscience bow and arrow.

My mind.

Buying anything that seems to be the leader.

What can oatamently sacrifice my separated bones.

Minced the world that is the most threatening for a undefeated purpose, and that will deflect you.

I have learned that you obviously want to make a stew of me.

Preparing me slowly to be consumable.

My blood you like to shed is the broth and the red wine.

My organs are beef .

My situation is vegan mixed with friends of your fruit and vegetables of the crutches submitted by my fate.

Either way it's a animal crossing.

You usually think you can violate me.

It's the animal wayward resurgence.

You feel better as you double cross me.

Whilst you carry on; play on inertia .

Disassemble my name for the virtual myresa.

I hate when you say you don't understand.

In your mind you're merry; pretending to not be under influence, because you're getting drunk of my sifted wings.

If you're meditating to feast your eyes; fix my energized engine to be fresh, and tenderized beautiful girl.

I hope the feathers and scales strip away the pleasure of the main course.

Big deal with a Wicked Wiccan Supper if it's okay, but only one of me.

Now you want to prevent ventilation; the stove top oven roasting my head, just to keep the moisture.

It's a sign of the time.

A cannibal world.

Put a silver bullet to my head in the open season.

Take a silver steak to the heart, and drive a nail in my side to see how you bind me in spirit, flesh and blood.

We are bad blood.

We've been doing time in different places, but you want to be made my owner, and sell me out.

For the winter.

For the noun.

For the now; for the next.

For the dream.

For revenge.

Revelation.

Justification.

Until the end.

The day we meet again, that I am written off.

Ripped off.

Being preserved only to descend in a world of total chaos and domestic violence.

The heat wave is the heat stroke, can't move out of the path wherein.

Suddenly, I realize that this is the pathogen; a wicked indulgence, or an appetite to manslaughter every part of me.

Out of Greensboro.

Out of greed.

Out of fear.

In a competitive spirit.

For sport, all for bragging rights.

A championship.

Renowned titles.

Because you want to believe you're a freight train that can run me down.

A warlord who is empowering just to find someone to gun us down.

Maybe it's just the paranoia thawing a haunting in me.

Freezer burning in me the other skies of judgement. I don't have to make a move into the other side, I'm just too stiff; impelled inside my mind of fear, the feeling of losing the sense I rely on to surrender.

This is the wicked Wiccan Supper appraised.

Only when I pull you down, and drag you underneath the coal.

Simmering into the finalized stage to end us all, I will see you screaming.

The wicked Wiccan Supper.

Authorship by Mr Dashaun Rashod Snipes

©Mr Dashaun Rashod Snipes

[1-800-hellraiser]

Art by Pahatao on Instagram 

Requested by: No one

Genre: fluff

Words: 1,481

Pages: 4.1

Associated song: Dissolve -Absofacto

!Trigger warning! Theres a bit of blood in this chapter!

×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

"I just want you to watch me dissolve, slowly, in a pool full of your love"

   

     You're chilling on the couch, watching f/m, waiting for your boyfriend to come home. It's been a few hours since he went out. He didn't tell you for what, but it must've been important, because he brought his twin hatchets with him.

    'Probably an order from his boss.' You thought. You hope he's home soon, it's almost  5:30 (17:30). You glance to the messy kitchen that hasen't been cleaned in about four days. You sigh, and grab your phone and headphones.

    You start to pick up the kitchen and put things away to clean it. As you put things away, you feel like you're missing something, like an important date. You shrug it off and continue cleaning.

×Time Skip because cleaning a kitchen isn't fun to describe or read about×

   You toss the gross-looking paper towel in the trash. You cleaned all the dishes, some are in the dishwasher. You also cleaned the counters and the stove top. You look around for something in your fridge to eat. You find some eggs and milk. You know exactly what to make. 

   You grab the pancake/waffle mix and the waffle maker. You also grab some thawed bacon and eggs. You take two pans from your cupboard, one for the bacon and one for the eggs. You turn around and grab an important ingredient you missed from the fridge. Butter. 

   You take a spatula and scoop some butter out of the carton and slap it into the pan. You turn on the stove and set the temperature to medium. Waiting for the butter to melt, you swipe the bacon off the counter.  Slicing the package open carefully, you take some of the thick meat out and slap it into the pan. 

   Watching the bacon sizzle in the pan makes your mouth water. You wipe your saliva away, and notice the butter is melted. You take an egg from the carton and crack it carefully into the buttered-up pan. You make sure there are no shells in the pan. Taking the pancake/waffle mix, you look at the directions on the back of the box. 

   "Two cups of mix, one cup of water, and two eggs." You read aloud to yourself. You snag an egg from it's carton and reach into the cupboard for a measuring cup and a mixing bowl.

   You pour some pancake/waffle mix into the measuring cup. When you have about a cup, you pour the mix into the bowl. It plops into the bowl, you take the cup and fill it to the one cup mark.

     You pour the water into the bowl with the mix, you also crack the egg into the bowl. Taking a whisk from a drawer next to the drawer with the knifes in it. Before you start mixing, you take the egg and flip it over, you do the same with the bacon. You start mixing the contents of the bowl.

   Once your done mixing, you take a ladle from the same drawer and scoop some mix out of the bowl. With precision, you pour the mix into the hot waffle maker and close it. You take a plate out and load the cooked egg and bacon onto it. You slap more butter in the egg pan and take more bacon for the bacon pan. 

   You watch the bacon and eggs sizzle in their pans before flipping the waffle maker and opening it. You carefully take a butter knife and slide the knife under the waffle so you can take it out. It finally comes out and you flop it onto Toby's plate. You grab a fork and put his plate in the microwave. 

  You still wonder why Toby isn't back yet. He's been acting weird today. You asked him what was wrong this morning, but he brushed you off, then left. He's been gone for about six hours. You let out a slightly exasperated huff and flip your egg. 

   'Was it something I did?' You think to yourself 'no, it couldn't have been, or, at least I don't think I did anything.' You sigh and flip your bacon. You take another ladle full of mix and pour it into the waffle maker. Your e/c orbs drift towards the front door. 'When will he be back...will he ever come back?'

   You decide not to think about the outcomes of this situation for now, and focus on cooking. You decide to spice things up a bit and pit some strawberries on both waffles. You take out some strawberries and a strainer. You place the strainer in the clean sink and put four strawberries in it.

   You wash the strawberries and put them in a paper tower and pat them dry. You take a knife from it's drawer and slice the leaves off the strawberries. You then slice the strawberries long-ways. You open the microwave door and arrange the strawberry slices in a circle on Toby's waffle. Once you finish, you close the microwave door. 

   You take a plate and place your eggs, bacon and waffle on it. You arrange the strawberries the same way you did for Toby. You place your plate aside on the counter, you wash the pans, knifes, whisk, bowl and waffle maker. After that, you sit down to eat your food. 

   In the middle of your meal, you glance at the stove clock. The electric clock read 6:49 (18:49) in green, blocky numbers. You sigh and pick at your egg. "Where could he possibly be?" You grumble to yourself. 

   As if on cue, your shaggy-haired, brunette boyfriend walked through the front door. You immediately got up to welcome Toby. You stopped, realizing he's covered in blood. He's also ticcing way more than he usually is, which means he's stressed. 

  "Hey Toby-" you stop talking and look into his hazel eyes. He's on the verge of tears. Toby engulfed you in a tight hug. You feel him shaking and feel your neck get kind of wet. You put a hand on his shakey and twitching back and rub in comforting circles. "Baby, what's wrong?"  

   "I-it's her b-b-birthday to-today..." your blood runs cold at his words. That's what you wanted to remember, its Lyra's birthday today... Toby's sister that died in a car crash. "Oh, honey I'm so sorry." You whisper, hugging him tighter. 

   After a while of standing in your living room, hugging, you pull away. "C'mon babe, lets get you cleaned up." You took off his hoddie and he went to go change his pants and take off his boots. You also took his googles and mouth guard. 

   You took his hoddie and put some peroxide on the bloody spots and let it sit. You scrubbed the blood off his mouth guard and goggles, being careful to not damage them. You set his mouth guard and goggles to dry as you put his hoddie into the washing machine. 

   Toby came out of your guys' room in a pair of casual grey sweatpants. You look at him and give him a sweet smile. He weakly smiles back at you. Your smiles always brighten up his day. You cup his damp cheek in your hand and place a gentle kiss on his lips. 

   "You hungry? I made you dinner. Its in the microwave." He nods and goes over and opens the microwave door. He almost tears up again. "God, I lo-love"tic"you s-s-so muc-much." Toby almost whispers as he stares at the plate of food in front of him. You sheepishly smile back. "I love you too sweetheart." You say back. 

   After Toby gets done eating, he joins you on the couch. You know he wants to cuddle, he's giving you the puppy eyes. You giggle a little bit and lay down with your head against the arm of the couch. You open your legs and pat your chest, he scoots towards you and crawls up to your chest.

   He lays his head on your chest and wraps his arms around your waist. You place one of your hands on his back and one in his hair. You begin playing with his hair and scratching his scalp a bit. You lay your leg down flat on the edge of the couch and still have one bent. Before the episode of The Golden Girls even ends, he is asleep on your chest.

   'I guess I'm sleeping on the couch tonight' you think to yourself. Before you know it you've already dozed off.

[writingandchocolatemilk]

A Gentle Slide

Anonymous said:  "That's not exactly a good coping method" with prucan?

guess whose state just got the first snow storm of the season

On AO3. FFn.

"That's not exactly a good coping method."

Prussia looked over at Canada and blinked. "What?"

Canada looked down at Prussia's hands. Prussia slowly followed his gaze to find himself applying hand sanitizer. Prussia rubbed his hands together, a little defensively. "Do you know how filthy cars get?"

Canada adjusted his seat. "Oh, no doubt. However, that's the fifth time in as many minutes that you've applied Purell. Your hands are going to dry out."

Prussia snapped his travel-sized bottle of Purell shut. He had bought it at the airport. He always bought them at airports. Airport were fucking nasty. "Not that it matters."

Canada rolled his eyes. "Will you calm down?"

Prussia pointed at him. "Don't do that, don't act like I'm overreacting. You're not reacting enough. We are going to die out here."

"Oh my God," Canada breathed, "I called a tow truck."

Prussia looked miserably out the window of Canada's tiny, fuel-efficient, two-wheel drive, hybrid piece of carboard. The snow continued to pour down like rain, the whole world one gray mass, blended together.

Canada fiddled with the windshield wipers. "Aren't you from Germany? Aren't you part of Germany? Don't you have snow?"

"Yes, of course we have snow." Prussia even skied when he had the spare time.

"Didn't you fight against Russia?"

Prussia rolled his eyes. "I couldn't tell you the number of times I have throttled that psycho in the snow."

Canada tapped the window. "And you're afraid of sitting in a car, with heating, in the snow after all that?"

Prussia shook his head. "No, this is different. It's very, very hard to die when you're leading an army through the snow. You can huddle together, you know?"

"Like penguins," Canada said mildly.

"Yes, but manly penguins." Prussia gestured to the winter wonderland around them. "We're in a ditch in the middle of nowhere. No one knows where we are. Germany doesn't even know where I am. I don't have signal."

Canada crossed his arms. "You refuse to buy an international plan."

"Oh, sorry I didn't expect to get stranded in the middle of your country. I thought it would be a nice, relaxing visit. Crack open some beers, play some video games, watch you do paperwork because you're a hard worker or whatever. And now?" Prussia rested his head against the window. "Doom."

Canada shifted in his seat. "Well…"

Prussia looked at him. "Well what?"

Canada gave a little, innocent shrug, eyes drifting over to the radio. "Well, we are only out because you wanted beer in the middle of a blizzard."

Prussia gaped at him. "How dare you."

Canada was clearly fighting to keep the smile off of his face.

Prussia was at a loss. Did Canada just accuse him of getting them into this situation? "Okay, there are many things wrong with that sentence, and I'm going to go through all of them. One." Prussia held up one finger. "You assured me you could drive through this mess."

Canada, reflexively: "I can."

Prussia gestured wildly around the cabin of the car. "And yet we're in a ditch!"

"Oh, it's just a snowbank."

Prussia held up a second finger. "You knew about the blizzard and didn't stock up on booze. It's a staple to stock up on booze and get drunk during blizzards."

Canada didn't look convinced by this. "I'm not an alcoholic."

"And if the power went off? What would we have done? Played Monopoly by candle light? Monopoly is only ever fun piss drunk, and I should know." Prussia realized this made him sound like an alcoholic. "Not that I'm an alcoholic."

Canada let out a noncommittal noise.

Prussia wouldn't let that hurt his feelings. "Third." Prussia held up another finger. "You decided to bring us to your creepy, serial killer-cabin in the middle of nowhere. We were guaranteed to, firstly, get snowed in and stuck up there, and secondly, to lose power, which leads back into issue number two with your this is my fault argument."

"It's scenic."

"If you had brought us to your nice apartment in Montreal, we could have ordered pizza and walked to the liquor store." Prussia let his hands drop into his lap. "Ergo, this is your fault, not mine."

Canada considered these points, nodding slowly. He hummed like he had come to a realization. "Counterargument: I bought fucking wine."

"You and I both know wine isn't alcohol."

"And you and I both know wine is stronger than beer and is the better alcohol."

Prussia was on the edge of opening the door and running away from this conversation. He could feel himself getting stupidly angry because beer was a man's drink. Instead: "Either way, you're the one who drove us into the ditch."

"Okay, it is a snow," Canada pronounced the words clearly and slowly, "bank. And I still think that you set us on this course of events because of your stupid 'beer is manly' reasoning."

Prussia opened his mouth and then caught sight of exactly how hard it was snowing. It was coming down in buckets. It looked like rain. Prussia realized that Canada didn't drive a giant car like he did. He drove the piece of shit Prius, which was low to the ground.

"Canada," Prussia said, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. "I have something very important to discuss with you."

Canada raised an eyebrow. "Uh. Okay?"

Prussia very calmly pointed outside the window. "We can't let the snow cover the exhaust pipe."

Canada rolled his eyes. "I drive a Prius, Prussia."

"You don't drive a fully electric car though, do you? You still produce carbon monoxide and that will definitely kill us if we let the tailpipe get covered by snow."

Canada shrugged again. "Feel free to clear it out."

Prussia hesitated. It was. Very cold outside. And blizzarding. And he hadn't brought his gloves because he didn't think he was going to get fucking stranded in the middle of a blizzard. He thought he would be outside for two minutes, max.

Plus, it had not been Prussia who had gotten them into this mess. "No, you."

Canada patted his dashboard fondly. "I trust her not to kill me. You're the one with doubt in your heart."

Prussia shook his head. "I have died of hypothermia. I'm not doing that again. It was probably the worst time. It took, like, a year for me to feel my toes again. It took like a month for them to thaw me out."

Canada raised his eyebrows. "Really? I haven't heard this story."

Prussia opened the hand sanitizer. "It's not a very becoming story. I was leading a group—a smaller group—to try and flank… God, maybe Russia's men? But, since it was fucking blizzarding outside, visibility was lacking, to say the least. My men managed to find the army. I did not."

Canada reached over and took the Purell from him.

Prussia cleared his throat. "So, I have already frozen my ass off. Your turn."

Canada gave him a small, soft smile. "Who hasn't died of hypothermia?"

Prussia's hands felt grimy. "You terrify me, you know that?"

"Listen, I have been to the arctic. I have been on a ton of expeditions. It happens."

"Oh my God."

Canada shrugged. "So, it's either facing the cold or facing the carbon monoxide."

Neither option was appealing. "Where is this tow truck?"

Canada looked out the window. "Actually, that's a good question."

Prussia let his head fall back against the head rest. "We're going to die."

Canada let out a sigh and opened his door. He threw the car into neutral and stepped out into the swirling snowflakes outside. Prussia thought for a horrified second Canada was leaving him to freeze to death, but then the headlights illuminated Canada in front of the car.

Canada gave the car a shove.

Prussia groaned and then opened the door. "Alright, alright, I'll help."

Canada gave the car another shove. "That would be great, yeah."

Prussia joined Canada at the front of the car. The metal was very, very cold. Stupid fucking Prius. "Alright, one, two, three!" They gave it a shove. It stayed firmly in the ditch.

"Fuck," Prussia muttered. "Okay, again!"

It was raining ice. The snow, up in the stratosphere—or where ever the fuck rain and snow formed, Prussia couldn't remember because his brain was freezing in his skull—the snow had frozen into tiny, ice-pellets that were hailing from the sky. It felt like bullets hitting his face.

It was actually painful. It stung. It burned.

Prussia let out a miserable little noise. "Your stratosphere is trying to murder me."

"It's the troposphere."

"Fuck," Prussia said, deeply, with feeling. "One, two, three!" An ice pellet hit Prussia in the eye. "Again!" he bellowed, turning his 'I want to cry' feelings into 'angry' feelings.

Finally, the car groaned and rocked back an few centimeters—

Prussia threw his hands in the air. "Success!"

-and then promptly rocked back forward.

Canada cracked his knuckles. "We have it warmed up now, don't worry."

A final push got the car back onto the road, or close enough to where the road was underneath all the snow.

They returned to the warmth of the car. Prussia stuck his hands in front of the air vents, teeth chattering. That was misery, but fuck that ditch, they had pulled through.

Canada turned off the hazards. "Now, are we still going to the liquor store, or have you come to your senses?"

There were two paths here. Either Prussia could drink real alcohol, or Prussia could get out of this shitty car and shitty weather and actually enjoy his time with Canada. The decision was not as easy as one might imagine. "Listen, don't tell France or Spain I consented to drink wine. I'm begging you."

Canada rolled his eyes. He put his car into drive and then tossed something into Prussia's lap. "Hand lotion. Told you they would dry out."