#nurse doris

[inkstainedhandswithrings]

btw I’m a 100% that whenever Doris was on nightshift she and Crockett would sit at the nurses station spilling all the day shift tea

[hannah-asher]

[thena0315]

Chicago Med Characters with 100+ episodes appearances in Wolf Universe

Shows included: One Chicago universe

This list does NOT include episodes the actors' character are credited for, but does not appear in.

Dominic Rains only needs to appear in 3 more episodes as Crockett to reach 100+ episodes

Colin Donnell is at 90+ episodes

[wausaupilot]

Rhinelander nurse earns DAISY Award

We appreciate you, Dori Boos!

RHINELANDER – Aspirus Rhinelander Hospital recently honored Dori Boos, a registered nurse, with the DAISY Award for Extraordinary Nurses in recognition for her commitment and patient-centered approach to care. The award is part of the DAISY Foundation’s program to recognize the super-human efforts nurses perform every day. Recipients are nurses recognized for going above and beyond patient…

[petitexmagician]

I got Thoma c2, but more important - at least to me; I got Nahida's signature weapon to lvl 90 while it's rank 2. I'm gonna keep saving primos for the little nurse that's at the Fortress in case she's a healer that has her heals as a skill instead of a burst.

[fazcinatingblog]

i hate that people can't get her name right

[clemsfilmdiary]

The Honeymoon Killers (1970, Leonard Kastle, Martin Scorsese, Donald Volkman)

4/26/23

[magmagicstyle]

So I love Chicago med... But at the same time, I hate the characters in ways that I can't explain.

Except Ethan Choi, I absolutely love that man... And Sharon Godwin... And Nurse Doris... And Sam Abrams.

[tragedy-of-commons]

To put it lightly, Kaveh is incensed.

Sat at the dining room table, seething with a tick to his square jaw, all of his thoughts scrambling for some semblance of purchase.

Just who do you think you are? How did you find out about his debt, and more importantly, why did you pay it off in its entirety for no good reason? Most importantly, who are you? Taking the moral high ground by wiping all of his financial troubles clean anonymously is...

...is a wonderful thing. He's so grateful that there are tears in his eyes as he fights the urge to stand up from his mandated breather to hunt you down himself. If you know about his issues, who's to say that you don't know about his living situation too? He'd been so careful - well, save for the time he'd gotten a little tipsy and blabbed to the whole tavern - but that's neither here nor there!

But what is he supposed to do, really? His hands are idle, and no work is getting done because for once he doesn't have to crunch any commissions. There's nothing to pay off, nothing glaring to make up for because that's all he's been doing for years and years. Running in circles, dragging his own feet - so much so that he truly thought he was fated to be miserable. He can breathe a bit easier, and he actually tastes the humidity seeping into the house.

You are horribly audacious, but Kaveh can't even express it because you are philanthropic to boot. It's humiliating, thinking of himself as a charity case, even if it's true; he lives rent-free in his sort-of-friend's home, hanging off of Alhaitham's back like a leech, struggling to find work that he actually likes. But now? Now there is one less monumental burden obscuring his creative vision for the future.

Archons. He's crying, wiping away the beading tears with his coarse palms. Kaveh can't even thank you or give you anything in return. He knows it's petty to be bitter about a miracle such as this - so many have it worse and hope for this everyday - but it stings. It stings like a scorpion, venom spreading slowly to every limb before lulling him into a delirious fever dream. It stings because he couldn't pull himself out of the mess that he made.

He rises from his chair with a vengeance before realizing how silly he looks with his hackles raised. He has to do something... try to track you down, maybe. He could try to get some more information out of Dori, narrow down the list of suspects. Yes, that's what he'll do next.

The logistics of this plan contribute to Kaveh's (oddly painless) headache that he's nursing. It's too late in the day to interrogate anyone right now, though it doesn't stop him from imagining doing so as he goes about doing pointless chores to keep himself occupied. The dishes are surely going to get scuffed with the force of his scrubbing... sometimes he forgets he slings a claymore around.

What will he say when he finds you? He could try and convince you to ask for a refund, if that's even possible. Surely your sizable wealth could be put to use somewhere better - an actual noble cause, perhaps. If that doesn't work, he could always do some work for you off the books. That's what got him into this mess, after all - passion and his craft and whatever else other scholars would turn their noses up at.

Would you even accept his service? It's the least he could do. Kaveh's mind can't help but conjure up all sorts of ideas of what you might be like, images of foreign dignitaries on vacation to juggernauts of old money flashing before him. No matter, he'll pay you back no matter what.

Before he truly he goes to bed that night, Kaveh is struck by the epiphany that debt truly controls his life. If he is not in Dori's, he is in Alhaitham's. If he is not in Alhaitham's, he's in yours - whoever you may be. No kindness offered to him will ever belay the guilty bite of his lip, but only worsen how deep he drives his teeth in. As always, he pushes that thought deep down into the recesses of his mind.

Instead of acknowledging that he is cruel to himself, he will paint you as the cruel one.

It's what he does best, artist that he is.

[darylas]

Chapter 1 - Blue Skies

John "Bucky" Egan x singer!fem!reader ♫ next ♫ ao3

When Bucky hears his favorite song begin to play, he does not expect to see a new Red Cross volunteer walk up to the microphone.

1.6k words

Warnings: Language, Alcohol

Disclaimer: Most of the characters mentioned are based on the dramatic portrayal featured in the Masters of the Air limited series, not the actual historical figures they represent.

A/N: This was my first time writing in several years! It's short and the pacing is interesting, but gosh darn it I had fun writing this. Special shoutout to @blurredcolour for inspiring me to pick up the pen. Go read their work, it's fantastic.

Bucky sat cross-legged in a chair next to Buck, not-so-slowly nursing his second whiskey. Men and women danced in the center of the officers club as the military band played an obviously well-rehearsed rendition of Glenn Miller’s A String of Pearls. Bucky tapped two fingers on his knee in time to the beat while he watched the dancers. He had already spent three songs dancing with three different women and was now taking a break to sit and enjoy his best friend’s company.

“That girl you were dancing with before, she was pretty,” said Buck before taking a sip of his coke. “She works in the Clubmobile, right?”

“Yeah, Helen. Good dancer, too.” Bucky spotted her on the other side of the room, chatting with Tatty Spaatz. 

Buck took another sip as he watched the band play. “Got a letter from Marge today.”

“She dump you yet?”

“Not if I read the letter right.” Buck smiled and looked down. After a moment, he looked back at Bucky. “She said Peggy was not too happy she hasn’t gotten a letter from you.”

Bucky responded with a puzzled look. “We went on one date. A double date. I swear I didn’t give her any ideas that she’d be expecting mail from me. Buck, I swear. I don’t play like that.” 

Buck gave a soft exhale through his nose. “I know you don’t. I was just passing along the message.” A String of Pearls began to come to a close. “Not sure why it’d be such a bad idea to write her, though.”

“Aww, c’mon, Buck, I’m trying to have a nice evening here.” Bucky’s eyes lit up as the band initiated the next song, loud trumpets and melodic saxophones blaring out the snappy intro to Blue Skies. He broke into a grin. “Now we’re talkin’.”

Buck and at least three other men couldn’t hold in their groans as they too heard the familiar notes. They knew exactly what this song did to Bucky, especially after a few drinks. 

Bucky leaned over to address one of the protestors, Major Jack Kidd. “It’s my song! It needs vocals! You can’t expect me to just sit here in silence.”

“I think you’re gonna have to, John,” said Buck. “Looks like your act’s been booted.” 

Bucky whipped his head around to look at the makeshift stage where the band was playing. He watched in disbelief as a woman wearing a Red Cross uniform strolled up to the microphone in front of the band and began to sing.

Blue skies smiling at me

Nothing but blue skies do I see

Several of the men whooped and whistled appreciatively, and Bucky saw you smile and wink at the crowd as you continued to sing. Every note was sung with confidence and precision, and you continued to smile brightly as you got to the chorus. Everyone in the room seemed to be under the spell of your voice and stage presence.

Never saw the sun shining so bright

Never saw things going so right

Noticing the days hurrying by

When you’re in love, my how they fly

Buck hadn’t realized how right he’d been. Bucky had gone completely silent.

He rubbed the lower half of his face to cover his growing smile. He hoped you’d glance his way but so far no luck. He found himself in a strange quandary as he was torn between closing his eyes to listen to your voice and keeping them open to stare at your face. He wasn't sure if it was the whisky, the humidity of the packed room, your performance, or a strange combination of all three, but he was beginning to feel dizzy.

Far too soon for his liking, the song ended, with you hitting the final high note right on the head. The crowd applauded as you stepped back and gestured to the band behind you in appreciation. You stepped back up to the microphone.

“Thank you very much. Let’s hear it one more time for our Air Force Band! Aren’t they wonderful?” The crowd cheered, Buck and Bucky clapping along with them. “While I’m up here, I just wanted to remind you all that this Saturday, the Red Cross will be hosting bingo night in the Aeroclub at 1900. I don’t want to spoil anything but I will tell you that we’ve got some pretty terrific prizes for the winners. Thank you again, ladies and gentlemen.” 

As you departed the stage, several men in the crowd let out cries of disappointment. The band director spoke into the microphone, “Don’t worry, ladies and gents, she’ll be back! Now if you feel so inclined, grab a partner and get back on the dance floor!” He signaled the band to start playing a new song with a count of "one, two, three, four.”

Bucky slapped both hands on his thighs and stood. He quickly downed the rest of his whisky, put down the glass, and straightened his tie. “I do believe I feel so inclined,” he said to Buck. 

“Yeah, I figured you might,” replied Buck with a smirk. 

As Bucky made his way toward where you were seated with another Red Cross Girl, he smirked as he noticed that other officers who had the same idea begrudgingly backed off. As Buck was known to say, rank had its privileges. When you looked up, Bucky greeted you with his most charming grin. “Quite the performance up there; you do autographs?”

You looked at his hands and quirked your brow. “I don’t see anything to sign.” 

Bucky looked down at his hands as well and flipped them over a couple of times. “Damn, you’re right.” He looked back at you. “How ‘bout a dance instead, then?” 

You smiled politely at him. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I don’t dance.” You motioned to the girl sitting next to you. “Rachel here is a marvelous dancer, though.” 

“Oh, I know.” Bucky nodded at Rachel. “How ya doin’, Rach?” 

With a mischievous smile and her chin resting on her fist, the blonde replied, "I'm just swell, Bucky." 

He smiled back at her. “That’s great.” He looked back at you skeptically. “You sure? I promise to keep you on your feet, Miss…”

You gave him your name then said, “I’m sure. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Major, and don’t forget about bingo night on Saturday.”

Bucky stuck his hands in his pockets and pressed his lips together, nodding. “Right, right. Bingo night. Alright then, I’ll see you around.” He began to walk away then turned back around. “I don’t know if the band said anything to you, but Blue Skies is sorta my signature song. S’okay, though. You did alright. Little different than my rendition, but you sounded great.” 

You gave him that same damn polite smile that he couldn’t decipher and said, “Glad you liked it.”

Bucky nodded once and headed back to his seat. He cleared his dry throat after sitting down next to Buck. After picking up his whisky glass, he frowned upon realizing that it was empty. Buck looked over at him. “What happened?”

“Turns out she’s more your type. Said she doesn’t dance.” 

“What’s ‘a matter, Bucky?” He turned to see Blakely and Douglass grinning at him. “The jazz cat have claws?” Both burst out laughing at the terrible joke. Bucky bit the inside of his cheek and gave them an exasperated look.

Buck smiled good-naturedly and clapped him on the back. “Had to happen sometime, pal. Maybe getting shot down for once will help fix that king-size ego of yours,” he joked. 

“I didn’t get shot down, she said she didn’t dance.” Bucky pulled on one of his sleeves. “There’s a difference.” Once again, he began tapping two fingers against his knee to the music, trying his damndest not to look at you.

═════ ♫ ═════

Later in the evening, Bucky, Buck, and Curt Biddick were all standing at the bar. Curt and Bucky were animatedly discussing the Yankees for what had to be the hundredth time, leaving poor Buck to his coke and people-watching for a few minutes. 

Bucky saw his friend look quizzically at the dance floor then quickly avert his eyes and take a long sip. Bucky looked back in the same direction and immediately saw what Buck had been hoping he wouldn’t. At the far edge of the dance floor, you were dancing with Lt. “Bubbles” Payne, smiling and laughing. 

“I’m telling you, DiMaggio would never…what the hell are you looking at?” Curt, who was more than a little drunk, turned around and saw you and Bubbles. “That the girl who was singing earlier? The one that gave you the brush-off? I thought you said she didn’t dance. I guess she meant she doesn’t dance with-” He was cut off by Buck smacking him on the arm. “What?”

Bucky was still watching you with your arms around Bubbles, laughing at something else he said. Bubbles. He was a great guy, but what about him made you change your mind about dancing? Or was dancing not the problem at all?

Curt, unaware of Bucky’s worsening mood, casually slung his arm over his shoulders. “Hey, c’mon, don’t feel bad. I’ll dance with you, Bucky. C’mere, they’re playing our song.” 

Bucky shoved the drunk lieutenant off of him and smiled bitterly. “Yeah, cause spinning and shaking is exactly what your body needs right now, Curt.” 

He felt Buck nudge his shoulder. “You’ll get your chance, John. C’mon, I’m beat. Let’s head to the barracks.” 

As they began the walk back and the music behind them faded, Curt appeared deep in thought. Eventually, he said, very seriously, “Maybe she likes his mustache better than yours.” Buck coughed to cover a laugh. 

Bucky rolled his eyes. He didn’t care that you had rejected him. Not even a little.

He wouldn’t spare you a second thought. No sir.

And he absolutely did not hear you singing Blue Skies over and over in his head as he lay in bed that night.

—

♫ next ♫

[bullet-prooflove]

Home: Russell Shaw x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989

Nobody in Russell’s life knows about you, he makes sure of that. Not Colter, not Dory, especially not the Horizon Group, even though they’ve tried keeping tabs on him multiple times.

The address he gives is a PO Box and every single one of his cell phones a burner. Every single time he switches one out, he texts you the new number from the road. That’s how dedicated he is to your safety, to making sure you stay protected amidst the mess that is his life.

When he comes home tonight to the house the two of you share, he can’t help but smile when he sees the warm glow of the porch light.

It’s been a gruelling week, reacquainting with his brother, tracking down Doug, getting shot. He doesn’t think he’s slept more than a couple of hours in the past seven days and he feels the exhaustion deep down in his bones as he turns off the car engine.

You’re curled up on the couch with your laptop when he lets himself into the house, wearing his Pantera t-shirt and a pair of his boxer shirts, your hair tied up in a messy bun. It does a little something to him, seeing you wear his clothes, it always has.

The first time you slipped out of those motel sheets and into one of his t-shirts he’d known he was done being a lone wolf. He’d found a mate and Russell, well it turns out he mates for life.

“You’re injured aren’t you?” You say without looking up from your computer.

“No, of course not…” He says and your eyes flicker up to meet his with an expression he knows all too well. He sighs as he sets his luggage down alongside the door. “What gave it away?”

“Duffle bag was on the wrong shoulder.” You state as you set your laptop down on the coffee table and raise to your feet. “Let me see.”

“Ariel, its fine.” He tells you but his girl, she sees right through his bullshit. It’s one of the things he loves about you.

“Russ baby.” You say, your fingers trailing along the zipper of his jacket, dragging it down. “Who are you trying to kid here?”

He hisses through his teeth as you help him out of his jacket, struggling to remove his left arm out of the sleeve.

“You’re gonna be mad.” He says frankly as you toss his jacket over the back of his armchair.

“Why would I be mad-” You trail off as your gaze comes to rest on the skin coloured gauze that’s been looped around his bicep. “You got shot again?”

“Yea.” He sighs as you start to unknot the bandage, he feels the pressure loosen on his arm as you unwrap it carefully. “It’s a through and through. Colt sterilised it…”

“He did a pretty good job.” You say examining the bullet hole in your life partner before you begin to redress it. “The wound’s clean, there’s no signs of infection.”

This is not the first time you’ve played nurse to Russell and you both know it won’t be the last. He was fortunate to fall in love with someone who’d trained as a Medic with the Rangers before leaving the service and becoming a P.I. He’s lost count of the amount of times you’ve patched him up.  

“Yea well, our dad taught him well.” Russell grumbles as you carefully redress the injury.

“You wanna talk about that?” You ask him as you secure the bandage and Russ swallows hard against the ache in his chest.

His emotions on seeing Colter again are complicated. There’s a lot of shit there to unpack. The two of you don’t have secrets but he’d not ready to go into this just yet. He’s too tired, too emotional. He just wants to curl up in bed with the woman he loves and sleep for a week.

“Not yet.” He says, his good arm looping around your waist as his forehead comes to rest upon yours. “I just want to be with you right now.”

Love Russ? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[agent-cakeshroom]

Thinkin about a Trolls au where Brozone never split. This is also under the assumption that during the scene right before going out to perform, they were not at home. They still fought, but as they're yelling at each other Grandma steps in and separates them to let them go clear their heads. Clay bursts into tears as his emotions crash down on him, and he runs out to go home. Spruce(no name change yet obv) quickly follows after shooting JD a dirty look, telling Grandma he'd go soothe Clay. Grandma picks up Branch, and Floyd offers to go gather her things so they can head home too. John Dory is still reeling, and blurts out that he's going to go stay with a friend. Before anyone else can say anything, he's hopped out the window. Grandma decides to leave him be, and heads home with the youngest two.

By the time they get back, Clay has cried himself to sleep in the room he shares with Floyd, and Spruce is dressed more comfortably while slumped over at the kitchen table. Grandma sets Branch in the high chair and gets to fixing them up some hot cocoa. Floyd grabs out the jar of shortbread cookies, and passes some to his brothers as he sits next to Spruce. No one says anything until they're all sitting and nursing a mug of cocoa. Spruce apologizes to Grandma out of habit, but she waves it off. Talks about how they're teenagers and children, that emotions are bound to explode. She talks about how JD should be back by tomorrow, and they can all try to work things out then. Eventually they all head to bed, Spruce in his shared room with JD, and Branch with Grandma.

Next morning, they all wake up late and John Dory is in the kitchen whipping up breakfast. Clay wakes up first, and just stops in the kitchen doorway to stare at his eldest brother. JD's eyes are puffy like his, and he looks like he'd barely slept. Without saying a word, Clay simply sits at the table to wait for the rest of their family. Floyd is next, still half asleep, and curls up in the chair next to Clay while leaning on the middle brother. Spruce is close behind, wearing a sweater he stole from JD's closet, but decides not to explain himself since no one was paying attention anyway. Last is Grandma carrying a sleepy Branch, setting him in the high chair just as food finishes cooking. She helps JD set out plates and dish out the food before they both sit, and the family eats in silence at first.

Eventually John Dory speaks up first, apologizing to Clay. He doesn't look at his younger brother, or anyone really, but they can all hear how close to crying he is. He apologizes to Spruce as well, and then Floyd. He tells them that he'll try to stop being so bossy, and he won't force them to do anything they don't want to. He says he loves them all the way they are, and he never should've tried to change that just for the band's image. He apologizes again, and tries to lighten the mood by commenting on his tears getting in his pancakes. It's gets a small laugh out of his brothers, and Branch pipes up with his own apology. He tries to say it was all his fault the concert was ruined, but all 4 brothers jump in to reassure him it wasn't his fault. John tries to explain that Branch is just a baby, and if it's anyone's fault it's John's. Grandma praises them for trying to work things out, and then tells them to hurry up and eat. Their food is getting cold.

Obviously all their problems aren't solved there, but it leads into John Dory announcing that Brozone is going on hiatus. They're taking a break to focus on their personal lives. He's terrified of the audience reaction, but fans were surprisingly supportive. Clay focuses more on school, and even starts sharing about his sad book club. Spruce focuses less on working out all the time, and instead convinces Grandma to teach him how to bake. Floyd starts writing his own songs, and has JD double check them just in case. John decides to ignore anything he wants to do, and focuses more on helping his brothers. Grandma notices and tries to get him to go and be a teenager, but JD refuses.

Timeskip to Grandma still getting eaten. Clay was off at sad book club, Spruce was inside trying to make lunch, and Floyd was working on songs with JD. Spruce hears Grandma yelling and screaming, and as he starts to run outside he hears Branch scream too. He barely catches a glimpse of the Bergen walking away with his Grandma, and he wants to collapse and wail but he can hear Branch crying from the ground. Spruce hurries down to his baby brother as JD and Floyd finally burst out of the pod. JD forces Floyd back inside, and crashes down beside his brothers to drag them back into the pod. He doesn't know what just happened, but he knows they're safest inside. Once inside, the older brothers see Branch's colors begin to fade and panic. Spruce explains that Grandma was taken just before bursting into tears himself. Floyd starts crying right after, and JD can feel himself start to shake. But seeing his brothers so distressed, the oldest manages to shove back his feelings and take all three brothers to his and Spruce's room to cuddle and process. Clay arrives not too long after, unaware, and JD tries to gently break the news to him. Clay is distraught, screaming and stomping before deflating into JD's arms.

FAST FORWARD AGAIN. After that JD starts helping with the tunnels to escape, and let's Spruce take on more responsibility over their younger brothers. When the time comes to escape, JD is in charge of carrying Floyd while Spruce carries Branch. Clay tries to stick close, but stops when he hears Viva yelp in fear. He glances back at his brothers, just in time to catch the horror in their faces as a pick axes smashes down between them. Clay is flung back, and smacks into a startled Viva. JD and Spruce are frozen for a moment, but rhe screams of their youngest brothers kick them into gear as they start sprinting for the exit. Floyd is hysterically crying and flailing, trying to reach out for Clay while Branch is inconsolable.

Viva and Clay end up in a similar situation to canon, the only difference is Clay is more soft and in tune with himself. He still enjoys boring stuff, but he's not as adamant about not being fun. The other four try to settle down in the new village with a new pod, but the older brothers catch Branch attempting to dig his bunker on multiple occasions. One by one they give in and help, and eventually the bunker is built with an extra room for Clay just in case. Branch isn't fully gray, but his color is severely muted, and his other brothers aren't much brighter. Floyd is the only one that really actively sings, but JD and Spruce will hum to themselves or to their brothers. Branch refuses to sing at all.

[novasolstarr]

NOVAAA DROP YOU'RE PRESSURE OCS!! AND MY LIFE.... IS YOURS!!!

A little tip for the way you draw Sebastian

(I deeply apologize if I've sent an ask already.. I have the memory of Dory so I can't remember if I even sent one or not.)

FINALLY GOT THEM ALL DRAWN AND SKETCHED UP

OC LORE UP AHEAD

Content warnings before you continue! The upcoming information may contain topics that are sensitive to users, including;

Medical mentions

Vague Child death

It is now 23:00 and I’m so tired and have school and blegh. So enjoy this silly little jabbering of OC lore and my apologies for the typos that are bound to be incoming

ALSO Feel free to ask any questions about these characters, I’m more than happy to answer them :3

The Nurse, Z-156

Also known previously as Andrew Laticdinae

Andrew before being subjected to the procedures from Urbanshade at the Hadal Blacksite was a nurse at the [REDACTED] hospital located within [REDACTED] [REDACTED]. During his round about runs a patient under his care, an elderly individual, known as [REDACTED], had passed after receiving a lethal dose of heart medication which sent the elder into cardiac arrest. The nurse responsible for the death was quick to pin the blame onto Andrew, and in his confusion, poor wording, and inability to afford a good lawyer, Andrew was charged with murder and sent to the [REDACTED] Prison.

It was here that he was eventually picked up by Urbanshade along with a select few other individuals.

Andrew during this time was put into a project which revolves around making agile, quick, deadly, and effective agents. He was one of the latest of these procedures, having been subjected to the mix of Nurse Shark and Sea Krait. The Sea Krait DNA provided Andrew with a scuted underbelly, a vicious venom [complemented with fangs], and a large paddle like tail that allowed him to comfortably, quickly and effectively navigate through the waters, able to Bob and weave between narrow spaces. The Nurse Shark mix also provided him with a primarily cartilage skeleton and a bite that’s near impossible to pry off due to the suction like bite. Should an individual be able to pull Z-156 off, if the venom doesn’t make quick work of them the large chunk of flesh that is pulled off along with Z-156 will certainly leave them in a world of hurt.

Andrew ended up as one of the more successful tests, however the animalistic appearance side effect was unwanted and needed to be worked out. After further study Andrew had been dropped, leaving him to ponder what his fate may become. In a desperate moment, Andrew pleaded to Urbanshade Personnel to allow him to opportunity to work as an on-sight-in-water medic, noting he had exponential experience before ended up in his current position.

It took days of back and forth [with help from his Docile nature] to finally get the Personnel to agree, granting him very very limited freedoms compared to the average experiment.

Though he was far from treated like an employee. Whenever he was to be out on his job, he was fitted with a muzzle to prevent any potential envenomation of divers, he could only eat within his room, was monitored around any medications and was heavily restricted on what he had access to as to prevent any potential attacks.

Despite it, Andrew preferred this over being cooped up in a room to rot or potentially worse, almost overworking himself some days out of fear. Even now a passing Expendable may find this friendly face sitting within the Blacksite, ready to offer up his services in exchange for Data. [This Data is given to Sebastian]

Mechanic Info

For 90 pieces of Data players can have their health restored from anywhere between 20-50 health. Do note though that this comes with a 25% risk of failure, in which the player will have 10%-20% of their health removed [this will not exceed 10 health however].

Players can also flash The Nurse a limitless amount of times on their first time meeting him, however continuing to do so with each meeting will result in him becoming short with the player. By the 7th - 8th meeting and flashing him twice, he will lash out and bite the player dealing a base of 10 damage. Though this in itself is fine, players will then receive 2 tickets of damage for up to 30 seconds. Players that were at 100 health will be knocked down to 30. This can be stopped with a medkit though or eating wall dweller flesh.

Nova Starr, Expendable

Just a self insert for me and Non-canon to my universe :3

False Alarm, Z-326

Also know previously as Nouvel Nebula

Nouvel lived a relatively bland life before Urbanshade, married to their husband Clayton Nebula [OC Owned by @cyanide-cafe], and working various odd jobs they could find. They were relatively lax and had little concern, so when they ended up thrown in prison alongside their husband after suspected of being an acquaintance in his murders and defiling via cannibalism, they were thrown for a heavy loop.

Even during these harder times the two were inseparable and this became further apparent once picked up by Urbanshade and delivered to the Hadal Blacksite.

Here, the two were put under similar genetic splicing with small differences in DNA for the purpose of testing fertility between spliced genetics. Despite the difference in spliced DNA, Urbanshade was capable of producing 3 living offspring using their gametes in a controlled environment via test tubes, only one of which however was able to escape their termination date and still roams the facility unbeknownst to their supposed parents.

It wasn’t until their time in the Blacksite that Nouvel learned of the crimes that landed their husband here and, subsequently, themself, being absolutely horrified by the revelation and distancing themselves as much as they feesibly could from him during this period. The relationship became stiff and strained in this time, made further worse with the eventual separation of the two for their experimenting. Despite their disdain towards him at the time, he was the only comfort they had in this hellscape, falling deep into a mental spiral which further fueled their eventual sporadic behavior.

The extreme mental strain in this time from the constant experimentation, manhandling from personnel, separation and even occasional threats should they continue to lash out and attack, left them flitty about their behaviors towards Expendables. They seem to show more submissive behaviors when groups of 3 or more are around, being passive unless provoked, but the will quickly become incredibly hostile with groups of 2 or fewer.

Mechanic Info

False alarm is a small and agile monster, preferring to hide within dark rooms whilst waiting on unsuspecting Expendables to pass by. Though they are passive if groups exceed more than 2 players, flashing them will result in a hasty hit and run, where they damage the aggressor for 15 damage and then run off to a separate room.

If there are 3 or more in a party there’s a rare chance that False Alarm will even provide a small bit of information about item whereabouts for Expendables lingering in a room too long. This could be vague hints about flashlights, medkits, high priced data, or otherwise.

If there are 2 or fewer Expendables around, False Alarm becomes hyper aggressive, doing multiple hit and runs for 5 damage per hit, targeting the player with the least amount of health. Flashing them successfully 3 times will get them to back off entirely, ending the encounter for the rest of the run.

Be wary when False Alarm is around, for their companion Real Alarm is not far behind..

Theo Nebula, 326-327-5

Theo Nebula is the last of 5 offspring that had come as a result of the project behind Z-326 and Z-327. Theo ended up the most human and most viable of the 5, with the first 2 offspring having never successfully survived after being removed from incubation and the more recent 2 having been long terminated before Theo, as they had no use and were more hassle than they were worth, being far more monsterous in appearance than Theo. Despite being the most human, they still showed several physical changes and even risked a shorter life span due to their rapid growth [Looking almost 13 or so despite being 4 at most]. The project itself at least proved it was possible for mutations that had occurred on individuals could be passed down, and with more proper tweaking may even be able to be further selective about what can and can’t be passed down.

After Theo had been researched to their fullest extent and there wasn’t much use for them anymore, they were set to be terminated just as their previous two siblings. Luckily for young Theo, a familiar face sent the Blacksite into mayhem after releasing the monsters, allowing Theo to escape their fate of being terminated.

From time to time they can be spotted rummaging around rooms or heard crawling in the vents in their search for food and fueling their curiosity of the Blacksite. They’re cautiously curious yet incredibly skittish and will quickly run off whenever approached by expendables. It’s recommended to search where they were last rummaging through as this may provide Expendables with extra data or information

[persistenttenderness]

I was held at gunpoint by @felsicveins to make this so heres the run down for Bass:

Bass and John Dory meet after John Dory passes out in the dessert wholly unprepared to cross it after getting horribly lost going to the neverglade trail after the Brozone break up

Bass saves his ass and nurses him back to health, John Dory mistakes him for his guardian angel and calls him angel all the time as a pet name

John Dory has always been attracted to talented people and the first time John hears him sing he falls in love.

Bass is a solid guy, the best way to describe him, very forward in his needs and communication and very chill. Rolls with the punches and always gives good advice, a big picture guy.

Bass has a little puppy crush on JD that turns into something way more serious than he expects, which is the reason why they eventually break up, JD was never going to stay and Bass was never going to come with him.

John Dory and Bass had a few good months together before John Dory felt like he had to keep going on his weird wilderness journey of self discovery, which resulted in a fight between the two resulting in John leaving Vibe City early the next morning.

JD regrets leaving, regrets the way he jerked B around, he was too young and inexperienced to be mature about their relationship and he left on poor terms, later in life though he thinks of him with nothing but love and fondness; he was someone who showed John kindness at a low point in his life, he was just too stupid and naive to appreciate it.

When John Dory and Bass reunite after many years during the Brozone reunion tour it’s bittersweet but nice, after JD left Bass eventually settled down with his current partner and they had a kid. Bass is ecstatic, he is very nurturing and loves his kid more than anything (his name is Bo)

[ar3s-r4t-qu33n]

So...

Like, we all realise that once Murkoff cuts their losses with Project Lathe 2, the Prime Assets and Expops are all being fucking put down, right???

Like I know this is probably obvious but like, since the Reagents are being made into Sleeper Agents or hooked up to the Morphogenic Engine or whatever else the CIA/Murkoff want them for, once Lathe 2 is done for (which sounds like it's happening soon with what's being said by Doris/Nurse Barlowe/Noakes and the documents we can find), they're just gonna fucking kill everyone else 🧍 they can't have witnesses, everyone knows that, there's like an understanding that everyone there is going to die but like surely SOMEONE gets out of this alive??? Like Noakes seems to think that our Reagent can do it, and obviously when you Rebirth it kinda proves you can't, but idk, I guess I have hope that someone gets out okay??? Like escapes somehow??? I know Murkoff and the CIA can't be brought to justice or anything, but like, I don't think I can handle this fate for EVERYONE

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter Map Twenty-Three

TW: noncon, shithead doctors, trauma, graphic medical descriptions

Your next shift at the hospital, you are understandably on edge. You have not seen Julian since the incident in the parking garage, and so much has happened since, you haven’t even had time to think about what you’re going to do.

Besides kick him in the junk again, if he gets handsy.

On your break, you make your way to the ICU. Washington is there, miraculously in stable condition. His wife is sitting with him, holding his hand. 

You give a little knock on the curtained off room walls, and peak your head in. “Hello.” 

She wipes some tears from her cheeks with the heel of her hand and motions you in. “Oh, sorry, any news from the doctor?” 

You pad timidly into the room, unsure of what to do with your body besides stand, awkward and uncomfortable, with your hands clasped in front of you because folding them across your chest would just seem too hostile. “No, I’m actually just here to see how you’re doing? How he’s doing?”

She gives you a hard look. “And who are you?” You don’t take it personally, only because this woman holds herself like someone who’s been through hell and back, and you respect her for staying strong. 

“Sorry. I’m y/n.” 

Her expression changes instantly. Apologetic, astonished, grateful—you think. “Oh my. Oh, I’m sorry. You saved my husband’s life.”

You take a page from Tom’s notebook of laissez-faire hero sayings. “I was just doing my job.” 

“Well, either way, thank you.” She gives you a little nod, then looks back at her husband’s swollen, perse face. “He’s alive because of you and the paramedics and the doctors and I owe you…” fat shiny globes roll down her face as her voice catches on sadness. It’s kind of just instinct—the urge to comfort another woman in distress, to hold the mourning mother or the distraught widow. You wrap her in your arms, and immediately she clings to you and soaks your scrub top with all the pent up agony inside of her. 

“It’s alright,” you say, rubbing her back in what you hope is a comforting touch. 

That’s how Tom finds you, and he’s past knocking at this point apparently. Barging in, as usual, like he owns the place, but you’re becoming more grateful than annoyed with these interruptions.

It’s stupid, to think that everything will be hunky dory between Tom and Washington’s wife. 

Because Linda’s jagged-spear stare immediately freezes the pushy cop in his tracks, and it’s kind of funny for a minute—to see Ludlow get nerfed by a tiny woman—until you realize she wants him tarred and feathered. 

“What you can do,” she spits, pointing her finger at him, “is get out.”

“Linda, please, hear me out.” He’s as soft with her as he is harsh with any man, and it makes your heart pop like a bloody balloon. “I-“

“No,” she tells him, “Get. Out.” 

You know Linda is a distraught wife, and you know she’s in emotional distress, and you know that she has every right to be upset, but you still find yourself looking at the back of her head like she kicked your puppy. Your big, nippy, sad eyed guard puppy…

So, what do you do? Defend Tom like every fight reaction in your body is screaming at you to do? Satiate Linda by saying nothing? Tom decides for you, thank God, and slips out through the curtain. 

“He’s got some nerve.” Linda shakes her head, then grabs back onto her partner's hand with a grip as strong as her confident attitude that you absolutely envy. 

You have thirty minutes, because you’re taking your break today whether hospital numbers suffer or not, and you sit with her for the entirety. Not saying much of anything, at first. Just silent. Because you have a feeling she needs someone right now, and even though you’re probably not the best companion, somebody is better than nobody. At least in situations like these.

Finally, she speaks. “They said it’s touch and go.”

“Oh,” you nod, because what do you say to something like that? What do you say to someone who’s real-time getting their heart crushed under the boot of unfair circumstances and injustice? “I’m so sorry, Linda.”

“He’s not dead yet,” she reminds both you and herself and, probably hoping he can hear her, Terrence, too. “He’s been through worse than this.”

Life. What a weird, fleeting thing. You can go through hell and survive, and then a little thing like a bullet wipes you from the earth just like that. You give Linda your number. “Call me if you need someone.” 

Tom’s not here, anymore… You wish he was.

***

Later in your shift, you receive a page to see Dr. Mercer in his office. Your heart makes a very good attempt at beating out of your chest, but you reason he can’t get up to anything too sinister, here at the hospital. 

Yeah, right. 

As you approach his door you start to sweat, your palms clammy, your face hot. Do not have a panic attack right now. Because it’s that easy, of course. You pause and close your eyes, steady yourself with a hand on the wall. You think of Tom, the way some people clutch rosary beads to gather strength, and only then do you feel properly prepared to tell Dr. Julian Mercer to fuck off, if you have to. 

You knock once before entering, and can’t help but think about him like a proper Bond villain now behind his big desk. All he’s missing is the snow-white ragdoll cat. Somehow, you can’t imagine him having a soft spot for an animal. 

“Close the door,” he tells you, his long fingers steepled before him. 

“I’d rather leave it open.”

“Not when you hear what I have to tell you, you won’t.”

With a long breath out of your nostrils you gird your proverbial loins, and shut the door. You do not stray far from it though; a thing he notices, and seems to find amusing. 

“Truce, y/n. I lost my head earlier. You make me…wild.” 

Naturally, it would be all your fault. 

“What do you want, Julian?” you demand, your patience paper thin. 

“I happened to be in surgery, the night your friend Detective Washington came in. I heard you saved his life.”

“Yeah, but…I don’t actually know him.” 

“But your boyfriend Tom Ludlow does.”

Your mouth opens to protest the label–then as you think on the past twenty-four hours, snaps shut. Things have moved like a bullet train with Tom, yet somehow, at their own perfect pace. Everything about that man just feels right, and as you hear his name in Julian’s poisoned mouth you feel as though someone just walked over your own grave. 

“What about it?”

“What if I told you…I excised a very interesting foreign object from Washington’s shoulder?”

He withdraws a small plastic baggie from his breast pocket, shaking it like a dog treat. From where you stand you can see it's something heavy, and silver colored. It kind of looks like lead. “One of these things is not like the others…” 

“I don’t follow?”

“I had a little visit from a fellow in LAPD’s Internal Affairs after patching Mr. Washington up. Sounds like Tom Ludlow has fallen under some suspicion, found in the place where someone attempted to murder the man possibly blowing the whistle on your boyfriend’s less than honorable conduct…what a debacle.”

The blood in your veins turns to ice. 

“Pretty sure Tom was in the store because of me,” you defend, even as you know your deflated tone belies your doubt. 

“Pretty sure will be a great defense in court at Ludlow’s attempted murder hearing.” He looks at the baggy in his hand again, the way some men will look at a lover. Satisfied. Anticipatory. Fond. Dr. Mercer certainly never looked at you that way. “I’m sure the jury will take that over the hard evidence I have in my hand here.”

“What is in your hand?” you demand, losing patience. You don’t entirely understand what’s going on here. Only that it must be bad. 

“This is the remnants of a .38 slug, of the kind many police officers favor in their throwdown. Do you know what a throwdown is, y/n?”

You press your lips, wanting with every fiber of your being to jump over the desk and strangle this man. 

Too bad he might like it. 

“No.” 

“It’s what cops call their extra gun. A little insurance, in case things get hairy on the street, and they have to get rid of a murder weapon. But Tom Ludlow doesn’t seem like the type who would carry something like that around, does he?”

You happen to know he does. You’d watched him strap it onto his ankle, as the two of you had gotten dressed, right before he drove you to work. 

Fuck. 

“And before you think that all you have to do is tell him to get rid of it, they have him on video in the store firing it.”

Double fuck. 

“What do you want, Julian?” You hate how small, how fragile, your voice sounds in that moment. 

He smiles at you the way the snake must have smiled at Eve. 

“Why, I want you, y/n.”

The tinnitus from your misadventure in the store seems to return with a vengeance, a ringing piercing through your ears. 

“Julian…” 

“I’m going to put this in the safe in my house. If you want it…you’re going to have to come convince me to give it to you. And sweetheart, I’m going to need a lot of convincing.” 

“Fuck you.” It comes out of your mouth before you can swallow the hateful phrase back down, and his smile only grows.

“Please, give me more reason to punish you,” he says, motioning for you to go on, to dig your hole deeper. 

Suddenly, a fond memory comes to mind. One where you smashed a flower pot over your ex’s head after his fist met your face. God, you wish you had a fucking flower pot right now. 

You try to set him on fire with pure willpower and the burning look in your eyes, give him a taste of his own medicine. See how he likes being burned alive. Sadly, he stays flameless. 

“Oh, come on,” he goads, leaning back in the swivel chair, “I’m sure that clever little tongue can come up with something.” 

“When?” You grit.

“Hmmm?” He asks, toying with the baggie in his long fingers. 

“When do you want me…to come and get it?”  

“You’re free next weekend.” It’s not a question. He’s passed niceties. Whatever Julian you get now is the one who wants to see you bloody and bruised. 

“Fine. What—what are you going to do to me?” 

He pops up from the chair, and you yelp, fling yourself back against the door with a hard thud, prepared for him to cross the room and show you what he’s planning. His fucked up grin widens, and he takes something from a drawer behind his desk. 

“Do you know what operant conditioning is?” He asks, coming around to perch himself on the front of his desk top. He has a small, round piece of plastic in his hand.

“No.” 

He presses into the side of his toy and you hear a little click at the same time he lunges forward, bringing himself halfway across the room and making you screech again. “Operant conditioning is voluntary behavior modification via reward and punishment. The voluntary behavior, in this case, is the sass that comes from that mouth of yours. And we’re going to work on changing the ‘fuck you’s’ to the ‘please, Julian’s’.”

“What’s the fidget toy for?” You ask, heart in your throat.

He shrugs. “I just wanted to keep you on your toes.” He clicks it again, and then moves forward, and you flinch back, trying futilely  to press yourself further into the wall. 

On the next click, you don’t need to see him move to cringe and twitch, your whole body aching to run, to move, to sprint far away from this awful man. 

“See?” He says. “You’re a fast learner. You’ll do just fine.”

You’re wrong. Very wrong. Have been this whole time. You’re not a woodland creature, and Julian is not a wolf. You’re a rat in a cage, and he’s the scientist appointed to experiment on you. 

“It could have been different between us,” he has the gall to say, reaching up to caress the curve of your cheek with his finger. You hate the way you flinch and tremble at his touch, but it’s like your joints have fused, refusing to move, refusing to carry you away from this bad man who wants to hurt you. “You’re the one who chose to make it this way.”

You know, you fucking know, in the logical part of your brain that he is gaslighting the shit out of you. But the little scared rabbit part of your brain, the part that is regrettably in charge right now, just nods its trembling head at Julian’s assertion. This is your fault. It could have been nice between you, if you hadn’t ruined everything the first night. He would have taken care of you. 

It’s bullshit, of course. This is the monster that was lurking beneath Julian’s pleasant mask all along. He would have shown you eventually–preferably while you were bound and gagged and couldn’t do anything about it. 

You have got to get out of here. 

You don’t know if it’s your voice, or Julian’s, that spurs you on, that gets you moving, even if just a millimeter at a time. 

“Leaving so soon?” asks Julian with a smirk, clearly amused by the way he terrifies you. He gets off on it, and god how you wish you could just knee him in the balls again. 

As he reaches out to touch you again you warn him, “If I scream your game is up. You want to turn this into a shitshow at work?”

This actually stays his hand. His professional image is important to him. You have to remember that. It might be the only real weapon you have against Julian. Maybe aside from Tom Ludlow–but you have a feeling Tom would do something horrible. Something that would get him into huge trouble, and that was exactly what you were trying to avoid. 

“That won’t stop me from turning over that little bag,” he warns you. 

“Maybe. But you’ll still wish your part in it had remained quiet. So let me the fuck go, until the weekend.” You sound tough, while your knees are positively knocking. 

Dangling the promise of a later playdate seems to appease the hungry monster before you. His chest rises and falls as he takes in a deep breath–smelling you, you realize. Smelling your fear.

“I look forward to it, y/n.” With a cordial wave he gestures towards the door, as though he’s just been a gracious host and you had a pleasant little chat in his office–psychopath. 

You sense that you’re safe for the moment, if only because he wants to savor it. You force your leaden feet to shuffle to the door. 

A sharp click makes you jump sky high with your hand on the door handle. You turn back with wide eyes, to find Julian with a diabolical smirk curving that well-made mouth. 

“Bastard,” you hiss, then flee before he can do anything else to you. 

You know he’ll make you pay for it, later. 

Later, when you have to go to his house to let him do dastardly things to you. 

Later, when you’re going to have to cheat on Tom. 

Somehow, that hurts you worse than anything you imagine Julian doing to you, and you have to duck into the bathroom to throw up, and cry.