Your Doctor’s Favorite Doctor

“Doctor Artie” at Murkoff Corp. Doctor to His how highs. [Outlast Trials Oc Roleplay/Ask blog] [Mun is over 21+ please no minors] [Side blog]

[his-last-resort]

Log: Day one, introduction.

I believe this promotion is punishment. For what, I have not figured it out yet. It feels like an experiment, where I am singled out of my comfortable position as a scientist amongst the many here, promoted to “family doctor” for the reagents and maybe even those Prime Assets. Only the best of the reagents anyway, his “how highs”.

The higher ups has given me a new identity. I’m to be called Mr. Artie, Mrs. Artie or Dr. Artie, depending on what my patients wish to refer to me as. Some sort of test of “intuition”. I don’t mind it, I’m embracing it for the experiment. I only wish my bosses took my identity as seriously as the patients are supposed to.

I’m not worried about treating reagents alone in my new office. There’s guards at the door in case things get rowdy. I think the people would like a bit of one on one health care without being surrounded by their suffering neighbors.

Prime Assets are a whole other story. Violent and charismatic beings who’s only existence is to punish and control those in their environments. I’ve treated them before my promotion, but now I fear that having a memorable face and name will invite unwanted conversations next time I am to treat them. Thankfully it’s only the first day, I believe I won’t have to treat a PA for some time, not with the influx of reagents coming in nearly every hour. Same goes with Expops, I’m not looking forward to introducing myself personally to them, not without full restraints.

Regardless, it’s now my job and I intend to do it before my untimely death. I pray to whatever god that hasn’t left mankind looks down upon me a blessing of protection for what remains of my soul from the devils in this hole.

Doctor Artie signing off-

[RP Guildlines below!]

Hello and welcome to my outlast oc blog! This is my first time doing an rp blog so please be patient with me as I learn! I will also be posting drabbles, oc lore and whatever comes to mind related to my oc Artie. With that please read the few guidelines I have for interacting.

Mun is 21+, please do not interact if you are a minor.

Asks are welcomed!

Ocs are heavily welcomed! Come say hi!!

Canon characters are welcomed! Bother my doctor!

More guidelines may be added over time as I figure this out, please check this post often for updates.

[his-last-resort]

☠️

— @cliffs-journal

Does your muse fear death?

No, Artie believes that death is a natural process that happens to anyone, anytime and anywhere.

However,

While they don’t fear death, they fear if they couldn’t die while in the grasp of Murkoff. With all those experiments surely longevity is in there somewhere. They would hate to be the subject to that.

@cliffs-journal

[rpsourcedmemes]

Questions For My Muse(s)

Introspection

👁‍🗨 - what is a secret that your muse hasn’t told or is hiding

💬 - for my muse to directly say a secret or confession

⚪ - what are small things that mean something to your muse

🔴 - what are bigger gestures that are important to your muse

👌 - what are some of your muses quirks?

💦 - mannerisms that your muse has when they’re shy or nervous

💢 - mannerisms that your muse has when they’re angry or sad

🙌 - mannerisms that your muse has when they’re extremely happy

🤞 - what’s the most impulsive thing you can picture your muse doing

☠️ - does your muse fear death?

👻 - recall one or more times your muse has been the most scared or fearful

😠 - what is something or someone your muse has ever hated or hates

🏹 - would your muse ever kill and why

💢 - what would cause your muse to be annoyed

👍 - what are your muse’s good traits?

Flaws

👀 - is your muse prone to jealousy?

🖤 - can your muse be selfish?

❓ - can your muse be indecisive?

🙈 - can your muse be blindly loyal?

❌ - what would cause your muse to be petty or say something hurtful

🙊 - has your muse ever put their foot in their mouth?

💥 - is your muse reckless? or too cautious and paranoid?

🔷️ - is your muse good or bad at lying?

🤔 - is your muse cynical? naïve?

✋ - can your muse be rude or unfriendly?

🤝 - is your muse a people pleaser?

😔 - is your muse insecure?

🎭 - does your muse try really hard to compensate for something?

🤜 - is your muse overprotective? in-between? or not protective/concerned enough?

⬛ - what are some bad traits your muse might have?

[his-last-resort]

Riven slowly walks behind him. She was quiet and with a bone paint brush. There is bit of blood on her. And with a blind eye. She was quite bored. She starts to paint the blood on his coat.

- @bloodybodyartist

Artie frowns at the young artist’s attempt of making their coat a little less white. As much as they enjoy a pop of color here and there they can’t help to frown. The smell is probably the most bothersome thing.

“You do realize I can’t work covered in blood right? It’s not very sanitary for my other patients.” They chide, “Go and paint the walls instead. They could use a touch of blood.”

@bloodybodyartist

[prestigedecay]

“Boss do you like how I’ve straightened my tie?”

It’s a bow tie.

@his-last-resort

*his face remains cradled against his palm* Fine...this is ... fine.

[prestigedecay]

Boss can I have a therapy animal in my office?

@his-last-resort

Artie, if your emotional stability is contingent upon the presence of a furry companion, then the animal is not the variable requiring examination- you are. Unless you can provide a compelling argument that such a creature would measurably improve productivity, research outcomes, or staff compliance, I see no reason to dedicate Murkoff resources to housing your... coping mechanism. @his-last-resort

[his-last-resort]

…These are all very good points boss but consider my ideas.

One, a reward for you how highs, an hour with said animal.

Two, stress relief for overworked staff members.

Three, Ex-pop experimentation on if they can ignore an animal or how would they react to one.

And four, I’ve already went ahead and got a cat. Her name is Primrose

Checkmate.

[americanlightning]

Hey cowboy, @his-last-resort

"Hello, doctor. What can ol' Coyle help y' with today?" || @his-last-resort

[his-last-resort]

“Just checking in on my patients. How is your new trial treating you? Are you enjoying it? Do you like the new hat?”

[his-last-resort]

Ooc: I’m still working on things but I see y’all’s asks and replies and I’ll be to them ASAP!

[actionmemeplay]

► reblog to let your mutuals know that... YOUR RP BLOG IS NOT TIME-SENSITIVE!

...That there is NO time limit or expiration date on asks, memes or threads.

...That your partners NEVER need to feel they have to apologise for not responding to a thread or ask yet.

...That you welcome replies to "OLD" threads and memes, even if they've been sitting quietly untouched for weeks or months.

...That there is NEVER any pressure or obligation for your partners to reply until they feel the drive and enthusiasm to do so.

...That YOU will happily respond to things at YOUR OWN leisure, and you would like your partners to feel comfortable doing the same.

Not everybody enjoys running their blog this way and that's a-okay. But removing the idea that RP interactions are something that can "expire" or that the asks in your inbox have an unspoken "due-date", takes the pressure off of both your partners and yourself and can help bust feelings of stress/anxiety from the hobby. Reblog to let your partners know that you're just jazzed to receive new writing from them, whenever it comes.

[his-last-resort]

//I’m making a new updated post but if you’re another Outlast rp blog (any game) comment below so we can all send each other asks!

[his-last-resort]

CHARACTER ASSOCIATIONS

Animal: Oriental Short Hair Cat, Belgian Hare.

Colour: Amber, Moss, Bronze, Verdigris.

Month: May

Song: Runway Walk (Demrick), Angel (Massive Attack) Bigmouth Strikes again (The Smiths) Pacer, Alter Ego (both by Doechii)

Number: Four.

Day or Night: Dawn and Dusk.

Plant: Poison Ivy, Rose.

Smell: First Aid Alcohol, Coffee grounds, Rain, Light Vanilla.

Season: Autumn.

Food: Vanilla Cake.

Astrological sign: Taurus.

Element: Earth.

Drink: Caramel Frappichino (They don’t like bitter coffee).

Tagged by: @undergroundnightingale , @cliffs-journal and @capobambino (Thank you!)

Tagging: @yourbuddybonnie @justfutterman @prestigedecay and anyone else who sees this! Please tag me if you do so!

[notupshur]

I really didn’t know how to start this besides that I need to proceed all that’s happened since Mount Massive. I want to believe it was all just a fucked up dream but by the amount of fingers I have remaining and the buzzing in my head I can’t dismiss it as a dream. I’ve tried to get help too but the buzzing would get so loud I’d end back at home without any memory of what happened.

If anyone’s knows anything please tell me.

[ASKS OPEN!]

[malwarechips]

"i think", i say, about my own ocs, who i made,

[rosexknight]

“my headcanon is…” i say about the canon that i made about my own characters

[undergroundnightingale]

Continuing from here with @his-last-resort

"Noooo, Artie. I don't think I fancy anyone that kinda way."

The pink dust creeping across Mitzi's cheeks suggested otherwise as she filed Artie's left hand to match. She could focus on forming those matching almonds but those framing curls only did so much to conceal how pink she was getting.

"I was seein' someone from Tucson for a bit. She -" she stumbled as she quickly corrected herself. "Pardon me. He was nice, but it never went anywhere. We didn't get past talkin'."

[his-last-resort]

If Mitzi was expecting for Artie to react they didn’t. They noticed the slip up, the blush on her cheeks, but didn’t point it out. Yet.

“He was nice?” They purposely leaned into that pronoun, “Mitzi you gotta give me a little more than someone being nice. Nice is only rare down here, not in Tucson.”

[undergroundnightingale]

"They were very romantic. I think they were tryin' to get their poems published in the paper."

Mitzi compared Artie's right hand to their left before making further adjustments and blowing away the dust – neither of them would be moving until Artie had ten perfect little almonds. She decided to switch to using 'they' as it felt safer. There was less risk that she would slip up and say 'she' again.

"It felt like a fairytale, meetin' 'em at a dance. That whole night felt like a dream. When we said goodbye, they asked me to kiss 'em." She sighed wistfully, knowing her warm face was betraying just how rosy she was becoming.

"I got so nervous and ran away... 'Sides, they weren't someone I could bring home to mama."

[his-last-resort]

“Mm.” Artie hums like they understand, “Parents can be difficult with their children’s unusual lovers. Do you think you would have asked for a kiss now if you could? Surely you are braver now. Who wouldn’t be after being a nurse here?” They tease.

[undergroundnightingale]

"Depends, Artie." Mitzi finally decided to turn the tables and tease them back as she pulled away to admire her work. Artie had ten perfect little nails just like the dolls they both adored.

"Do ya think ya brave enough to mingle with your fella?" Her hand rose to her mouth to muffle a snicker. "If I don't see a ring on that finger, I'm bringin' him here upon 'urgent request'."

In fact, Mitzi decided that's exactly what she'd be doing as soon as she left Artie's office. But first, she just needed to make one... Little adjustment.

She dug into her pockets and pulled out her lipstick. The shade was maybe a pinch too pink, but there was nothing a light hand couldn't fix. With the desk lamp tilted toward Artie's face, Mitzi dabbed the bullet against the tip of their nose and along their cheek bones.

"And maybe with a little..." She gently tapped the colour into their skin, making them look naturally flushed. "Oh, that's darlin'! Ya look adorable!"

[his-last-resort]

“Brave? Yes. But it’s not professional. Besides I shouldn’t get too close to anyone. It might make my patients jealous.” That could be true, Artie didn’t want to find out if it was.

“Oh leave the man alone. Not everyone is open to someone like me. Let me watch him a little longer at least.” They add quickly.

Oh…now she’s dabbing them with her lipstick? Odd choice, hopefully it didn’t look too odd. But when she was finished her reaction was sweet. Artie smiled a little.

“You’re just saying that. You sound like my ma.” They chuckle.

[prestigedecay]

Artie stands menacingly in the doorway, tie undone draped around their shoulders just under the lab coat and over the smart collared shirt they wore. The tie’s status might have been on purpose just to invoke a reaction from their superior, or they’re about to start winding down after a long day of treating patients.

“You busy Boss? I thought you’d like company.” Really Artie wants to be nosy on their break and see what this guy really does when no one’s around.

@his-last-resort

The office remained steeped in darkness, the air heavy and stale with the smoke of countless cigarettes. Doctor Easterman sat unmoving behind his desk, eyes lost in the concealment of an oppressive deep shadow, the faint ember of his current cigarette the only spark of light. Ash littered the surface before him. Another slow, deliberate drag, and a fresh plume of smoke rolled from his lips like venom.

He regarded Artie in the doorway with flat disdain, gaze tracing the undone tie draped so deliberately across those shoulders beneath the lab coat. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.

"Busy," he answered coldly, voice low and edged with irritation. "As I usually am when I sit alone in the dark. But apparently that means nothing to you."

Another exhale of smoke drifted toward Artie, thick and accusatory. "Company. How generous of you to assume I'd want yours, Artie. Especially when you saunter in looking like you've just crawled out of a supply closet and decided to make my threshold your personal stage."

He tapped the cigarette sharply against the overflowing ashtray, eyes still hidden but unmistakably fixed on Artie with growing contempt. "Close the door if you're coming in. Or better yet-don't."

[prestigedecay]

Hendrick leaned forward just enough for the ember of his cigarette to cast a fleeting, hellish glow across the sharp angles of his face- enough to reveal the thin, humorless smile that never reached his eyes. The smoke hung between them like a judgment.

He let Artie's words linger in the stale air a moment longer, watching the way they perched on his desk like some presumptuous little bird that hadn't yet learned its cage. The papers beneath them crinkled under the shift in weight. Irritating.

"Ex-pops," he corrected, voice low and silken, laced with that familiar paternal condescension that always promised something sharper beneath it. "Not 'father.' Not 'family.' Tools. Vessels. Material. You romanticize them the same way you romanticize that sloppy, half-undone tie and your little 'relaxed' bedside manner. How quaint."

Another deliberate drag. The ember flared. Smoke drifted directly into Artie's face this time.

"Amelia Collier." The name left his lips like a curse he almost savored. "You think she distracts me? That revolutionary little ghost skulking in the walls, scribbling her childish defiance, turning my Reagents into delusional martyrs?" His jaw tightened, the shadow deepening over his eyes. "She is a symptom, Artie. A fascinating, infuriating infection I will excise in due time. Her recapture was inevitable. Her little followers will learn what happens when they listen to a broken record instead of my voice."

He rose slowly from his chair, and circled the desk until he stood beside Artie- close enough that the smoke clinging to his clothes mixed with whatever cheap attempt at composure they carried. One hand came down on the desk near their hip, not quite touching, but pinning the papers in place.

"You speak of trust and compliments as if they're currency here. They're lubricant, nothing more. The Reagents don't need your warmth or your braids or your performative slouch. They need refinement. They need to break and be remade." His voice dropped, intimate and venomous. "And if you keep poking through my notes and my office hoping to find some weakness where Amelia is concerned... you may find yourself volunteering for a more personal trial."

Easterman straightened, flicking ash onto the floor beside Artie's shoe with pointed carelessness.

"Now. Get off my desk before I decide your 'caretaking' would be better spent in restraints. Unless you truly came here for something useful." A cold, expectant pause. "Speak plainly, or get out."

[his-last-resort]

Their eyes water from the smoke, but Artie tries their best to keep from coughing before ultimately failing, one cough escapes. They hate smoking, the smell sticks to everything and no matter what flavor you choice it all sunk the same to them. It felt impossible to get rid off and even after hours of speaking to Easterman or treating Coyle the smell sticks with them.

Whilst barely pinned to his desk the fear was much more noticeable, even with their tight lipped expression. They could speak however they wanted to their patients, but those were usually restrained. Easterman’s only restraint was his image, or maybe his dignity? Artie didn’t know but the more the pushed the closer those smoke riddled hands might reach their throat.

When there was a little more space between them, Artie set one foot down and then another to the floor, now standing in front of the doctor but no longer eye level with each other. This was the time to be useful. Not a menace.

“. . . I’m more useful if I was let in on some things.” They start slowly, “But if anything comes up in my work that might interest you then I’ll show up accordingly. In proper uniform even just to make you happy.” They say all of this in their usual monotone.

Artie makes slow, calculated moments to fix their own tie, keeping what little eye contact they had with the darkened shape of their boss’s face, “It it kills you so much for me to dress up a bit down here then maybe in-force a heavier dress code.”

Though they silently hoped Easterman wouldn’t. They liked dressing up. Even some patients reacted positively to certain outfits.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time either. I’ll take restraints if it means a break.” A small tease, just testing the doctor’s patience.

[prestigedecay]

Artie stands menacingly in the doorway, tie undone draped around their shoulders just under the lab coat and over the smart collared shirt they wore. The tie’s status might have been on purpose just to invoke a reaction from their superior, or they’re about to start winding down after a long day of treating patients.

“You busy Boss? I thought you’d like company.” Really Artie wants to be nosy on their break and see what this guy really does when no one’s around.

@his-last-resort

The office remained steeped in darkness, the air heavy and stale with the smoke of countless cigarettes. Doctor Easterman sat unmoving behind his desk, eyes lost in the concealment of an oppressive deep shadow, the faint ember of his current cigarette the only spark of light. Ash littered the surface before him. Another slow, deliberate drag, and a fresh plume of smoke rolled from his lips like venom.

He regarded Artie in the doorway with flat disdain, gaze tracing the undone tie draped so deliberately across those shoulders beneath the lab coat. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.

"Busy," he answered coldly, voice low and edged with irritation. "As I usually am when I sit alone in the dark. But apparently that means nothing to you."

Another exhale of smoke drifted toward Artie, thick and accusatory. "Company. How generous of you to assume I'd want yours, Artie. Especially when you saunter in looking like you've just crawled out of a supply closet and decided to make my threshold your personal stage."

He tapped the cigarette sharply against the overflowing ashtray, eyes still hidden but unmistakably fixed on Artie with growing contempt. "Close the door if you're coming in. Or better yet-don't."

[his-last-resort]

“Because sitting alone in the dark gets things done.” They mumble. But the superior doctor didn’t kick them out, so they shut the door behind them and make themselves as comfortable as possible standing in front of Easterman’s desk. Sitting down meant that they were welcomed.

“I’d be a bad employee if I didn’t make sure my boss was still alive in this…dark and dank office.” Not to mention the smoke. Artie thought it was bad when they had to work with Coyle. Easterman’s office practically reeked of smoke, clinging to his form like some aura.

“Maybe next time I’ll play cute nurse and you’ll be more excited at my presence.” They scoff, “How’ve you been? Keeping the reagents haply with empty compliments?” They eye Easterman’s desk through slightly tinted glasses, trying to make out the mess of documents and notes that littered the place.

[prestigedecay]

Doctor Easterman leaned back slightly in his chair, the ember of his cigarette flaring as he took another slow drag. The smoke curled lazily toward the ceiling like a living thing, thick and acrid, before drifting in Artie's direction.

He let the silence stretch just long enough to become uncomfortable, his shadowed eyes tracing the deliberately loosened tie, the lab coat, the attempt at casual confidence. A faint, humorless twitch pulled at the corner of his mouth.

"Alive?" he repeated, voice low, smooth, and dripping with disdain. "How touching. I wasn't aware my continued existence required your personal supervision, Artie. Or that you fancied yourself qualified to play caretaker."

He tapped ash into the overflowing tray with deliberate precision, never breaking his gaze.

"As for company… I find the dark far more productive than whatever performance you're rehearsing in my doorway. That tie looks like a cry for attention. If you're going to dress like a half-undressed orderly hoping to be noticed, at least commit to the bit. 'Cute nurse' might actually amuse me for thirty seconds."

Easterman exhaled another plume of smoke, his tone shifting into that familiar, paternal silk that always carried something sharper underneath.

"The reagents are progressing exactly as they should. They don't need empty compliments, they need refinement. Something you might understand if you spent less time snooping and more time attending to your own duties."

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing in the gloom.

[his-last-resort]

Artie was tracing one of the papers with their finger when Easterman pointed out their snooping. They look over at him with tired eyes, almost concealing the bit of fear that they tried to hide.

“I play caretaker to your ex-pops. Caring for father isn’t that much different.” They point out, “Do you check in on them still? Or has Amelia got you so distracted that this family you’ve built means nothing?” Artie takes this moment to push some papers aside to sit on the desk, their back to Easterman.

“I try to look relaxed for my patients. Rigidness isn’t my style, I believe my uniform makes me look unwelcoming, cold, and untrustworthy. The more relaxed I am the more relaxed my patients are.” They look over their shoulder between their braids to stare at Easterman.

“The more trust I gather the bigger the chance someone will spill about your precious Amelia. So yes, there will be compliments here and there if it keeps this place running.”

[his-last-resort]

I wish someone could run donuts down to my office. I know they have them for the doctors in the reagent zone. They should send some to me. . .