Dr. Feelgood

nice

tony: i’m a piece of trash.

steve: as someone who cares about the environment, i am obligated to pick you up. is 7 ok?

tony: you smooth motherfu- yeah 7 is fine.

What happens once you kill yourself? Because I'm ready to go.

You wanna know what happens once you kill yourself? Your mother comes home from work and finds her baby dead and she screams and runs over to you and tries to get you to wake up but you won’t and she keeps screaming and shaking you and her tears are dripping onto your face and your dad hears all the screaming and runs into the room and he can’t even speak because the child that he loved and the child that he watched grow up is gone forever and finally your little sister runs into the room to see what all the fuss is about and she sees you dead. The person she looked up to and loved. The person she bragged about to  her friends, the person she wanted to be just like when she grew up, the person that made her feel safe. But she’s never really going to get to grow up and smile and laugh and love because she’ll always be consumed with this feeling of missing you. And now there’s something missing from your family and they can barely look at each other anymore because everything reminds them of you but you’re gone and hurts more than anything. and you think that your mom never cared because she was always busy and yelling at you to finish your homework and clean your room and forgot to say I love you sometimes but really, she loved you more than anything and she doesn’t leave the house anymore, she can’t even get out of bed and she’s getting thinner and thinner because it’s too hard to eat. Your father had to quit his job and he doesn’t sleep anymore, every time he closes his eyes he sees his baby dead, and the image never goes away no matter how much alcohol he drinks. And at school your best friend sees that your seat is empty and she gets this sick feeling in her stomach and that’s when she hears the announcement. You killed yourself. And suddenly she’s screaming and crying in the middle of class and no one even bothers comforting because they’re all  busy sitting there staring at your empty seat with tears dripping down their cheeks and all she wants is for you to hug her and tell her it’s gonna be okay like you always did, but this time, you’re not there to do it, everything is dark now that you’re gone and her grades are slipping, she barely goes to school anymore and she ended up in hospital after taking too many pills because she wanted to see you again. the girls who used to make fun of the way you dressed feel their throats get tight, they don’t talk to each other anymore, they don’t talk to anyone, they’re all in therapy trying so hard not to blame themselves but nothing works. and your teacher who always gave you a hard time stares blankly at the wall, she quits her job a few days later. And then your boyfriend hears the news and he can’t breathe, he still calls you a lot just to hear your voice and he talks to you on facebook but you never message him back, he can’t fall in love again because every girl he meets reminds him of you, he’s never going to get over you, he loved you and he cries himself to sleep every night, hating himself and slicing his skin because he couldn’t save you and he’s never going to hold you in his arms or hear you laugh again. Now everyone who knew you, whether they were a big part of your life or someone you passed in the hallway a few times a week, they carry this aching feeling around inside them because you’re gone, and they miss you, and they don’t know why you left but it must’ve been their fault and they should’ve stopped you and they should’ve told you they loved you more and that feeling is never going to go away. And so you killed yourself

but you killed everyone else around you too. 

Steve Rogers looking over a murder: how could she have killed him, she's just a girl with no powers or training.

Y/N coming into the room: well that is a bit sexist, a girl can easily kill. With the right motivation.

Dr. Feelgood

3. Physical Exams

Start at part 1 here!

Summary: You've been in trouble at work several times before for "lack of professionalism" but now you've gone too far. You've been reassigned to Task Force 141 as a temporary doctor to replace the ones they've made quit out of frustration. You must either prove yourself and earn your former position back at a prestigious military hospital in California or face dishonorable discharge. Author's Notes: This is my first fanfiction - please be gentle. Additionally, the reader's callsign is "Feelgood." I have done my best to write the reader as ambiguous regarding appearance, but she/her pronouns and AFAB anatomy will be utilized. I hope for this to be a slow-burn romance with Simon "Ghost" Riley.  Warnings: Gunshot wounds, medical terminology and procedures, finger up the butt, touching, allusions to NSFW

-----

Ghost lay alone in the medical bay, thoughts racing through his foggy mind. For once, he’d gotten Feelgood to shut the fuck up and leave him alone. After his flirtation you’d squeaked, snarky reply dead on your lips, and made an excuse to leave before bustling out, the door slamming behind you. 

You were infuriating. The way you bossed his colleagues around as if you had some sort of authority over them, the ways you tried to control him by cornering him and forcing him into bed, allegedly “for his own good.” The softness of your skin against his as you held him while he collapsed during his panic attack. The way he wished he could shut your smart mouth up with your plush lips wrapped around his–

The door to the med bay swung open and pulled him from his thoughts. Gaz poked his head in and glanced around, raising an eyebrow at Ghost.

“Where’s Feelgood?” he asked, wandering into the room with Soap trailing behind him. 

“Left.” Ghost grunted, shrugging his shoulders and scowling under his balaclava. 

“Where to? Price was asking after her and I think she has some questions for him too,” he said, peering into the office through the window in the door. 

“Didn’t ask.” the masked man grumbled. 

“How you feelin’ L.T. - seems like the lass is doin’ a lovely job,” Soap remarked, plopping down in a chair at his lieutenant’s side. 

“She’s competent.” Ghost said. What he wanted to say was ‘She’s a feisty little thing. I quite like her.’

“She’s scarier than you, mate. If I ever get shot, promise you’ll protect my arsehole?” Soap asked, snickering. Ghost fixed him with a glare. 

“Bring that up ever again, sergeant, and you’re a dead man,” he growled lowly. 

“Bring what up again?” you called out as you strode back into the med bay, a tray piled high with food in your arms. 

“Got you something to eat from the mess, Lieutenant,” you said with a smile, setting the tray by his bedside. 

“Hey, Feelgood, Price was askin’ after you earlier. Said you should head down to the office when you get a minute.” Gaz said, coming out of your office and offering you a smile. You returned it. 

“Thanks! I need to ask him about hiring medical support staff for this place. I’m sure you guys would be happy with more than just me poking at you all the time.”

“Hey lass, what does Feelgood mean? Where’d you get the callsign?” Soap asked, leaning back in his seat. 

“Oh, it’s stupid. Do you like classic rock?” you asked with a laugh, sitting down and sweeping your hair back into a ponytail. 

“I know enough to know Dr. Feelgood is the title of a song - Motley Crue, right?” Gaz asked, sitting next to you. 

“Yeah! I got it when I was still doing fieldwork and running missions with soldiers on the ground as a medic in the marines. One day three of us are headed into some little village and we get hit by an IED and the Humvee we’re in flips. So I crawl out, and my guys are still alive but they’re fucked up pretty bad. 

“My buddy Marston’s lost an arm so I tourniquet it and pump him full of drugs and he starts feeling good again before he passes the fuck out. And I figured fuck, why stop there? We’re all fucked up and bloody and we might die here in the sand so why not go out feeling better than just comfortable? So I offered some to Duncan after I’ve finished bandaging him up and he was like, ‘Sure, why the fuck not?’

“Then I patch myself up and put the needle in my thigh. Next thing I know I’m waking up driving a little donkey cart down the road and there are evac vehicles coming towards us. Marston’s passed out in the back and Duncan’s singing something made up - I think pretending to be the radio. 

“Anyway, I got into a metric fuckton of trouble even though we all made it out alive. I fucked my shoulder badly in the wreck, too bad to keep doing fieldwork, so they shipped me off to work in the base hospital’s emergency department. I got my shit together and went to medical school after that. 

“But the name - when my buddies came around enough to joke about it with me, they started calling me Dr. Feelgood after the song. See, it’s about a drug dealer called Jimmy who manages to evade trouble for a long time, but at the end of the song, he finally goes down on charges. They kinda reckoned my story mirrored Jimmy’s, but instead of going to prison, I got reprimanded and put in a more boring environment.” You finished. 

“Steamin’ Jesus lass, that’s–”

“I wasn’t aware you did field missions.” Ghost’s voice cut through Soap’s, silencing him. You smiled thinly. 

“Used to. Now the closest I get is coming with evac to stabilize wounded soldiers before they reach a proper hospital,” you admitted. 

“Sorry, Feelgood, but that’s pretty funny,” Gaz said with a grin, patting your knee before standing. 

“I just feel bad for whoever’s cart that was,” you admitted with a laugh, making Gaz shake his head. 

—

You went to see Price not long after the conversation died down under the assurances that Gaz and Soap would watch over Ghost. The door to his office was shut so you knocked softly. 

“Come in!” he called. You stepped in, taking in framed pictures and documents lining the back wall. A little plant sat atop the sill of the little window on the left wall and a couch was leaned against the right wall. 

“You wanted to see me?” you asked, slipping inside, the door shutting behind you.

“Yes! I wanted to let you know that I’ll be going on a mission with Soap and Gaz in a few days. It won’t last more than a week, but I wanted to check in with you and ask your professional opinion about Ghost’s condition before we leave. How’s he healing?” he asked, closing the laptop on his desk and fixing his gaze on you as you sat down. 

“Ghost is healing remarkably quickly and I’m confident he’ll make a full recovery provided he follows my instructions. Whether or not he does that is a matter of question,” you admitted with a smile. 

“Ah, I understand. I also wanted to ask - do you have any other concerns about the medical bay? Are there any supplies you’d like me to request for you, are we running low on anything?” Price asked. 

“What I need the most right now is support staff. Nurses, care assistants, other doctors? I know that those positions might be difficult to fill, but I’m one woman. I’m also not an anesthesiologist, an orthopedic surgeon, or a psychiatrist - my scope is very limited. 

“I also looked back at old records and I’ve noticed that none of you have ever provided medical history or undergone a physical. Before you leave for your mission, I’d like to do that for each one of you to get a baseline to compare later records to,” you said, counting each thing off on your fingers. Price nodded. 

“I can get the boys to get looked at for sure, but extra staff will take time to find. If there’s ever an emergency that you can’t tackle, we go to the general base hospital, but that’s discouraged due to the secretive nature of the work the task force does,” he explained. 

“Sir, I’d like you to undergo a physical too. Not just the boys. Do you have any reservations about seeing me?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“I don’t doubt your competency, Feelgood, and I mean no offense, but I…dislike the idea of being prodded at.” Price admitted. You nodded sympathetically. 

“What if I gave you a questionnaire and you wrote things down? I’d settle for that and a check of your vitals - that’s really what I want from you guys anyway.”

“I’ll think about it.”

—

“Oh, come on, you’re telling me you aren’t appreciating being pampered and doted on by a cute girl while you’re laid up in bed?” Gaz asked teasingly. Ghost grunted. 

“I’d rather not have been shot, Sargent,” he said dryly, poking at the buttons on the side of the hospital bed. The bed alarm was blaring, signaling that he had gotten up, but you were too far away in Price’s office to hear. 

“But you think she’s cute, right? Come on, how could you not? And she’s got fire, too, I like her.” Gaz teased, making Ghost roll his eyes - but he didn’t respond. He finally figured out how to silence the bed alarm and the room went quiet again.

“Oh my god, you do think she’s cute! Come on mate, at least ask if she’s seeing anyone!” Soap almost shouted, laughing in disbelief. 

“If anything, I’d like to see less of her. She’s fuckin’ everywhere, buzzing around me. Won’t shut the fuck up.” Ghost said. This was a lie - he just didn’t want his teammates to see how you got under his skin. Soap and Gaz groaned in unison. 

“You should see if she’ll come out with us before we leave. I wonder if she likes bars?” Gaz wondered aloud. Ghost stiffened where he stood. 

“You’re leaving? All of you?” he asked.

“Less than a week, it’s a quick one this time. It’ll just be you and the–” Soap’s eyes widened in realization.

“Steamin’ Jesus it’ll just be him and the doc!” he exclaimed, turning wide-eyed to Gaz. 

“If anything happens–”

“Watch your mouth before you end up with me here in the med bay.”

“--you’ll tell us, right?”

“It’s perfect, you’ve got a whole week to flirt with her without him bothering you,” Gaz said, jabbing his thumb back at Soap.

—

Gaz was your first physical patient. You’d offered to take him back into your office for privacy but he said he didn’t mind Ghost sitting in. Ghost was on his phone on the couch in the corner with a cup of tea and hardly paying attention to the world - it was a compromise you’d come to once you found out he’d broken the bed alarm and he’d threatened to go back to his room permanently. 

“I didn’t know your name was Kyle. I like it, it suits you,” you remarked as you took his blood pressure. 

“Thanks, Feelgood.”

“Makes you sound like an American frat boy.” Ghost quipped from the corner. 

“Hey, be nice. Is HIPAA a thing over here?” you asked. Gaz laughed and shrugged and you went forward with the exam.

Overall he seemed to be in exceptional health and you were satisfied with your findings. Gaz seemed oddly relieved when you told him so, almost as if he was worried he’d fail the health exam. You sent him outside and called Soap in. 

“Hey, lass, no finger up the arse today right?” he asked nervously, sitting down on the gurney you’d set up as you took his temperature. 

“Not unless you’re into it,” you said dryly, earning a surprised cough from Ghost and a laugh from Soap. 

Soap’s exam went as well as Gaz’s had and he walked out with an inflated ego when you informed him that he was in excellent physical shape. You decided to approach Ghost next. 

“Your turn big guy,” you said, gesturing for him to raise his arm so you could attach the blood pressure cuff.

“I’ve been in this fuckin’ bay for days, don’t you have enough?” he grumbled but reluctantly obeyed - only so he could feel your warm hands against his skin as you secured the cuff. 

“I’ve been managing your wound and making sure you don’t get infected, not doing full physicals every day,” you said with a laugh. “Give me your hand?” 

He held it out to you and you took it, gently attaching the clip. His hand dwarfed yours and your face warmed slightly as you lowered the hand back to his thigh. Ghost watched you attentively, doing his best to read your expressions. You cleared your throat. 

“So, got anything cool you like to do on leave?” you asked, doing your best to strike up a conversation. 

“No.” Ghost grunted, a little too harshly. He winced and immediately felt bad. You took the equipment off of him when it had finished reading his vitals and tucked it away in the corner again, a little hurt. 

“I’m sorry,” he said after a minute as you fiddled with your stethoscope. “I didn’t mean to say that so aggressively.”

“It’s alright. Can I listen to your heart or would you rather me not touch you?” you asked briskly, watching him. 

“S’alright,” he grumbled, sitting forward and tugging his shirt off. 

“Oh, you didn’t have to– that’s okay, I can check your bandages afterward,” you said, your face hot as you took the sight of him in. Scars and old wounds crisscrossed his chest and a large bruise extended from beneath the bandages near his side. 

You put a gentle hand on his shoulder and leaned forward, carefully listening to his heart through your stethoscope. His skin was warm and it made butterflies take flight in your stomach. 

“Can I hear from your back?” you asked softly after a moment. Ghost grunted his assent and bent forward. You leaned over his shoulder slowly, pressing your stethoscope to his back. 

Ghost couldn’t help himself as you leaned over him. Your soft skin practically burned him where you touched him and his heart rate picked up quickly. He took a deep breath and gently wrapped an arm around your waist, steadying his hand on your lower back. 

You looked at him in surprise but didn’t pull away. He met your gaze for a moment before pulling away and sitting forward again. 

“M’ sorry. Should go get something to eat.” he grumbled, picking his shirt up and moving to put it back on. 

“It’s - uh…it’s okay! Can I…change your bandages first?” you asked softly, your voice coming out as almost a squeak. Ghost nodded and waited patiently as you gathered the supplies you needed. The feeling of your touch against him made him shiver when you returned. 

How he wished he could reach out and sweep you up in his arms, press a kiss to your lips, whisk you back to his room, and never leave. As you changed his bandages, he watched and imagined you trailing those delicate fingers up his chest to ruck his mask up and pull him down into a kiss. 

“Thanks,” he uttered as you finished, and that’s all he did. He tugged his shirt on and was almost to the door when he turned around. 

“Soap and Gaz wanted me to ask you if you’d come out with the lot of us before they leave,” he said. You didn’t have to think about it. 

“Of course!”

-----

taglist: @iamaliceinwonderland, @itsmeamysworld, @ghostlythots, @oranoyaora, @keiva1000

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Oka, I plan on following everyone on tumblr

literally everyone

Please reblog so I can make this happen

ɪꜰ ɪ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴀ ᴢᴏᴍʙɪᴇ; ɪ'ᴅ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴇᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙʀᴀɪɴ.

❝ 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 ❞ 𝘻𝘰𝘮𝘣𝘪𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺 𝘹 𝘨𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳.

❝ 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 ❞ 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘰𝘯 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯'𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦.

❝ 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 ❞ 𝘻𝘰𝘮𝘣𝘪𝘦 𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘺𝘱𝘴𝘦, 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵, 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴, 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴, 𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

❝𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦❞ 𝘪'𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘪𝘬𝘵𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘫𝘢𝘸 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘴𝘰 𝘪 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵, 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦'𝘴 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘳, 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪'𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘢𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯! ᠌ ᠌𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦 — 𝘱𝘪𝘤 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘰 @ave661

 ✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3. ˑ༄

The world fell into an eerie silence — a silence that resonated with deep seated fear.

The once bustling streets were now deserted, the echoing emptiness interrupted only by the distant growls and shuffling footsteps of the undead.

You were scared beyond words and fear gnawed at your heart as you tried to come to terms with the nightmare that had taken over your life.

— «God, this can't be happening» you whispered to yourself as you looked out the window and watched as a group of zombies shuffled past your house.

Neither you nor anyone else was prepared for the catastrophic events that unfolded.

The virus, a mysterious and merciless force, spread like wildfire, leaving destruction in its wake, people you knew or loved turned into grotesque predatory creatures, and the world turned into a realm of chaos and despair.

However, amidst the darkness that befell humanity, you clung to a glimmer of hope — Simon Riley.

He was your anchor, your support — Simon, an experienced soldier who had served in the army, had a unique set of skills that promised protection.

You fervently believed that he would protect you from the horrors of this new world.

Simon's voice cut through the tension in the room, his tone laced with determination — «We'll make it through this, together»

It was a belief that you held with unshakable faith, but the harsh reality of the apocalypse did not discriminate.

Even the strongest soldiers could not withstand the relentless onslaught of the undead, and Simon was not immune to danger lurking around every corner.

The day that will haunt your nightmares forever began like any other.

You were in the small, dimly lit kitchen, hastily preparing food from canned food you found during the reconnaissance mission you and Simon had been on together.

There was a hint of desperation in the air, but you tried to console yourself with the presence of the person you loved.

Simon came home that day and your heart sank when you saw him, dried blood clinging to his clothes like a creepy badge of honor and his demeanor embarrassingly quiet and tense.

Worry crept into your voice as you asked if something was wrong, but he brushed off your worries with a soft kiss to your cheek and then your lips.

The consolation was fleeting and he diverted your attention by asking about the food you were preparing.

You smiled, albeit with a hint of concern, and began to describe the impromptu dish you were preparing — «It's just some canned beans and vegetables, Simon, but it'll do»

Your words sounded like a mixture of mundane details and hope that everything could be okay as long as Simon was with you.

He listened attentively, but there was a growing concern in his eyes that was impossible to ignore.

As the days turned into weeks, Simon's behavior underwent an ominous transformation as his once stoic nature gave way to irritability and a creeping paranoia began to overwhelm him.

He began checking windows obsessively, his gaze constantly drawn to unseen threats.

— «Simon, you're scaring me» нou said quietly, reaching out your hand to stroke his face — «What's going on? You can talk to me»

But he dismissed your fears, offering vague explanations that only increased your fear.

The outside world was unforgiving and you clung to the hope that Simon would protect you, but his inexplicable behavior shattered that hope, leaving behind a gnawing sense of fear.

Then, one fateful evening, as you watched Simon through the doorway, standing in front of the bathroom mirror, you saw this — an ominous bite mark on his shoulder.

Terror gripped you like a vice, your eyes widened in panic, without thinking, you retreated deeper into the room, seeking refuge under the safety of the blanket.

Your heart was pounding, and you desperately tried to convince yourself that this was a hallucination, a figment of your imagination, born of the horrors of this new world.

When Simon came out of the bathroom and walked over to you, laying down and pressing your back against his bare chest, you felt his lips on your neck.

His voice, laced with tension, asked if everything was okay, and you hesitated for a moment, fighting your fears, before finally, quietly, muttering — «Yeah»

Relief washed over you as you relaxed in his arms and closed your eyes, trying to escape the horror that was engulfing you.

You fell asleep but the worry still lingered in the back of your mind, little did you know that the nightmare had just begun and the darkness of the apocalypse was gathering around you.

The room was shrouded in a deceptive calm, a refuge of fleeting peace amidst the relentless chaos that had become your new reality.

You lay in bed, pressed against Simon's body, finding comfort in the warmth of his embrace — the faint, rhythmic sounds of your breathing mixing with his, a fragile symphony of hope in a world torn apart.

Simon's voice, barely louder than a whisper, abruptly broke through the silence — «You sure you okay, love?»

You nodded, your eyes heavy with fatigue — «Yeah, just.. can't shake this feeling of dread»

The night was quiet and your sleep was peaceful until an unfamiliar noise disturbed the peace, causing you to stir, awakening from the depths of your sleep with a sound that seemed out of place in the eerie silence of the apocalypse.

Sleepy, you sat up and looked around the room, searching for the source of your concern.

Your heart sped up as you realized Simon wasn't next to you, panic set in and you screamed his name in a quiet but insistent tone, the syllables hanging in the air — «Simon, where are you?!»

The only answer was a guttural growl that seemed to come from the shadows.

— «Simon?» you called again, and now your voice was shaking with fear.

But before you could understand the identity of this figure, before you could understand the pale, ghostly face that was slowly becoming visible, it rushed towards you with blinding speed.

Panic overtook you and a scream ripped from your throat as you stumbled backwards.

The flashlight fell from your hand and clattered to the floor, casting a crazy, chaotic light onto the stage.

In that fleeting moment, you saw him — Simon.

His once familiar face was now a grotesque, nightmarish parody of itself, his normal brown eyes pale and milky, devoid of the warmth and recognition that once inhabited them.

Horror filled you as you witnessed undeniable proof of his transformation.

The ominous bite on his shoulder exuded darkness and dark veins snaked out from it like tendrils of malice, your worst fears came true — Simon had turned into one of the undead.

Instinctively, you tried to back away, but he was faster, he rushed at you, his hands gripping your wrists in a vice grip.

Pain shot through your wrists as he squeezed them, and tears welled in your eyes as you sobbed in fear.

In that terrifying moment, when he suddenly turned his face towards your neck, a primal guttural sound escaped his twisted lips.

He was on the verge of giving in to his monstrous instincts, the insatiable desire to feast on your flesh while your heart ached from the profound loss of the person you loved.

But then, in an astonishing display of willpower, Simon gained a glimmer of control, his face contorted with struggle, and he turned away from you, letting go of your hands.

The brief respite allowed you to gulp for air, your body trembling with a mixture of fear and relief, and your knees threatening to give in to your weight and collapse any minute.

Your eyes widened as you watched in disbelief as Simon's hands moved to his own jaw, squeezing it on both sides.

And suddenly, in a nightmarish act of self preservation, he broke his jaw, and a sickening crunch echoed throughout the room, he did it, did it so as not to bite you and not succumb to the insatiable hunger that haunted the undead.

You jumped up, your heart pounding, your mind reeling from the horror of the scene.

Trembling, you carefully held his face in your trembling hands, whispering his name through your tears as his growls became quieter, as if he was trying to comfort you, to convey to you that no matter what happened, he would never allow himself to hurt you.

Simon's voice was heard, hoarse and barely audible as he pressed himself against your trembling palm — «M'sorry, love» he managed to say hoarsely, filling his sluggish speech with remorse and a deep feeling of love.

He closed his eyes, a milky veil still covering his once bright gaze, and you realized that even in the depths of this nightmare, there remained a fragment of the man you loved, fighting against the darkness that threatened to consume him.

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…I almost killed myself

I put on my sunglasses, to hide my swollen eyes, over my tears. I cried all my makeup off. Went inside to have a milkshake. I don’t know why. I wanted something to drink as I figured out what I would do. I got a soda and a milkshake. Medium. The cashier looked at me and with a line around the corner of the counter he rushed away from the counter “Hold on “ he yelled to a coworker.

I filled my soda and went back and saw him looking all over. I go up and he gets close and says “I made it a large”.

That was seriously enough for me not to do it. His kindness. Someone went out of their way and as I went back in my car to cry I realized I could muster through a few other days. A few more weeks. Then I came down from that panicky high of anxiety, depression, and pain. I finished my shake. And it was enough time to let me feel better. I… I’m alive. I’ll make it through.

Try and be nice today. Tomorrow. Something as much as a smile. It helped so much.

Thank you man at McDonalds.

The milkshake saved my life

Tilda Swinton risked arrest waving a rainbow flag in front of the Kremlin in violation of Russia’s new homosexual propaganda bill. And she wants everyone who can to reblog it in solidarity.

Guys please reblog this, it won’t ruin your blog, this is important