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samstclair · 6 months ago

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Joel Miller's Survivor

Joel Miller X Reader

Anonymous Request

"Hey Sam! Hope you're still alive. You've been like ghost, and I'm getting worried about my request not being fulfilled, AND your health, of course or whatever! Yeah so can you get to it already? Joel X reader, simple. Can you make Y/N be like traveling with them or some shit? I don't know. But do your thing when you've crawled out of your hole!"

Word Count: long bro

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As you lied in your bed, rotting (you have not gotten up in the three hours you've been awake [so now it's almost 12 in the afternoon]), feeling like absolute dog shit for:

1. your empty tummy,

2. not having showered in a week despite you paying your water bills,

3. your internet running at the speed of a geriatric snail so no more fan-cam edits, ALSO despite paying your internet bills,

3. just feeling like an overall ball of grease and oil that could, if necessary, fill a car's gas tank,

4. not having gotten up in those three hours,

and 5., perhaps most importantly, the world ending :(

you gazed out your window into the morning (afternoon, actually), light that peered through. It was scenic really, little puffs of dust, some asbestos tinkled in, gliding softly in the air. It hit you - this is not fun or fresh. This sucks dick, actually.

You rose, stretching, a big big biiiiigggggg stretch, cracking every conceivable bone in your body, trying to avoid looking in the mirror that could potentially reveal your physically-troubled state. You didn't even have to look to know the condition your hair was in - actually let's not talk about the hair. You'll spiral. If we can't see it, it's not real :D

"Fleabag said it best. Hair IS everything," you thought to yourself, thinking about avoiding the mirror. "Oh my god I could SOOOOO binge Fleabag right now -"

But you knew that wasn't an available way to veg out. As mentioned before, your power, water, and internet were out. You supposed it came with the world ending and all.

"Grrrjsdjaksdfnbdsjdskjjfs," your tummy said. You cradled it like a mother holding her child.

"Mama needs to eat soon...", you thought wearily.

You rose and peered out the window - and it was the same old shit. Those cracked-out girlies were still on the prowl, being the biggest cockblocks you've ever encountered in your life for some good food.

"But girl, we gotta eat! We have to soon," your brain said.��"You can't keep this shit up! REAL calories and shit actually do matter!"

"But bitch how? Those fat asses on the street are gonna try to toss up with you again!" the other side of your brain said.

"So what? You're gonna keep living off three-month old Halloween candy?? Those Twix's are tasting more like the processed chocolate that they are every DAY! Stop playing around and gaslighting yourself into thinking they're good, girl!" the other side argued back. "THINK about it. You bought those to sneak in to watching Dune in theaters. And not even the second Dune, the first. They're literally vintage."

"What's stomach gotta say?" the other side shot back, quite angrily.

"Grhjdkajdjsjdfoifdiosiojf," your stomach replied. You knew what that meant a little all too well - your stomach couldn't take it anymore. She wasn't even sentient enough to respond.

"FUCK!" you bursted aloud! So loud that the cracked-out girlies out on the street got startled and did a little jump!

You absolutely HATED being hungry. If this experience had taught you anything, it's the appreciation of a good ass fucking meal. You were, after all, a self-proclaimed 'fat ass bitch'. So how were you gonna live up to that now?

You began to reminisce about your favorite dishes, even though you knew it wasn't gonna be a good idea for your mental health.

Bandeja paisa...

Pickles...

McDonald's cheeseburger with Big Mac sauce...plz McDonald's worker, don't forget the sauce........

Publix sub...

Mango chunks with tajin...

Provolone cheese and salami...

Korean corndogs...

A fat ass burrito...

Little Caesars breadsticks...

Auntie Anne's organic cinnamon rolls...

Vodka pasta...

Coconut chickpea curry...

...a bowl of assorted fruit but none of that honeydew cantaloupe bullshit...

"FUCK!" you yelled again. They also jumped! again. "How the FUCK did I go from drinking tiki cocktails on the beach to the WALKING FUCKING DEAD?!?!?!?!??!!!!! I DON'T EVEN HAVE A FUCKING RICK HERE PROVIDING FOR ME!!!"

You slammed yourself back on the bed, ready to cry - both from the acceptance that this was your new reality and slamming yourself a little too hard that you felt a spring bust up into your thoracic spine. You hated yourself for talking shit about that cantaloupe and honeydew. Yeah they're ass and should NOT have a place in a fruit bowl but that was real fucking food. Real SUSTENANCE!!! And what did you do? You fed it to the fucking seagulls on the beach and used it to pelt those fuck ass middle schoolers who wouldn't stop quoting Adin Ross, when you could have enjoyed it yourself. Had it been now, you would've Iron Clawed those birds and children for those two dookie ass fruits just for a taste of something REAL. Not moldy chocolate from a Costco bag that you snuck into Lynch's Dune. (Yeah girl, I'm not talking the Timothee one. I'm taking the Kyle MacLachlan one. I said they were vintage!)

How did we get here?

Well, we'll revisit this question later, cause right now you have come to one FINAL decision - food. You. Need. Food.

"Fuck it bro," you told yourself, tears welling in your eyes as you climbed out of your bed and made your way downstairs to the exit. "If there's no fine-ass cowboy police officer with a big ass nose to do it for me, I guess mama gotta do it herself."

You slipped on your old-reliable Crocs (the Lightening McQueen editions so you could go fast), then opened your back sliding glass door as to avoid the crackhead girlies on the street out front, the sun nearly blinding you solar-eclipse style. You felt like a hostage released from a hole after months of being, well, held hostage.

"Is this what Saddam felt like?," you thought.

A wave of complete euphoria went over you as you heard the birds chirp, the wind fly by, the smell of green grass with a little hint of deteriorating carcasses - it felt GOOD to be outside. Though you have had some bouts of homebody phases, you were never not missing the great outdoors. Besides the mosquitoes and the balls-hot sun, and the occasional dead bodies. But, you reminded yourself, we have to make the BEST of these types of situations.

You closed the glass door, quietly, cause those electric-chair looking victims had the most insane hearing, (making, admittedly, quite jealous since you're sure you lost a percentage of your own hearing prematurely after the introduction of AirPods.)

You then walked across your now overgrown garden, which under any other circumstances, could have passed off as a big whimsical fairy garden with the grass now being several feet tall, little ladybugs and shit nestled between. But now, shit made you feel like you were in a jungle back in 'Nam, circa 1970, pushing the foliage out of your face as you got across, bracing yourself for running into a spider web or a gnat smacking you in the face.

Once you saw the backyard gate, you opened it quietly and peered out onto the street - it was quiet, ODDLY quiet, with not one of those cockblockers in sight. You knew better, however, looks can be deceiving. We all thought those Polly Pocket outfits looked pretty good, but the gastrologist telling your parents that their elementary-school child has a rubber dress lodged in one of their intestines actually isn't pretty good.

You crept out, tiptoeing like a cartoon character or Drake sneaking past Travis Scott to whisper his verses on MELTDOWN, making sure to stay EXTRA vigilant of your surroundings. You needed to master the art of NOT disassociating, which basically meant undoing all your previous masterings of the craft. It was extremely difficult, but it was needed - slipping up LITERALLY means death here. On some for realizies shit. On some getting eaten out by and not in the good way shit. (That was disgusting I apologize - Sam)

As you crept down the street, passing down the backdrop to your average end-of-the-world surroundings with moldy houses and charred cars, you tried to remember the way to the Target. You were shit at directions and there was no Apple Maps to help you now. You just had to rely on your primal instincts of location - which, suffice to say, were usually not that good. But, when food's involved, you could track like a Neanderthal holding a spear hunting a fat ass mammoth with a posse of your fellow Neanderthal girls, you know, like, primal.

You turned the corner, sure of where you were going and worried about your luck thus far. No zombie in sight oh shit never mind there's one across the other side of the street.

It kept twitching in its tweaked state, continuously running into a fence since it was blind with that ugly ass toe fungus all up in its face.

"Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit," you told yourself. Asshole clenching, toes squeezing downward, you calmed yourself down. It was the blind one so girl you're good! Just creep by quietly, ain't nothing to it!

You took in a deep breath - tap in tap in tap in girl! Just walk on past!

"Okay, okay," you told yourself. "Girl CHILL! Let's go okay, one, two, three - oh fuck I'm fucking shitting myself -"

But then, it hit you - you literally had no reason to be scared. You literally lived in New York. You took those subways, you knew how to handle characters like that.

Like a light switch normally does, you switched. You felt all that fear drain out of you, like the shit you took earlier - quick and easy (it was diarrhea, so, not really a good analogy metaphorically). You walked on down, even giving a friendly wave at the fungus girl. They're people too! You remembered to tell yourself, you CANNOT judge someone by their appearance! They're just going through it, I mean, after all, we've all been in that depressive episode/state before. Why hate when you can relate? Exactly! In all honesty, your hair right now probably isn't making you look well-adjusted. We all have our bad days <3 Just don't look at them too long and you're good!

As you passed by, it occurred to you - you have not been out in a MINUTE. All that hubbub and for what? You just had to wave and walk past. This brought a refreshing smile to your face, happy that you were grounded back to your reality.

"Pharrell was right. Look at the birds," you told yourself as you strolled along by, "look at the bees."

Though there were no birds or bees in sight, and the possible thought crossing your mind that you hallucinated the birds' chirps earlier, you thought it best to live in this pretend state. It helps being fake happy sometimes, after all! More and more that carbon dioxide leak in your house was sounding less like a theory and more like a fact!

You continued on, now remembering the area - Target was only a block or two away. Just in and out and oh shit there's another depressed tweaker right in front a couple feet away from you.

This time, it wasn't one of those fungus girls. It was the one who could see AND hear. Talk about double fucking whammy. And she clocked your ass, head swinging inhumanely fast to look you straight in the face.

"DAMN BITCH! YOU UGLY AS FUCK?!" you thought to yourself, unfortunately your instant, innate reaction.

"Hey, girl!" you said, friendly, trying to maintain your mindset from earlier. You waved and walked past, she seemed so taken aback from your friendliness that you left her stunted. She just stayed behind and watched. And on you walked on blissfully.

But you weren't walking for long when you heard the pitter patter of those steps RACING behind you. You whipped around. Again, you were shit at directions and feet and all, but you were PRETTY sure that you'd walked several feet farther away, so why was the ugly fungus-but-no-fungus girl HELLA close to you right now?

"What?"

The girl stopped, now confronted.

You waited for a response.

Apparently, so did she.

Y'all just stood there, silent.

......

................

...............................

..........................................

"Girl, I said what?"

Nothing.

You shrugged, rolling your eyes and turned back. But again, that pitter fucking patter.

You whipped around, quicker. She stopped her running, caught again.

"Bitch, chill. I know your ass is not chasing at me," you warned.

Nothing. Again.

You turned back around, walking a little faster. "Flaka drug ass bitch," you said under your breath.

Pitter.

Patter.

You whipped around again so fast you gave yourself whiplash and vertigo at the same time.

She stopped.

"Bitch," you said, annoyed.

"Ahfsjjdshhuweuifw," she mumbled.

"I'm sorry?" you asked, genuinely confused at her mumbling.

She had a dumbfounded face, despite not having the greatest ability to make expressions (half her face looked like those Barbie dolls Shane Dawson used to incinerate back on old YouTube). You inspected her closer. She definitely needed some Accutane treatment, cause apparently everyone ALL gave up skincare this year.

"Sadjksfjdksjc," she snarled again, "sdfhjdsf, sdfhuwjsjioisd?"

"Girl, I don't know," you replied, sassy. "I don't know what the fuck you're saying, to be honest."

"Sjdklasjfoijdjdisjfids," she mumbled.

"Girl, speak the fuck up!"

The zombie huffed. "SJDJDFSAFIDSD!!!!" She put her hands on her waist, annoyed too.

You felt bad. You genuinely had no idea what she was saying, and it didn't sound like it ended in anything you could just reply with a quick and safe, 'yeah' or 'thank you' to. You couldn't even fake laugh. Awkward. Awco fucking taco.

You two just stood there, face to face. A little standoff, perhaps?

This encounter reminded you of the first time you encountered one of these girlies. It was on your walk home after you left your White Lotus resort from your month long stay....

"Ghrskjdsksfs," the girlie said from behind. It made you jump.

"OH MY GOD!" you yelled, both out of fear of her popping out of nowhere and of course, her appearance. "Girl, I don't wanna be rude, but you look BUSTED as fuck!"

She didn't respond. You soon found out she took offense to that.

She began to follow and chase you all the way home and up to your doorstep. High key on some harassment shit. You had to barricade yourself in, cause girl was trying to hug you or something and you love being nice to strangers but didn't wanna contract bed bugs, so you pushed the bitch down the porch in time for you to lock that door. She fucked up your Ring camera too from banging on the door, so shit was personal.

You did NOT want to get physical with this girl now, but if push comes to shove, LITERALLY, then it'll have to do.

And that was your mindset from then on. Anyway, back to the Western standoff:

"Okay, girl, look just back the fuck up, okay?" you warned. "I'm being like - soooo serious right now."

You turned back around and continued down, a little hurriedly and checking behind yourself a little more often, but that girl got the memo. For a few more blocks, she was out of sight.

You hated being rude, but, that's what being a girl entails sometimes.

"Horror nights came a little early this year," you told yourself, shaking your head, "some people don't have any self-awareness at all. So sad."

Finally making it, you saw the big ass red target signaling it was a Target up above, with some extra cute greenery and mold growing inside of it. You liked the whole post-apocalyptic aesthetic, actually, but we keep that to ourselves. Other people's disadvantages are not cute to make an aesthetic out of, after all.

Inside, shit was ran SACKED. Others had gotten there before, the shelves wiped clean (figuratively, cause the shelves were filthy). It gave you STRONG COVID flashbacks. But, you were not here for toilet paper, you were here for FOOD, remember?

You went to the back, avoiding broken pieces of glass and other unidentifiable and possibly tetanus-infested objects, looking for the produce and dairy section. It smelled of dampness and poop. Not great.

"While I'm here, I wonder if they have some tampons, maybe? Actually, maybe they have some ZYN?" you wondered. After all, no one was readily available to supply you with an Elf Bar, your original being LONG dead. A girl still needed to tell her nicotine craving to chill out. You weighed your options:

Having reciting gums > not having ZYN

Hmm.

Yeah.

Options seemed to talk for themselves.

Anyway, you kept searching for any remnants of a SEALED package of food, but, unfortunately, there was none. If there were, it was moldy to the house boots down and def not edible to most people. You rummaged through and through, over and over - nothing.

You took a deep, shaky breath in, feeling those panicky tears coming in, your hunger more unbearable.

"Dude it's that, it's that I'm about to lose my fucking mind, bro," you mumbled manically to yourself as you continued to rummage like a raccoon. This made you sympathize with them, those girls live hard lives. If you were RJ, you would've stolen that bear's food too.

You picked through the remaining bags, inspecting the see-through plastic while holding it like it was an object from Chernobyl - at the very tip with the most minimal amount of skin to package contact possible. You held them up to the light and god forgive you, gave them a little sniff. When you made that mistake once, you assured maybe it was best not to do it again, the mildew-rotting scent so horridly offensive to your nasal passage that it nearly catapulted you into the ether.

You sat down, ready to welcome that panic attack breakdown, but soon shot yourself up after smacking your ass right into a cold septic puddle of rainwater (or so you hoped) dripping from the rotted ceiling. In just in your "I <3 ORLANDO" Spongebob-themed PJ shorts, you were never more sure that you just contracted yourself a yeast infection. And by the way you also caught a glimpse of your hair in the reflection of the puddle.

And this was it.

You broke.

Your hair looked like Beetlejuice.

You looked like Beetlejuice.

YOU LOOKED LIKE BEETLEJUICE?!?!?!?

"I'm losing my mind? I'm losing my mind. THIS IS SO FUCKED!" you exclaimed, oddly enough in the exact likeness of Shane Dawson's freakout in that one instagram live reacting to Tati Westbrook's YouTube video. (What's with Shane today?) "Oh my god? Oh my god?"

You were manic. This was it. This was it -

But wait - you forgot the canned food section?

A lone Chef Boyardee ravioli sat on the shelf, waiting, seemingly, just for you. She looked beautiful. Stunning. Heavenly.

You feverishly snatched the fuck out of that can, and in such power popped the lid off wide open, the colors of that red tomato sauce and surfacing ravioli packets swimming delightedly. You did it. You tapped into your inner Neanderthal, strength and all.

You downed that shit all in one go, feeling its room temperature-ness sink from your throat down to your intestines, down past that lodged Polly Pocket dress, into the acidic pit of your belly. You felt all your stomach cells jump collectively with such joy, imagining the cheering sounding just like what Horton heard on that speck.

You smiled so happily and genuine, with the exact likeness of Mark Weins.

You moaned, quite audibly. It was delectable.

You had to hit it, you NEEDED to hit it, just like Mark -

"Mmm, woooowwAAAGAHAHAH - "

"- SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECHCCHCHCHHCHHC CRAASH BOOMMOMSMDF JSAFJSDSFHSJDHFJS - "

" - OH SHI -"

-You ragdolled onto the floor -

"- WHAT THE FU -"

-Fragments of cement bursted all around you -

"-BRO WHA-"

-You went blind-

And then, it was all silent.

Your moment of bliss completely evaporated, by a blue pick-up crashing into the Target, right into the produce and dairy section you were in seconds before, in another world...

Your ears rang, you were covered in dust, with the remaining red Chef Boyardee sauce all up on your face.

The entire building SHOOK with more pebbles and asbestos from the roof dropped onto the floor, along with the rattling of the glass windows.

The sound of insane gunfire soon followed.

You remained soldier-style onto the ground, like one taking it for the team by taking in all the impact of a land mind, belly to the ground. Though you couldn't see it what was happening, your soy face was NASTY.

"Bro whaaatttt????" you whispered. "All this for toilet paper????"

"TA-TATA-ATATATATATA," said the gunfire. "PPAPAPAATATATATTAAAA!!!!"

You crouched up, peering a little outside, to see a car on fire, along with more of that loud ass fucking gunfire and people ducking for cover. Shit was a real Call of Duty game. Shit was a real war zone. You were stupefied, stunned, SAT! Then, to the right -

"SCREEEECHCHCHHCHHCHCH BOOOF BOOOM PAPRATATATATA!!!!" More cars whipped around the corner outside, like for real Fast and Furious shit!

"Uh," you thought to yourself, no longer wanting to watch like a noisy pedestrian, "uhhhhhh, yeah this ain't for me. A girl like me is NOT supposed to be here! This ain't my business! War is for boys <3"

You quickly made a go for the exit, only to find it blocked by some grown ass man and child. They quickly clocked you, safe to say, both parties knowing that seeing another person this close right now is not a great sign.

The man pointed his gun to you as he stayed down with the girl, avoiding the incoming shots.

"Wait, THEY'RE the ones being shot at?" you realized, "nah bro I'm good."

"Oh, don't mind me!" you quickly said in your sweet, customer service voice, "I'm just gonna, gonna go ahead and, yeah," you inched closer to the back door and saw yourself out to the alleyway behind the place, managing to casually dodge every incoming bullet at you by a hair. After shutting that shit behind you, you stood straighter, dusted some of the dust off, and thought it best to go on back home and pretend that nothing happened, as always.

You actually ended up knocking out NASTY in the alleyway. Like, unbeknownst to you, multiple of those fungus girls walked by you thinking you were already dead.

You stirred, delirious and confused, like an old person snapping out of a moment's dementia. It was nearing sundown by now, with the sunset casting its glow on the desolate alley buildings.

You rubbed your slept-swollen face after you cranked yourself up with shaky ass arms, genuinely trying to remember the events that brought you here in the first place. You were like a shell-shocked vet.

"Bro...where the fuck....?" you looked around, trying to piece everything together - but you thought that might be too much work, so you opted to doing your own version of the Irish goodbye and leaving without addressing the previous events <3.

"I get those frat boys. Last night really WAS a movie," you thought as you walked out of the alley, looking left and right trying to remember how the fuck you were gonna take your ass back now - like NOW cause nighttime is not the place to be around these girlies. You played Minecraft. You knew the vibe. They seemed to be more rabid and unpredictable, which safe to say, is NOT your fave combo. You could so fuck up a bag of Combo's right now.

You dusted more dirt from your SpongeBob shorts, and tried to fix your botched hair, but was briefly and heavily distracted by a dust particle getting into your eye - causing such emergency and panic.

"Oh fuck oh fuck no get out get OUT!" you worried, trying to pry whatever foreign conspirator of a dust particle that was currently committing espionage in your eye socket, albeit looking quite disturbing doing so.

After prying that bitch out, you wiped your face and to your fucking dismay, spotted red stains all up on your hands. Your heart fell to the empty distilled pits of your stomach, to the pits of your gooch -

"IS THAT FUCKING BLOOD? OH MY GOD AM I FUCKING, LIKE, HURT?!" you freaked - you were quite literally wounded in battle. You took a sniff. "Oh, just tomato sauce. I'm so silly!"

You smiled to yourself happily, slowly remembering that ravioli - the one highlight of this mess. Your tummy rumbled.

"If only there was a cart full of foo - oh my god there's one right there," in front of you was a shopping cart that apparently spawned out of nowhere filled with goodies. Literally perfect!

You approached it, mesmerized by its contents - more canned ravioli, Dolly Parton's buttercream frosting, a tub of fresh watermelon, some bags of gummy worms, some bags of Wingstop wings (with fries and ranch!), tubs of water (of which you credited this random shopping cart being sent from some higher power because it wasn't Dasani or Zephryhill), Combo's and, perhaps most importantly, a jar of spear dill pickles.

You could've cried.

And you did.

But you stopped after like ten seconds because remember it's nighttime a girl needs to GO!

You took that shopping cart and began walking down the scene where that Fast and Furious ass scene went down, now lifeless of any activity but bullet-riddled crashed cars, piles of broken cement, dead bodies, and random spouts of smoke. You felt like just a girl, walking down an average street in New York, living a single, nepo-fueled and quaint life.

"If only I had my headphones," you thought, now saddened that your phone and sound-proof headphones had been long-dead. "I LITERALLY pay my fucking bills, like?"

You continued walking, just a girl with her shopping cart, when you spotted a clearing in some forest area, which seemed very familiar to you.

"Lowkey, I think this is a short-cut to my house?" you said to someone, apparently. (There's no one around you but that's never stopped you.)

You went down into the wood, like a girl with just her shopping cart going through a magical Studio-Ghibli-esque forest that sprouted between two demolished buildings into some portal into the spirit world. Though it was pretty difficult to push the lowkey-broken shopping cart on anything but flat flooring, causing you to have some bouts of intolerable anger so powerful it helped you yank the wheels stuck on uprooted roots, you thought, "hey, things could lowkey be worse? Like, let's just remember what Vanessa Hudgens said, 'Like, yeah, people are gonna die which is terrible but like...inevitable?' "

And people did die, BUT, you did have Wingstop fries, so.

And now, it wasn't just a whole shopping cart of goodies that you would return home with, but some granola?!

A pile of perfectly placed granola sat pretty on the ground in front of you, with some berries and yogurt bits scattered in - just fucking delicious and any vegan mommy's dreams.

"Oh my god," your mouth salivating, inhumanely - a Kubrick stare fell over your face as you eyed the fuck out of that horse feed.

"I could lowkey fuck UP some granola," your stomach said, the only decipherable thing she's said in a loooooooong time. Long time.

When you clocked out of your gaze, you walked on over, ready to scoop up the entire pile, relishing in the self-fulfillment and satisfaction you imagined was what those Neanderthals felt way back when. This little hunting and gathering thing we got going on here? Ain't that hard.

You stood over it, grabbing the pile that happened to be conveniently sitting on a plastic mat, attached with some strings that went places you didn't really give a fuck to know about. All that mattered, was that the stars were aligned for you tonight, the moon must've been in your favor. You didn't need a tarot reader to know that life, well, was good now. Life laugh love even through apocalypse <3

"Man, mama eaten GOOOOOOD tonight!" you bellowed, giggling, dancing slightly back and forth like the fat ass you are, "I wondered if the Neanderthals ever dabbled in a little grano - "

"Grhasjdhfsdsknfjs."

You froze.

Ain't. No. Fucking. Way.

You looked up slowly.

"Biiiiitccchhhhhh," you said, in disbelief.

"Grajsdhfsajdsk," she said, more sassier than ever.

"No - NO! This is MINE!" you warned the same fungus girl from earlier. She stood, several feet away, creepily standing in the dark now that the sun was pretty much set. Let's just say, HELLA liminal spaces-core. HELLA ominous with it.

She didn't reply. Instead, she began creeping closer to you, looking at you up and down like an old man checking out a girl walking by who HAPPENS to be in a tank top. You loved your LGBTQ+, but girl needed to be a little smoother in her approach!

"No. Back off NOW!" you shot back, now standing straighter. After some time out in this life, you learned it's best to approach these girls like you would a bear, if, ideally, you were able to keep yourself calm enough so much so you could think clearly - just stand straight and tall. Stand your GROUND stand your GRANOLA if you will.

"I'm warning you, girl. No means no. I found it first, fair and fucking square."

She kept coming, now closer than ever. She wasn't taking no for an answer. You almost gagged at her peeling face, icked the fuck out, but didn't wanna be THAT outwardly rude. She was looking you up and DOWN. (It admittedly boosted your ego up a little, like, were you lowkey hot right now?)

It was clear she wasn't backing down. Your bear tactic went down the toilet.

She began running.

Full.

Speed.

"Jesus, fine we can share, girl, okay?"

Let's just say, she meant business. Bitch was about to pimp-slap you across the face for that granola.

"Bro it's that I said we could shaAAAAAAAAAAA - "

But itt was too quick. Too sudden.

One moment you were about to post-up with the fungus tweaker and the next you were plummeted to the ground by an unseeable force, every ounce of wind pushed out from every crevice of your body, the granola popping into the air like confetti that became shrapnel against the fungus girl, lodging itself into her already fucked-up face.

You gasped for air, in complete shock, whatever force holding you down to the ground - you looked up to see what actual 200+ pound of muscle football fuck just tackled you. Is the granola like the football right now? Did you just touchdown or whatever right now?

It was him - the same guy from earlier.

You were too exasperated to speak, literally non-verbal. All he saw were your wide ass eyes, gaping open mouth begging for air like a fish out of water (fish don't breath air, little fun fact! :D) and Beetlejuice hairdo, some tomato sauce still crusted around your lips.

He suddenly lifted himself up, whipped out a bat from his side and beat that fungus girl to DEATH. Like, BEAT.

"Oh fffff - uckaaaa," you were able to muster, "there go my Chiro sessions -"

You rose up, struggling, feeling physically and spiritually like a stomped-on roach, watching this man absolutely go ballistic on the girl. She wasn't even identifiable anymore, just a big mess of red gross goo and shit.

The little girl from earlier stood closely, like you, just completely entranced with the very ugly and quite frankly inappropriate violence for a child like her to be witnessing. It was like the Reddit 50/50 challenge all over again. (P.S. so like if you look up what that challenge is DON'T press images like I absentmindedly just did literally right after typing that to see if it was still up - Sam <3).

After he was done wailing, he stood straight, caught his breath, bringing himself back to reality from that outburst. He wiped blood off his dome and looked to you, a face of both complete disappointment and disgust that only comes with a man 50 and up.

Your short-tempered, therapist-diagnosed anger flew over you - physically raging like a boy who got his house blown up by a creeper in Minecraft. Again, what did we say about nighttime???

"You. Fucking. DICK!!!!" you spat, your control now completely lost, "DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH IT FUCKING COSTS FOR A CHIRO SESSION?! DON'T YOU KNOW THEY DON'T EVEN EXIST ANYMORE, APPARENTLY?!??! DO I LOOK LIKE TRAVIS KELCE?!?!? DO I LOOK LIKE A QUARTER POUNDER OR WHATEVER THE FUCK?!?! ARE YOU TRYING TO ROLE PLAY AS TAYLOR WHEN THE CHIEFS WON?! I AIN'T A FUCKING SWIFTIE LIKE THAT!!!!!!"

After your spewing, you took a deep breath. It felt pretty good, you even smiled.

His face fell.

"Are you fucking crazy?" he bellowed back, "Are you out of your mind?! What were you thinking?!"

"I was literally JUST sharing food. I had that handled. I was like, breaking - breaking bad. Like Jesus..?" you knew there was something wrong there. Now you felt embarrassed. "No, wait - that's bread. Whatever fuck it I FUCKED THAT UP! But I'm NOT meth head, I'm NOT LIKE HER!" you pointed at the now mass of flesh and fungi. Gross.

"I just saved your fucking life," he now came in close, towering over you and pointing, intimidating and furious. His southern drawl was in full action. (Uh oh you found this hot little does he know). "That granola back there was a fucking deer trap!"

"Well," you started, biting your tongue like a mom, "it seems you've trapped my 'deer' ol' hear -"

The girl stepped forward before you could finish that not well-timed flirt. "Wait, aren't you from the supermarket? Earlier?" she asks, now laughing, "That was crazy!"

"Ellie, don't." The man stepped back, guarding the girl from you. He was weary. "Who are you?"

"I'm me," you said, arms crossed, unplucked and overgrown eyebrows raised. "Who are you?"

"Joel....?" the girl named Ellie said, worriedly. He seemed to chill out a bit. He looked over to her with a face that read: Don't worry. I know this bimbo means no harm."

During that moment, you really took the scene in - and that scene? This man in front of you with the hick ass name Joel. Joel? Well,

"Why he kindaaaaaa," BOTH sides of your brain said. "No, no I can't. Not here and not again, like time and place," you thought to yourself, but unbeknownst to you you said aloud. Safe to say, they looked at you oddly.

But you couldn't control your thoughts or your emotions. They are, after all, your thoughts and emotions which are usually, like Vanessa said, inevitable?

He was tall, burly, and graying - with such a masculine aura it was insane. The strong, silent types, as your ex-boyfriend/ex-sugar daddy, Tony Soprano, would've adored. His whole rugged look - dirt on the face, unkept hair and facial hair, tired eyes, somewhat smelly...

Then it hit you.

Is this it?

Is this him?

Is this your RICK?????

You didn't realize it, but you were staring. Not in the Kubrick this-bitch-fucking-crazy way, but in the, this-bitch-out-of-it way. You shook yourself back to reality. If you were going to bag this man, you needed to act indifferent.

A moment went by, no one spoke.

"Well.... y'all gonna eat this?" you asked, motioning to all the scattered granola.

They didn't reply.

"Okay slay!" You bent down to start picking up all the pieces. You weren't, after all, gonna let all that go to waste like these bozos would.

You popped one in your mouth, chomping that stale piece. "Mmmm. Mhm. Yeah. Sprout's. Def."

You continued to pick them up, the man named Joel now scoffing in disbelief of the situation. You perked up and turned to the Ellie girl. "Hey girlie, you want?"

Ellie the girl happily grabbed some, chewing on it for what looked like the first time. You were confused, judging, but thought it best to not judge.

"Ggrjsdfjsakjdfska."

All three of you stood straight, frozen.

Another fungus bitch pulled up, arms out and perked up at the sight of y'all - his possible little buffet. He had on a Vineyard Vines t-shirt and a pair of Sperry's. In summation? Ugly. His face was also fucked up.

"Oh, my god," you said, over it, "what ever happened to finders fucking keepers? Y'all getting on my damn NERVES! Hold this girl," you passed the collected granola into Ellie's arms. Joel, getting prepped to probably curb stomp this once-private and probably racist schoolboy, soon stopped once he saw you step up to the ring.

As mentioned before, you never liked to resort to violence, but there comes a time...

You grabbed that zombie by the hair, and began to wail on it with one punch after another, grabbing it's man-bun ponytail and slamming its body onto the ground, continuing to obliterate it's my-daddy-has-a-boat ass, completely disassociating with anger.

Joel and Ellie watched in both horror and amazement at your abilities.

"You fucking bitch back the FUCK off bro!" you muttered. The last time you fought with this same manner and vigor was in the school bathrooms over a juul. Those cookie-monster PJ pants girls taught you well.

Once you landed him in an induced coma, you rose up, took in a deep breath and searched his Bermuda short's side pockets, feeling for the all familiar shape. And there she was.

You pulled it out - there she was in all her beauty.

"Speaking of!" you said, examining the blueberry fume. As mentioned, it was just like those bathroom fights. "Yes YES! I used to know a girl who FUCKED these up! I just KNEW he'd carry!"

Just then, the rich boy moved. You clocked it, and kicked it on its side. It rose and quickly ran off, frightened, as you continued to yell some more obscenities. You hit the fume - shit was still kicking.

You turned back. "Sorry guys, I'm just, I try to be patient with them, and I am, don't get me wrong. I know COVID has everyone acting, you know, off their shit but," you looked to the now deceased fungus tweaker. "Poor girl. She just wanted some granola bits."

Joel furrowed his brows, very confused. "Why would you be 'patient' with them? They're infected!"

"Hey! That's not a nice way to characterize victims of diseases - drugs are real, like don't you know about fenty? And I'm not even talking about Rihan -"

"They're runners! They're not human!"

You turned back to the limping 'runner', now confused too.

"Runners?" you asked, turning back.

Joel nodded. "Yeah. Infected. Undead."

"You mean, like, zombies?"

Joel took a minute, seemingly embarrassed that he hadn't thought of something so obvious as that sooner.

"You know," you shrugged, tired, blowing out an obnoxious cloud of smoke from the fume, a cloud, if you will, "they're just going through it."

Ellie looked to Joel, unsure of what to make of your comments.

It was now nighttime, and after massively failing to locate or find your way back home, Joel, out of pity that you were a bit of a bimbo, allowed you to stay with them for one night.

You all were camped (ew I know) in the middle of a forest, it was pitch black outside all except for the small fire in front of you all where Joel had baked beans cooking. Apparently, your perfect shopping cart with the goodies vaporized into the air, because it was nowhere in sight after the whole shabackle and hubbub. Joel suggested in a, what you swore was, passive-aggressive way, that you were so starved you began hallucinating it. You knew that was most probably the case but would've rather eat a fungus off one of those 'runners' or whatever's faces than admit that. And you would've, again, rather eat that toe fungus than mentioned your probable house's carbon dioxide leakage.

Anyway, back to the scene - Ellie is knocked out in her sleeping bag, leaving you and Joel to sit across from each other in a pretty awkward silence as you ate those gross ass beans. There were some moments you caught yourself about to complain about them and claim they tasted like 'dick', but thought it best not to. But, you needed to say something about this, you couldn't just hold it in.

"How's the beans?" Joel asked, quietly and moodily as usual.

"Tbh," you said, the first thing spoken in like an hour, "...I just want, like, sushi, man."

His face fell a bit.

"But this isn't bad! Trust me!" you quickly tried saving yourself, feeling very quite bad, "look, I've had beans in England. Some say the bean capital of the world, there's literally a dude from there named Mr. Bean. And this is so much better."

He was too confused to reply.

You felt a fly buzz by your ear - one of your number one hated sensories to be crossed - and smacked it. You HATED the outdoors too, as much as you hated these beans. It reminded you of when you had exited your home after months being inside and how quickly that 'touching-grass' shit got old.

But still, no complaining.

You glanced over at him, and you couldn't help but think - man this dude looks familiar. Very familiar. You weren't sure if it's just cause you haven't seen another person in some time, or in this case, another man in so long that your brain basically said: "man = every other man" and that's the reason you thought he looked 'familiar'. But, no, no - you'd SEEN this man before. Did you have a dream about him? No, that was Rick. Actually, now that you thought about it, he lowkey looked like some of your ex's?

"What's your name?" you asked, trying to break the awkward silence. You knew, but had forgotten.

He hesitated, his grumpy ass chewing on those beans. "Joel. Joel Miller."

"Oh my god, you're real?" And that was it - THAT'S why he looked familiar! "I literally wrote a fan fiction about you in class, and submitted that as my final! Everything really does come full circle when you think about it." You went back to eating your beans, waiting for him to respond, which he didn't really do a lot. You thought it best to move on.

"Well, Joel. Can I tell you something?"

He hesitated again, a little longer. "What?"

"So like, I've only been out here for like, a week? Or two? To be honest I don't remember. Could be a month, but like, what happened?"

"What do you mean what happened?" that southern drawl coming out more now that he was annoyed/mad that you'd even ask a question like that.

You shrugged and looked around. "Like, all this?" you said, obviously.

He let out a tired breath.

"Well, there were this fungu -"

Just as he was about to explain, you interrupted, unknowingly, going on more about your cluelessness.

" - Like, one minute I'm in a resort, you know, the White Lotus one, sipping marg's on the beach, for like a month? My ex-boyfriend slash sugar daddy at the time, AND I only say ex cause he hasn't gotten back to me since all this shit happened so I just assumed he broke it off with me but whatever, that's not the point, Tony - Tony's his name - paid for my stay. It was great, I was living pretty, you know, lavishly? VERY lavishly, actually. I was tanning, being massaged, going through a whole cleanse, you know? No phone, no internet. I had a bunch of books recommendations from TikTok, but to be honest I didn't really read them cause the words just don't process, you know? You just need to bring it with you to make people THINK you read, you know? Anyway, I'm there, and who do I see? Fucking Jared Leto! Yeah, that creepy ass bitch! He had his whole cult there, like they're weird Jonestown retreat or whatever, and I wanted to join cause it looked fun but I knew I probably couldn't be married to him, you know, how all those cult leaders are. Anyway whatever, it was great. I was having a great time, Big Ange was even there and she left me her green glasses and I've been meaning to give them back to her - "

"- Where'd you say you were staying at again?"

"White Lotus? In Jersey?"

"There's a beach resort in Jersey?"

"No, I know what you mean. It's where Tony was from, but it's a faux beach. The beach? It's faux. Stops the smell of rotting 'whacked' bodies, you know, cause that's not very resort like?"

He nodded, he understood.

"Yeah. Anyway," you said, annoyed he interrupted you, "I'm there, in my room, sleeping, and there's a knock at my door. I go and it's the lobby guy or whatever, he's like rushing me out telling me about how my stay is over cause there's a cold going around and I have to leave, like? I'm sorry, I paid - well Tony paid - for the whole month and a half? But what am I gonna do, you know? So I'm like fine fucking party poopers, and they kick me out, like a fucking cartoon, down the steps of the place and toss my luggage. At first I was mad, cause like, what's a little cold? And then I look outside where they kicked me out and the world is like, over? Everything ended? Over a fucking cold? Shit was like, demolished. And then they shut the door behind me leaving me to fend for myself, like I'm sorry? Do I look like Bear Grylls? Do I look like 'Survivor'? Like I got this shit handled? So whatever, I walked back home and let's just say: Culture. Shock. Insane. Like, whaaattttt? Covid was worse than I thought! Then I get home, my power's out, my water, everything. And shit was DIRTY! Like as if I'd been gone for twenty fucking years. I couldn't check Twitter or anything, it wasn't loading so I couldn't find out what the big deal was. Like, guys, can we talk about the political and economic state of the world right now? AND I had a blister on my toe from the walk! It sucked!"

(Told you we'd revisit! Now, we're revisited!)

Once you were finished with your impromptu story time, Joel intently listening, he went onto explain after the whole lore of the political and economic state of the world right now, how it wasn't even political or economic, just a virus. Shit was crazy. Fungus, coffee beans and spinach, Fire fly people, rations, explosions, the whole deal. You were tapped in, realizing you didn't space out cause he was just so fine to look out you genuinely cared about what he had to say. And he said it.

A sullenness came over him, and you hated to say - it was pretty hot. But time and place! It just occurred to you that he didn't seem like the type to open up, so him being vulnerable just made you think, wow, he's a human! And he's hot!

After he finished, there was a sad silence in the air.

"Man....covid really was worse than I thought," you replied.

"Now do you get it? They're not real people or 'girlies'. They're infected," he said. "Do you have any experience with them? Besides the one you beat on and scared away today?"

"What makes you think I don't have any experience?" you replied, with a little flirtatious-sass in your voice. You knew you didn't have experience.

"Cause no experienced person would have willingly beaten up an infected the way you did without fear of being scratched or bit. It was reckless and stupid what you did."

"Yeah but I fucked his ass up," you said, hyping yourself up in the process. "But lol you're kinda right. Nah, yeah the most experience I have with zombies is Black Ops. Those bitches give me the heeby JEEBIES!"

"You think this Tony is still alive?"

"I don't know, actually," you said. "We got into a pretty bad argument before I left, that's why I left, you know, to the resort, for some space and a break between each other. So I doubt he'd call me back now."

"What about?"

"He's like a big animal guy, you know? Whatever, his fucking horse died and I literally didn't know, no one told me. There was a candle lit at the vet when they were putting him down and I was like, as a joke, 'guys! It's lit right now!' and he was all like, 'what he fuck is wrong with you?'. He was annnnggrryyyyyyy. I didn't read the paper beside the candle saying to be quiet, that they were putting it down," you said, shrugging. "Really sad. She was a pretty horse, you know? Cunty."

Joel nodded. This was all a very serious affair for him. It bummed you out, everything was so serious and sad out here.

"So these zombies aren't girl's girls after all? They're like, anti-girlies?" you asked, mainly as a statement of fact you were coming to terms with rather than a question.

"I guess so," he said. "Whatever the fuck that means," he also said, not as audible. That explosion earlier left you more partially deaf.

He looked down and continued to fiddle and play with his beans with his fork, not taking much interest in his appetite anymore. There was a moment of silence between you guys, more comfortable than before. You both felt the bond of this shared experience bring you guys together a bit, in this very moment. He didn't feel much of a stranger anymore, and neither did you to him. You felt, truly, he was a man who lost something too...

The solemness on him, again you hated to admit, you found very attractive. EXTREMELY attractive, actually. The last time you saw a relatively attractive man was months ago at the resort, and he was, unfortunately, (but not unfortunately for the gays) a gay man. RIP ARMAND <3. So safe to say, you were rabidly horndogging. He was the type of man that has a LOT of shit going on, but doesn't talk about it, but DOES look like it.

But you knew how to handle this - it wasn't your first rodeo.

"So are you, like, single, orrr...?" you asked, sheepishly, acting like you are so not trying to get at him right now.

"Why do you ask?" he replied, somewhat guarded.

"Well cause you got a daughter and all, like is there a wife orrr - ?"

" - She's not my daughter."

"Damn. Okay. So you're like babysitting orrr?"

He thought for a moment. "Sure," he replied, cautiously.

"Man, you're just triggering my daddy issues!" you joked but it horrendously didn't land, "just kidding!" You giggled, casually and nervously. What happened to time and place?

TIME JUMP!!!!!

Remember how I said Joel just let you stay with them for one night? Well now it's been like six months and you're halfway across the country, in another truck! Yay!

Despite him giving clear signs that you two were to part, (not wanting to outright DIRECTLY say so cause he didn't wanna be rude), it was clear you weren't able to those read social cues that well. (Actually, you did, you read them quite well, but wanted to pretend not to because he was now your Rick and you lowkey mentally imprinted on him on some Twilight shit). He eventually gave up all hope, pitying you in a way. The only positive he saw was how you did all the talking with Ellie, since his ass is basically mute.

You became a sort of bigger sister/cool aunt for her, which you ate the fuck up. You had to fill her in on EVERYTHING: the Dramageddon lore, the Challengers summer experience, Ariana Grande/Spongebob fiasco, Kendrick v. Drake beef, Jojo's Karma's a Bitch and how she's the first self-proclaimed lesbian to ever exist, Colleen Ballinger's ukulele apology, finding out about the Queen's death and Twitter, the Montgomery riverfront fight, and more that aren't too important to mention. You thought it best to fill her in on shit a girl her age would fuck up, like what kid cares about the political and economic state of the world right now? Anyway you two got along very well, she made you giggle and you made her giggle, the perfect vibe! Joel lowkey admired you for, (and found it hot), the way you were with her. What could you say? All those years in early childhood back in high school meant something after all! Not just D grades and getting caught with a cart in your backpack!

Speaking of Joel, he definitely wouldn't show it, but like I said, he began to like you a bit. Actually, fuck that middle school shit and 'liking' - he began to FALL for you! On some romantic period piece shit! And who wouldn't? Besides those moldy Spongebob shorts, crusty yet fast Lightening McQueen Crocs and Beetlejuice hair, you were a natural beauty! Girl you were bad asf!!!!

Now in another pick-up, y'all were moving cross cuntry. You had your feet out the window, letting them get that breeze as you watched the Microsoft Windows default wallpaper-esque landscape pass on by. Ellie was in the back reading her nerd ass comic books, while Joel drove, of course, in silence. You were literally his passenger princess. If only you had a phone and AUX, cause your Spotify roadtrip playlist would so hit right now.

But again, what's in Ohio?

All you knew, was that they needed to get to Ohio. What's in Ohio? Who the fuck knows. Logan Paul? London? Yes, there's a London in Ohio, you knew that all to well when you accidentally booked a flight there instead of the actual London in England high off a Benadryl pill. But you wouldn't mention that to Joel.

You weren't sure what the fuck was up with Ohio, all he said was that they needed to get there. You thought it best not to question too much, afraid of losing that passenger princess spot.

(hey! it's Sam and my dumbass just realized that it's Utah they're going to, not Ohio. Apparently they wanna meet up with the Mormons, not Prime's own, Logan Paul. Whatever same hick ass states anyway I'm not gonna change it so proceed!)

"I wish I had my phone or AUX right now," you said, sadly. "I have this Spotify roadtrip playlist that would sooooo hit right now."

He gave you a side eye, his normal response.

"What song would you play?" Ellie asked.

"Hmm, let me think," you said, now thinking. "Probably like, Lana's cover of 'Take Me Home, Country Roads'? You know, cause we're like on country roads right now."

Joel gave you another side eye. You peeped. This was a perfect prying moment!

"Do you know that song?" you asked Joel. Y'all barely spoke anything personal (actually, YOU spoke at lengths, without being asked, about your personal stuff, but not vice versa. He was a great listener, though).

"Yeah. I know it," he said, quietly. You knew there was more.

Just as you were about to say something, he interrupted.

"But I don't know who that 'Lana' is."

"Oh, Joel, you'd fuck UP Lana! She's like the bridge between girlies and middle-aged men, not for the same reasons but a bridge nonetheless!"

You all then began to talk about music, but it usually involved just you and Ellie pairing up to bully, in a friendly way, Joel. It was fun to make fun of him, in a friendly way. You got so much enjoyment out of bugging these grown ass men, cause their egos were so fragile. You also just kind of found it hot that you could do that, with Joel as NO exception.

As mentioned before, he was very quiet. And you're a talker. See the problem? You were waiting for the right moment, when after all this buildup and trust would, well, buildup into trust, enough for him to open up to you. And when that day comes, it won't be just his mouth opening up!

You also got pretty good at learning how to defend yourself against the zombie girlies. Not that you didn't know before, but now, with Joel's help, you were able to take down multiple at once. You ate that shit up, feeling like one of those hot Resident Evil characters. Joel was even impressed, which made you pretend more like it was 'no biggie' as you'd usually say. What you didn't say, of course, was how your asshole clenched from fear every time you saw one and how you ached all over from fighting! But why would you?! Appearances are lowkey everything!!

The skyline of the city finally came into view. Fuck if you knew which city it was, you lost track. Your stomach rumbled. You cradled it as if you were "so I'm thirty-four weeks today", softly and longingly. You needed to eat. The rumble was loud, causing Joel to look over.

"You okay?"

"Does it sound like it? I'm hungry," you said. "Where's my fume?" You began to pat yourself down for that appetite suppressant, having an addict's moment of panic that you may have lost it. You didn't, she just thought she'd be funny and slip between the cracks of the chair and armrest. You pulled that bitch out and envisioned it was a Five Guy's cheeseburger as you inhaled that faux blueberry chemical.

"Guys, what's this?" Ellie asked, reaching over to the front, pointing to a roll of sushi illustrated in her comic. You didn't know Batman had time to eat sushi, but,

"Oh, FUCK!" you bellowed. "Sorry, Ellie. Excuse my French. I could so eat that right now."

You then caught a glimpse of a rather large scar on her forearm. Shit looked crazy.

"Uh, Ellie," you said. "I don't wanna like, overstep or be rude, I know it's none of my business."

Joel and Ellie suddenly tensed up. At this moment, they both knew the mistake Ellie had just made. You didn't, of course, which was why they were concerned.

Ellie backed up softly, quickly covering up her scar. Joel shifted in his seat.

"Uh, yeah? What is it?" Ellie asked wearily.

"That scar," you said.

Ellie gulped. Joel tightened his grip on the wheel.

"You should slap some scar cream on that. Like, Mederma? Ever heard of it?"

"Mederma?" Ellie asked.

Joel let out a relieved breath. He raked his hand through his hair, self-soothingly. They were good. Thank god for your lack of social cues.

"It's, uh, a scar cream," Joel answered lowly.

"It helps, trust. Once, I was on a city bike in Miami Beach, fell right onto the concrete and ate shit. It was bad, but once that scar closed, I lathered that cream on, and that's it. Now I don't even remember where the scar is. The doctor said it was from memory loss after smacking my head on the ground, but I really think it was the Mederma. So yeah. Get some if you can," you said.

"Uh huh. Okay," Ellie said. She wasn't really listening, instead trying to relax herself from you almost finding out about what was really in Ohio (Utah). And you wanna know something? It's not Logan Paul (Mormons).

"Anyway, yeah that food? It's sushi. It's sooooo good. So good," you said, reminiscing about those rolls. "So good. So so sooooo good."

"What's sushi?"

"Anything you want it to be, honestly. But usually fish," you said.

You took a moment.

"FUCK!" you yelled again, the anger of craving sushi so animalistic, "Sorry, sorry. I just, I just really want sushi. I wish you could try it Ellie, I think you'd like it. Joel, do you like sushi?"

"Never had it."

"What?"

"I've never had it."

"How have you never had sushi?"

"I just haven't."

"Well, you should."

"I can't."

"Why not? You allergic to fish?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Cause we're in a goddamn apocalypse," he replied, this time quite irritated.

"Well, if you do, let me know. I want a piece," you said, a little sassy, looking back out the window.

He then turned to give you a hard look. It was a mix of anger and confusion, the usual.

"You know," he started, trying to think of the words, "you're weir -"

" - JOEL WATCH OUT!!!!!!!"

Joel shot his head straight forward, to see a zombie standing in the middle of the road.

BAMBOOMSD AHSDFJKASJDFKSJSKLDJFAS

He swerved, causing you're not-wearing-seatbelt-ass to slam into the passenger car door, then rag doll as you held on for dear life on the grab handles above as you flipped over and over and over and over and over and over from the sheer power and magnitude of that swerve.

BOOM CRASH BOOFS FJADSJJDASKDSAADS CRASH BOOM POPSJDKFJASFAS

"OH SHI -"

You looked like Jay Leno in that one video where the car repeatedly flips over and over, with Joel holding his arm out trying to keep you down (didn't work).

BOOM CRASH POWEBSDAJFJSAKDA BOOF BAM POWBOOMSADJF

It just kept going.

CRASHBOOM JSDHSIFHJSA CRASH SJDFLSAFDKL FLIPSD FASKJDFSSDOAFLIP SADJFKSAJFD

Kept going.

BOOM CRASHDJSAKDFJSALDJ FAS

Yo lowkey when this gonna stop?

BOOM CRASH BOOFS FJADSJJDASKDSAADS CRASH BOOM POPSJDKFJASFASSDJFSKAKDADAS.....

SJKDFASKLJDFS boom pop.....crash...

It finally stopped!

You groaned awake, feeling FUCKED up your shit was ROCKED.

"Get up! GET UP!" Joel yelled, already having been out the car with Ellie.

"Oh my god okay chill I literally just flipped?"

"It's a trap! They're raiders!"

"What -"

"TA-TATA-ATATATATATPPAPAPAATATATATTAAAA!!!!"

You rolled your eyes bro not again.

All three of you took cover behind the now dilapidated truck as the raiders shot from the other side of the road.

You weren't even scared now, just over it like? Likeeee???????

Joel started shooting back, and so did you and though your aim was pretty shit you managed to take out some of them. You found that not looking and just shooting overhead and all over the place was the best tactic! Let the bullet find its own way <3

"Oh my god, Joel, I got an idea!" you said.

"What?!" he bellowed, very busy with the whole gunfire and all.

"We should make a bomb!"

"How?!"

"Mazel tov cocktail?"

"You mean molotov?!"

"Why are you correcting me? We have to think fast not be correcting each other get your priorities straight Joel oh my god?! Am I the only one taking this seriously?!?!?"

You dropped that gun on the floor and began to craft the bomb with such efficiency and grace, you felt like a little brainiac. You thought this may have been how the Unabomber felt like if he actually succeeded. (Thank god he didn't though lol right?? btw fbi I'm not a terrorist sympathizer!!! - Sam)

Let's just say - the pressure was on! As you were crafting the bomb, shots continue to fly by overhead, blowing comically large holes in Beetlejuice-esque hair. Joel kept rushing you, which you didn't appreciate like no shit I'm trying to go fast? Why would I not be trying to go fast dumbass?

Once you finished, you lit the cloth's end and turned to Joel and threw it at him, "THINK FAST JOEL!"

He, petrified, grabbed it in midair and looked at you with a look of complete awe. And it wasn't the good kind. More a look of horror, actually. Offended horror.

"WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU THROW IT AT ME?!?!?!"

"UH, DOES IT LOOK LIKE I HAVE GOOD EYE-HAND COORDINATION?!?! YOU THROW IT!?!?!"

In disbelief, he threw the molotov on the other side of the car and took cover.

You all ducked, and you took out your Dollar Store sunnies to cover your eyes from, essentially, the war crime you've just committed.

Let's just say - Oppenheimer would've been jealous. It wasn't your first time making a molotov, but something was different in the air that day, because you pretty much made the equivalent of one atomic bomb in that little glass Jarritos bottle.

The light from the bomb was so bright, for a second's moment, everything seemed still and dead silent, muted almost, as the bright glare lit everything around you all - you all braced yourselves, readying for the sound - the boom.

And girl.

Did it boom.

"Boom," said the Jarritos bottle.

The bomb? Yeah, pretty big. The effectiveness? Yeah, pretty and literally groundbreaking. The sound? Yeah, deafening.

Shards of metal, glass, unidentifiable body parts, and other mumbo jumbo flew right past you all from behind the truck, as you all huddled together, still tense from the impact.

If it wasn't for the fact that, as previously mentioned, you were already lowkey deaf from AirPods, you'd definitely be a mute. The sound riveted through all y'all's ear drums, sprinkling in a little tinnitus behind.

You guys crept up to see the damage. You pretty much did more than enough, they all literally died. The coast was definitely clear and y'all were good to go!

You three then grabbed your bags and started to walk down the road into the city, all in a stunned silence. You weren't that stunned, really, (it wasn't your first time making bombs as you did notably do some freelance work for Escobar), but Ellie and Joel had the same look like that one pic of that thousand-yard-stare soldier.

Joel was also quite pissed off, he just had that grumpy ass face he always has, but more intense. You assumed it was cause of the whole shabackle, but couldn't understand why he didn't see a reason to smile right now like? We're literally walking alive! Yeah, walking instead of driving, but alive!

"Uh, what's with the long face girl?" you asked, trying to spread your happiness.

He didn't respond.

As you got closer to the city, your patience was running thinner. The big ass backpack you had on kept slipping cause one of the straps was fucked up, causing you to have to constantly shift it upwards. It was reallllyyyyy starting to tick you off. You felt like a middle schooler who hasn't learned it's cooler to just bring a folder and chewed up pencil to school. It was also heavy as fuck with a ton of random bullshit like Joel's Linda Ronstadt CD's and Ellie's nerd ass comic books. Look, you were all for physical media, but you were also all about setting the bag on fire and catapulting it Ancient Rome style for another raider's battle. You kept this to yourself until then, though, like mama's lil secret <3.

Now in the city, you guys took a shortcut through some random building. You weren't sure it was a smart shortcut, cause it's a random building, but you were too exhausted to really gaf and ask. Plus, Joel didn't seem in the mood. He never was.

You were all creeping through the abandoned, smelly, rotting, moldy hallways, finding out it used to be a dispensary, and thought you could find some, you know, good loot or whatever. So you mentioned to Joel and Ellie that'd you look around and split off. Joel knew you were going to look for any scraps of weed like a raccoon feign, (your blueberry vape died during the battle)

You turned a corner, into a room, then looked around carefully. The place seemed pretty empty, so your guard? Very down.

"Slippppppping I'm slippingggggg," said the bag.

"Oh. My. Fucking. God," you said through gritted teeth, feeling a rise of deep anger. You violently thrusted it back on your shoulder, sore from the weight as you turned a corner. "Fucking dumbass back pack -"

You then hit the wall, as you were too distracted and fixated on the bag.

"Oh fuck," you said, rubbing your head. You looked up.

"OH FUCK!"

It wasn't a wall, it was actually the fupa of a giant bloater. You stood, petrified, stunned - almost collapsing onto the ground from the fear that plummeted into you - you were Wendy Williams as the Statue of Liberty.

Then, it burped, just staring down at you.

"AY DIOS MIO!!!!"

Like a cartoon, you jumped in the air, turned the other way and hauled absolute ASS out of there.

"GUYS!!!! GUYS, WE GOT A FLOATER!!!!!!" you screamed, running and running, doing what you perhaps always seemed to do best.

It started to chase you, it's fee fi fo fum ass stomps echoing from behind. This was some temple run ass shit.

"Feee....Fi.....Fo.....Fummmm.....," the bloater's steps said.

You then felt that all too familiar feeling, down there. And not the good kind. You had to shit. That bloater? Yeah. Scared you so much it made your butthole say,

"I need to shit."

The anxiety of 1. a bloater, 2. your need to go shit, and 3. you not being able to locate neither Joel or Ellie, filled you with such dread. You really did now gaf.

"Feeeeee....Fiiiii.....Foooooo.....Fuuuuuummmm....."

"GUYS??!?! GUYS LIKE WHERE THE FUCK ARE Y'ALL?!?!? NO LIKE FOR REAL?!?!?!"

Every thought raced through your mind - did they die? Did they abandoned you? Or worse, did they stop somewhere to eat WITHOUT you????

"Feeeeeeeeeeee....Fiiiiiii.....Fooooooo.....Fuuuuuuuuuuummmm....."

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod," you rambled, holding one hand on your ass to keep the shit in and the other on that backpack strap.

"Slipping I'm slipping again!!!!" the bag said.

"OhmygodIHATETHISFUCKASSBACKPACK!!!!!" you screamed, then proceeded to grab it and yeet it full force at the bloater's fupa.

The power of your thrust was so monstrous it caused the bloater to fly mid-air backwards for several feet and land right through a glass window.

You didn't stop to check it out, now instead enjoying the free weight literally off your back and your faster paced running. Those Lightening McQueen Crocs were now in full force, in sports mode and ready to go. With every step, the sounds of tiny yet serious little engines squeaked out from below the heel.

You then spotted the pair, and to your relief they hadn't died, left you, or were eating. No, instead they were huddled in a corner, crouched down and holding their fingers to their mouth. It looked as though they were telling you to be quiet.

"Do you guys want me to be quiet?" you asked. At that moment, Joel's spirit died. He let his head fall in general disappointment.

Turns out, an entire group of clickers were in the room next door, overstimulated, triggered and ready to pounce, triggered from your maniacal distant screaming.

"Ohhh," you mouthed, nodding overtly your head in full understanding. You crept on over, now huddled with them.

"Where's your bag?" Ellie whispered.

"What bag?" you asked, then looking away as if disinterested. You thought the best way to explain the absence of the bag was to gaslight them into thinking there was no bag in the first place. "So what now?"

"Joel?" Ellie asked.

Joel thought for a moment. "We're going to walk across the room, quietly and slowly to the exit on the other side. No fighting, no shooting," he whispered.

"Okay lieutenant," you said, biting your tongue like a white mom. This was again your attempt at flirting but it didn't work. You really needed to better your timing.

You three began to creep down the hallway, and at first it was working great, up until two random stray clicker girls were hanging out at the exit doors.

You three stopped, Joel thought for a moment on how to handle this.

You couldn't stop. You still needed to shit, and you needed to shit now. You felt your asshole gaping for air, knowing that a fart was the last thing needed now. You held that shit in, but alas some things cannot be held in forever....

"Joel," you whispered in his ear, "I like, have to shit, bad. Like, emergency. Can we speed this up?"

He heard you and decided to ignore you.

He took out his gun, then turned to you both. "I'm gonna shoot, but then you two need to run through those doors. Don't stop and don't look back."

You two nodded.

He aimed, but at that moment, you had no control.

You couldn't hold her in anymore.

This was it.

You can't control nature's course.

You farted.

And he shoted.

But your fart was like a silencer? It worked? It was so subtle and swift, and its duration lasted long enough for two shots that the clickers took it as another one of their co-clickers farting.

The two fungi bitches dropped dead and nothing followed.

"Did you just fart?" Joel asked, breaking the silence.

"No, no - that was the bloater?" you turned behind, again using the gaslighting tactic. He looked behind, too, confused, and since you knew that bloater was probably busy reading comic books and listening to Linda Ronstadt some ways away, you thought it best to move on.

"So like we gonna go orrrr....?" you asked.

"We need to run," Joel said.

"Don't need to tell me twice!" you said before hightailing outta there, your Crocs doing wonders, and leaving them in the dust, (it was actually asbestos).

Running? Running was what you did best. It was so basic, so innate, there was really nothing to it. You always thought, had it not been for all these setbacks in your life, these side quests that just kept side questing you, you lowkey could've been a runner? Not the crackhead Flaka drug ones but, the other type of runner. But oh well c'est la vie.

You three made it out and ran for what seemed like miles and miles (it was across the street), before you stopped from the force of your imminent shit. Joel and Ellie ran past you, not waiting to save your ass, and climbed down some rubble. You tapped back in.

"Joel! JOEL!"

He turned to you, flustered and annoyed as the group of zombies echoed behind y'all like the sounds of minions.

"WHAT?!"

"I CAN'T CLIMB DOWN!"

"YES YOU CAN?!"

You looked down the rubble - you theoretically could, but didn't wanna make one wrong move and ledge your asshole open. Of course, though, you couldn't tell him that, boys aren't supposed to know that girls shit. So you hoped that maybe you acting as a girlie who needed a guy's unnecessary chivalry could so hit right now. He wasn't biting.

"WHAT?" he yelled, literally less than three feet below you.

It wasn't gonna work. The zombies incoherent ramblings grew louder and louder behind you. Looks like plan B - you needed to give him no choice.

He started to run back towards Ellie, before you stopped him.

"JOEL! CATCH MEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Like a baby who's dropped into the pool for the first time to 'learn how to swim' without any sense of physical agency or control, like a manic person running with their hands up and mouth agape, like a true damsel in distress, you hauled yourself off of that three-foot ledge, aiming for Joel's heroic yet un-consenting arms, all in a slo-mo.

Joel literally had no choice but to catch you, so he did, and your fat ass made him fall backwards onto the ground where it really fucked up his 50 year old, seniors discount breakfast-ass back.

"Oh fuck," you said, like a wounded grandma.

Joel groaned. You two looked at one another in the face, quite close, cause you were literally on top of him? Like omg this is so rom-com! Enemies to lover's type! Except you were always his enemy and you always thought he'd be your lover <3

Time stood still as you looked into one another's eyes. It was as if the whole world had stopped, and it was only you two - you inspected every wrinkle, gray hair, blackhead - he was beautiful.

"Uh, guys! We need to go?!" Ellie shouted.

"Oh shit I forgot -" you said and bounced right up, remembering your shit, and back to leaving.

You three were back to running, since it was not only your favorite activity but a common pastime in apocalyptic worlds. You were up ahead, again fueled by your natural instincts needing to shit, its adrenaline pumping through your veins as if you were the Flaka fungi people. It caused you to momentarily ponder - is the real reason why all these zombies are irritable is because they need to shit but can't, so they've been backed up for YEARS? A shiver went down your neck at just the thought.

You turned a corner between buildings, before stopping again in your tracks. A whole fucking HERD OF THEM BITCHES!!!!!!!!!!

You were frozen, petrified, stunned, silenced. Your face couldn't help but go into its natural fight or flight state - the soy face. And a mega one at that.

Joel stopped, looked at you frightened.

"What? What is it?!" he asked desperately.

But there was no time. Cause guess what? There's now bandits!!!

Then THEY started to chase you. Fuck the clickers. Fuck an iClicker!

You couldn't help but giggle. You couldn't help but be amused. Why are a bunch of bandits chasing a girl in SpongeBob shorts? Like they think you got the goods like that?! What's a girl with Spongebob shorts got? A probable yeast infection?

You didn't realize it, but your giggles were actually audible. You sounded like Pops from Regular Show.

"I'm just a girl, like whaaaaaa?" you giggled and shouted, running still. "Like, leave me alone what the fuck?!?!? This is crazy omg!!!"

Even Joel was confused, running beside you, thinking, 'why is this bitch giggling?'

Even the bandits took notice and got weirded out. So weirded out they actually stopped chasing y'all. You were treating an ambush like a frolicking sesh in the garden.

You supposed it was your brain trying to protect you, seeing that you were in actual danger of being killed. Maybe you genuinely couldn't believe it? Who knows. (I'm not a psychologist I'm sam st. Clair)

You all finally made it to a supermarket, where you boarded yourselves up once you scoped the place out. It was nighttime now, hella dark out and you couldn't guess shit where y'all were at. You just relied that Joel knew, it was your default since he's the self-proclaimed Rick of this little posse y'all got.

Anyway, you three split off, maybe because you all were tired of all the socializing you guys did back there. You didn't mind being alone, it gave you the opportunity to fart without anyone around to sniff or judge, or both. Speaking of farting, you took your shit the moment you slammed your ass on the toilet in the back, where the manager's office was. Shit was monstrous and you were sure you might've contracted some of the fungi since you were so determined to sit down that you didn't notice spores all up on the seat. But oh well. Your ass did start to itch, but you relied on your body to figure it out.

You got so bored you decided to walk up and down the smelly aisles, then found a pack of untouched, one of a kind, rare finds, vintage ZooPals. You remembered that Joel was making dinner, so thought these would be perfect!

You grabbed them fast, then went to present them to him. He was not so impressed.

"Joel, check it," you said, acting as if you were Christian Bale in American Psycho showing off your business card.

"That's extra weight," he said, dismissively and went back to cooking the beans.

"Are you kidding me?! This is some fine China right here," you protested. "Your boomer ass might be having a dementia episode or something not remembering the sheer value of what it is to eat off a ZooPal's plate."

His demeanor got sadder. You feared you might've crossed the line with the dementia comment.

"No," he mumbled solemnly. "They remind me of my daughter."

Your face dropped.

"Yikes. Sorry about that luv," (when you felt awkward you opted to go British). You then walked away. Best avoid that <3

That night you guys ate the beans and left in the morning, since Joel said apparently a supermarket isn't the best place to hide. You weren't sure why - if they carried ZooPal's, who know what else they could be hiding?

You kept walking down the street until you found a car that looked recently used. Joel tried starting it with the cables and shit whatever they do in the movies when they jumpstart a car. Red wire blue wire green fish two fish one fish blue fish.

"Can I drive?" you asked. You weren't sure what got into you, you literally don't have a license. Not that traffic violations mattered in these parts, but because you couldn't even tell left from right.

He gave you a look. "Fine."

"That was easy," you said.

As he began fixing it up, Ellie pointed to an object on the dashboard.

"What's that?" she asked.

You looked.

Oh no.

Not on my car.

"No. Not on my fucking car."

You grabbed that octopus stuffed animal dashboard bullshit, swung and threw that shit so far that it broke a nearby high-rise apartment window and exploded. It was a bomb and you inadvertently just saved everyone's life.

"How'd you know that was a bomb?" Joel asked, incredulously.

You knew the answer was that you didn't know it was a bomb, it was cause you actually hated nothing more on this earth than those octopus dashboard plushies, because every bad driver in a BMW happens to have one, so you thought you should go with the flow.

"I told you. I worked for Escobar. I can smell a bomb," you said.

"Wow. That's a crazy nose you have. It's like your superpower," Ellie said, geeking out.

"If it really was a superpower, I'd been able to stop Oppenheimer," you said.

She didn't get it.

Joel looked up, again, confused why you would say that in the first place.

"Sorry, it's before your time," you said, moving on quickly.

The car started and you three hopped in, ready to drive y'alls asses OUT OF HERE! You were excited, feeling that this was gonna be like a little roadtrip movie.

It was only two miles since you guys have driven and you had to contain your giddiness. Joel definitely wasn't happy and Ellie was to herself in the back reading her nerd ass comics. You just looked crazy laughing to yourself. You were just looking forward to the roadtrip vibes, FINALLY you guys found an actual working car so no more walking no more dilapidated backs no more annoying backpacks and oh shit there's a spider.

"OH SHIT THERE'S A SPIDER!!!" you freaked, seeing it dance slowly from the roof, hanging onto its web and literally three inches away from your face. You began to move yourself away, moving the steering wheel with it and thus moving the whole car off the road.

"Okay, calm down I got it -" Joel said.

"No Joel it's that I can't dude no Joel get it GET IT!" you demanded, feeling like an entity just possessed you with how deep and demented your voice got from the fear.

"Just keep the damn car still I can't grab it!"

He really couldn't, the more you turned the car, the more the spider swayed into your face, causing you to turn the car more and causing Joel to have trouble actually getting it. He was getting frustrated.

"Joel, we're gonna crash!" Ellie cried, trying to hide behind the seat.

The screaming and shouting also wasn't helping the vibe at all.

"I can't dude no Joel it's that I can't BRO FUCK! GET THAT BITCH!" you kept crying, "I'M NOT JOKING BRO!"

"KEEP DAMN STILL -"

Y'all crashed.

The random light post just HAPPENED to be in the way. Thankfully you guys weren't hurt, you just fucked up the car bad. And Joel was pissed. When he's mad, he's quiet. And he was QUIET.

"Well that was short," Ellie said as you three just stood looking at the demolished car. "So what now?"

The 'what now' was actually that you guys found a safe house literally less than a mile away. God finally gave y'all a little break!

It was down the road, in a little suburb. It seemed to have belonged to others, since it was all boarded up and defensed up and the only sign of life left in the house was a infected fungi girl strapped to a chair in the bedroom, placed in front of a tv screen playing a VHS tape of Friends.

You thought it best to put it out of its misery, so you turned off the tv.

You patted her on the back, caring and lovingly as she snarled at you, "No one deserves to be forced to sit and watch Friends, not even in the apocalypse."

You closed the door, leaving her at peace and again, out of her her torture.

Time passed. Joel was about to start cooking beans and Ellie left to go take a much needed power nap in the guest bedroom. You offered Joel to rest and that you'd cook instead. Little did he know how much of an exclusive this was with you, bitch you didn't cook. But you felt pretty bad for the whole spider thing and thought, hey, what's a little cooking? What's a little meal prep?

Joel said his very weary 'thanks' and went to rest on the couch, while you went into the kitchen. He looked genuinely happy to see you take the responsibility. And you were genuinely happy in other places too at the idea of you cooking for him <3 and Ellie ofc. And yourself, who could forget your fat ass?

Time passed, maybe a little too long of a time to make beans, when you had finally finished. Though you were pretty sure all the garnishes left in the kitchen were expired and no, those are not flakes of oregano but flakes of mold, they actually came out pretty good. You prepped three beautiful plates, on the fine China (ZooPal's, Ellie got the duck plate, Joel the ladybug, and you the frog), and went to push the kitchen door to present your dish as if you were battling Bobby Flay on that one kitchen show with the other woman with white hair that looks like she'd be one of the emotions from Inside Out.

"Dinner's ready! -" you said cheerily, until you realized - it wasn't just Joel who would see your dish. Not Ellie. Not even Bobby Flay - it was the raiders. Again. They were all up in your living room, def crossing the maximum capacity. They just couldn't seem to get enough of you and you didn't want to come off as narcissistic but guessed your personality had to be addictive.

You all took a minute, assessing the situation. Actually, you ALL took that minute. You just stood there, plates filled with beans, and they stood there, guns filled with bullets, with Joel and Ellie on their knees with their wrists tied behind their backs.

The silence kept going.

You just stood there.

"Wait, so -," your bimbo ass said, very Trisha-esque, not even able to come to form a conclusion. You were just so confused. "Wait -"

And there it is again.

Someone tackled you. AGAIN.

Not only did your body go flying underneath the massive weight that just sumo slammed itself into you, but so did the beans. The beans? Yeah, they were airborne. The ZooPal plates? In flight.

The mass was actually a man who was attempting to zip tie your wrists now that he had you pinned down. However, he underestimated your irritability when you were hungry.

Mama's hungry.....and mama wants her beans.....and what mama wants...........mama GETS.........

You had just about had enough.

You threw him off with such strength that could only come with a girl's rage. A rage so deep, so visceral and seemingly uncontrollable, one that could set you back on all the self-help and patience exercises that you've practiced. No. That's it. She's gonna pop, and just like the shit from earlier - some things just cannot be held in forever.

You rose up, looking briefly over at the man who's back slammed against the window, where he then tumbled and tumbled to who knows what fate, but a fate just the same as that bloater earlier.

The raiders were too aghast at your abilities.

"I just, I can't," you started, panicky. "I can't hold it in anymore."

You almost started crying from the mania. You looked very unstable, cause you were.

You took a deep breath, but knew one thing - you've been holding this anger, this wrath in for so long, now it's time for her to be released.

One of the raiders caught on and began to back up. His buddies followed, scared, almost like watching a Jack in the box as a grown adult, but that childlike fear still imprinted in your innermost being.

"Hey listen, we'll just get out of -"

" - do you KNOW HOW FUCKING HARD IT IS TO FIND ANY FOOD OUT HERE WITH NO FUCKING MOLD ON IT?! YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT IS TO COOK ROOM TEMPERATURE FUCKING BEANS ON A DINGY LAPTOP RUNNING ON SIMS 3?! IT TAKES A LONG FUCKING TIME!!!! DO YOU KNOW HOW HUNGRY I'VE BEEN?!?!?! I'M THREE DAYS LATE ON MY FUCKING PERIOD AND I'VE BEEN FEIGNING FOR SOME FUCKING BEANS!!!! BEANS, BITCH!!!! DO YOU KNOW HOW DESPERATE I'VE GOTTA BE FOR FOOD TO WANT BEANS?!?! I'M CRAVING ROOM TEMPERATURE BEANS LIKE A SOLDIER IN THE CIVIL FUCKING WAR!!!!! - (you lost them) - DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT THE FUCK THAT IS?!??! THAT'S LIKE, ONE OF THE BIG DEAL WARS!?!??! WHATEVER AND NOW MY BEANS ARE ON THE GROUND LIKE DO I LOOK LIKE TRAVIS KELCE?! DO I LOOK LIKE A BITCH TO BE TACKLED ONTO THE FUCKING GROUND??!?!! DO I HAVE A SIGN ON ME THAT SAYS I'M A QUARTER BACK?!?! NO BITCH I WANT A QUARTER POUNDER!!!! AND NOW LOOK!!! 'UH, GUYS, WE HAVE COMPANY!!!!!'"

After your spew that gave you the same catharsis akin to rapping a Nicki Minaj verse word for word, they put their hands up in surrender and backed on out, suddenly becoming overly-friendly while you followed them out to the porch. You had the same aura as a a 'get off my property or I'll shoot' type.

"Sorry for disturbing you, ma'am."

"Have a nice day, Ms., sorry about that."

"Lovely house and beans."

"Have a good day."

"Bye bye now."

"THANK YOU, YES!! FUCKING LEAVE!!!! RED-COAT, QUARTERING ASS FUGLY ASS BITCHES!! OR Y'ALL DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT IS EITHER?!?! GO FIND A BOOK ON WARS THAT DON'T INVOLVE TOILET PAPER AND LEARN ABOUT THE IMPORTANCE OF BEANS YOU FUCKING SKID MARKS!!!!"

"Great plates."

"I like what you did with your hair, ma'am. Very unique."

"AND STAY OUT!!!!!! THIS IS MY OWN PRIVATE DOMICILE AND I WILL NOT BE HARASSED!!!!!!"

You turned back around into the house, overhearing one of their conversations as they got farther and farther (not only are you partially deaf, but you have super-hearing).

"I think that's the same girl from earlier, with the weird giggles from earlier?"

"Really?"

"Yeah. The Spongebob shorts, remember?"

"Oh, fuck. You're right."

You couldn't help but not smile hard. You like, lowkey did that? No violence or anything. MLK was lowkey right.

But that smile soon fell once you got back into the house, remembering what literally just happened. Seeing your hard work splattered all over the floor was like seeing your own world end. By then, Joel was already untied and had just finished Ellie's.

"That was INSANE!" Ellie said, excitedly. "Did you see their faces?! That was so sick!"

"Thanks, Ellie. I'm lowkey gonna cry now, so those words of positive affirmation do help."

"Wait, don't," Joel said, oddly caring.

"Of course I'm gonna cry! I'M FUCKING HUNGRY oh my god what's that?"

Joel had reached into his bag, pulling out three very familiar containers.

"I'd, uh, hope we could be eatin' this, too," he said sheepishly, as he revealed they were perfect condition, ready-to-eat, beautifully displayed fat rolls of sushi.

You at the very moment became a belieber in spontaneous combustion, because you'd never been so hot so quick, it was just too hot. Joel was too hot. Sushi was too hot too, and he got you sushi?! That's like double the hot! This is Hot Ones DA BOMB!!

"Oh my god, Joel - you didn't," you held your hands to your face, in such happiness and surprise. It looked as if Joel had just proposed to you and the ring was a singular spicy tuna roll.

Joel smiled softly, a rarity around these parts. You found that glimpse of another side of him so interesting, intriguing - attractive. You always knew he was hot, and knew you wouldn't say no to your bestowed Rick, but DAMN like Kendrick's 2017 hit-album he was fine as FUCK right now.

"Contain it girl, contain it," the voices told yourself.

"How'd you get this?!" you asked, taking it as he reached them out for you. You inspected them, you weren't sure if it was because you were hallucinating from the hunger, but they looked exactly like Studio Ghibli food, your fat ass was about to feast. You felt the salivation like those rabies victims outside.

"I'm a smuggler. It's my job," he said, which you swore was flirting-ly but unfortunately didn't have any of your girls around to tell this too and get their opinion :( so you decided to live with your delusion that it was!

You wanted to kiss him so bad for that, you could've cried. And you did.

You three sat around the campfire, eating, talking, laughing, all good vibes. Ellie had finally tried sushi for the first time and loved it, as you went on to explain the days of the Barbenheimer summer. (You thought she needed to dip her toes into Oppenheimer lore somehow already.)

"Hey, sorry you guys had to see me like that," you said, finishing your roll. "I just get like, really annoyed when people stop me from eating food when I'm hungry. Like, that's me time, you know? It's personal."

"What are you talking about?! That was so good! They were shitting their pants!" asked Ellie.

"Lol me," you spat. You hoped they didn't catch that.

"You - you really scared them off there," mustered Joel, impressed.

"Thanks," you said, taking whatever compliment that man could give to heart.

"If only we had you during our shootout, back at the Target," Joel said. "I thought you were a runner, first time I saw you."

"Why's that?"

"You had all that," he motioned to his face, "red stuff, all on your mouth and chin. Thought it was blood."

"Oh, that was Chef Boyardee! You know him?"

Did he know him.

Did he know him?

Girl he was a single father once of course he knew him.

And what else did he know?

He knew he was in love with you, in love with Y/N...

"I, uh, love -"

"- Joel loves Chef Boyardee. He got all excited when he found a can, once," Ellie said, interrupting him.

"Because that's what the Chef intended with his creation," you said, not really one hundred percent sure what that meant. And neither did Joel or Ellie. Anyway,

Time passed, you guys cleaned up and Ellie had gone to sleep.

You and Joel were sat on the swinging bench on the porch outside, passing your blueberry fume back and forth like a blunt (it actually wasn't dead, contrary to popular belief). He wasn't really a fan, but didn't want to tell you no.

You'd been out for some time, enjoying the warm (lowkey hot) breeze and of course, Joel's company. He was a man of few words, unfortunately, but it did make him hotter. Like, why so mysterious?

"So how'd you really get that sushi?" you asked, after some unimportant small talk.

"When we were at the supermarket," he said. "Wanted to surprise you."

"That's so hot," you said immediately.

"What?"

"It's so hot right now, that's what I meant," you spat and took your fume from him, taking in an unnecessarily giant hit.

"Well, wanna go back inside?"

"Nah."

"Okay?"

Another silence.

"You know, I wanted to uh, thank you, for being nice with Ellie and all," he said, "it's uh, it's nice."

"No probs. She's funny. Reminds me of a younger TikTok-obsessed cousin, you know? The kind you're excited to see on Christmas?"

"Yeah, yeah. I understand," he said. He didn't.

The silence continued. And you had to admit, it was getting awkward. Something needed to happen. And your pervert mind knew what would be perfect right now -

" - My daughter loved Chef Boyardee," Joel then said, really out of nowhere.

You turned to him. For a moment, you genuinely forgot he had a daughter. You didn't really like comforting people when you were horned up, but there was no escaping this. Who knows if he's ever said this before? Maybe you're the one - the special one - that gets to hear this exclusive tidbit. So you complied. Sometimes people needed a shoulder to lean on, so you decided right there and then, (and apparently Joel too), that you'd be that shoulder...

"That's crazy," you said. So little words, yet so much meaning.

"It is," he said, smoking the fume.

"My ex-sugar daddy, the guy that I told you about, do you remember?" you asked, he nodded his head. He did remember. "Well, yeah, he actually had a health scare once. Chef Boyardee, specifically the ravioli, was all he ate when he was separated from his wife. She used to cook all these real pasta dishes, so when he was living on his own he was pretty much incapable of cooking anything besides a bowl of cereal. He just ate Chef Boyardee ravioli all day and his cholesterol went up. It was crazy."

"Huh."

"Yeah. And it was kinda weird, you know, because he was Italian. I didn't think Italians accepted the Chef as one of their own."

"I guess he did."

"Yeah. I miss him."

Joel turned to you.

You realized your mistake. You DON'T bring up an ex on the first date hello?!?! HELLO (@ALL THE BOYS IN THE WORLD HELLO?!?!?!)

"I mean, I miss the old world, you know. Like, how you miss your daughter," you explained. "Association and all."

"I'm sorry if I'm a little, you know," he said, "If I don't come off very - personable. You've, uh, been a great help to us both. To me."

"Of course! It's okay. It's kinda hard to keep manners going when more than half of the population are demented cannibals and the other wanna rob you all the time."

You both smiled softly. You provided him the warmth he needed, the warmth that could always greet him at the end of the day, reminding him that there's always room for warmth. You are his sun, his warmth. You're his heating pad, the warmth of a heating pad.

"I don't, I don't say this much. Not at all, actually, not until you brought up the 'association' thing, but - you remind me of the old world," he said.

Your ass couldn't help but smile.

"Oh my god Joel that's like so sweet!" you said, before jumping on him to give him a big hug! He hugged tightly back, he then threw you back on the bench and you felt his member pressed against your leg. He then began kissing you, his tongue licking your lips for entrance. You let him in. Your tongues fought for dominance but you let him win. He eventually started going down on you, taking your "I <3 ORLANDO" Spongebob-themed PJ shorts off, and started kissing your labia.

"This...this is a labia," he said, his southern drawl coming out in full force.

"Oh my god this is just like my fic!"

"What?"

"Nothing!"

You lifted your legs as he began to eat you out, his wet breath on your cooter. He held your foot up and raised himself, ready to press his member into your entrance. Your eyes were closed, ready to take the man from Austin, Texas in. This is it. No Flaka girls, no fungus-infested toilets, no Chef Boyardee-obsessed raiders, nothing - just you and Joel.

Hope you enjoyed!

xoxo,

~Sam St. Clair

P.S. - I'm not actually dead! I've been in hospital. So, almost. I've now learned that sanding your tires down to make them look cleaner and smoother and prettier is actually quite dangerous.

xoxo, again,

~Sam St. Clair

#fanfiction #imagine #fluff #x reader #xreader #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #tlou joel #tlou fanfiction #last of us #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut

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rmd-writes · 1 year ago

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a love note (and some fics)

Sometimes I wonder if there's really anything bigger out there - the universe, some kind of higher power, fate - and then I think about how extremely lucky I am that I became obsessed with a certain tv show and its characters at just the right time so that I could befriend someone who then introduced me to a particular book at exactly the right time to fall in love with those characters as well. And then, because of my need to have more of those characters, I went looking for more stories about them at exactly the right time to meet a group of people (some of them together, some of them later, but that doesn't matter) who would go on to become my friends.

There must be something, right? To bring together a group of people who live in five to seven different time zones depending on the time of year. To create my safest spaces on the internet. To share not just our love for a book and its characters, but parts of our lives with each other. To have them all wedge themselves into the soft spaces of my heart and never leave.

I've been thinking about this a lot over the last two weeks, because those people conspired and collaborated to gift me a collection of 10 incredible fics for a milestone birthday (tomorrow!) - even though some of them haven't written fic for months and months, or don't write for this fandom at all anymore, or have recently been finding it hard to make words work and finish fics, or are just plain busy with other projects and life. That they took the time to find and make words for me means everything and more 💖💖

I've been absolutely overwhelmed with love these past 10 days (probably to the surprise of no one, I have cried at every single fic drop and I'm crying writing this now). So, I want to share the wonderful fics that they've written for me with you all because it's the least I can do to pay it forward and they're objectively stellar fics. If you haven't come across them already then you should definitely add them to your to read lists/open tabs/MFL. Please show my friends some love and read their work.

The Rae of Sunshine! collection, in order of publication (with my very short summaries):

Take It Back (4.2K) by @three-drink-amy

Henry is the head chef at a French restaurant and there's one patron who keeps sending his dishes back. How can they resolve this?

Dick, Dick Dick (You Down) (10.2K) by @everwitch-magiks

Alex runs the craft services trailer on the set of actor!Henry's latest movie. Is he the only person who sees behind the façade?

A deceptively soft story, given the title.

Precious Love (1.3K) by floatingaway4

The fluffiest follow up to one of my favourite AUs Amigos y Migas (aka the food truck au).

Midnight ice cream (5.8K) by @the-amber-fox

Emotional support Cornettos? More likely than you think.

Make it Right (5.3K) by @three-drink-amy (that's right, Ally wrote me TWO FICS)

A rogue little Tarlos fic in amongst the firstprince - a post-season 1 canon divergence that sees TK working in a taco truck while he finds his feet.

a taste of life (7.4K) by @indomitable-love

A journey through Henry's life, told through food. (This one is not my summary, indomitablelove already summed it up perfectly)

Risotto + Melanzane + Dolce (a love story) (16.8K) by @villiageidiot

Alex starts working at an Italian restaurant and is terrible at his job. Somehow, Henry doesn't seem to mind.

Cursed is a State of Mind (WIP) by @welcometololaland & @dustratcentral

A 5 + 1 treatise on cursed coffee consumption.

12 Year Starter (6.6K) by @clottedcreamfudge

When Pez can't make it to Henry's Michelin-star birthday dinner, he arranges for Henry's friend, Alex, to take his place. Featuring CCF's signature banter and fun, and a menu that I wish was real.

Pour Your He(art) Out (WIP) by @athousandrooms

A 5+1 ode to latte art (featuring actual art!)

You can find the entire collection here on Ao3.

#rae gets sappy #i have the best friends #fandom friends are the best friends #rwrb fic rec #tarlos fic rec #rwrb fic #firstprince fic #red white & royal blue fic #tarlos fic #rae of sunshine

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nana-kom · 11 months ago

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Hello 💕 Finally I’d time to write and post a fic, so I hope you’ll enjoy.

This is a weight gain fic. So if you don’t like don’t read.

Leebit’s Kitchen

It all began the day Minho came across cooking channels on YouTube. Ever since he was a child, he'd loved to cook and make food, whether for his family, his friends or even his classmates as a child. It was a passion that had always animated him, and even as he grew older he kept it alive, always preparing good food for his boyfriend Chan. And one thing was certain: he was gifted at cooking, so he came up with the idea of sharing his recipes on the Internet, first by opening a blog where he wrote out the recipes in full and detailed how to cook each ingredient, then as the months went by and he gained more visibility, people started asking him for videos. At first, Minho had been afraid to show his face on camera, but thanks to his boyfriend's encouragement, he had managed to show his face and even create his own community on his YouTube channel "Leebit's kitchen", and today even manages to earn money from the work he does on the Internet. Minho knew how to explain and you could feel his passion through his videos, and his boyfriend could only be proud of him when he saw the work he had accomplished over the years.

For his part, Chan was a producer working in a small company in Seoul that he had set up with his friends. The couple were doing well and living together was a real pleasure, Chan spending his days at the office and Minho at home preparing his videos and shooting them, and when he came home in the evening Chan was always happy to help his boyfriend, finishing the editing of his videos or even composing background music to animate the video. They had a perfect balance and everything seemed to be going swimmingly. Until Minho came across an intriguing comment. That day, he decided to go and see his boyfriend as usual to ask his advice. So he knocked on his office door, entered and headed for Chan.

"Can I talk to you?" asked Minho.

"Yeah of course, you’re okay ?"

"Well, I've been seeing comments like this for a few days now and I was wondering what to do," he said, pointing to his phone. "In fact, people think that the quantities I make are too small and they'd like me to make recipes for more people or even bigger cakes...I don't really know what to do because I'm afraid that if I make too many tonight it'll be a waste...and I don't really like the idea of throwing away my recipes." Chan then stood up and put his arms around Minho's neck before pulling him closer.

"I love your cooking and if I have to eat a bit more, that's fine! And I could always bring leftovers for Jisung and Changbin, we'll find solutions! You don't have to worry you know!"

"I know, but...I'm always afraid that people won't be interested in what I do anymore..."

"They love your videos and I love them too, and I'll always be your biggest fan so don't be afraid and if you need help I'll help you!" says Chan, kissing her tenderly on the cheek.

From From that moment, Minho was determined to keep on making recipes, so he started digging into his cookery books and taking notes on how to make enough, how to keep the taste the same and how to find the right balance between the ingredients. After a few weeks, he finally came up with a video of kimbap, mandu and jajangmyeon which he had prepared for at least a dozen people. Seeing the quantity in front of him at the end of the video, he hurriedly put everything away to chill for the evening and cleared his table before moving on to the clean-up. Minho hoped this recipe would please, and he was proud of himself for having succeeded in this first challenge he'd set himself, and he already had ideas for sweet and pastries recipes for the future.

When Chan came home in the evening, he found the table ready, with candles and the light dimmed from a large dish in the middle of the table, so Minho came to his side to help him get his things and brought him to the table.

"What's all this for?" said Chan, looking at the food in front of his eyes.

"I shot a video today, you said you'd help me make sure there was no mess right?"

"I didn't think there would be so much...but yes I'll try, and the candles are for what?"

"I just wanted to create a romantic atmosphere, it's been a long time..."

Chan smiled and Minho kissed him gently before sitting down opposite him and starting to serve him, filling his plate and placing all the side dishes around him. Chan was a pretty athletic guy and had always had a good appetite, so for a first plate, the quantities seemed reasonable, he'd always been pretty muscular since he'd taken up sport and even living with Minho as his personal chef he'd managed to keep the weight off, so there was no reason for that to change was there?

At the end of the fifth plate and Chan was beginning to feel far too full, his belly had never been so swollen and bringing food to his mouth had become difficult, but he didn't want to disappoint Minho as he wanted to encourage him and show him that he could continue to cook like this. After finishing his plate, he put his hand on his belly and started rubbing it gently trying to digest but he saw Minho just as quickly serve him again and he widened his eyes.

"I think I'll stop here for tonight babe..."

"But...there's hardly anything left...look!" he said, showing him the empty plate and the end of it all on his plate.

"Well...all right then..."

Chan grabbed the plate and began to eat, the truth being that Minho's food was really delicious, and despite his full belly his mouth was begging for more. He let out a few discreet burps before starting to eat again. He finally managed to finish his plate, and Minho smiled. For his part, Minho had simply enjoyed the spectacle. Seeing Chan eat plate after plate without being able to refuse him was just perfect. He could see how his belly was swollen under his T-shirt and how even his face looked bloated, and how he couldn’t ignore his little burps to release air in his stomach. Minho smiled and cleared the table, giving Chan time to digest, then led him to the sofa while helping him to walk. When Chan sat down, he could feel how heavy his stomach was and that he'd really overstepped his limits, wondering if he'd even be able to digest for one night as his belly was so swollen. Suddenly, Minho put his hands under his shirt and began to massage him gently. Chan was surprised but realized that the sensation wasn't unpleasant; on the contrary, it seemed to relieve him.

As for Minho, he was finding it harder and harder to hide the way he found it exciting, seeing Chan unable to move just because of his food and his belly getting bigger and softer thanks to him, made him think he'd really made a good decision. Chan continued to let his boyfriend do the work, feeling relieved and finding the situation just as pleasant, after all having a heavy belly and someone at his side to look after him was almost like being in paradise. Then Minho began to kiss him, continuing to caress him, wanting to combine pleasure with all this to thank his boyfriend for being so perfect. Maybe Chan could become the perfect feedee, looking at him Minho could already imagine himself doing this every day, massaging his belly after feeding him all evening and watch him gorge himself. Yes, he could get used to it and even make it a routine.

Over the following weeks, Minho posted his videos and the number of views continued to grow, encouraging him to continue cooking in large quantities. He set up this routine with Chan and for his part he always finished Minho's cooking, whether it was cakes, pastries, dishes, starters or side dishes, Chan never missed a thing and Minho continued to encourage him to eat. He even began to prepare his dishes for him to take to work, always making sure to give him a good breakfast so that he left the apartment with a full stomach. Because of this new way of eating, Chan felt less energetic about going to the gym and decided to put it aside until he regained his energy. He wondered why he felt more tired. Perhaps he hadn't noticed that his belly had started to grow and that even his thighs seemed to rub when he walked, nor had he noticed that Minho had bought him new clothes in a size larger, and that his face and cheeks were becoming softer.

He didn’t notice either that, without noticing he had started to eat more and was taking more and more snacks as the day went on. He wasn’t surprised either to see that now the quantities Minho prepared for him didn't make him as full as before, and that he always had to add a dessert at the end of the meal to feel fully satisfied. But what he did notice was that Minho seemed even more cuddly than before; he liked to take him in his arms before he left for work, when he massaged his belly he was careful not to miss any of Chan's belly rolls, and he now enjoyed pinching his cheeks to show him how cute he was when his cheeks were full. Minho, for his part, could only admire the way Chan fell a little more every day for Minho's dishes and that he had become a real glutton. Because the thing was that Chan was becoming a real glouton: no matter what time or moment he was thinking about what his boyfriend might prepare for him, or how Minho would play with his belly at night. Chan had even decided that from now on there would be days when he would only work at home so he wouldn't have to go out and his boyfriend would pamper him all day.

Days became weeks and weeks became months, and Chan's weight only increased drastically - he found it hard to stand up when he was sitting down, to get out of bed he felt he had to put in more effort, and a strange thing happened - he was no longer able to see his feet because his big belly was blocking his view. His body had changed, and Minho was the first to be able to detail it. Admiring his torso, which now resembled a large chest, his belly, which jingled every time he took the slightest step, his thighs, which rubbed and stuck together every time he put one foot in front of the other, even his buttocks had grown too large for a simple chair and Minho had been forced to buy new ones. Chan's face had changed too, and his double chin had made his old jawline disappear completely, and his former muscular, athletic body now showed an overweight man far too fat for his own clothes and furnitures.

And what surprised Minho was that Chan didn't seem to notice his changes, he didn't notice that he was more tired just because he took a few steps, or that Minho had to prepare meals for twenty people to satisfy his appetite, he may have thought he could turn back the clock at any moment but Minho had become addicted to every one of his bulges. His boyfriend had become the most perfect in his eyes, and for that he could only thank his friend Hyunjin. Let me explain: a few months earlier, during a discussion with his best friend, Minho had hinted that he'd like to introduce Chan to his attraction to feedism, but was a little afraid of his reaction.

"Why don't you feed him more then? You'll see if he likes it or not?" said Hyunjin at the time.

"I don't want him to force himself on me if he finds out..."

"What if...under one of your videos I asked you to make meals for more people...? Then you could cook more and say you don't want to waste food!"

"But what if he refuses?"

"We can at least try!" His best friend had confided in him, which then triggered Chan's new habits.

It was the game-changer between them that brought them to today and Chan's physical transformation. Minho had finally explained his attraction to Chan, who had pretended not to understand what he was talking about, pretending that we was not gaining that much weight and that he loves Minho no matter what. After all, he didn't eat that much? And he could still do sport if he wanted to? Minho didn't respond to this, contenting himself with cuddling him, he loved to feel him against him, to feel his body sink into Chan's curves, to feel the softness of his bulges and to be able to feel every curve of his body against his own. The bigger Chan got, the more they both enjoyed it, one watching his body slowly transform and the other becoming more and more in awe of Chan. He just wanted to take care of him continually and show him how much he loved him.

Like this morning, when the couple had breakfast together and Minho was happy to fill Chan's plate gently. Chan knew he wanted Minho to tease him as usual. Indeed, as the months went by, a new love language had developed between them and Chan still wanted to take advantage of it, after all he wasn't just greedy for food.

"Minho...?" asked Chan.

"Yes? Do you want something, my love?" Minho asked, moving closer.

"The other day, Jisung said I should watch my weight...do you think...I'm a bit chubby?"

"Are you finally going to admit that you’ve become a greedy pig ? Too fat for his own clothes ?" said Minho, grabbing Chan's belly who let out a groan as he finished his mouthful.

"At least it wasn't me who decided to make my boyfriend fatter..." say Chan decided to annoy Minho, or rather tease him.

"You didn't seem to be opposed to it, in fact, I think you take great pleasure in gorging yourself like the little pig you are, don't you?" said Minho, handing Chan another piece of cake, which he began to eat.

"Maybe it's to fulfill my boyfriend's weird fantasies..." Minho then laughed and gently caressed Chan's belly.

"As if I forced you into it...you fell all by yourself..."

"You said it yourself it's because I'm greedy…and maybe you forced me ! after all you know very well that your best friend didn't keep secrets from himself and that the first day I met Hyunjin he told me: 'you're a lot thinner than I thought you'd be...' do you think I didn't know what I was getting myself into?" Minho squinted, knowing full well what Chan was up to after all, he was used to his new attitude and when he liked to be teased by Minho and vice versa. "When we met Hyunjin and his boyfriend I also notice how you were looking at his boyfriend, he was just so fat too, you too obvious babe…"

"Of course that’s because Jeongin is not a bratty feedee like you, who like to tease me too much and talk instead of having food in his mouth ! » he says while placing an other slice of cake in his boyfriend mouth. "And come on piggy, that's why you agreed, isn't it? You wanted to see how much I would help you to get fat, and see how your body would change ? Or are you still pretending to be in denial ?"

"There's nothing wrong with being a little chubby..." said Chan as he shoved a large piece of cake into his mouth waiting for Minho to respond.

« Of course you’re just chubby my love, but is that what you want really to hear? I don't think it is. You just want to hear how fat you've gotten and how fat I’m going to make you, you just want me to touch you to make you aware of how wide your body is, all you want to hear is that you're a good feedee and a greedy pig!"

Chan let out another moan, this time louder, as he finished the slice and pulled Minho on top of him for a kiss. Minho let himself go, smelling the taste of cake on Chan's lips. As for Chan, he finished his mouthful at the same time as he felt Minho's slim body resting on his big belly. He loved seeing the difference between them and hoped Minho would continue to be such a good feeder, because he had no desire to go back to his old diet when his life had just become a perpetual pleasure between food and his lovely relationship. Everything was perfect, and he knew that his relationship and their feeling would continue to grow as much as the kilos he would gain.

#weight gain fic #chubby skz #chubby kpop #weight gain skz #weight gain kpop #kpopfeedism #chubbybangchan #feedismkpop

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tia-amorosa · 10 months ago

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Sunset Died - Keaton Family (18 Pics)

Most of the inhabitants lost their homes in the catastrophe, but some were lucky enough to find intact properties that were still suitable for living in. And so Marty was also able to find something for his family. And If it hadn't been for him, his wife and young son might no longer be alive.

Many things in the house had to be replaced. But the family was lucky and received generous support. Although Justine would have preferred to do without the help. "You like that, huh? I would have preferred to buy it for you myself, but instead it came here at the dirty hands of the Altos. Hh… and your dad? He can't work as an athlete anymore. His back has suffered a lot, and all because he wanted to protect us".

It's just like Justine said. Marty just wanted to protect his family. While the whole house collapsed on top of them, he threw himself over his wife, who was holding their baby as tightly as she could. The debris landed on his body and caused some damage, which is why he is still often in pain. And so he is no longer fit to be a top athlete. His body has also lost a lot of muscle mass recently. But things should get better again.

Little Kenny is now one and a half years old and is developing very well. Even if his diet so far only consists of vegetables and fruit porridge. "Hey, are you ready?"/ "mhmh…".

The family is not alone, they have a little roommate. The little old cat had a lucky escape. His little tail had to be removed because one of the impacts had sent him flying through the air and he landed a little unhappily, breaking the little appendage. But he is coping well with his little stump. "mrrau".

There was never anything more important to Marty than fitness. He had trained for several hours every day. He had to take long breaks because his body needed to recover. From a medical point of view, he could only be helped as much as the circumstances allowed. No major surgery could be performed. But physiotherapy… "Food is ready".

Everyone took a plate and then sat down at the table. And like every time, Justine was silent for most of the meal. "Hey, the waffles aren't that bad…"/ "You know I have no problem with your cooking, Marty"/ "yeah, I know…. it's because of everything here… Hey, we're fine"/ "we're fine as long as I keep my mouth shut…you know how it is for me as a cop? ".

"hey, honey… I know you'd like to take them all to jail at once…"/ "It's not okay what they're doing here with the others. I'm only privileged because I'm in the police force and I've been made privy to everything. And yet I don't know what this is all about… they could help everyone here.".

"They're probably following some kind of perfidious plan, I don't know"/ "For sure, and I'm sure I'll figure it out at some point. I'm already glad that I can use my laptop, even when there's no internet… I was able to back up the entire archive of the station on it."/ "Welcome to the digital age…".

"I know you just want to do your job properly. But you're really doing a lot by helping the others"/ "since the whole thing happened… There's hardly any crime anymore, but… I miss this work, you know? There would be enough reasons to put them in jail. If only I had at least some kind of contact… I know they have a radio for communication, otherwise nothing would come in from the outside".

"I'm also getting tired of depriving others of something. Look around you… Unlike others, we almost live in luxury. The stove, the shower, our clothes… I'd just like to invite someone over again and not have to hide anything."/ "Surely some of them have already noticed what's going on here…". Marty held his wife's hand. "Probably, yes. I'm glad this house was still in such good condition, we didn't have to do much."

Justine got up to clear the dishes. She had a wistful expression on her face. "I would have just… Really liked to have picked out a few things myself, paid for with our own money… Instead, we live in second-hand furniture that they imported from somewhere"/"but you have to admit, our bed…it's good"/"hnhn… Yeah, sure. The weather's bad, we're staying in today. On a Sunday of all days…"....

"Hey, Kenny, are we playing airplane?"/ "hnn, yeah…"/ "I'm so proud of our little one. Luckily he didn't get hurt"/ "he had a double Protection shield right away…I wish we had gone on this trip. But you didn't want to because he was still too little"/ "I regret it a bit too…I'm going to do some work on the PC now".

When Justine became pregnant, it was a bit of a shock at first. After all, they actually wanted to enjoy life together for a little while longer and, above all, work on their careers. But the closer they got to the due date, the more they looked forward to their first son together. If they had lost him, they would probably have lost themselves too.

Even if the Internet is not available at the moment, there is still plenty for Justine to do. Sorting through folders, looking at open cases and processing them if necessary. But the last major incident was some time ago. "VJ took a few things without asking… . Honestly? I would probably have done the same if I'd lost everything and I was really hungry.

Nothing passes you by without a trace when you're doing everything you can to keep your family safe… The bruises have long since faded, but the scars caused by the falling debris and sharp edges will probably last a lifetime. "I'll do some careful training. At least the arms and shoulders… My beautiful muscles, all gone…".

Marty is trying to get back into shape. His mind is strong, but his body is lagging behind. Although he can no longer work as a professional athlete, he can offer others a good workout. From time to time he even works as a snitch for his wife. He can be charming and friendly while also teasing information out of others.

All is well in the Keaton household for the time being. The only question is for how much longer. Justine is under pressure because she knows more than the other inhabitants. The town and national borders are cut off from the outside world. So far, no one has set out to look for survivors, except Agnes. And normally she should be back by now.

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@greenplumbboblover 😊😗

#sims3 #screenshots #simsstories #sims3 story #sunset died #post apocalyptic #marty keaton #justine keaton #keaton family

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sonicblueartist · 1 year ago

Note

I'm so impressed by how much you write, do you have any tips?

Tips For Writing A Lot?

Sure. I can try to explain it as best as I can.

The moment an idea comes to my mind, I write it down. I don't start editing right away. If I have to do research, I will do it. For me, doing research is very fun and I would love to share what I find with you. Do I need to write something about a disease? I immediately research and add whatever I find on the internet to my story (not everything of course. Don't want to fill your mind with countless/unnecessary information and scare you away/ bore you into the further reading) This also develops and moves the story forward. Both in terms of fullness and vocabulary.

I'll try to fit my ideas in your requests if it suits your wishes. Whenever it comes. I write as I feel like. I start with whichever one I feel closer to. I always give a start to all your requests. So when I look back and see the words there, I don't go back, it pushes me to write more.

I also use translator after editing (I am calling out to those whose native language is not English) It also helps a lot for me to find new words/sentences to add. Or fix mistakes that I missed while editing. You do this or don't, that's do not change what you do. You write, you pour your mind into words. That's what counts. No one can think excatly like you, even if they did no one can write/express like you. (Don't leave all the job to the translator. It sometimes translate wrong or add wrong pronoun/noun) Either you know this or not I am leaving a warning anyway.

If you don't force yourself a bit. Sit down, open the site and start writing without any disturbance/ without anything to distract you, you will not and can't write at all even if you do want to. I know that from myself. Distractions. A pain in the ass. I do that to myself, a lot. I regret immediately. I do it anyway, I know cuz it happens a bit out of my will. Probably because of habit. But I shouldn't. I'm ready to write, but suddenly I go to YouTube or another social media and waste a lot of time there. Even if I go back to writing again, I lose my desire, I don't want to write anymore, I get tired or my ideas poof away. This is when your will, yourself, your mind come into play. You need to stop and remind yourself. Ask what you want to do first. Do you want to write? Need to do homework? Or need to do housework? Or do you want to waste time? Maybe you will have fun while you waste that time, but sometimes you need to stop having fun so that you can do your responsibilities. Time will not come back. It's the dearest thing you have. Getting in trouble is really not a good thing. As the day of your work gets closer, you become more stressed. It is always better to do it right away from the first day than to delay it. (Tho songs matching with your mood or the story can help too)

But first and foremost take care of yourself. You always come first. Sleep at the right time. Eat at the right dose. Believe me when I say this, if you don't eat or sleep your mind after some point literally stops working and that's a huge no for us writers because if your mind not working? You can't write. (This is like a huge writers block moment lmao Even if you are depressed sometimes the best ideas comes from unexpected moments) I know some of best times to write/good ideas nearly all the time comes at night. (For me it also comes when I am showering. Staying in there at least for an hour 👀💦) But sometimes you have to do sacrifices to live more lmao

This is like cooking. You can't rush it, ir would taste bad. You can't cook it for too long. Everything has to be in time. If you are cooking more than one dish, the cooking time for all of them will be different. Depending on the difference in ingredients in it~

I think... I write a bit a lot here. But thanks for reading all these (if you did 👀) and for the ask!

#tips #kaylanswers #i am happy to hear that i am inspiring people :)#that's the whole point why I wanted to share my work #I actually have no idea how to write tips ksbsjs

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slowdiived · 2 years ago

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Canon to your stories as Kurt is getting bigger, do you think say if a really famous pornstar or vlogger or someone said we should kiss for this vlog like as a joke lmao c’mere like would he do so? Do you think he’d just be thinking abt his follower count straight away, or be so caught off guard he has to try and wrap his head around what they’ve just asked him, or not picking up on the social cues as much thinking yeah okay haha it is funny if we do, or do you think that’d be a line because he has you?

break the charm (kurt kunkle x fem reader)

first off, anon i have the next part that will come out soon where i will answer all your questions i promise!!! this has so much angst i am so sorry to everyone LMFAO this is part 17 to my lil series, we are getting closer to the end y’all omg….

in two weeks of you roommate telling you to leave, you found a two bedroom house. your brand deals kept your money steady and flowing, helping you be a first time homeowner at only 19. it was a dream, something you never thought to be possible. people would kill to be in your position and you felt guilty for it, you got this money piggybacking off of kurt and your scandal. not much work really went into your boost in numbers, just full frontal nudity.

kurt helped you move in, excited to be able to come over to a house where it would be just the two of you. he wouldn't have to worry about your roommate or his mom to interrupt him having fun. he spent a whole day carrying in boxes and helping you move your furniture. it only really consisted on your bed, dresser, desk, and nightstand but you needed the extra help. he was happy to be right at your command and make you happy.

and you guys spent the first night fucking until you both couldn't physically move anymore.

the next day, you both set up what you could in the living room and kitchen. a few trips to different stores got you some dishes and groceries, putting everything away with ease. kurt was live-streaming while you were sorting silverware and cups.

"am i going to collab with someone?" kurt read from his chat. "yeah, i got a few set up. one of (y/n)'s friends asked if i wanted to teach her how to play fortnite so we were gonna do that. n-not gonna tell you her name though because that's a secret!"

you look over as he leaned into the frame, a finger over his lips to signal he was staying quiet. you giggled and resumed putting things in drawers and cabinets.

"then i'm not allowed to s-say much but," he paused and took a bite of the sandwich he made. "i'm gonn- going to collab with alexa jones. we have a fun video idea we were gonna film soon."

you dropped an old mug of yours the minute you heard that girl's name fall out of his mouth. it fell and hit the edge of the counter, shattering on impact to the floor. it was dramatic to say the least, anger raging at the two incidents. kurt immediately snapped his head over to see what happened, his eyes widening at the glass and blank stare you have to the mess.

a piece hit your ankle where it had cut a slight dash into your skin. you noticed and immediately started to avoid the glass by stepping over it, passing behind kurt to get to your room. you had a box of bandaids sitting in your dresser drawer.

"are you okay?" kurt ran over, phone in hand.

"yeah," you manage to say through your blind rage. "j-just go clean up the glass."

"o-okay," he ran back to the scene of the crime.

you carefully placed the patch on the bloody cut, changing socks to wear a longer pair. you sat on your bed for a second, your heart beating.

he was still going to collab with her? after how upset you were with him? and he didn't even tell you, you had to hear with the rest of his stupid kurties?

this was out of line. you wanted to say something, tell him no way.

your brain soon explained to you that you don't need to be controlling, he loves you and he just wants friends. plus he is a whore for any bit of internet fame, power hungry for more and more followers. you were being dramatic, or at least you tried to convince yourself that you were. you got this sudden wave of realization that you doubted your trust in him when he hasn't done much to disobey your trust, you were being too sensitive. they were probably going to do something stupid like a vlog or a viral challenge. nothing to worry about.

you could hear him in the echoing kitchen. he was talking about how cool it was that he has met so many famous creators and giving his opinions on the ones the chat brought up. you could hear different donations of people telling kurt that they were obsessed with him or to say hi to their friend or something.

you sighed knowing that you made a scene and even if kurt didn't pick up on it, you know that the chat has probably already screen recorded it and is ready to post to twitter or tik tok.

you are really good at the relationship between social media and your boyfriend. so good.

you stood to your feet and stretched, your back popping and yawn being pushed out of you. today was tiring work and it was only about six in the evening, you still needed to get the kitchen put together. your feet moved you back to your previous spot, glass cleaned up and kurt smiling at you.

"all c-cleaned up!" he giggled, presenting his work to you with a giant arm gesture.

"good work soldier," you threw a thumbs up in the air then kissed his cheek on camera.

he graciously smiled and gave you googly eyes. he pulled your face in for a quick peck and looked back at his chat.

"kurt, does your gf care about you doing only fans content with alexa?" a donation rang through, causing you to look back at him with a narrow glance.

"guys no!" he sternly yelled. "it's for youtube, (y/n) would never want me to do that content with another girl and plus, i-i wouldn't want to do an onl-ly fans with alexa. have respect kurties, we are about love, r-remember?"

you smiled at him for shutting down his fans behavior and he noticed, giving you a quick smirk.

"hey so i'm gonna go shoot some stuff with a-alexa," kurt started, his hands reaching for his keys and green zip up jacket. "do you wanna come?"

you wanted to say no. you wanted to not have to watch her flirt with him like she did at the party, not even caring that you were right there watching. you wanted to tell him to cancel it and just stay home with you, watch your favorite movies and cuddle.

"oh, is it okay if i come?" was what came out of your mouth instead, no thought given.

he shrugged.

"i think it would be f-fun for you to actually g-get to know her," he smiled. "maybe we can all film together."

you were weirded out for his disregard that he let her cozy up on him the last time. you thought for a second, your legs uncrossing from each other on the side of your bed.

if you go and you are completely sober this time, more aware to how she is acting, you could shut her down. make sure everyone there knows that kurt isn't someone they can walk all over and get them to do things that he wouldn't normally do. you knew that there was scheming intent she had when she saw him at that party, the reason she dragged him into another room with her friends. she wanted something from him and you couldn't tell whether kurt was going to get fucked over or not.

"okay, if that is what you want," you got up and carefully brushed your hair, looking at yourself in your full length mirror.

you were okay with your outfit, flared jeans and a slightly cropped navy blue crewneck that had a little white flower embroidered on it. you quickly put on your white converse and grabbed your phone, putting it in your pocket.

"all ready then," you smiled at him.

you both got into his car, shutting the doors and letting the engine start up. you buckled in and pulled out your phone, ready to scroll through her instagram like the secretive crazy girlfriend you were.

okay not crazy, just nervous and upset.

he placed a hand on your thigh lovingly, squeezing it at a few red lights. it was his way of trying to get a kiss and you provided, making him all smiley.

it was obvious he wanted you there and he needed your touch. it reassured you that he wanted you, not alexa jones. yet, you still looked through her twitter.

you came across a few tweets from before kurt and her talked where she had said she found him cute. you were surprised kurt never saw it and you knew nothing about it. people were all over it but a lot of her fans defended you by saying he was taken. you smiled at the cute things all the fan accounts said about the both of you.

soon enough, you both made it to her driveway. he got out which prompted you to step out as well, nervous for what was to come.

in the daytime, her house looked even bigger. you were surprised at how much money she really takes in and what she wanted with someone like kurt who had just hit two million on his tik tok, and a million subs on youtube. that might be a lot of people but she had seven million on tik tok alone, what would she want with a gamer that was in a very public relationship?

good thing you were here and maybe be able to answer your thousand questions.

you both walked up to the door and he knocked. you looked over at him, he was shifting on heels and looked super excited. you giggled at how silly he looked in the moment, wide eyes and his lip in between his teeth all while he had a white bucket hat on. it didn't match his jacket at all but it matched his white minecraft t-shirt.

he really wanted to play that gamer card, huh?

she opened the door, a pomeranian tucked under her arm. she greeted kurt, giving him a quick side hug and then turned to you, just sticking out her hand for you to shake.

"oh my god!" she yelled. "hi guys, i'm so excited to see you both again, come in!"

you both step into her house and she shuts the door, letting the dog out of her grip to run free. you take a good look at her, she was in a tiny bright yellow tube top paired with white baggy cargo pants that were held up by a rhinestone belt. she also had a pair of yellow sunglasses sitting on the top of her head. you were glad she was wearing more than she was at the party.

now you are starting to sound like a prude. normally you don't care what people wear but she got on your nerves too much.

"(y/n), i had no idea you were going to be here!" her british accent rang through the very spacious and clean house. "sorry you had to leave the party early the last time i saw you."

"oh yeah," you gave a fake smile. "got a little too high and paranoid, you know how it goes."

she nodded, "is that why you and kurt were screaming at each other in the driveway? trust me girl, i've been there plenty of times."

you shot her this weird look and when you went to open your mouth, kurt took over.

"y-yeah, it was because i didn't know she was mess- fucked up," he stammered while trying to semi-lie for your sake. "was totally on me."

she nodded again then turned around to grab her iced coffee from off one of the steps of her stairs. she took a quick sip and then told you both to come upstairs with her.

"so how's everything been you guys?" she asked while you threw were climbing up.

"oh it's been great," kurt giggled. "i just hit two million on my youtube channel, numbers are growing."

"i remember when i hit two million," she recounted as she got to the last step, leading you both to a noisy room. "it was absolutely such a good day, i went out and made a massive vlog with all my friends like the vlog squad and stuff."

you suddenly remembered she use to be apart of that horrible group of people. you were glad she left even though she had put them through controversy hell about a year ago.

and now here you were.

she opened the door and there looked to be two other guys in there. they greeted you both and you came in. she offered you both a couple of stools to sit on while she plopped on a beanbag.

"you both know ken and jj?" she gestured to the guys and you quickly realized that they were her friends that she always made content with.

"oh yeah, hi guys!" kurt waved.

"yeah of course!" you try to say excitedly.

everyone had their introductions and chatted a bit until alexa asked what they were going to film. you turned towards kurt and put your hands on your crossed legs, ready to hear what he was going to say.

"yeah, i was thinking we could definitely do a few tik toks, t-then film for this weeks vlog where we do some old youtube challenges. everyone right now is r-riding that nostalgia wave."

they discussed what they would like to do, alexa saying she had the supplies for a few of them. you kept your eyes on kurt, eventually letting a few glances shoot to whoever was speaking then back at your boyfriend.

this seemed to be going well despite the random shade the british girl threw at you. you just tried to give her the benefit of the doubt for a moment. maybe that's just her way of being friendly or trying to be friendly. she could've told you to leave or ask why kurt brought you but she didn't. she was understanding her place a little bit.

soon everyone was migrating downstairs where you followed behind. they were gonna start with that stupid cinnamon challenge that was popular like thirteen years ago. you hadn’t thought about it for years, intrigued that kurt wanted to do older challenges than what was currently trendy. he did have a point, the nostalgia wave was high on the internet which means people will likely tune in.

ken and jj were all over each other since they were a couple. they did content with alexa as well, always in her posse of people she kept around. they wouldn’t stop trying to talk with you, ask you about anything and everything you had done online. while kurt and alexa were setting up, they were asking about your scandals.

“my scandals?” you asked while sitting at the large dinner table. “why?”

“just curious,” ken shrugged. “it’s always fun to talk about the stupid stuff we all get ourselves involved in.”

you gave him an uninterested look and tried to gaze back at kurt, watching him set up his camera. alexa was cracking jokes, making the both of them laugh. it made you sick, he shouldn’t be laughing with another girl.

“c’mon, nothing crazy has happened to you?” jj fished for your attention again.

“uh,” you wanted everyone to like you so they respected you more, at least that’s what you thought would happen. “well, a couple months ago i was trying to have like sexy time with kurt. i had gotten out of the shower and opened my bedroom door, dropping the towel and let’s just say… my whole body was all over twitter moments later.”

they giggled but in a way where you knew they were judging. they tried to play it off, using their overly theatric charm on you.

“oh girl,” ken swatted his hand in the air. “ain’t even bad compared to us. i mean at least it wasn’t anything serious.”

“yeah i just never wanted my naked body on the internet, ya know?” you didn’t mean to send and indirect jab at them but you did. “it’s a sort of funny clip but i got hell after. i was able to like profit and turn it into a whole ‘love your body’ moment, and my fan base was back again.”

they nodded and started babbling on about their scandals. you just nodded, your eyes moving to kurt every once in awhile to check up on the pair. they seemed to be fine, no boundaries crossed.

“they have great chemistry,” jj pointed at them. “people are gonna eat this up, ya know? kurt’s definitely gonna be in the online talk for a bit.”

“sorry, great chemistry?” you asked, your head shaking from confusion.

“oh not like that,” jj tried to reassure you. “just something fresh, something his channel really needed. i mean when you’re in his stuff it’s great, but he definitely needed more high profile people.”

“was his stream with ninja not enough?” you asked with a laugh, trying to make it seem like you weren’t phased by his remarkably rude comments.

“it was def super cool,” ken started, your eyes now glaring him down. “he just needs more people in his vlogs, like david dobrik style. he’s getting big enough that it might work out in his favor, maybe get to a point where he can have a kardashian sister or something.”

you nodded and smiled, but inside you were fuming. he was making great content, people loved his stuff. he didn’t need to change everything up just for numbers. soon with that kind of thinking you might just get lost in the wind of it all, be forgotten because it seems like they are trying to say everyone was bored of you. you picked up your phone, annoyed with the conversation and annoyed that you decided to come. now you have to hear these two people tell you that you’re fucking boring and kurt’s content needs to be better. fuck those guys.

“yeah he’s gotta stop streaming with bobby bud lee, that kids an ass,” jj sighed. “god when we met that mother fucker, i almost rocked his shit. surprised he wasn’t ever in a team ten type of situation. he has those fucking entitlement vibes.”

you laugh since that’s the way you felt about bobby. he was annoying and only kids cared about him, always watching him and his stupid prank videos.

“i hate him,” you snarled. “that kid is such an ass to kurt but begs to stream with him always. fucking weird.”

“yeah he reeks of desperation,” ken laughed.

“did you have fun?” you asked kurt while he sped down the road.

“loads,” he giggled. “i can’t wait to edit all my footage, i’ll probably have it o-out by tomorrow.”

“really?” you laughed. “you’re that ready to edit tonight?”

he nodded and you crossed your arms, sinking back into the passenger seat. your feet were propped up on the glove box, your legs pressed together. you kept your gaze outside the window, tired and longing to be at your house.

“yeah im just super excited,” he rang out. “this is gonna be huge for me, i’ll probably hit like three million subscribers just for having her.”

“i don’t think that will happen,” you tried to bring him down to earth. “you will probably get a lot of views though.”

he snapped to look at you once he stopped at a red light.

“you don’t think i can get to three million?” he asked with a hint of animosity in his tone.

you huffed out a chuckle.

“just not the most realistic outcome,” you turned your head from the window. “you’ll definitely make a lot of money, maybe get other people on your radar.”

he smiled at the thought that other big creators might want to collab with him after this.

“oh w-wow,” he pressed into the gas once the light turned green. “you think?”

“that’s what ken and jj were taking about,” you looked forward, your eyes pressed to the car in front of you. “they want you to do david dobrik style vlogs, maybe get a posse like theirs or something.”

“that would be insane,” he turned left into your new subdivision. “maybe i could make that work, maybe i can get a group to f-film with. i could convince bobby to j-join.”

“wouldn’t be hard,” you mumbled through gritted teeth.

you felt worn out for the day, wanting to just lay in bed and fall asleep, forget that any of this was happening. you wished kurt would go home, edit his video there. you were getting fed up with him, mad that he always needed more and could never settle for his perfectly balanced life. always driving, always streaming, always gaming, never just living his life. he obviously had you and you were his life outside of his job, but it seemed like if you left, he wouldn’t care. he’d be upset that he didn’t have you to make relationship content with, not that he didn’t have someone to love him anymore. he’d be sad that he didn’t have some girl giving him immediate attention all the time, not the fact that he would be losing you.

maybe you did need time away from each other, learn to heal the lacking parts of your relationship.

you decided to brush those thoughts away once you got in the driveway, getting out and stomping to your door. you jiggled the key and let the two of you inside, plopping the keys on the side table you had gotten from ikea. you immediately walked to your room and pulled off your jeans, putting on sweatpants that were laid out on the floor. you didn’t realize they were kurt’s until you snuggled into your pillows, getting annoyed that his shit was always with you and always around. couldn’t even quickly put on on sweatpants without the thought of him.

you were soon groaning at yourself for being so snippy in your head about kurt. just hours ago you were making sure that he was still yours, checking up on him and shooting alexa weird looks. you loved him so deeply and yet here you were, always making him the problem when in reality it was you.

you didn’t have to waste your day at her house, you didn’t have to listen to ken and jj insult you in their twisted way. you did it because you were jealous.

“ugh!” you yelled, your arms throwing themselves outwards.

“what’s wrong?” kurt asked when picking up his laptop from the floor.

“just a bad day,” you mumbled without realizing what you said.

“a bad day?” his face scrunched up.

you shot up in panic, nervous that if you told him, he would brush it off, think that you were crazy or something. yet, you were sick of lying to him about how you felt until it was too late.

“i-uh,” his vision was still locked on you, it made your heart thump. “just wasn’t very fun for me.”

“oh,” he put the laptop on the edge of the bed. “t-thought that you were having a great time talking to the guys.”

“yeah listening to them insult me and basically telling me that alexa was going to be the best thing for your channel,” you laid back down and stared at your white ceiling. “great time talking, huh?”

kurt laughed, “she is gonna be the best thing for my channel.”

you sat up for the second time. you boiled with anger, your heart racing. he looked at you like he didn’t understand what just came out of his mouth.

“i thought i was but whatever,” you dug yourself under your covers. “i am just gonna go to sleep.”

“it’s only like seven,” he pointed out.

“goodnight kurt, have fun editing.”

with that you went to sleep.

as you awoke, kurt wasn’t in the room. you looked around, head poking from your comforter trying to find a trace of him. he was just gone.

you checked your phone to see if he messaged you. it’s not like he was in the living room, you didn’t even have a couch yet. you dug through notifications until you saw his name. you quickly clicked on the text, opening up to your conversation.

kurt 💙: hey i went home 2nite, needed to use my desktop

you growled at the fact that it wasn’t even because you were upset with him. he probably didn’t even care and was telling himself you were in a mood. you opened instagram, scrolling through stories and pictures. kurt uploaded the vlog an hour before you woke up, you decided that you were gonna watch after seeing him post about it to his story.

the video started out normal, they were giggling about how they were so excited to film with each other. alexa bringing up that she was a fan and kurt awkwardly saying that he was a fan as well. you cringed at the fact that people were gonna make fun of him for saying that, probably making jokes about him paying for her services. you just kept watching him do the stupid challenges, bringing the camera close to her face or to his. you had to admit the editing on the video was some of his best work, finding yourself giggling at the jump cuts and over usage of sound effects.

then one single frame ripped your heart into two.

with cinnamon in his mouth and a spoonful heading to hers, she said it would be funny if they kissed with the cinnamon in their mouths.

and she took the spoon, shoving it in her cavity and pecking his lips. they soon swallowed and started coughing.

you scrolled through the comments, checking to see what everyone was saying.

kurtssword69: bruh can’t believe (y/n) let him post this

unkle kunkle: are (y/n) and kurt broken up?

(y/n) slut: wait this is so weird.

you had just been cheated on and you were in the room with no idea.

#kurt kunkle #kurt kunkle fanfiction #kurt kunkle fic #kurt kunkle x fem reader #kurt kunkle x reader #kurtsworld96 #spree movie #joe keery #spree #kurt kunkle/reader

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brokestminimalist · 3 years ago

Text

Broke Laundry: updated 2021

For the time being, let's skip talking about how almost all of us have too many clothes. The clothes that you have get dirty, and must be washed. I am going to assume you have access to a modern washing machine, either at your house or a laundromat. We'll call step one sorting:

Sorting: Ain’t nobody got time for this. This is an extra chore that is 99% not necessary. Unless you have specialty fabrics or are particular about how white your whites are, it’s just added stress and a waste of time. I don't actually own any white clothes anymore, but if I did I'd run a load of whites with a cup of bleach once a month. I do not own things that can’t survive the washing machine, either. No delicates, no dry cleaning. I wash towels with clothes, and sheets together with bedspreads. Cleaning rags and towels have their own basket and get washed when it gets full.

Laundry Detergent: Avoid the very cheapest for the sake of your darks, but there is no need to spring for the most expensive thing on the shelf. In fact, I make laundry detergent from one part washing soda, one part Borax, and one part soap. A double batch is enough detergent to last three months for a single person. Good recipes can be had all over the internet, so go forth and find yourself one. If you’re washing in cold water and your tap water is very cold, such as in the winter, you may find it necessary to stir your homemade detergent into a cup of hot water before putting it into the machine. Out of detergent? A spoonful of dish soap will do in a pinch. Regardless of whether you’re using store bought or homemade, don’t use too much detergent; it’s bad for the machine, the environment, and your clothes. We do not want to buy new clothes until we absolutely have to, right? Right.

Fabric Softener: I recently saw a headline about how Millennials are killing the fabric softener industry. The truth is, they are prioritizing groceries and lights over luxuries like Downy. If you must have it and can afford it, go ahead. Measure carefully but don’t dilute unless the package says so. Fabric softener sheets are a good alternative, if you are using a dryer. Here at Brokest Minimalist, we use a Downy ball with white vinegar in it. The vinegar cuts soap residue, softens most fabrics, and is much cheaper. Plus it’s versatile enough to be used for cleaning as well. An added bonus is that it doesn’t reduce the absorbency of your towels like regular fabric softener does.

Water: Set your washer on Tap Cold. Yes, really. Unless your clothes are very greasy, almost anything can be washed in cold water and will get just as clean. It isn’t so much the temperature of the water or even the detergent that does the washing, as much as it is the action of the clothes rubbing against each other inside the machine. Anything that’s machine washable can be washed in cold water, period.

Settings: On our machine at home, clothes go on “casual” and sheets/bedspreads on “heavy duty”. Don’t stress too much about this. Choose a water level that is appropriate to how full the machine is, add your stuff, and go ahead.

Drying: Here at Brokest Minimalist, we don’t dry anything in the dryer. Why? Because air dries stuff for free, that’s why. Clothes dryers are one of the most frivolous uses of electricity in the modern world. They are also one of the number one causes of fire in the United States, after candles and cooking fires. Unless you are in a huge hurry, hang your clothes to dry. Outdoors if possible, as sun dried clothing smells much better than any fabric softener does. You don’t even have to spend all afternoon pinning stuff to a clothesline like your great-grandma did, either! Our system is beautiful in its simplicity. We take our clothes out of the washing machine, hang them on clothes hangers, and then hang the hangers on the clothesline. If you have a smooth line, tie knots in it or use clothespins to keep stuff from sliding back and forth in the breeze. If you don’t have a line, put one up or buy a portable or retractable one. In summer your clothes will be dry within an hour in direct sunlight, which is a comparable time to many dryers. If it’s raining, you can hang them indoors over curtain rods, from your mantel, or on your shower curtain rod. Even if it’s freezing outside, in direct sunlight your clothes will dry within a few hours. For free. No kidding. And UV light is a great sanitizer if you’re worried about germs! Here we hang our and towels and unmentionables on racks purchased from Amazon, such as this and this. Another tidbit we have figured out, is that there is no need to wait until daylight to hang your clothes. In the old days it was nigh unheard of, but there’s no harm. The morning dew won’t make your wet clothes wetter. Do you work nights? Do a load of laundry after you get home from work and hang it out to dry, even if it’s midnight. It will be dry by lunchtime tomorrow. This saves wear and tear on your clothes, it saves electricity, it won’t create extra static like the dryer, and hanging stuff is kind of a nice, meditative way to spend a few minutes. Take some deep breaths of fresh air, reflect on your day, let go of some anxiety.

Does all of this sound too complicated? Written down it’s a lot, but let us take you through a load of laundry we just did. For the record, it is currently one o'clock in the morning. It’s 31 degrees outside.

1) Put clothes in washer. Not sorted, just all the clothes in the hamper or off your floordrobe, dumped into the washing machine.

2) It’s cold out, so put a tablespoon of detergent into a cup of hot water and stir. Pour in washer. Put white vinegar in Downy ball, toss in washer.

3) Push start button and go do something else. Read, take a nap, cook, clean bathroom. Write a long-winded Tumblr post. Whatever.

4) When load is done, hang everything on hangers/racks still wet. This is the longest part, and it takes 5-7 minutes, max. You can do it while watching tv or listening to music.

5) Carry your hung up clothes outdoors to the clothesline and hang them up, or to whatever indoor location you have deemed fit if it is raining.

These will be dry in a few hours except for very heavy things like thing hoodies or jeans, those may take longer. Yes, even if it’s cool outside. As long as there is direct sunlight, they will dry. When you’re ready, bring them in. All the clothes are already on hangers, so just stick them in your closet.

Once upon a time we had a lot of drama about laundry. We had fights over whose turn it was, how much Tide to put in, and who was going to clean the lint trap. When the dryer broke, I absolutely agonized over the three hundred dollars it would take to buy a new one. That three hundred dollars meant going without cable for two months, it meant scrimping for groceries and paying a late fee on the phone bill. It was more than an entire paycheck, just to dry clothes!

Today that same dryer is sitting in our laundry room in disuse. We have it, for emergencies. A drink spilled on a work shirt, perhaps, that needs to be worn in 30 minutes. It’s good for fluffing up pillows, on the no-heat setting. It wasn’t worth the stress or the tears or the three hundred dollars we put into it all those years ago. It’s basically a glorified shelf for our detergent now:

So today, I challenge you, broke person. Don’t wear those grungy jeans for one more day. Do a load of laundry, as frugally as you can. Measure your detergent carefully, hang your clothes to dry. Your clothes will last longer, your utility bill will be lower, and you will have a few minutes of peace and quiet outside. It’s less wear and tear, less electricity, and less stress, and that’s a minimalist win.

If you do choose to dry your clothes in a dryer, beware of over-drying as that can cause static and extra wear and tear on your clothes. Clean out your lint trap, it will make your clothes dry faster and reduce the risk of fire. If you are too broke to have dryer sheets, wool dryer balls are pretty cheap and effective for fabric softening and reducing static. We have also heard that you could use tennis balls or a couple balls of wadded up aluminum foil for this purpose.

Happy washing!

Some links: homemade detergent at TSD, and Mr. Electricity’s opinion on dryers.

#minimalism #laundry #energysaving #ecofriendly #broke #frugal

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madfantasy · 4 years ago

Text

Dear blogging

It's very draining to expect, nd met with silence, by any angle of life.

I want to always bring pleasure

But idk, I continue to be too tired that I don't feel anything..

Last month I wanted to take a full month break and just chill. "They" did payed for the expensive Internet service for once but still I had to open commissions to hopefully and eventually did to pay for groceries, and/or to treat my equally depressed siblings with burgers we first time got. They were awful c':

This month too, refused to pay it, nd me running their bank accounts for them I know that they didn't have much so I payed it yesterday. . their excuse this time? they payed the rent for the empty house next door.. yeah. The house that they rented so no one with 11 kids can live by us. Now I have to gather up for the next one soon. Nd idk.. i feel I can't put out anymore creatively while I'm just on a stressed race to do commissions and still make time to do my own work nd catch up. Like, one colored character with background alone takes me a week to finish. And I try to do my best to be fast by skip living, basically. And by the time I finish, the month was gone nd I didn't get to use the Internet for anything. So I can't see the point of paying it beside making my sibs happy.. (Also I couldn't fix my phone and the lack of notifications enforced that I'm more disconnected tbh)

I wish to be able to save the fruit of my labour for myself without feeling guilty, nd not dish it all out on one thing for an entire family of 8 ppl. Like, yeah what i gather in a month is basically nothing. So they be pressuring me to do something about it and suggest to make my art more lovable nd get more followers nd views and whatever???? While me been trying for years before hand all in secret without mentioning them keep stopping me from talking to ppl online.. nd now I see the numbers on my accounts keeps reflecting that I am indeed failing, nd nothing is working nd I'm just horrible... I don't want to tell people to do what they won't, thats why I took off that 'support me' banner, to like and reblog or follow and whatever.. I feel its only natural to do these things if u like something, or it's just my expectations again that I shouldn't be having

Remember me getting new perfume? To me, it was heaven by smell each time I spray tbh. Yeah they hate it, too. They kept rasing hek on me for using it. On the plus side, every time I came they shoo me off cuz it was suffocating them, so the arguments lessened drastically with this innocent reasoning; they can't talk to me while I'm wearing perfume, and not cuz I don't want to hear it. So naturally i wore it all the time.. sacrificing the only "love" gesture i can give and sometimes receive from them; that morning "awkward hug".. I'm more emptier than ever, tbh..

Anyway..

I'm drawing my bois now, feeling splinded peace.. the euphoria of drawing them again never hit more true.. I mean my characters (a.k.a art) are the embodiment of my aliveness. Just seeing their faces take final form fills me with happiness.. happiness that can make me forget and feel. They r not just drawings, they accompanied my life, ya know. And it's funny to me that when I made them, they were older than me, now I'm older than them. I smile remembering how I used to seeing them surround me at school, how they made diverse remarks on subjects, people and things. Or when I'm upset, act upon or say the things I can't and/or never would. Never directly to me, just.. projected from me but not necessary for me. How they only exist in the limits of my imagination, nd how I am –too– only ever been at the limits of 4 walls, we can't exist without each other. A form of expression that isn't related to me that im so grateful to have.. even if art frustrated me for 80% of the time of making, but when it works, it is an enternal regenerative source of everything one can wish of inspiration, motivation and more.. it is why i do it and wish to do more of.. god just give me those intensive feels

without it I'm probably just an expressionless statue.. I'm trying to practice nd change my zombie voice these days, actually hehe

Axel need lots more work but now let's wonder what they r up to

It's been forever that I used words and my basic human intelligence to make them, heh. I'm grateful I can spew my vent-like updates here.

I wish you ease and joy everyday my dears. Thabk you for your kindness towards Mani, all my love and prayers 🍀💛

5.4.2021 2 a.m.

#text #drawing journey #diary #art #artists on tumblr #oc

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notebookmuseum · 5 years ago

Text

Journaling When Your Life Feels Too Boring

(This is something of a departure from my usual posts here, but I figured I'd suggest some journal prompts for anyone who needs them ☺️)

So I read a lot about people who want to take up journaling, but are too intimidated by it. One of the most common reasons is they have nothing to write about - your life is dreadfully boring and nothing fun or exciting ever happens to you anymore. (Cue the "I'm being attacked" from millennials and generation z)

If you hate the tired old advice of writing about your day or complaining about your relationship troubles, maybe I can help. And I should know, I have an embarrassingly large plastic storage box in my room full of roughly 20 years' worth of journals.

The most important thing is that you're journaling for YOU, not for Tumblr or Instagram or YouTube. It's okay if you don't journal every day or if your notebook looks like it got run over by a car, as long as you're actually using it. Nice but empty, unused notebooks make people sad :(

1. Pretend you're a space alien - I can't take full credit for this one, I got the idea from an art journaling guide I found at a secondhand bookstore. If you try to describe your everyday life to a Martian (or some other nonhuman being like a robot or an ogre or a ghost from 17th-century France), it's going to look a LOT less boring.

2. Useless trivia and history - A side effect of #1 is that your imaginary audience might start asking questions about where things come from or why certain human practices are the way they are. If you're anything like me, you'll probably start Googling out of curiosity and wind up down a one-hour Wikipedia hole about liberation theology or bleeding heart doves or ruby chocolate. You can't go wrong with writing about the weird or neat things you've learned.

3. Describe your hobby - No, I'm not just talking about the usual like book or movie reviews. Go into really fun stuff you can't find on Wikipedia, like hobby in-jokes or shipping (or how silly you think shipping is) or petty internet drama. This has the added bonus of you secretly laughing (or losing faith in humanity) from all the dumb things going on while you're too busy swooning over Chris Evans or Taylor Swift.

Note: If you're REALLY clueless about what to write, the nuclear option is to take a random TV show or movie you're into right now... and look it up on tvtropes.org. I apologize for everything that comes after.

5. Moderate your greed (with apologies to early 2000s Philippine politics) - Agonizing over those fancy shoes you'd been eyeing in the mall? Arguing with yourself over getting the latest iPhone? You can try getting to the bottom of those desires by journaling about that thing you want or why you want it. This can help you come up with reasons to quell those desires - or backfire completely and accidentally convince yourself to buy it after all. Exercise with great caution.

4. Why aren't you doing _____ - Lets face it: we all procrastinate. So be honest and write about the secret, shameful reasons why. The __ can be as simple as why you haven't washed the dishes yet, or something big like why you still haven't gone backpacking through Asia like you always dreamed of.

6. My toes, my knees, my shoulders, my head - This is a common mindfulness exercise to help you calm down when you're stressed: sit quietly for a moment and do a mental inventory of how you're physically feeling right now. Has that small cut on your leg healed yet? Do you need a haircut? Do you feel like crap because you haven't been getting enough sleep? Go ahead and complain about all those things on paper.

Trigger warning: For those of you struggling with body image issues, this prompt might have the side effect of dredging up all those old insecurities. Be very cautious when approaching those thought processes, and remember to take care of yourself.

7. Don't write at all - You probably have a spot in your house full of things you can't quite bring yourself to throw away: movie tickets, family photos, bus tickets, shopping lists, post-its from the office, a wrapper or label from the sweets your aunt brought home as pasalubong. Or you probably make stick figure doodles all the time about all the gruesome things you want to do to your boss. All of those can find a place in your journal. Journaling doesn't have to be just writing; it's meant to be good for you, not to make you even more stressed or pressured.

Note: "Pasalubong" is a Filipino word for gifts your friends and relatives take home from their travels, like t-shirts or fancy chocolate or bottles of lotion and perfume. Yeah, this is really common in Philippine culture, you can look up the (sometimes tragic) history of Overseas Filipino Workers (OFWs) for context.

#notebooks #journals #journaling #journal prompts #notebookmuseum

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xxisxxisxxis · 5 years ago

Text

Gateway Drug | Part Sixty-Three

Words: 4.8K

Warning(s): explicit language, violence, angst

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"Viv?" I barely hear her voice as Tansy gently nudges at my shoulder, worriedly, while I'm staring at the TV after calming down from hyperventilating, my mind starting to collect itself as my sorrow begins turning into pure rage.

"Vivian." Her voice becomes crystal clear and I'm shoving her away from me, into the floor, as I scream, "don't fucking touch me!"

"Vivian, I'm sorry!" She pleads. "We couldn't tell you!"

"We?!" I grit out. "Who the hell has known about this?!"

Her silence is speaking volumes and I roll my jaw, stomping to the door with her crying motivating my anger further.

I'm banging on Tommy's door, hearing him and Nikki chuckling, and the second the door opens, I'm grabbing the full Jack bottle out of Tommy's hand and throwing it at Nikki.

"How could you let this happen?!" I shriek at him, tears of anger streaming down my face as I start picking up everything in sight and throw it at Nikki. "What have you done, Nikki?!"

"What the fuck, Vivian?!" Nikki's yelling back at me as Tommy tries to get me under control, but all I have to say is, "Me, God, and everybody just saw your fiancée brag about getting to marry you," and Tommy's stumbling back in shock, the look on his face is the same as Nikki's and they know they're all fucked.

"Vivian--"

I shut Nikki up by throwing a bottle of wine at him, missing him, but it smacks into the screen of the TV, causing a loud banging noise as glass goes everywhere, before I'm grabbing a stray heel off the floor that one of the groupies left here with Tommy, hurling it at him and it hits him in the face, hard.

"How could you do this to me?!" I cry out as he starts trying to walk to me, trying to keep his anger low, but I get away from him, throwing a hotel lamp at him, only for it to shatter on the wall behind him. "What did I do to make you hate me so fucking much, Nikki?! To make you pursue another girl--one of my friends--so fucking hard that you propose to her?! Am I just that fucking forgettable?!" I'm throwing dirty dishes Tommy's used tonight, all of them breaking when they miss Nikki by merely centimeters, hitting the wall.

"Vivian, fuck it off!" He barks and I grab Tommy's switchblade off the nightstand, throwing it next, and it barely misses Nikki's face.

"I hate you!" I say back. "I fucking hate you!"

He's pouncing before I can grab anything else, tackling me to the bed, holding at my arms.

"I have done nothing but dedicate the last six years of my life to you, asking you 'how high' every time you have told me to fucking jump, trying to help you the best I could, and trying to keep my shit together for you and this is how you repay me?!" I'm overcome with sadness once more, a wave of sobs drowning me, and I try to get him off of me, hitting at his chest.

"Viv--"

"--How long has this been happening?! How long have you been fucking her?!"

"Vivian, stop before you get us kicked out." He orders sternly, trying not to raise his voice anymore.

"I am humiliated!" I wail out, pain threading through every layer of my voice.

"What the fuck is going on?!" Fred and Doc come in with Tommy, I didn't even notice Tommy had left.

I take a few breaths, pushing Nikki off of me and he stumbles back after I shriek, "Get away from me!" and sit up on the bed.

"Vivian--" Doc starts.

"Shut up! I don't wanna fucking hear another word because it's all fucking bullshit!" I seethe at him.

"Vivian, we can talk about this calmly, because screaming--"

"--No! I've had everyone's foot on my throat for the past four years, telling me how to act, how to look, how to make sure he's happy, and it just took less than 45 seconds for her to blow every fucking thing to fucking hell and let me know I did all of it for absolutely nothing!" I say through thick tears, bubbling anger starting to rise within me again.

I'm suddenly lunging and clawing at Nikki's face and neck before I can stop myself.

"Vivian!" Nikki hollers, his face bleeding as he tries to swing at me but Doc blocks him, yelling, "both of you calm the fuck down!"

I'm starting to breathe quickly, my whole body feeling heavy as Fred and Doc keep us separated.

"How the hell did this happen?" I ask him, more so demand.

"Vivian," Doc says, catching his breath. "We'll talk about it later."

"I just found out…" I can't bring myself to say "my husband's been cheating on me" without feeling like I'm going to vomit. "...and you just wanna talk about it later?" I ask him, appalled and he looks at Nikki.

"I'm not…" Nikki trails off, shaking his head, looking as if he's about to cry before heading to the door and slamming it shut.

"Oh, God, please." I beg, holding at my aching chest, my eyes squeezing closed as tears topple down my cheeks.

"Come with me." I hear Doc lowly say to Tommy.

"Viv," Tommy slowly starts and I shake my head at him.

"You were suppose to protect me." I hold back a sob. "You've always protected me and when I needed you to the most...you were suppose to protect me and you didn't." I finally muster out and tears break over his lashes.

Before he can say anything, Doc's leading him out of the room, leaving me with Fred.

"Vivian," Fred says, genuinely concerned.

"I-I-oh, God." I can't make myself speak, tears and snot running down my face but I don't care, and he nods as I shake my head a little.

He just grabs one of my hands, squeezing it, comfortingly.

We got kicked out of that hotel and because of my tantrum, we had to pay them back for the broken lamp and TV, but I didn't care.

I had done everything. Everything I could, everything I was told to do, and it still wasn't enough. I still wasn't enough. My best still wasn't enough.

I lay on the bathroom floor of our new hotel with the door locked, not crying as extensively as I was, but it's a steady stream of tears puddling on the floor, as everything I overlooked runs through my mind.

Those nights I'd come home to see Vanity passed out in my house, the way everyone would get a little uncomfortable when she would hint at something and I was the only fucking one that didn't think anything about it...the fucking "V" tattoo on his arm that he played off as a five, when he just as easily at least could've have said it was for "Vivian" or something. Anything.

"You are the world's biggest fucking idiot." I whisper to myself. "How could you be so stupid?"

I'm so tired, I've been crying for the past four hours, but anytime I try to sleep I can't. It's not because I'm on the floor and I'm uncomfortable, but because my mind won't quit replaying every scenario there is imaginable of Nikki and Vanity touching each other.

A one night stand would have been something I'd still be shattered over...but an entire relationship?

I don't even want to know how long it's been happening.

I just want to sleep.

"Vivian." I hear Vince say from the other side of the door and I sniffle, not wanting to talk to anyone. "I'm sorry, alright? But what the fuck did you expect? We're rockstars. It's common sense how we live. You should have known Nikki wasn't an exception to that, when you married him."

"Get out!" I scream at him, getting all the strength in me to open the door and shove at his shoulders to the room door.

"Vi--"

"--Leave me alone!" I demand, snatching the room key from him before opening the door and pushing him out, slamming it shut, resting my aching forehead against the cool wood.

I try to take deep breaths to calm down, but I'm unable to.

I slide down the door, my mind continuing to race.

I couldn't sleep at all.

My eyes, nearly swollen shut from crying for two days, are glued to the screen of the TV set before me, Doc, Fred, Nikki, Tommy, Vince, Mick, Tansy, Sparkie, Donna, Emi, and everyone else at risk of being asked about this shit show by the press, as a recording of Vanity's interview is replayed to us.

"Yeah, I'll be Vanity 6 once again. Isn't that nice?"

"I heard that--now, Nikki, uh, he's not ma--"

"--Mötley Crüe." She states what he's known for and cuts Arsenio short.

"Yeah, I read about Nikki in, uh, Fresh Magazine."

"Oh, no, you've read about him." Vanity says, causing the audience to laugh uncomfortably along with Arsenio.

"Is he here?" He asks.

"Texas. He's in Texas." She explains.

"He's in Texas with Mötley Crüe."

"Right." She nods.

"And they're probably partying with some chicks up in the room." He jokes, trying to carry on as smoothly as possible with this whirlwind she just dropped.

"Oh, I'll kill him." She laughs out. "I'll kill him."

Again, everyone laughs.

"When are you getting married?"

"Oh, probably December, maybe Christmas, maybe New Years, we haven't decided." She replies.

"Are you--you seem like you're in love, you're very bubbly, you're glowing." Arsenio points out and she nervously rubs her forehead.

"Oh, I--I know, I feel stupid, I know. I look stupi--"

"--No, no, that's great." He argues politely. "And this ring is something else." He states as he looks at it. "You don't get no crackerjacks with this, I mean that's a nice ring." He chuckles, along with her and the crowd.

Doc stops it there, anger of the highest degree on his face as he glares at Nikki, who's got his sunglasses on and refuses to even look my way.

"I told you--" Doc stops talking for a moment, nearly shaking, having to take deep breaths. "--when you got together with that coked out bitch to not be--" he loses it, throwing his bottle of water at the wall, "--fucking messy!" He yells. "We have done everything we could possibly do to help you and what do you do in return? Bend all of us over and just," Doc thrusts his hips forward a few times as if he's screwing a girl, "fuck all of us!"

Nikki let's out a heavy breath.

"Her sister called last night and that ring she's flashing around, Sixx, is Viv's." Doc states and I feel my bottom lip shake as more tears come to my eyes. "You can't tell me you didn't play a part in this shit. You can't. Vanity's crazy, but she didn't just wake up one day and decide to say she's engaged to you. You helped prompt this. You can't tell me you didn't." He points at Nikki and Nikki sits quietly. "Jesus fuck." Doc sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Okay. Okay. This is what we do. I've been on the phone for the past two days with the office, the label, Vanity's people...and everyone agrees that playing this off as a misunderstanding on Vanity's part is the best option." He tells us. "What she said about being engaged to Nikki is-is technically right thanks to his fucking smack and crack binge that lead to that bright fucking idea--but instead of accusing her of lying, we'll say it was a 'misunderstanding'." Doc replies and I squeeze my eyes shut. "It could get ugly for us if you two are at each other's throats over this, publicly, so you two are just gonna have to play nice for the cameras and hash this out behind closed doors." He adds. "Because if we say it was a misunderstanding but you two are having issues, they'll know we're bullshitting."

"What if I want a divorce?" Nikki--Sikki--boldly asks and Doc clenches his jaw while I brush away tears as quickly as possible, playing it off.

"You can split when this tour is over, that way you can blame it on something other than asking another woman to marry you while you've been married to the girl you've been with since 1981 for four fucking years."

I'm too exhausted to protest the idea of staying with him until the tour ends.

I just want to go home.

"So if anybody asks any of you about it 'no comment' the fuck out of them. And if you absolutely have to say something other than 'no comment', you laugh a little bit to make it seem like it's nothing, and tell them--verbatim--'It was a complete misunderstanding.' And if I find out anybody doesn't answer with one of those, word for fucking word, you're done." He threatens in a serious tone.

I've never seen Doc this mad.

"Do I make myself clear?" He asks us and everybody nods...except me. "Viv?"

"I want to go home." I tell him.

"If you go home right now, it'll look like something's up--"

"--Something is up." I let out hoarsely and everyone lets out a sad breath. "I just want to go home for a couple days." I say, my voice cracking.

"Not like it's gonna do you any good to run home. They knew about it, too." Sikki mocks me, referring to Duff and the guys.

"Dude." Tommy says to him as if wanting him to shut up.

I just get up and go to walk out of the room, stopping in front of Nikki, getting in his face.

"Burn in hell." I say and he turns his head to look at me, smirking.

"That's the dream." He replies.

I get out as fast as I can, Fred following after me, and the second I get out, I'm throwing up, hoping nobody in there heard, especially Nikki. I feel like his inner evil fucking psychopath junkie will delight in my discomfort.

He was angry because I refused to see him after he had tried to get Fred to convince me to speak to him.

I didn't know what to say to him, and I didn't want to hear anything from him, yet.

I just needed to get away from him for a few days and think about what I wanted to do.

Did I want a divorce? Did I want to pack my shit from the house and never go back to him on tour and send him the divorce documents in the mail? Did I want to try to fix things? Did I think things could even be fixed at that point? I didn't know what to do, other than go home.

I finish packing all of stuff into my suitcase as Fred comes in, clearing his throat.

"Look, I, uh...I talked to Doc. He decided it's a good idea for you to go back home for a couple days and come back with a clear head--well, as clear as it's gonna get." He explains. "But, the Rolling Stone dude is still coming on this week, so Doc wants you gone no longer than three days." He adds.

I completely forgot about Rolling Stone wanting to do a big issue on Mötley Crüe's tour in the midst of everything that's happened recently.

"Which of course now, they're definitely chomping at the bit to get to nitty-gritty on everything and if you're not here, that's gonna send off some red flags, according to Doc." He explains and I let out a groan.

"But Doc's currently getting you a flight for this early this evening, and I'll drive you there and we'll get someone to pick you up."

I don't reply, letting out a breath and he gives me a small smile.

"It'll be alright, Viv." He assures me.

"I've been telling myself that since 1981. Nothing's fucking alright."

Going out in public was a mistake from hell.

Every reporter outside of the airport here is shouting "Vivian" followed by invasive questions about Vanity and Nikki, and I'm happy I have my sunglasses on so they can't see me about to burst into tears.

"Vivian, are you going home to file for divorce?!"

"Is Nikki and Vanity engaged?!"

"Are you and Nikki divorced without public knowledge?!"

"Why aren't you wearing your wedding ring?!"

"We were under the impression Vanity was your friend?!"

"Is this a polygamous relationship?!"

"Do you have any comments on the recent bombshell about Vanity and Nikki?!"

"Bless their hearts." I reply with a sarcastic smile, damning Doc's little gag order.

This causes them to start popping off my questions like a swarm of piranhas.

I'd be hearing about that comment I made, from Doc, the next day.

I'm praying there isn't a swarm of press outside as I make my way to the front exit of L.A.X., but my prayer is answered, kind of, when I only see Axl waiting for me with Duff's car.

We don't say anything to each other until we get to the first stop light on the road.

"It's fucking shitty we didn't tell you--"

"--Axl, I don't wanna hear it."

"No, let me finish." He demands. "Look at me."

I sigh and glare at him.

"We wanted to tell you, Viv."

"Then why the hell didn't you?"

"Look me in the eyes and tell me, honestly, matter-of-fact, without a doubt, if one of us came to you and told you Nikki and Vanity were seeing each other, you wouldn't have lost your fuckin' mind?"

I don't say anything.

"We've been trying for months to get him to leave her alone, or come clean to you, and he'd just say, 'I'm working on it'. We had no idea they were that fucking deep into it."

I roll my eyes, my eyes blinking back tears.

"I'm being serious--Viv, hey." He says and I look at him. "If we would have known that, that's how you would have found out, we would've told you sooner. I swear to fucking God, Viv, we woulda told you sooner if we knew that's how you would've found out." He promises.

This is possibly the most sincere I've ever seen Axl.

Which lets me know he's being honest.

No matter how angry I am at them, they didn't tell me to save my feelings.

Their intentions were pure, but horribly executed.

When we get to the Franklin, we walk in to see the guys in the living room of Axl's place, watching cartoons.

I don't say anything to Izzy, Duff, Steven or Slash, and none of them try to speak to me once Axl gives them the look that says I'm not in the mood to speak about anything.

"I'm gonna shower." I say, taking myself to the bathroom with my stuff, locking the door behind me.

I shower, then proceed to stay in there, avoiding everybody and everything, until I hear a soft little knock, and Stevie's voice.

"H-hey, Viv? We got some food...if you're hungry, I mean." He says on the other side of the door and I exhale.

"I'm not hungry, Steven." I say, sniffling, wiping tears away that have been flowing since I turned the shower off.

"Are you gonna stay in there all night?" He asks next.

"It's my business if I do." I snap back and he lets out a breath.

He doesn't say anything else, I just hear him walk away.

Steven, as nice as he always has been, had no problem setting someone straight if needed. He was never aggressive with me, because I usually stayed on his good side, but if someone rubbed him the wrong way, he'd get in their face and ask them what the fuck their problem was. I expected him to break into that bathroom and ask me what my problem was, but he knew what my problem was, I guess…

...Izzy on the other hand…

"Izzy, what the hell?!" I yell as the door swings open after he picks the lock.

"We're fucking pieces of shit and the assholes they come out of, I get that. Axl gets that. Stevie gets that. Duff gets that. Slash gets that. We understand collectively that we are gross for not telling you. But we didn't tell you in hopes your dumb-fuck husband would wise up, like we have all been trying to get him to do, and break things off with the bitch. But he didn't. But we were hoping he would so we wouldn't have to witness your firey wrath sent straight from the gates of fucking hell. But we are anyway, apparently. We tried dropping hints. Countless hints. Obvious hints but you were too busy getting fucked by cupid and having a too perfect view of love to notice. But we tried. Extensively. If we knew she was going to embarrass you like that, we wouldn't have kept it from you, at all. But it's too fucking late now, and we can't do anything about it except just be here for you, I guess, but you coming home and being a bitch to us for not telling you something that would've been so fucking obvious to you if you would have paid a little more attention, is fucked. Next time we'll just tell you he's fucking one of your best friends and rip the fucking bandaid off." He says to me, stunning me. "Now quit hogging the bathroom because some of us need to use it."

I can usually take Izzy's tough love, but this time, I can't.

"I gave her a key to my house." I say randomly, more tears coming to my eyes.

"No, no, you're suppose to tell me to go fuck myself." He says.

"And the codes to our gate and...24/7 access to my husband, and I was too fucking stupid to realize I was just letting her have him anytime she wanted him." I choke out.

The door cracks open a little to reveal Duff behind Izzy, and he cautiously steps to me, hugging me tightly to him.

One thing I was beginning to realize: the first thing I said to Nikki was, "how could you let this happen?"

I was beginning to see that it wasn't meant as a "how could you let yourself do this to me?" but as a "how could you let her embarrass me like this?"

I knew something was up, subconsciously, I had this feeling that I knew something but I didn't know what exactly I knew until I was publicly humiliated over it.

I spend the rest of the night not speaking to anyone, not necessarily because I'm still angry, but because I'm just not in a talking mood.

By the time everyone else is going out, Duff and I are heading back to his place so I can try to sleep.

"You can have whatever side of the bed you want." He lets out, a little awkwardly being that we haven't spoken all night.

I nod, going to the side of the bed I slept on the last time I stayed here.

He looks as if he wants to say something else to me, but chooses not to as I get into bed with him, turning my back to him, hoping to get some form of rest, but even a couple hours later, it never comes.

I lay next to Duff, his soft snoring sounding through the small room, his bare back to me, and in the lights from the street that are filing through the window, I can see the smattering of acne scars along his back, and I can't stop my hand from reaching out, grazing over them.

He moves a little in his sleep and I let out a breath, tired of being awake with my own thoughts that are just overflowing with whispers of Nikki.

I wish I was in bed next to him.

I wish he never would have done what he did in the first place.

I wish I wouldn't have been so naive.

I wish I would have listened to my gut before we got married.

Finally getting tired of it, I pull myself up and stumble to the kitchen, looking around until I find a bottle of NyQuil syrup.

I take the correct dose of it to maybe help me sleep before going back to bed.

"Will you quit it?" I grin, chuckling as his lips brush against the space between my shoulder blades as he hovers over me while I'm laying on my stomach at the foot of the bed. "I'm trying to finish this." I add, referring to the blank paper before me and the pen in my hand.

"You weren't worried about writing it for the past two hours." He teases, peppering my bare back in kisses and I giggle, trying to worm him off of me."You're almost done with school, what's one missing paper gonna hurt?" He questions.

"It'll hurt when it counts as a chunk of my final grade and I haven't even gotten a thesis statement figured out. And if I when I bring home a crappy final grade, I don't think my mom will appreciate, 'I couldn't do my thesis paper because I was too busy fucking your worst nightmare that I snuck in through my window'."

He lets out a scoff, kissing my skin one last time before I'm turning over to face him, still holding the pen and paper in my hand laying above my head, my other hand tracing over his cheek.

"I can write it." He says after a moment of thinking and I furrow my brows.

"Write what?"

"Your paper."

"You want to write a thesis for paper for twelfth-grade English?" I have to stop myself from laughing.

"Sure." He shrugs.

"Didn't you drop out of school?" I question and he snatches the pen and paper out of my hand and sits up, grabbing the book I was using as a hard surface to write on.

"If I can write a song, I can write a thesis paper." He states and I raise my brows.

"Whatever you say."

My eyes slowly blink open, and my whole body starts hurting again, gut wrenching pain that's suffocating my heart in a stronghold as my swollen eyes start to weep again.

"Oh, God, please. Please, God." I beg, trying to be quiet enough not to wake Duff up. I'm not sure what exactly I'm praying for, I just know my spirit is crying out for mercy and relief of any kind.

He spent a couple days writing that paper, collecting sources and proof to back his thesis statement: 'The way today's christian and conservative groups view and sacrifice secular music genres, specifically rock n' roll, and the artists within those genres, is completely counterproductive of the teachings of who they worship because their approach is judgemental and belligerent.' I just copied it word for word in my handwriting and kept his original work of it which is framed and hanging in our house today.

Those were the main memories that would replay in my dreams: us when we first started fooling around and slowly seeing each other exclusively.

Small little things that just added more reasons to why I was so in love with in to begin with.

Things we completely lost sight of by 1987.

Those were the ones that would hurt like hell to wake up from.

I'm unable to fall asleep again, so I take another dose of NyQuil, and wait for it to go in effect.

I fell asleep, but woke up every couple hours, and immediately started crying each time, not forgetting I was heartbroken in the slightest because I'd dream of Nikki.

I'd just lay there saying, "God, please," not knowing what I was praying for him to do.

And, in a slightly irresponsible and reckless attempt to go back to sleep to stop the pain, I'd take another dose of NyQuil every time, not thinking anything of it because it was an 'over the counter' drug. After taking four maximum doses of the stuff in a 6 hour period, my body started freaking out.

My heart is pounding in my chest, my breathing trying to compensate for what feels like an inability to get enough air as something in me is telling me to wake Duff up.

"Duff, Duff." I gasp out, shaking at his shoulder and he wakes up, confused, tired eyes looking at me.

Apparently it just takes one look at me to wake him up fully, because he's sitting up as fast as he can.

"Something's not right." I say breathlessly.

"Viv?" He asks, at least I think that's what he says.

His hand suddenly grasps at my wrist, his fingers on my pulse point, and his eyes widen.

"We gotta get you to a hospital." He replies as calmly as he can, but I can tell he's frantic in his mind.

#nikki sixx #mötley crüe #nikki sixx x oc #nikki sixx fanfiction #gateway drug

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