maybeilldancenaked-blog

[maybeilldancenaked-blog]

Text to Addison✉

Alex: how's it going?

Addison: I'm fine.

Addison: How are you?

#text #alex #t: alex #she thinks she's funny

[maybeilldancenaked-blog]

Derek... I'm... *sighs* I'm fine. Everyone keeps asking me that. 

I heard the news.

How’re you doing?

#chat #derek #c: derek

[maybeilldancenaked-blog]

#pics #still beautiful

[maybeilldancenaked-blog]

those injuries | private practice by me

#vids #this makes me miss private practice #if only it was just these good bits...

[maybeilldancenaked-blog]

Addison couldn't for the life of her understand why she'd reached out to Alex of all people until she broke down. It was only when he pulled her into his arms with fierce urgency that she realized this was exactly what she needed. Through all their ups and downs as friends and almost lovers, he'd been there. He was silent company when she needed it, and playful teasing when she couldn't find the will to smile. Above all else, he'd never hurt her. Alex Karev had never been anything but gentle and tender with her, respecting her for what she was and forgiving her for what she wasn't. Whereas with the others, she'd shied away from their touch initially, she welcomed his embrace, even when it pressed into pressure points of pain. She needed to feel it all. She needed to know that she was alive and that the nightmare was passed and she wasn't destined to feel nothing for the rest of her life. 

Her body trembled with the force of her sobs, sounding more like pathetic little squeaks than anything else. Her bruised and bloodied hands grappled to find hold anywhere they could on him, desperate to keep him there. She wanted to tell him everything, but the sheer force of her emotion kept her from forming the words. They were too terrible to speak, anyway. With time, his words began to sink in until she could understand their meaning. How could anything possibly ever be okay again after this? One minute she was minding her own business, and the next she was on her back screaming bloody murder. How could she ever feel safe again? Addison honestly couldn't fathom an answer to that question. All she knew was that his promise soothed something deep inside of her. Alex might not've been there to stop it from happening, but he was going to protect her now. That was enough. It had to be.

Eventually exhaustion quieted her cries, but she still didn't let go of him. She never wanted to at this point. He was keeping her from thinking about it all in too much detail. Still, it didn't stop her from remembering flashes of Jasper's face. "I knew him," she whispered. "I knew his face." Once again she was tense, shaking like a leaf in a gentle breeze. What if he comes back for me? She wanted to ask it, but she was too terrified to say the words. If she knew him, he must work here, somewhere. She gripped hold of Alex's shoulder tightly, waiting for the heart-pounding fear to pass. Never in her life had Addison known reason to be truly afraid of a man. She'd never even been so much as roughly handled before tonight. Now that she knew the evil they were capable of, she just wanted to hide and never face the light of day again. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that even letting Alex look her in the eye was nearly impossible. She didn't want to be seen. She just wanted to disappear to a place where nothing could harm her again. 

it only hurts when i'm breathing // evan&addison

#para #alex #p: alex

[maybeilldancenaked-blog]

Time felt like it wasn't even moving while they waited for Kepner to make her way to the secluded corner of the hospital. Addison fell silent, alternating between closing her eyes and staring at the blanket Evan had found for her. It was such an interesting texture. She wondered how such things were made, and by who and where. She took inventory of the supplies she could see around the room, guessing how much they all cost. At one point, she even stared at the second hand of the clock as it clicked its way around the dial. Anything was better than thinking about the reason they were waiting, or why poor Evan was in this situation with her in the first place. She shouldn't have been such a wimp. She could have gotten up and gone home, if she really tried, and then he wouldn't be here. This was a lie, she'd later realize, but right now it was hard to fight off the negative thoughts that began to poison her head.

The fun hadn't even begun until the overly smily trauma surgeon entered the room. Addison's eyes ticked dully to her colleague's face. She wasn't smiling now. Her gaze shifted to the kit she was carrying. Oh. That was why. Next came a long and unpleasant series of tasks. She had to get into a hospital gown. Her shock symptoms had to be managed with an IV. Her body had to be examined and each bruised area was poked and prodded at length to determine the severity of her injuries. Already, she was yearning for a sweet dose of sedative and pain killers, but it couldn't be administered until everything else was done. The redhead almost forgot Evan was even there, other than the faint comfort his presence seemed to give her. There were questions. Addison didn't know the answers, or couldn't make the words to answer them with. Instead, she set her gaze somewhere else and imagined the soft lapping of the lake water against her feet. She almost couldn't see the flashes of the camera from there. By the time Kepner had Addison's feet up in the stirrups, she'd mentally checked out completely. She barely even felt the lidocaine injections, and it felt like everything was muffled by a deep ocean of water.

She could hear voices when Evan left, not that she showed any sign of recognition. Addison had all but forgotten she'd asked him to call Alex, but she'd recognize his tone anywhere. It woke her up by degrees. The sound of the door opening and shutting drew her to look in his direction, and for a moment she held her breath. He came. She didn't know why, but he was the one she needed right now, and he'd come. His expression softened, and she felt her eyes begin to sting with tears that wouldn't quite fall. Later, she might come to understand this moment as being important, but for now she was too exhausted and broken down to try and think about why anything was the way it was. "Alex," it hurt for her to speak his name, but she managed to, softly. His words weren't lost on her, but in the wake of the sudden upwelling of emotion, she couldn't find a way to respond. "You're here," she squeaked. Addison was losing her grip quickly, but something about him made her fight just a little bit before she gave in and started to cry. By now, Kepner had quietly finished and given them the room. Later, Addison would be glad for that. She didn't want to look weak. Not to anyone... except, apparently, him. 

it only hurts when i'm breathing // evan&addison

#para #alex #evan #p: evan #p: alex

[maybeilldancenaked-blog]

If she were to be honest, she would have preferred outside to in here. If she so much as glanced down, she could see what she was already feeling quite loudly. The heat of the room was only intensifying things in comparison to the chilled night, but to spite the change in temperature, her body just wouldn't stop trembling. She could see the bruising beginning to form over the bridge of her nose, fanning out on either side like some sort of mask. If only she could take it off. Each time Evan tried to loosen the dried blood from her skin, she winced. It wasn't even that it hurt; she just didn't want to be touched. Not anywhere, except maybe her hands. That seemed safe. It wouldn't be painful, at least. Still, Addison knew this was supposed to help. She probably looked ten times worse than she felt with all that blood plastered to her face. At least when he was finished, she didn't taste the metallic kick on her teeth anymore.

Rather than nodding in confirmation to his question, she whispered a weak little 'yes'. Her neck was stiff and swollen, or so she imagined. The redhead didn't dare look down to confirm any more of her suspicions. Even though her brain was jumping back and forth between sanity and someplace else, she was able to appreciate Evan's efforts. It was much too much to try and smile--she wasn't sure she ever would again--but she was thankful, even if she couldn't show it. Her eyes fell to his hand when it took hold of her own. After a long pause, she weakly squeezed it back, closing her eyes. She just wanted this all to be over. Addison couldn't even fully comprehend what had happened or what was to come, but she wanted to be past it already. At least she wasn't alone. "Will you feed him?" She asked suddenly, glancing in Evan's direction. "Milo... he'll be angry if I don't."

She paused for a moment further before gripping his hand tightly. "Not now, though. Please... please don't leave." She knew he said he wasn't going anywhere, but that didn't mean he wasn't lying. "Don't leave me alone in here." She didn't know why, but this place just didn't feel safe. Not anymore. Evan had saved her. He was more than qualified to watch over her until Kepner arrived and put her through her paces. She shuddered at the thought as reality struggled to get a foothold in her mind again. It was easier to dissociate, but she had to maintain some modicum of presence for Evan, at least until the exam began. The minute she had to disrobe and spread her legs, all bets were off.

it only hurts when i'm breathing // evan&addison

#para #evan #p: evan

[maybeilldancenaked-blog]

He was talking, but she was having trouble making sense of his words. She knew who he was, or at least she thought she did, but then, she didn't feel like she even knew herself right now. "The hospital?" She frowned, having forgotten where she was. Actually, she was working so hard to block everything out that she was beginning to forget a lot of things. At least that seemed like the logical explanation for the shock her body was enduring. Her crying spell was brief, and once it passed she was once again numb to most sensical courses of action. When he mentioned she was freezing, she looked down to see his jacket covering her otherwise exposed flesh. Being cold and being naked didn't add up in her mind. "Where did my shirt go...?" she looked up at him questioningly. "I have to feed Milo."

It was only when he scooped her up that she remembered vaguely what had happened. The wounds along her backside howled in protest at the shift. She could feel other portions of her body crying in agony as well as they moved. Flashes of the horrid reality began to dart in and out of her mind's eye and she fell silent, leaning her head against Evan's shoulder. Now, more than ever, she really did just want to go home. She didn't even try to be helpful as he carried her. Her arms hurt to the point where they were almost numb, so they laid useless against his coat. At least in that position, she could keep it covering her body. Finally, someone had come for her. She really should have felt more grateful, but right now, she really couldn't control whether her feelings were appropriate, inappropriate, or non-existent. 

Even though he was gentle, every little movement was difficult to endure. Everything was too fresh; too bright, too loud, and too painful. He was carrying her back into the place she spent most of her days in. She didn't realize she needed help at this point; not anymore. Addison groaned quietly, closing her eyes. She cursed the fact that invisibility wasn't something a human being could create. The redhead barely registered what Evan was asking her, until he asked if there was anyone else he could call for her. Swallowing audibly, she became aware of the soreness in her throat. It didn't dawn on her until now that the choking probably damaged it to some extent. "Alex," she whispered, finding talking too painful. "Please... Please find Alex." Later on, she might feel bad for such a request, but right now she knew it was only a matter of time before her disorientation was righted. When that happened, she needed to feel safe. She felt safe with him.

it only hurts when i'm breathing // evan&addison

#para #evan #p: evan

[maybeilldancenaked-blog]

The darkness that cradled her when she closed her eyes was welcomed. She was huddled in the darkest corner she could feasibly reach in such a state, her aching muscles trembling from cold and shock of what just happened. In the moments when she was fully aware, she felt sick. The taste of blood lingered in her mouth, and more than once she dry heaved. When she drifted toward the edge of blackness, her thoughts became wild. She was lost at sea, calling for help. Nobody came to her rescue and the dark, swirling waves swallowed her whole. She wondered why nobody would come. She yelled as loud as she could--until her chest ached--but she was still alone. When Addison regained awareness again, it was to tears warming her frozen face and forearm. She whimpered the one name she could think of; the one person she wanted more than anything to come around the corner and rescue her. Alex.

This was Seattle, after all. He was always where she didn't expect him to be with perfect timing. He was the one who protected her from the evils of this world. Where was he now? She needed protection. She needed to be saved. Addison was thankful that these moments of longing were brief and sparse. Remembering him only made her think about the hotel room, and that only made it hurt worse. The only thing she wanted to do was drift out of existence, but a shocked whisper pulled her focus once again to the mortal coil. "Alex?" Her voice cracked as she spoke. She was surprised by how weak she sounded. She wanted to move, but she felt paralyzed. A warm jacket came to rest over her body. It felt heavy against her skin, and her first instinct was to panic. Addison scrambled, trying to lash out at an invisible attacker before she heard Evan's voice and recognition rang dimly through her clouded awareness.

"I... I..." she stammered, looking up over her shoulder at him as best she could. Even that one motion hurt. "I don't...." She couldn't formulate a thought. Where had the Addison she'd been for the past forty years disappeared to? She should be able to answer a simple question like that, but she couldn't even begin to know how. She flinched as he pulled her hair back, knowing it had been stuck to her face by the blood. She didn't want to be seen. Not like this. Not by Evan, of all people. He was her friend. They made jokes with each other when the days got long. She liked him enough to want to spare him from this nightmare. His touch startled her, too, but the warmth of his hand against her cheek wasn't oppressive like the man that had overtaken her. His eyes were different, too. Darker; kinder. Thoughts of Alex began to surface and she pushed them down. Her own weakness shocked her as he helped her up and she easily fell against his chest, clinging to his shirt. Once again, she found herself crying, scared to so much as blink in case this was another hallucination. Now that she was more oriented, his embrace felt incredibly soothing. "I just want... to go home," she groaned suddenly. That was where she was headed before all of this. Maybe if she got there, the rest would disappear somehow. 

it only hurts when i'm breathing // evan&addison

Just another typical shift working for Evan Carlson. He’d spent the past several hours at home with his daughter, feeling guilty of the transition of responsibility being passed on to the sitter for the duration of the night. Evan had tucked her in and kissed her forehead after reading her favorite story for the umpteenth time before the girl had called him back seconds later to rid a particularly clever monster from the closet. He was running at least ten minutes late to start his shift when the lab technician pulled into the desolate parking lot of Seattle Grace Mercy West. The night air sent a chill down his spine as he opened the door and headed for the nearest entrance of the building.

Her crumpled figure against the side of the wall drew him to pause. Frozen in his tracks, Evan studied the scene before him, waiting for the reality of what he was looking at to process and settle into his brain. It took only a second for that to happen, and a few tentative steps towards the dim lighting for him to notice her hair. Her beautiful, marred hair. “Addison?” Evan whispered, horror-struck. She was clutching her blouse to her chest while seemingly in the process of trying to make herself look decent, laying in a crumpled heap as though willfully trying to disappear. She looked broken, trampled, and windswept. She looked broken. It dawned on him then what senselessly violent actions could leave a woman in such a state of disorganize. This knowledge animated him to life as well as depositing a repulsive lump of horror in his heart.

Evan quickly closed the space between them as fast as he could, ripping off his jacket mid-stride and immediately covering her with it to preserve her modesty. “Shh, hey, it’s okay. I’m here. I got you, alright? You’re going be okay.” He noticed the blood on the pavement but did not know enough to really get a proper gauge on the condition she was in. One thing he knew for sure was that she had been raped and roughly handled. “Can you move? Is anything broken?” Evan helped to pull some of her hair back to see her mortified face, inspecting the bloodied nose, soft green eyes instinctively roaming over her shaken body. He placed a hand on her cheek to ground her, looking into her eyes and trying to offer as much compassion and tenderness he could muster. It’s going to be okay. Unable to help himself and sensing she might need it, Evan helped her weakened figure up into a position where he could wrap his arms around her, pressing her against his chest for a brief moment before everything that was to follow such a nightmarish encounter for the neonatal surgeon inevitably followed. “I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

#para #evan #p: evan #LE CRY

[maybeilldancenaked-blog]

{...} How This Will End } Addison

***Mature Content***

"I'm tired of having this conversation," she sighed, exasperated. Ever since she decided to move back to Seattle, Sam had been on her case. It was exhausting. The paperwork was long since signed, and the ownership had been turned over to Jake. The redhead wasn't sure if Sam was upset because she left, or because she'd left it in someone else's hands in her absence. Either way, he was persistent to the point where she wanted to throw her phone out a window. It was the end of her shift and she just wanted to get in her car, drive home, and sleep. He wasn't making it any easier. Waving to a colleague, Addison passed through the automatic doors of the hospital's main entrance, following the sidewalk around toward the parking area.

"Because," she stressed the word for emphasis, preparing to fight back against another one of Sam's hypotheticals, "it's not what I want anymore. I need to be here." He was angry, and so was she. "Sam, please. I'm not going to change my mind." Addison shivered when the cool night air began to chill her arms. She'd forgotten her coat inside. Hesitating, she stopped and glanced back in the direction of the entrance. She was a lot closer to her car than she was to the door by now, and her feet were aching from her typical, painful shoe choice. The pause gave him time to argue yet another moot point. "I don't want you. I want a child. I want my own life!" The last bit came out unexpectedly and she covered her mouth as soon as she said it. It was only in her freedom that she realized how oppressive Sam's love had been. It was better that there were two thousand miles between them.

"-- Addison? Addison?!" Sam's voice traveled through the air, but she couldn't respond. The redhead turned on her heel haughtily, expecting to see someone she knew on the other end of that strong grip. Alex, maybe. Or, more likely, Mark. It was only when she was eye to eye with her assailant that she realized she didn't know him. Fear began to chill in the pit of her stomach as she registered his grin. The instinct to run had never been stronger. 'It's rude to ignore people.' The face looked familiar, but she didn't recognize the voice and couldn't put a name with it. Whoever he was, she'd apparently 'ignored' him. "Excuse me...?" She raised one brow slightly, feeling her confusion begin to mix with the anger she'd already been reserving for Sam. When he didn't react, she frowned, jerking her arm to try and free herself. Normally, she could easily shake off such a gesture. When his grip only tightened, she began to panic.

"Let go of me!" She growled, trying to use her other hand to pry his fingers loose. Addison leaned back, putting her weight into the effort to pull away from him, but he wouldn't budge. "I said let go!" She tried again, but he countered with a shift of his weight, sending her to the pavement. Her phone clattered to the ground, shattering the screen into a thousand shards of glass. Her knees connected first, leaving quickly bruising wounds that she knew would bleed before she even looked at them. What was this? A mugging? Robbery? Coming to rest on her side, she pushed herself up on one elbow, looking up at the man in disbelief. By the time she followed his hungry gaze, it was too late to get up and make a run for it. It was a moment of hesitation that she'd regret for the rest of her life.

Addison had never experienced anything other than respect when it came to physical interactions with men. Verbally, she was prepared for anything, but they always seemed to keep their distance. They were never rough with her. Not unless she invited it as a form of foreplay, at least. This was an entirely different experience. He came down on top of her heavily, pressing her into the sidewalk. A yelp of pain escaped her throat before she grit her teeth and let out a barbaric sort of howl. Either she fought him off, or God only knew what might happen, and she was not going to stick around to find out. The redhead twisted as best she could, scratching at whatever she could reach. The fixated trance he was under was only driving her to fight harder. She left angry red traces along his cheek and neck, growling in frustration and panic over the fact that he was just a little too heavy for her to shake. If she could just get her foot underneath him, she might have a little more luck. 

Scratches, punches, and pushes didn't seem to do anything. She was still trapped awkwardly on her side, keeping her from getting any real weight into her swing. Mentally, Addison could feel herself beginning to shut down. Where normally she was a constant stream of consciousness, now there was only one thought: fight. It was fight, or succumb to him. There was no time to speculate about what might happen. Whatever it was, it was going to be terrible, and she had to prevent it. He reeked of booze, the smell turning her stomach. She could feel his hands beginning to roam, touching places only a privileged few were invited to go. Another guttural battle cry erupted from her chest when he lightened up to roll her over. It was just enough space to get a swing in with her leg, though not enough to give him a good jab with her stiletto heel. Her thigh connected with his ribs, finally hard enough to startle him. She tried for a second attempt, fighting to get her knee up between their bodies, but all at once he grabbed at her struggling hands, squeezing at her wrists until the skin burned when she tried to move.

"Get off of me!" She cried out, still forcing herself to sound furious and not frightened. As always, her eyes gave her true emotion away. She was absolutely terrified, adrenaline pumping through her veins but dwindling fast. Her words were met with a swift blow to the face. A sickening crack sang out in chorus with his fist as it met her nose. For a moment, Addison laid there in stunned silence, seeing stars. Her hope for escape was fast leaving her as he repeatedly managed to overpower her. Someone would walk by at any minute. She was sure of that, even though it was the wee hours of the morning. It was a hospital. People walked by at every hour. That was her desperate hope, at least, as her drunk assailant began to attempt to kiss her neck. It was unlike anything she'd ever experienced before. Every contact pulled at her skin like some sort of hungry leech, accented with sharp shocks of pain when his teeth joined in on the 'fun'. Her entire body shuddered in disgust, and Addison struggled to find something else--anything else--to focus on.

It was then that she noticed the blood pouring from her nose. It was hot against her lip and cheeks as it struggled to follow the path of gravity while she squirmed. Every passing second introduced another pain to her physical being, but nothing hurt quite like the way his tongue slithered up her jawline and behind her ear. She wanted to be sick. 'I know you want this', the words fell on her like some sort of putrid promise. She felt his arousal against her stomach in concert with his words, as if he needed to be any more clear. Mustering every ounce of strength, she made one last attempt to kick at him, but resounding slap that echoed when his hand met her cheek made it clear he was tired of her struggling. There was no verbal threat like she'd expect from the limited exposure she'd had to sexual assault cases. He didn't say he'd kill her with words, but he didn't hesitate to hurt her when she didn't cooperate. 

Addison stilled momentarily, her frenzied thoughts trying to organize themselves into a plan. He was stronger than she was. He wasn't afraid to use that strength, either, but she'd bet anything that even in heels, she could outrun a drunk man. When he sat up, releasing his grip on her wrists to unzip his pants--pants that were clearly too tight; she gagged--she seized the opportunity. The redhead slid backwards, squirming her way out from between his legs. She rolled over, clawing at the ground in an attempt to gain enough distance and leverage to stand. Her head was swimming from the pain he'd already inflicted, but she knew this was her chance. Just when she could begin to feel freedom, he snatched hold of her ankle and sent her tumbling back to the ground again. "No," she whimpered as she felt herself being yanked back, the ground carving into her back and shoulders as he dragged her. It was then that fear began to overwhelm everything else. Tears welled up in her eyes as she felt his oppressive weight over her again, his eyes no doubt taking her in again in that sick, twisted way of his. It hadn't hardly been a minute, but it felt like hours. She felt like she knew him, almost. It didn't make it any easier.

"Please," she pleaded, her voice finally flooded with the hopeless panic she felt, "Don't..." She couldn't bring herself to even comprehend the word for what was about to happen. Rape. Addison Montgomery was about to be raped. It was absurd. Already, she was beginning to feel the shame that came of being such a victim, even though they were always taught not to self-blame. She was trapped there, arms pinned up with one of his own, helpless as he tore through the expensive fabric of her shirt. For the first time in a very long time, she cried. Wailing sobs drowned out the sound of his hungry panting as he tore her bra clean from her chest, sending it off into a nearby bush. Exhaustion was beginning to replace her fire. Her limbs felt heavy like lead beneath him. All she wanted was to hide, but she couldn't. He was marking her once again with that same barbaric technique, leaving suckling bruises from his mouth and indents from his teeth as he went. 

He muffled her pleas with one of his palms and she choked, tasting blood in her mouth. She wasn't sure if it was his or her own, but either way the coppery zing was unmistakable. She knew what was coming next, but she couldn't escape. He looked up at her, moving his hands to push her skirt up her thighs, past her panties, to her hips. "No," she whispered, tears now running down her face, mixing with the blood along her cheeks. The pain was already searing through her whole body from the struggle and the way she'd twisted and fallen repeatedly in her attempts to escape. Even with this loosened grip, she couldn't run. She'd physically given up. Her tears wouldn't stop him anymore than her nails down his face or her knee in his stomach. He ripped her panties roughly down her legs and she shrieked for help. She wasn't even sure if it sounded like a word at all, but it was what she needed. Addison kept right on screaming, trying her best to keep her legs closed long enough for someone to come running.

Instead, she earned his grip around her throat.

She stared at him, glassy eyed, while she pawed at his hand. That same strong grip that wrenched her body to the ground and rendered her helpless was now tight around her neck. She couldn't breathe, let alone think as he ham-handedly groped her with his free hand. Instinctively, she tensed, but it wasn't going to do much more than deprive her of whatever oxygen was left in her bloodstream. He forced her legs open gracelessly, and she winced at both the physical pain of something tearing in her hip, and the emotional pain of knowing this was it. He was anything but gentle as he forced his way into her. Addison mentally checked out almost immediately, feeling things tear where they'd only ever felt pleasure before. Something died along with that feeling. Maybe she would, too, if he didn't let go of her windpipe. Beyond a few tiny gasps, nothing was passing through. Staring up at the orange streetlight overhead, she imagined the edges of her vision weren't going black as his unshaven face scraped over her neck again. 

Death would have been merciful at this point, but just as she felt herself slipping from consciousness, he relinquished his stronghold. She drew in a deep breath reflexively, coughing as she struggled to revive herself. There was nothing she could do now but breathe and lay there, imagining she was somewhere else. Her body jerked with the force of his thrusts, scraping against the ground, but she didn't feel it. Not anymore. She was in Connecticut again. A little girl learning to sail with her father, and he was frustrated by her lack of skill. The wind would always strand her in the middle of the lake. It was peaceful there, once the Captain stopped yelling and let her catch her breath. After all, she'd tried her best. His hands ripping at her hair tore her from her mental solace, sending agony through her already damaged neck. Addison let her eyes ease shut, blocking out the visual stimuli and praying he'd be done soon. Men didn't last that long, anyway, but it felt like years before he was finally filling her with the vile fruits of his labor. A fresh round of hot tears spilled down her cheeks.

She must've looked at him one last time, burning his face into her memory, but she didn't register the action. His head was encircled by the light of the lamp overhead like some sort of cruel take on an angel. He was no angel. He was there, biting into her shoulder like she was his, and then he was gone, running like the coward he was. For a long while, Addison just laid there, panties half-ripped and still clinging to one sore ankle, exposed to whoever might pass. She stared up at the light, wondering if it was death coming for her. She wished it would come, especially now. When it didn't and her body began to stiffen against the cold, clots beginning to form where blood ran freely previously, she shivered. With a series of whimpers and gasping discoveries of fresh, torturing pain, she tried feebly to push her skirt back down over herself. It was torn, too, but she managed. Taking the destroyed fabric that once was her shirt, she tried her best to disappear under it like a homeless person might use a newspaper as a blanket at night. The cuts along her back were still exposed to the cold, plain to see.

If she could disappear, she would have. Instead, she rolled onto her side--the one she hadn't repeatedly been forced to fall on--and balled up as best she could without exacerbating her condition. Everything hurt. That was all she kept thinking about as she shut her eyes, waiting for the pounding in her head to quiet. God, she hoped it would be soon. She was so tired. She just wanted to lay her head down and sleep, no longer aware of where she was or what had just happened. With eyes closed, she finally relented, feeling the pain dim as she slipped away.

#para #self para #read jasper's too #contains RAPE #very nsfw

[maybeilldancenaked-blog]

Decisions }

Addison sighed softly, scratching Milo behind the ears as he came to sit on the desk beside her. The paperwork was occupying the only clean space in her half-moved into home, staring ominously up at her. Once she signed her name, she'd really be committed to this idea. It was something that hadn't appealed to her before at all, but now it seemed like the only viable option she had left. She was still clinging feebly to the dream of becoming a mother. It was the one thing that had been missing in her life for all these years, and after wanting it for so long, she wasn't sure how to admit that she was letting go of that drive. 

Her pen hovered over the paper as she chewed her bottom lip in trepidation. A year ago, she would have jumped at the chance to have a child of her own. A year ago, the hope was still to become pregnant to achieve that goal. Without that possibility, did she really want to do this? Life in Seattle was supposed to be different. She needed it to be. No matter how long she sat back and waited for it to change, or to get better, it didn't. Maybe this would change that. 

She shook her head in silence, glancing out the window at the yard she now owned. This was a good place to have a family. She'd already decided that she could be a single mother if she really tried. Why did it matter where the child came from? It seemed silly to just give up that easily, even though something deep inside of her was lurching at the very idea of putting herself through this lengthy and often merciless ordeal. Come on, Addison. You don't quit. Somehow, she talked her hand into moving, drawing the decisive arcs of her name. There. It was done.

She just wished it felt more like a celebration than a death march. 

#self para

[maybeilldancenaked-blog]

The black sheep Shepherds are going to take Seattle by storm.

Now /this/ is a housewarming party!

#chat #amelia #c: amelia

[maybeilldancenaked-blog]

Now /this/ is a housewarming party!

The sisters have been reunited!

#posts

[maybeilldancenaked-blog]

Yes, the patient is fine, but she very easily could have overdosed, or been given the wrong medication. Do you want to explain that to some poor child's mother or father?

Five times?  Are you setting me lines Dr Montgomery?

…I was in a rush.  The patients fine right?

#chat #nate #c: nate

[maybeilldancenaked-blog]

Yes, you will. Five times. 

And you're never going to do this again. Were you just not paying attention, or has your penmanship always been this atrocious? This is the kind of thing that gets patients killed by mistake.

…Crap.

I can’t.  Sorry.  I’ll redo it.

#chat #nate #c: nate

[maybeilldancenaked-blog]

Read it out loud, and you tell me.

Oh…uh, yeah?

What’s wrong with it?

#chat #nate #c: nate

[maybeilldancenaked-blog]

Carver.

Are you responsible for this...? [holds the chart out]

Dr Montgomery?

I was sent to find you.

#chat #nate #c: nate