#dr. tremor

[vaingloriousvex]

[ID: two versions of a drawing of Dr. Tremor, a Ducktales oc belonging to @foggyglow. Dr. Tremor is a blue jay with eyes like the aperture of a camera, a robotic left arm with blue lightning crackling out of their palm, and a very smug smirk. They're wearing goggles, a brown short-sleeved shirt, dark pants, and a pair of pink earrings shaped like erlenmeyer flasks.

The first image is the image's proper colours, mostly a blue and purple theme. The second image is a photo taken under blacklight to show the glowing effects of the eyes, earrings, and belt buckle, as well as the variation in colour of the lightning effects. /END ID]

this was such a fun commission to work on! if you'd like a piece of your own, check out my info here!

[nightmaremp]

Muppet Monster Adventures:

The Graboid

[luvrbunni]

ik ive not been active at all anyways sort of explanation/me complaining in tags

[fruit-snacker]

Happy disability pride to all who are in between diagnoses because the doctors don't know what the heck is up with you

[thestormypetrelofcrime]

when I share my concerns why is it the people who have had close experience with neurological disorders offer condolences and support while the people who have not had close experience with neurological disorders are like “oh don’t worry about Parkinson’s/MS! you’ll be fine, anyway don’t you want to get better?”

[this-doesnt-endd]

I say it all the time and i will continue to say it for as long as I see fit but i cant believe that the hoard of dr i saw all ruled out seizures as like consequences of my concussion after 1 person said that. To such a point that i got roughly 10 mris done in a span of a little over a month countless other tests and had to live with the thought that i had fucking parkinsons for like two weeks after I unknowingly took tests for that cause they were at the point of exhausting all ends they thought i had parkinsons after I freshly turned 20. All cause the emergency room couldnt have been bothered with me cause "its probably just a concussion come back if you pass out" and figured "a scan probably isnt nessecary" and now im like a different person

[endlessfuckup]

guys i changed my pcp without having to make a single phone call

honestly the best thing that has ever happened to me

[where-nothing-is-tagged]

if I'm somehow in more pain tomorrow than I am today I'm gonna snap

[thetremorssaga]

[odoraful]

𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐄𝐘𝐄

it was one of the few days zayne had returned home earlier than sunset. he opened the door to the apartment to find you painting your nails. after a shower and some short pleading on your part, he was seated in front of you, hands laid out on the table for you to do his nails.

content: zayne x fem!reader; established relationship; small banter! ; greyson apperance; ~1k words a/n: i've been dipping in and out of writing, so i thought i'd make something short to get me back into practice :)

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“Hand tremors aren’t good for dexterity, you know,” Zayne quipped, gazing at your expression as you applied the polish.

You looked up at him through your lashes and he smirked at the flat stare you gave him. With a slight tilt of his head, he enjoyed how animated your reactions were to his remarks. Towel-dried hair brushed past his brows, framing his discerning hazel eyes. Did he always need to be this handsome while poking fun at you? Your hands weren’t shaky before, but they certainly felt so now.

“Oh hush.”

Putting the brush back in the bottle to collect more polish, you reset your focus.

“Just ‘cause you’re a surgeon, doesn’t mean you’d make a good nail artist,” you retorted, bringing your eyes back to your work.

You were currently on the last nail, painting it a navy blue to match the others you already finished. Zayne’s nails were well kept and trimmed short, making for a perfect canvas for you. Whilst it was rare for surgeons to wear polish, he assured that it wouldn’t be an issue so long as it did not chip. He wanted you to do it for him, anyway. Having your undivided attention on him was a perfect way to unwind after a long day at the hospital.

“And what other qualifiers need to be met besides a still hand?” he asked, teasing giving way to curiousity.

You finished up the last nail with a few glides of the brush. “An eye for aesthetics,” you declared, moving the blue nail polish aside and selecting two more colours among your collection.

“Now, pick the colour for the design.”

You presented two colours to him. A cool silver embedded with fine glitter, and a rustic gold. His eyes flicked between the two. Mind having been made up almost the second you asked.

“Silver.”

You hummed. “An excellent choice.” Shaking the polish, the glitter dispersed throughout. “Perhaps you might consider nail tech as a side job, Dr Zayne.”

Waiting for his nails to dry before you could begin the next layer, you lightly fanned them with both your hands. He chuckled—both at your comment and your cute attempt to try and speed the drying process.

“My primary job keeps me busy enough,” he replied. “Besides, I don’t have much of an eye for aesthetics.”

You were reminded of the palette of his closet. Blacks, greys, browns, and the only splash of colour being a deep green shirt. Though somewhat monotone, it did suit him well.

He continued, “I think I’ll leave that expertise up to my girlfriend.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Mouth opened ever so slightly, not wanting to reveal the way every use of that nickname slipped under your skin and made your heart skip.

You began to draw tiny snowflakes on each of them with the silver polish. Zayne admired the furrowed concentration on your face as you were locked into this task. When the design had dried, you finished by squeezing some cream onto his hands. He let out a soft sigh as you massaged it in, feeling the tension of the day release under your gentle touch.

Once you were done, you stretched your arms out and twisting around to crack your back. You held his fingers in your hands, inspecting them.

“Look how pretty they are!” You bubbled.

Zayne was honestly floored. The level of coordination it took to paint something so small was incredible.

“They’re very pretty indeed.”

You were too enthralled by your own work to see the warm smile on his face at how satisfied you were.

“Now, that’ll be sixty dollars,” you said, looking up at him smugly, placing your hands on your hips in waiting.

Zayne lifted a brow. “Do you accept payment in desserts?”

“Hm… an interesting offer,” you placed a hand on your chin in mock thought. “What kind?”

“Will each flavour of macaron at the shop that just opened suffice?” he replied. The sparkle in your eyes signalled that it was more than enough to cover the cost of your service. Promptly, the two of you went outside to resolve his payment. You walked hand in hand, matching one another with freshly painted nails.

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EPILOGUE

At Akso Hospital the next day, peoples’ gazes lingered a little too long on Zayne. As he handed out folders to nurses and gestured to screens when presenting, eyes trailed on his hands. Now, it wasn’t unusual for doctors to wear polish, but it was unusual for Zayne to have it. Another layer of mystery to unravel about the cardiac surgeon.

Greyson entered Zayne’s office to drop off some documents, sliding them towards him on his desk. “Going to some fancy event later?”

Zayne adjusted his glasses, not looking away from his computer screen. “Unless you consider a seminar at the university as fancy, I’m not sure what you’re implying.”

He gestured towards the keyboard Zayne was typing on. “I’m talking about your nails! Don’t tell me you really just got them done for fun?” Greyson asked, incredulous.

“I did.” Zayne splayed his hand out. “Is that so strange?”

“No! Not at all!” Greyon reassured, shaking his head fervently. “They do look nice though,” he admitted. “Maybe I should get their number so I can get mine done too.”

“She doesn’t take up new clientele, unfortunately,” Zayne said, resuming his typing.

At such a quick defence, Greyson immediately clocked who this person was. He was one of the few that were privy to the relationship between you and Zayne, and he knew only you could make Dr Zayne change up his style.

Exaggerating a sigh, he turned to leave. “A true shame! She sure seems talented.”

“I’ll make sure to pass that on to her,” he heard Zayne reply. Though his back was to Zayne, the smile in his voice as he answered was undeniable.

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[actiniumwrites]

love amidst loss

synopsis: in the height of the moment, you nearly die and they can’t deal with the thought of losing you

characters: baizhu, scaramouche, kazuha, and cyno x gn!reader (separately)

warnings: hurt/comfort, angst to fluff, near death accidents, not proofread (sorry)

notes: uh so i wrote this a while ago and didn’t finish it up until recently, so sorry of this contains some errors or if any of the game lore has changed or been updated and doesn’t match what i wrote :) lyney was also supposed to be in this but i gave up on his part…sorry 😭

Baizhu:

“Qiqi. Bandages, now!” Baizhu yells desperately. Your heart rate was lowering by the second, while his was rising exponentially.

Qiqi slowly passes the small bin of various bandages to the doctor, “Yes, Dr. Baizhu.”

He can feel his hands shaking, tremoring as they work as fast as they can to close up all your wounds. Even throughout all his strange adventures and experiments attempting to achieve immortality, he’s never felt more afraid and anxious than in this moment. He could care less about hurting himself, but you? You meant the world to him.

“Baizhu…?” your eyes flutter open weakly while your elbows move behind you to sit up. A speedy hand pushes you back down in an instant.

“No, don’t,” Baizhu says, his heart beating out of his chest at the sight of your consciousness, “you shouldn’t be awake right now. I haven’t finished operating.”

Your hands feel fragile and your breathing is weak, but somehow you’re able to reach into your pocket and pull out a small bottle. It’s halfway full and a gentle lavender in color. It’s the concoction he had given you a while ago, in case of emergencies — an elixir of sorts.

“What about this?” you drop it into his hands. He shivers against your touch. What if this is the last time he’ll get to feel it?

Baizhu adjusts his glasses, analyzing the bottle in this hand, “Is this…? You still have this?”

You nod gently, careful not to move too much, “I saved what was left of it. I know you said you couldn’t make anymore, so I used it sparingly. Is it enough?”

Baizhu quickly prepares a bowl and some other ingredients to mix it with, “Yes, of course. I’ll make it worth a thousand lives over, I promise.”

A tender smile pulls at your lips while life beats back into your heart. Baizhu sighs of relief, resting his elbow against the edge of your bed with his pinky outstretched, “Please don’t scare me like that again.”

Your pinky wraps weakly around his, “Promise.”

Scaramouche:

“What’s going to happen to them?” Scaramouche presses, leaning by the side of the bed Nahida had prepared for you.

Eagerly, he places his hand in yours with a tight so grip you’d think he was scared. And he is. Scaramouche is terrified out of his mind. “You idiot,” he mumbles against your hand, “why would you jump into danger for me?”

Your eyes are shut tightly and your skin is so cold. He hates the way it feels like he’s going to lose you at any second, despite Nahida reassuring him countless times he wouldn’t. He still has so much love to give you. And god, what if he never gets to admit that to you? To finally say that he loves you out loud?

His eyebrows furrow and his lips fall into a sad frown. Amidst it all, a weak tone that he can’t be bothered to disguise falls from his mouth, “Please just tell me they’ll be okay?”

Nahida fights the urge to smile as she stands by the doorway of the room, ready to leave and give you both space. She nods firmly, “I promise you they’ll be okay. You have nothing to worry about.”

He nods back silently, loosening his grip a bit on your hand but not quite letting you go. And as soon as the archon slips away from the room, a small and vulnerable, “I love you,” falls from his lips.

And he swears he feels your hand grip his back a little tighter when he does.

Kazuha:

“Man, I drank wayyyy too much,” Kazuha slurs his words as he eyes begin to droop shut. You push his shoulder lightly to keep him conscious, a small laugh echoes amidst the waves of the ocean.

You feel it too — the buzz of the alcohol. The entire crew of the Alcor had been celebrating all night with big lights, tons of food, and an endless supply of drinks. Kazuha and you had already had more than enough, and it wasn’t until Beidou forced you guys to sit out for awhile that you realized just how much you had drank.

As you both sit on the edge of the boat with your legs dangling over the edge, Kazuha nudges you back. Only, it’s a little too forceful and you aren’t sober enough to stop yourself from sliding off. Desperately you reach for the wooden rails, but it isn’t enough to save you as you fall into the icy water below with a terrifying scream.

The water thrashes around you as you so eagerly attempt to stay afloat despite your lack of swimming skills. “Kazuha!” you scream before the water enters your mouth and begins to send you under.

In an instant he dives in, both of you now sobered up and well aware of the fact that a moment of fun had just turned darkly serious. All he can think about his how stupid he was for forgetting you can’t swim that well and that he shouldn’t have pushed you, even if it was a joke.

Kazuha finds you quickly and pulls you up fast. By the time he does, the rest of the crew joins around and helps you both back up and onto the boat.

His heart pounds a million miles per second as he watches you painfully cough out a bunch of water. Your skin is freezing to the touch and there are even a few small tears in your eyes.

“Hey,” Kazuha moves to hold your hand tightly, not only to comfort you, but also himself, “you’re okay, you’re okay. I’ve got you.”

You only nod and lean back against the wood of the boat. He joins you quickly and you take it as a sign to rest your head against him. Gentle, but deep breathes leave his chest periodically and he can’t help but feel shaky all over. Kazuha had lost so many people in his life, and he’d have no idea what to do with himself if he lost you too.

“You won’t,” you whisper against his chest.

“Huh? Did I say that out loud?” Kazuha’s bright red eyes widen as they turn towards your resting figure.

You smile gently, “No, but I know what you’re thinking. You won’t lose me. I won’t let you.”

Kazuha hums contently to himself. He wouldn’t let himself lose you either.

Cyno:

“Is it just me or does something seem off?” you pause quickly, halting your footsteps at the slightest rumble of the complex structure you and Cyno had wandered into. You draw your sword quickly while Cyno swings his polearm from around his back.

His garnet eyes dart around the various hallways and statues, scowling as he comes to a realization, “It must’ve been those eremites we ran into earlier. I should have known they weren’t just ‘camping out.’”

Neither of you move as the structure continues to shake. Panicked, your arm grabs onto his as your eyes widen, “What do we do? If we don’t get out of here in time, this whole thing is gonna collapse!”

“Calm down!” Cyno shouts over the crashing sounds of rocks and statues slamming against the floor, “I’ll get us out of here!”

Within seconds later, a giant head of a statue falls from above and crashes just feet away. It happens so fast you lose your balance, feet stumbling as your arm slams against the wall. Suddenly, the panel you’re standing on slides away and sends you flying downward.

“No!” Cyno yells desperately, grabbing your arm just in time before you can fall hundreds of feet to your death.

Your hand barely holds on as you gasp, “I can’t hold on, Cyno! I’m sorry. Oh god, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to touch anything.”

His eyes widen in fear as you continue to speak. It’s the most scared you’ve ever seen him, but he can’t let you die. Not yet. “Don’t let go, please!” His arms hurt as he struggles to hold on, just barely keeping his balance against the sand covered floor, “I’m not going to let you fall.”

“I’m sorry,” you continue to apologize, eyes welling with panicked tears. Despite it sounding like a confession before death, you continue to hold on as best you can.

As if the dendro archon could hear both your pleas, the shaking stops suddenly. Cyno’s head shoots up and his arm grips your hand even tighter. With all the strength he can possibly muster, he pulls you up to safety.

Unable to comprehend what just happened, you quietly sob and fall against his chest. Cyno doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you as tightly as possible. Afraid that if he didn’t, you’d fall again and he’d lose you for good.

“Are you…are you alright?” He mumbles against the crook of your neck.

You nod silently in response, “I’m okay.”

[viinchester]

Haunted Reflections

Warnings: References to Violence and Murder, mentions of Stalking, Trauma (related to losing a limb & violent incidents), Obsessive Thoughts, Unhealthy Behavior, graphic descriptions in thoughts of Gore (Violence, Bloodshed, a bit of Body Mutilation), Moral Ambiguity (we're talking about Brian Moser here, hello?), Insults (like a single word lol), mentions of Drugs (two sentences, nothing about taking them), mentions of Death

Fandom: Dexter (TV Show/Series)

Pairing: Brian Moser/Rudy Cooper x F!Reader

Request by: @ireallydontknowohcrabs

Summary: You head to your routine appointment for a readjustment of your prosthetic leg at the Miami prosthetics clinic. This time, however, you are met with Rudy Cooper instead of your usual doctor. Unbeknownst to you, his dark secrets lie hidden beneath the surface, and you’ve unwittingly captured his undivided attention and care.

Word Count: 2.321

My Masterlist

A/N: Initially wasn't sure about which direction to go with this request, but I decided on one eventually.😅 It was fun to write, so I hope you guys will it!💞 Reposts/Comments with feedback are, as always, very much appreciated!!🙏🏼 And just as a reminder: My requests are currently open.🥰💙

You expected this visit to be the same as any other to the prosthetics clinic usually was.

You were going to meet Dr. Gardner, the prosthetist who had been with you since you’d first been fitted for your prosthetic leg, and he'd make a slight adjustment to it, and then you'd leave again.

But instead of that being the case, when you walked into the clinic today, you were greeted by someone else. A man, much younger than Dr. Gardner, with a tall frame and dark curly hair stood by the window and was currently slipping on his gloves. The doctor, obvious by the signature-white lab coat he was wearing, calmly turned to you with a professional and slightly reassuring smile.

“Unfortunately Dr. Gardner’s out sick at the moment,” he immediately explained, his voice smooth and composed. “I'm filling in for him, so I’ll be the one handling your adjustment today. My name's Dr. Rudy Cooper, it's nice to meet you.” He shook your hand gently before gesturing to the chair in the middle of the room. “Please, have a seat.”

You nodded, sitting down and rolling the cuff of your pant-leg up, glancing at him curiously. “Well then let’s see if you’re as good as Dr. Gardner at putting me back together.”

Brian gave a small smile as he seated himself across from you, gently lifting your leg to begin his examination on your prosthetic. “I’ll try my best. Dr. Gardner’s very good at it, from what I hear.” His voice was light, but he was already scanning you, taking in the way you moved, the way you spoke.

When his eyes reached your hands, he had to do a double take, his world stopping. Your nails, painted in the exact same way his mother used to paint hers. The hues were extremely similar, and the order of the colors was identical.

It came out of nowhere and hit him like a physical blow. For just a second his breath hitched and his usually steady hands trembled at the sight.

No. It couldn’t be. But it was.

His mother’s nails, now on your hands, like some ghostly echo of the past.

The carefully constructed facade of calm professionalism flickered for a moment as a flood of memories surged through him.

His mother’s laughter, the smell of her perfume, the soft touch of her hand as she ruffled his hair. And then… the blood. Her blood, mixing with the colors of those very same nails.

How could this be happening? He hadn’t thought about his mother in this way for so long, hadn’t let himself remember.

Blinking a few times, he quickly put your leg down and reached for your file instead, fighting to regain control over his composure.

He couldn’t lose it here. Not now. It was just a coincidence anyway. Just some random woman with the same taste in nail polish.

Still, deep down the shock lingered, sending tremors through the carefully walled-off parts of his mind.

He flipped through your file as casually as possible, clearing his throat once to keep his tone friendly, but professional. “Just going over some notes here. It says the injury happened... a few years ago? Could you remind me of what happened, just to make sure everything lines up?”

Forcing a polite smile, the mask of Rudy Cooper slipped into place, though it felt more strained than usual. His eyes couldn’t help but glance back to your nails every time you so much as shifted, the image of his mother — and her terrified eyes, her pleading hands, those painted nails — almost overlapping with you. He could barely hear your voice over the roaring in his head.

Not noticing anything off, you nodded, hesitating for a second. You hesitated, not because the incident was difficult to talk about anymore, but because it had become such a strange story to tell. You’d almost made peace with it, enough to laugh about it sometimes.

“Yeah, it was... a pretty bad day. Tried to steal some drugs. Not for me, though.” You smiled shyly, a hint of awkwardness in your tone. “My idiot ex, thought I could help him out of a mess he got himself into. But then I got cornered by three guys with a chainsaw. Like something out of a horror movie, right?” You laughed a little, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Brian’s hands paused again, but he kept his face neutral, even with the chaos inside him growing. Drugs? That was already close enough to the horrors of his past. But then you mentioned three guys with a chainsaw, and the floor seemed to fall away beneath him. Though his expression didn’t change and he resumed his adjustment on your prosthetic, the memory inside his mind hit him like a sledgehammer, and in vivid detail as well. His mother, the men, the chainsaw whirring. He was too young to stop it, too small to save her, but the memory had never left him. The blood, the screams, the way her nails had clutched at him in desperation before the world went red.

And now here you were, sitting in front of him, your soft voice recounting a version of his nightmare.

Brian exhaled slowly, maintaining a steady voice. “That’s... an intense way to lose a leg. It must have been terrifying.” His words sounded professional, if empathetic, but internally he struggled to comprehend how this was possible. How could you have survived something so reminiscent of what happened to her?

His disbelief mixed with something darker, something predatory. He had been powerless as a child, but not now. Not anymore.

The thought of you cornered by men with a chainsaw, just like his mother, made something in him snap into place. His shock was replaced by cold determination.

It was as if the universe had handed him a second chance, a way to rewrite the past. This time was different. This time, he wouldn’t be helpless. This time, he would stop the violence, before it consumed you, too.

You gave a small shrug and kept talking, oblivious to the storm brewing inside of him. “Yeah, it was... I honestly didn't believe I’d make it out alive. But it’s been a few years now and here I am, still standing. Just… in a slightly different way.” You offered a small, self-deprecating smile. “Guess I’ve learned to adapt. Well, kind of. I’m still getting used to the leg in a way, but hey, I haven’t fallen flat on my face in a while, so I guess that’s progress.” You smiled again, this time more genuine though, trying to lighten the mood. “And at least my ex didn’t get the drugs. Silver linings, right?”

Brian’s gaze darkened slightly at that, though he kept his tone light. “I see. That’s very impressive and brave of you, as I can only imagine how tough all that must have been. I’m hoping your ex is not someone you still have to deal with on top of that?”

You hesitated, biting your lip and avoiding his eyes, a little uneasy at the topic of your ex boyfriend. “Well, actually… he’s, uh, kind of been stalking me, on and off. Nothing too serious, but... it’s still annoying, you know?”

Brian's fingers flexed around your prosthetic, the material fitting securely into place. His eyes, though still composed on the surface, deepened in intensity and became more focused. Your ex was stalking you. Lurking, like a predator. His jaw clenched, and his disbelief at the situation melted away, replaced by a new resolve.

I couldn’t save her. But I can save you.

The idea of this man, your ex, still in your life filled him with an odd sense of purpose. He didn’t care about people, not really, but this was different. You had painted nails. You had suffered violence. You reminded him of her.

He would make sure nobody hurt you ever again. Starting with that ex-boyfriend of yours. Yes, he would definitely be dealt with. Permanently.

And going further, from now on, you would become his patient. Dr. Gardner had served his purpose, but Brian knew, with a chilling certainty, that you wouldn’t be seeing him again. Not if he could help it.

He forced a sympathetic chuckle, masking his true emotions as he continued to work on your prosthetic with his usual precision. “That sounds... frustrating. You’d think he’d get the hint by now.”

“Right?” You rolled your eyes playfully, trying to dispel the tension that came with the subject of your ex. “But I’m fine, really. It’s just one of those things I have to deal with.”

Brian simply nodded, his hands moving delicately, ensuring the fit was perfect, but his thoughts were miles away, plotting, considering what exactly he needed to do next to make sure you'd no longer have to do deal with it.

He was nothing if not methodical, his mind working like a finely-tuned machine, always planning, always calculating. When it came to taking care of your ex-boyfriend and Dr. Gardner, he would need to use two different approaches, that much was obvious.

Your ex-boyfriend would be the one to pay in blood. The man had been the catalyst for your suffering, the reason you had been put in a situation that mirrored Brian's own mother's gruesome death.

So your ex wasn't going to just disappear, that would be too easy, too nice. Instead, the bastard was going to feel every ounce of pain, every bit of terror that Brian imagined his mother and you had felt. He’d stalk him for days and learn his habits, figure out where he was most vulnerable. And when he’d finally make his move, it would be somewhere isolated, somewhere he could really take his time.

The act itself would neither be quick nor clean. Instead, Brian would make it messy, and visceral. He'd use tools that mimicked the chainsaw that had haunted both him and you. While he wouldn’t use an actual chainsaw, far too noisy and difficult to control, he would choose something just as violent, perhaps a hacksaw or an axe. He would let your ex feel the terror, hear the whir of a blade, and realize that his time was up.

In his twisted mind, Brian believed that you deserved closure. You needed to know that your ex-boyfriend was truly dead. Maybe you wouldn’t know it had been Brian, but you’d know your ex had been taken care of — brutally, and publicly even. The police would find the body, bloodied, hacked apart, left in some abandoned place where no one could escape the horror of the scene. It wouldn’t be a neat kill; it would be a spectacle. The kind that left a permanent mark in the mind of anyone who saw it.

It would be justice for you, and revenge for his mother.

It would be perfect.

You were going to feel safe, knowing that the danger had been wiped out, grateful that the threat was gone.

Dr. Gardner, on the other hand, required a different touch. Brian held no ill feelings toward him, the man simply needed to die out of necessity. But the doctor was a respected figure in your life, and if he simply vanished or died a violent death, you might grieve too hard, or worse, become suspicious. So Dr. Gardner's exit had to be quiet, peaceful, and leave no room for doubt. Brian could easily make it look natural, the man was already old enough that it wouldn’t raise too many questions if he were to die in his sleep anyway.

He'd slip a small dose of potassium chloride into Dr. Gardner’s food or drink, undetectable and mimicking the signs of a natural heart attack. The man would feel a sudden, overwhelming pressure in his chest, his heart seizing painfully — but he wouldn’t be able to cry for help. And in mere minutes, it would be over, and the man would be found peacefully in his bed or his office chair, just another old guy who’d met his end from "natural causes". No one would question it, and you might feel sad for a little while, but definitely not suspicious.

And Brian knew grief over a natural death tended to fade more quickly.

Then you’d return to the clinic in need of further adjustments to your prosthetic in the future, and who would be there for you? Him. The friendly, capable replacement who’d been there all along.

As Brian thought about it all, his hands checked the fit of your prosthetic, his fingers running along the edges.

“Now, hopefully this adjustment will work perfectly for you,” he then said, his voice calm as ever. “If you need anything else, any follow-up, you can come back to me and I’ll take care of it.”

You nodded — still oblivious to anything going on underneath his professional exterior — as you softly smiled up at him and stood up, testing your leg and finding it already fitting better. “Thanks, Dr. Cooper, it’s great, and that’s really nice of you. I’ll be sure to come back if I need any more work done.”

Brian smiled back, but it was colder this time, more possessive. “Rudy, please. And I’ll be here, whenever you need me.”

As you left the clinic, you felt relieved, glad that everything had gone well despite the fact that Dr. Gardner wasn't the one doing your adjustment. Dr. Cooper, or Rudy, had been kind, careful, and understanding. He was a really nice man. Hopefully you'd have him as your prosthetist again if Dr. Gardner ever fell sick another time.

Watching you walk away, Brian was certain of your return. He intended to mold your future so that you would always come back to him.

You may not know it yet, but he was going to ensure you’d never need anyone else, ever again.

[philistiniphagottini]

hello!! 82, 77, 29 with fem!reader and ratio? He's so ahghfdhhddhhfa

Hello Anon! I completely understand. Dr. Ratio empties my head of every single thought too. Thanks for the request, I had a lot of fun writing this. Hope you enjoy~

Smut Prompts

82 + 77 + 29

cw. smut, penetrative sex, prone bone, hard and rough, collar and leash, squirting, creampie, female reader, MDNI

"Hmm, Veritas."

You moaned his name with a heady slur, dripping from your tongue like cloying honey and warming your parched throat. You writhed under the incessant press of his body against yours, his muscular chest warm against the searing heat of your back as he pressed you flat into the mattress beneath you. Your fingers tangled in the sweat soaked sheets beneath you, your voice echoing around your stuffy bedroom as your ears were filled with the wet sound of skin slapping against skin. Every hair on the nape of your neck stood up in anticipation, your bare skin prickling with sweat and blood simmering in your veins as a hot knot coiled low in the pit of your stomach.

You almost choked on a hiccup of pleasure as the collar around your neck tightened, black leather pinching your soft skin as your head shot back when Dr Ratio tugged on the leash. Wisps of your hair curled around his thick fingers; his breath hot against the shell of your ear as he drove his cock into you from behind. Your pussy drooled around him as his thick girth split open the wet seam of your cunt, your arousal dripping down the sides of his cock and staining his skin with thin beads of translucent threads. A whine bubbled up your throat as your eyes threatened to cross and roll into the back of your head, kiss swollen lips parted as a pleasant shiver raced along the curve of your spine. He panted hotly against your ear, pearly white teeth tugging on the lobe as his tongue darted out to taste the perspiration clinging to your skin. 

You were smothered further under the press of his body as a large hand curled around your hip, fingers digging into the plump skin of your stomach until the alluring pudge spilled between the splayed digits. He rocked his hips harder into your backside, the soft flesh of your ass jiggling as his pelvis hit the skin with a resounding smack that made your toes curl hard into the soles of your feet. A constellation of tears clung to the edges of your lashes as they fluttered wildly over your burning cheeks, your pulse beating so frantically in your ears that you almost didn’t quite catch what Dr. Ratio was saying to you. Your mind felt dizzy, head stuffed full of cotton and the only thing you could focus on was the way his cock dragged through your soused walls and the way the fat, weeping head kissed the soft, gummy patch inside of you that made stars waver in your vision. You stirred when you felt his voice vibrating in his chest, rattling the notches of your spine as he threatened to crush you under the weight of his body to contain the violent tremors wracking your entire being. 

"Stop squirming" he said, the underlying sense of annoyance dulled by the bliss that seeped into the tone of his voice. 

A soft whine stirred in your throat but you found it so hard to obey his words when the burning coil in your stomach twister tighter, thrashing around like a caged animal trying to get out. Your nerves shocked you like a live wire as your hips rocked forward, humping the soft sheets beneath you as you desperately tried to work a spark of friction on your aching clit. Your pussy fluttered around him as a soft hiss whistled through his teeth, your plush walls squeezing him so tight he was almost convinced you were trying to strangle him. He tugged on your leash and the brief moment of breathlessness only heightened your pleasure to an almost tortuous degree. 

"Hmm, Veritas harder" you softly begged. 

Your chest heaved with exertion, lungs pinching in your chest and small drops of drool staining the seam of your lips as your body teetered on the familiar edge of nirvana. You clawed at the sheets beneath you, nails catching in the material as you felt the rough drag of his cock moving intimately beneath the skin of your soft stomach, the tip just barely grazing your cervix and making more slick drip down the sticky insides of your thighs. You shivered as his lips brushed against the soft spot just under your ear, his usual sharp tongue feeling like cement in his mouth. He silently complied to your wishes, a loud grunt ringing in your ears and making your pulse waver under the press of his mouth. You keened loudly as he set a fast and hard pace, one that had you writhing between the sheets and stealing the air from your lungs. Your voice stung in your throat as your hips jolted forward, grinding the swollen nub of your clit into the mattress as the bliss boiled and bubbled over.

You were a babbling mess as the coil in your stomach shattered into a million tiny pieces, flooding your veins with relief that turned your vision white for a few, brief seconds. Dr. Ratio groaned into your skin as your pulsing walls clamped down on his cock, your slick juices squirting from your swollen pussy and staining his toned thighs and abdomen. The collar tightened around you one last time as you thrashed beneath the hot press of his body, a blood vessel in your head ready to burst as you felt his thundering heat beat against your back. A husky rasp was muffled against your skin as the cant of his hips came to a sudden halt, cock buried deep inside you as the pressure inside of him snapped. You moaned weakly as ropes of his hot, viscous seed coated your walls, cock kicking with each heavy spurt as you were filled to the brim. Your soft stomach swelled as pearls of his cum overflowed and dripped down your quaking thighs from your still clenching pussy, the heat occupying your hazy mind as you lay still beneath him.

Heavy pants filled the silence, your body burning with a pleasant ache as your heart felt like it was ready to jump out of your throat. Dr. Ratio’s hands were a soothing balm against your scorching flesh, calming the small tremors of your body as your pulse continued to flutter beneath the gentle press of his fingertips. His voice sounded distant when he called to you, your ears still buzzing from your rush and eyes struggling to stay open as the bliss settled deep into your bones. You felt two fingers tapping your cheek and you stirred as he leaned further over your body, his cock finally slipping free from the hole he had been so passionately fucking only a few moments prior. 

"Are you still with me?" he asked as he called your name.

You weakly nodded your head as a soft noise fell from your bruised lips. With a soft sigh breezing past his lips, Dr Ratio coaxed your body to roll over, laying on your side so he could properly check you over.

"Are you alright?" he continued to ask, eyes scanning your body for any signs of discomfort. "How are you feeling?"

It took you a few seconds to rattle the words around your head and shake them loose from your brain until they came tumbling out, dazed eyes staring absently at the ceiling.

"A little dizzy" you admitted.

Your senses were slow to crawl back to you, muscles completely lax as your weary body sank further into the mattress. A thoughtful noise stirred in your lover’s throat as he rubbed his hand along your plump thigh, tracing patterns into your skin as a frown tugged at his lips. 

"I’m fine, Doctor" you reassured, fingers weakly pinching his hip as your head came to rest in his lap. 

He didn’t look too convinced by your words but he was polite enough to bite his tongue for a moment longer. His fingers started to tug your collar loose, unfastening it and freeing you from the snug fit. A noise of content stirred in your chest as you nestled closer to him, seeking his alluring warmth as he gently tangled his hand in your hair. 

"Will you be right to stand?" he questioned after a long moment of silence.

"What if I said no?"

Dr Ratio sighed softly before he squeezed your thigh. "Then I guess I’ll just have to carry you to the bathroom."

[zablife]

Now You Know the Truth (Part 7)

Tommy x wife reader

Summary: Dr. Holford comes to answer questions about Tommy's condition and you play your part as the supportive wife...perhaps too well.

Author's Note: My readers have spoken via poll, calling for a happy(ish) ending for this series. However, I also heard those of you who craved a dose of evil. I hope you enjoy the ending I've crafted for this twisted tale. I have to admit, I find it quite satisfying!

Warnings: medical situations, inaccurate medical advice, manipulation

Part 6

"If left untreated, the consequences would be dire," Dr. Holford concluded as silence blanketed the room.

Tommy stood from his desk and began pacing slowly, hands stuffed in his pockets as he began to shake his head in disagreement. "If," he mumbled disgustedly. He cast a long shadow where he stood above the doctor's chair, glowering as he pronounced, "You don't know a bloody thing about what's going to happen."

"Tommy, please, you promised to listen," you began, exchanging a worried glance with Dr. Holford.

"While you are correct that I do not know the exact course of events, I can say with certainty it is not a matter of if but when you succumb. Your wife tells me you enjoy race horses, playing the odds. Well let me assure you these percentages are not in your favor, sir. " Although the doctor tried to adopt a more forceful tone, Tommy only scoffed in reply.

"You people and your percentages. Wasn't it your doctors who told my aunt the gold salts worked without fail?" he asked, eyebrow cocked defiantly.

"As I've explained, your condition is quite different and the treatment I'm offering is a new cure," the doctor assured. "It's less invasive and we would keep your confinement to the absolute minimum."

Tommy stood rubbing his temples as he considered the gravity of the situation. Finally he asked through gritted teeth, "How long?"

"I'm afraid we won't know until we've begun, but cases similar to yours have taken less than six months,” Dr. Holford advised, mouth twitching slightly as he spoke. Every moment spent deceiving your husband was wearing down his defenses and you prayed Tommy wouldn't notice the poorly concealed nervous tremor.

Tommy grumbled as he reached for his cigarette case, a rumble of dissatisfaction issuing forth. "I'm a busy man, doctor. My business interests combined with the care of my pregnant wife….That isn't possible," he concluded, the snap of his lighter finalizing the decision hastily.

Rising to your feet, you placed a hand to Tommy's forearm gently. "That's exactly why you must get well soon," you pleaded. "I need you, Tom," you said with as much sincerity as you could muster.

Though you could feel his icy blue eyes upon you, a sudden waft of smoke created a veil between you. Momentarily, you were transported to Dr. Holford's office and the moment your final plan for Tommy took shape.

I will insist he get well and thus he will refuse to go. That’s when you must present the second option. However, Tommy must be thoroughly convinced in order to believe he's chosen it for himself.

Yes, but are you certain this is what you want, Mrs. Shelby? The effects would be irreversible.

As you refocused on Tommy's crystal irises, Dr. Holford's voice came wafting over your shoulder like a siren call. "There is another way.”

Tommy broke from you suddenly, attempting to hide his curiosity and failing when he rushed out the words, “Go on.”

Sitting forward, the doctor explained, “Some colleagues of mine have shared their research on an experimental procedure to remove the tumor instead of attempting to shrink it.”

“A simpler, more effective solution?” Tommy mused.

“More painful perhaps, but certainly less time to execute,” the doctor conceded with quickening breath, his knee bouncing slightly as he cut his eyes toward you. “And the results would be..." he paused for emphasis, "immediate."

Your eyes gleamed at his word choice, hopeful Tommy would seize upon his promise.

“Pain is the least of my concerns,” Tommy replied gruffly, crushing his cigarette into the ashtray forcefully.

You could tell by his determination, he had made up his mind without you having to ask, but you voiced the question for Dr. Holford's benefit. "Then you'll agree to put this behind us before the baby arrives?" you prodded.

He only nodded with clenched jaw as Dr. Holford reached into his briefcase for the consent forms.

"Fucking get on with it then," Tommy announced to no one in particular as he signed them and stormed out of the room.

"Thank you," you mouthed to the doctor.

He returned your show of appreciation with a small, but triumphant nod.

----------------------

One year later...

"There she is! There's mummy!" Frances called in sing song, crossing the lawn to bring you a wriggling infant.

"Did you have a lovely nap, my darling?" you asked the tiny raven haired cherub, her bright blue eyes catching the light and glinting back at you mischievously. At times she looked so much like Tommy, it stole your breath.

"Not long enough," Frances replied with apologetic eyes. "Mr. Shelby woke her ma'am. I'm awfully sorry."

"Is he wandering the halls again?" you sighed.

"I'm afraid so, but the nurse is coming to fetch him,” she assured you.

"No, there’s no need," you replied with a cheerful smile. "We’ll tend to daddy, won’t we?” you asked your child, hoisting her onto your hip as Frances went back to her other duties. Meanwhile your daughter gurgled back at you happily and you stopped to admire her, heart flooding with overwhelming joy.

Strolling back through the well manicured grounds you surveyed the magnificent face of Arrow House. “This will all be yours one day,” you promised placing a kiss to her temple. “Mummy saw to it because I love you so,” you cooed to her in the soothing voice reserved for bedtime fairy tales.

As you rounded the corner to the room that you once shared with your husband, you sighed softly at the sight of him sitting on the bed, struggling to unbutton his shirt. A maid passed you in the hall, offering a sympathetic smile. “Mr. Shelby looks well today,” she chirped encouragingly, her green eyes shining with admiration for your bravery.

In truth, everyone looked upon you with kindness after the unfortunate outcome of your husband’s brain surgery. Though docile and calm, he had been left simple minded, relying on you for every decision.

“I think you’re right, Mary,” you agreed, closing the door to your husband’s room for privacy.

Bringing your daughter to his bedside, you watched him slowly form the words to greet her, a lazy smile settling on his face before returning to his task. Placing her on the floor to play, you turned back to help him remove his shirt and swing his legs into bed.

You pulled the covers up to his chin and pushed the fringe from his forehead, watching as his empty eyes gazed back at you. All the spite and malice of years past erased with no hint of the formidable man he once was. At times it made you believe you could love him if not for the suffering that came before, which you could neither forgive nor forget.

Pulling back to study him, your face hardened involuntarily at the memory of all the years you spent under the reign of his cruelty. How the tide had turned, you thought as you watched your now frail husband draw breath.

"Y/n?" he called out, hand reaching from beneath the duvet to reach for you. "My love?"

Leaning forward to tuck him in, your lips brushed past his ear whispering, “How long have you been dead for, darling? Lost inside your mind. Have you forgotten?" Your breath fanned over him in a gentle wave, making him shudder slightly and you relished it.

Your lips curled into a satisfied smile as you hissed, "I'm not yours any longer, but make no mistake you are mine until the day you die." Then you leaned down to retrieve your daughter, walking away to leave him sputtering in distress.

--------------------

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[pumpkin-patch-cat]

Distraction

Zayne | gn! Reader

Warnings: |18+|MDNI| - Oral, body fluids, dirty stuff OoOoO

Just some filthy Zayne brainrot because yes💅.

AN: Ignore any and all grammar mistakes as this was written quickly, proofing is tedious, and words are hard >:(!

Okay, enjoy!

He's uncertain as to how it escalated this far, but you're on your knees now, his dick prodding the back of your throat. Your head bobs to the rhythm of each trust. He's doing his best to stay quiet within the confines of his office.

Biting his fist, fisting his own hair. Your lips are heaven. Your tongue is home. How easily you had him falling apart at the seams. A man statuesque in the way he carries himself. Now crumbling like delicate marble in your hands.

"Y-you...mmph...I'm gonna cum soon...fuck" Your swollen lips slip off his dick with a pop.

"Language, Dr. Zayne." You giggle from your place between his legs when he squints his eyes in response and weaves his fingers into your hair for a firm grip. He holds the base of his dick with the other hand and rubs it along your bottom lip, no words needed. His weeping tip beckons you to continue.

"Do not stop now." "Wouldn't dare" It disappears into your mouth once more.

Wet...

Sloppy... Drool gathering and spilling over the edges of your lips and onto his lap. "Right there...shit...just like that." You'd never seen him pant before. "Yanguagesh (language)" you joke, mouth full. "Mmm shut up and suck. Please" still so polite. His voice held no anger, and you took no offense. Nay, his neediness made you chuckle, boosting your ego. Zayne's jaw sat slightly slack with parted lips. Watching on intently as you took him with ease, drawing him closer and closer to his sought-after release. "I can't hold it, y/n..." "Let me tashte you" Hands on his thighs, you skillfully, albeit painfully take him deeper, spurred on by the hand on your head and the upward thrusting of his hips. "Son of a-" Zayne bites his hand again, the ghost of a pathetic whimper hanging in the air. Hips sputtering through the white-hot orgasm, sending tremors rippling through his body. Each warm ribbon of cum that saturates your throat induces a feeling akin to a spark straight to your core. The leather chair below him creaks with every rough stutter of his hips before slowly tapering off along side the orgasmic high. Eyes glittering from below and your cheeks puffed slightly after he unsheathes himself, you wink up at the man, sitting back on your haunches. Zayne smirks. "Not going to swallow?" You shake your head. It's not that he tastes bad, it's just not your thing. "Open then, let me see" he whispers. Soft fingers caress your cheek before gently holding your chin and squeezing slightly. Without breaking eye contact, you slowly and obediently open your mouth to let his cum and your saliva dribble down your chin creating a few long, misty strands that ooze down to the floor. He'll clean it up later. Hazel eyes dip to your mouth in awe. "So vulgar...so beautiful" The praise had you preening with delight. Especially knowing that you managed to distract the doctor enough from giving you another lecture on your health. ⋆ʚ ❀ ɞ˚‧⋆ Mission accomplished ⋆ʚ ❀ ɞ˚‧⋆

[talesfromthecrypts]

What are some movies that you’d recommend that use a lot of good practical effects?

Ok knowing that practical effects is going to cover a wide range of things (makeup effects, in camera effects, puppets, gore):

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1931)

Vampyr (1932)

King Kong (1933)

The Invisible Man (1933)

The Wolf Man (1941)

Godzilla (1954)

The Incredible Shrinking Man (1957)

Jason and the Argonauts (1963)

Viy (1967)

The Exorcist (1973)

Dawn of the Dead (1978)

Alien (1979) (of course)

The Beyond (1981)

The Howling (1981)

An American Werewolf in London (1981)

The Thing (1982)

Basketcase (1982)

The Dark Crystal (1982) (not horror but its my buddy)

Creepshow (1982)

Videodrome (1983)

The Company of Wolves (1984)

Gremlins (1984)

Day of the Dead (1985)

Fright Night (1985)

Re-Animator (1985)

Aliens (1986)

The Fly (1986)

From Beyond (1986)

Little Shop of Horrors (1986)

The Gate (1987)

Hellraiser (1987)

Bad Taste (1987)

Robocop (1987)

The Blob (1988)

Pumpkinhead (1988)

Society (1989)

Nightbreed (1990)

Tremors (1990)

Arachnophobia (1990)

Death Becomes Her (1992)

Starship Troopers (1997) (not horror in the slightest but the bugs look so fucking good)

Pan's Labyrinth (2006)

Hatchet (2006)

Martyrs (2008)

Evil Dead (2013) (as far as I'm aware all effects except the first are practical)

Clown (2014)

Spring (2014)

Krampus (2015) (Krampus himself is all practical)

The Void (2016)

Rabid (2019)

The Sadness (2021)

Hatching (2022)