SHAMBLES! DREAMxFEM!READER

XXVIII - V E N O M!

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TW- PROFANITY/ALCOHOL ABUSE
(excessive amounts of profanity)
WC- 1618

--(Y/N) POV---

Three months later...

"Fuck you!" I yell as I look outside of the cracked cabin window. The still zombie continues to roam around the dawning lands in peace. It couldn't hear me and I was pissed. "I hope you burn alive, you motherfucker!"

My eyes hold on the spot the zombie stands as I try to summon my inner god powers. I can't blink now. Not now, not ever. If I blink, the zombie might come to attack me. I don't need a jump attack now. I might piss myself. Or worse, cry.

I wired my mind to be of the winning spirit, so I will not lose this fight. Even if the zombie can't technically see or hear me, I knew I would win. But of course, my drunk self could never understand that. In my happy-drunk world, everyone hears and obeys me. This is the exact reason I want that zombie to drop dead and die. Just like my parents! Although, I really didn't want that to happen. I just needed a good example to compare it to.

My eyes water, but there is no way I am losing this fight. I am no loser; I am a winner! Schlatt told me this and I believe every word he says to me. He saved my life after all! Though he was never around, I was still told to appreciate all of the good he has done for me and the massive supply of alcohol. I used the supply of alcohol as an escape. It let free all of my life's issues like pigs in a pen. I couldn't be happier with my current situation.

Surrounding yourself with a bunch of liars was the biggest mistake I've ever made, according to Schlatt. The DreamSMP, L'Manberg; it was all a lie. Based on my own belief, the people are what makes a place "home" and I couldn't be more satisfied with my choice.

Also, ever since I left, the voices had left. Nothing rattled my mind that made me anxious to the point where I felt mentally tortured.

"Fuck..." I yell once again as I blink. I quickly open my eyes again to see if the gods wouldn't notice my previous mistake. "YEAH!"

I jump for joy as I watch the zombie burst into flames right in front of me. My exaggerated victory dance had been long awaited for this moment. Anyone watching would have thought I was trying to find my balance, but it was most definitely a victory dance.

As I begin to poorly do the moonwalk back to the counter, a door slams open. My entire body freezes as my head pops up with joy. My roommate is home!

Every day since I've been here, Schatt had a strict schedule of meetings. Once he got through the door, I would always run over to meet him and offer him a drink.

"Yeah, why don't you go on and make me dinner as well, kid," Schlatt said as he stormed past me. It's always the same thing every day, but I did the request anyway. It was my way of showing thanks to his generous acts.

I begin to make my way through the maze of bottles to the rat-filled kitchen. This place could really use a makeover, but my life was too grand to put my efforts into a useless activity such as cleaning.

I flick on the gas as I light the stovetop. With my foot, I fling open the cabinet that holds the pots and pans. I crouch down to grab (with my hands) a medium-sized pan and place it on the burner. As I scoop some butter with a spoon, I shout, "Dap me up!" and plop the butter on the pan.

Somedays, while Schlatt is gone, I put my hunting skills to use and kill a chicken or two. I'd see a pig now and then, but something inside of me told me to not kill them. As I coat the chicken in a thin layer of seasoning, I lay the chicken inside of the buttered-up pan to cook.