NO WAY OUT.

𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬.

faceclaim. michelle pfeiffer. height. five foot six. build. lean, lithe, looks taller than she is. hair. highlighted blonde. eyes. blue with green flecks. distinguishing features. watchful eyes, a low and controlled voice, immaculate posture, selective warmth, slow and measured steps. signature scent. lancome poême, guerlain angélique noire, valentino voce viva.

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞.

temperament. choleric. positive traits. loyal, determined, protective, perceptive. negative traits. stubborn, overbearing, mistrusting, prideful. virtues. composure, patience, devotion, resolve. vices. ambition, control, hypocrisy, irritability. moral alignment. lawful good.

𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬.

spouse. henry westbrook, former managing director at morgan stanley, deceased. children. aspen westbrook, 38 / rowan thane ( née westbrook ), 35 / hollis westbrook, 30. parents. david and vicki fisher.

𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲.

a new yorker through and through, addison was born and raised in manhattan to a decently wealthy couple with a townhouse full of children. the youngest of five, she was a quiet kid who always seemed to be outspoken by her siblings, but in true youngest child fashion she got all the love in the world from her parents and that was enough to keep her on the straight and narrow. she got good grades in high school, excelling in science and math with grades that led her to becoming valedictorian of her class. her hard work eventually landed her on the pre-med track at bowdoin, a small liberal arts school far from the hustle and bustle of the city. it was there that she met her first boyfriend and the love of her life, henry, at the ripe age of eighteen. henry was a maine local and had no intention of leaving his hometown — let alone the state — after they graduated college, but fate had other plans for them. addison was twenty when she saw two faint pink lines on a pregnancy test and her world changed forever. 

her parents were a huge help in raising their daughter while they both finished school, and once addison was accepted to columbia's college of physicians and surgeons, it was a no brainer that henry would follow her to the city. at that point, they'd decided it was time to become a real family and got married in a small ceremony with no frills, with two year old aspen resting on addie's hip and another daughter on the way. years passed and addison made it out of medical school alive while henry quickly made vp at his firm, and all of their adolescent worries seemed like a trivial part of the past. they welcomed one more daughter, hollis, and with her arrival came a quiet but welcome sense of completion.

eventually addison became a trauma surgeon at harbourview, the same hospital she’d done her residency at, henry became a managing director at his firm, and their daughters grew up faster than she would've liked them to. the westbrooks had evolved into a very cliche new york city family — with a penthouse on madison ave, a home in sag harbor, yearly trips to the amalfi coast or the maldives — but there was a part of henry that would never be able to give up his new england roots, and every year he brought them all back to his small hometown in maine. he built them a cabin on the lake, begged them constantly to go up for more than just two weeks in the summer, but addison always argued that they were too busy, that she had surgeries and the girls had school and practices and eventually their own lives to live.

life continued, the girls moved out — kind of (they lost rowan to louisiana and hollis to new england for a bit, but aspen seemed content to stay put on the upper east side), and addison spent her empty nest years solidifying her position at harbourview. she was promoted to senior trauma surgeon, then head of trauma surgery, and by the time she was fifty she'd solidified her place as chair of the surgical department, a culmination of decades of service to the same institution. with more money than they knew what to do with and careers they felt fulfilled in, she and henry spoke eagerly about retirement and what was next for them — until two months ago, when she was pulled from a surgery to find her husband coding in the trauma bay thanks to a fatal heart attack.

after that, addison could barely function. she took a sabbatical immediately, haphazardly packing a bag the next day without thought and soon she found herself standing at the front door of their little cabin on the lake in maine. for the last two months she's been hiding out there, rarely speaking to anyone and certainly not thinking about work. she's been back at the helm as department chair for just under a week now and she's almost certain everyone believes her no longer capable of doing her job, but addison is nothing if not determined not to let her grief consume her, regardless of how impossible that feels.

𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬.

the mentee — someone addison's taken under her wing, most likely a trauma surgeon/someone interested in emergency surgery. they can either be a resident or someone she’s worked with for many years!

the best friend — addie needs someone to lean on now more than ever and this person is it. they've likely worked together for a long time and have seen each other through multiple stages of life.

the adversary — someone she butts heads with, most likely in the emergency department but could be another surgeon. her fatal flaw is that she always thinks she knows best, and this person challenges her at every turn. carson callahan.

the cover — this person took over as interim chair of the surgery department when addison took her impromptu sabbatical for the last two months (she's just returned to work this week). this would definitely have to be a seasoned surgeon, and whether they're happy she's back or gunning to usurp her is up to you! arabella fairchild.

the nurse — the nurse that pulled addison from the surgery she was in when her husband came into the ER. addie was probably a giant bitch to them while it was happening so very sorry in advance for that lol. indira anand.

𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬.

faceclaim. sophia ali. height. five foot two. build. small and scraggly. hair. brunette, sometimes with golden highlights if she remembers to make a hair appointment. eyes. dark brown. distinguishing features. various small scars from nicks and cuts over the years, chaotic energy. signature scent. dove soap, stale coffee, sometimes a cigarette but she tries her best to hide that one.

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞.

temperament. sanguine. positive traits. tenacious, sharp, fearless, loyal, independent, professionally reliable. negative traits. self-sabotaging, chaotic, reckless, blunt, avoidant, personally unreliable. virtues. perseverance. vices. self-neglect. moral alignment. chaotic neutral.

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬.

parents. michael and farah bekhradi. ex-best friend. hollis westbrook. more tbd.

𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲.

for taren, life has been a wild ride since the moment she became conscious of herself while hiding under her mother's bathroom sink at five years old, an only child caught between her mother's clinical coldness and her father's half-hearted warmth. her mother, a clinical psychiatrist who should've never been given a license to prescribe medication, was constantly picking at taren's behavior and trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with her. her childhood was a patchwork of behavioral reports, half-finished hobbies, and rotating prescriptions — always under observation, never quite right. by age seven, farah had taren on adderall, then ritalin when that didn’t work, then she stacked on prozac, switched her to lexapro, then finally had scapped it all and had her on lithium. by middle school, taren was royally fucked up from the whirlwind of medication and her mother's constant analysis, but she'd learned by then to pretend to swallow her pills and spit them out secretly when farah wasn’t looking. by high school, she'd figured out how to play the game: get good grades, keep busy, don't give them a reason to ask too many questions. medicine wasn't a calling — it was an escape plan.

taren honestly had no interest in trying too hard to be a good student in college. she'd fallen in with a bad crowd in high school, would steal wine from her dad's vineyard and get drunk and high with her friends every chance she got just to get the fuck out of her house — but she was smart, and it was her stellar grades that weren't a reflection of the less than stellar effort she put into her academics that got her into purdue. from there, taren had a very typical big ten school experience — beer pong, frat parties, and late nights crying in the library about her chem lab. it was there that she reintroduced herself to adderall, dabbled in cocaine and ketamine and really any recreational drug she could get her hands on, because this time it was under her control, and that felt good.

somehow, despite her absolutely heinous decisions, taren always ended up on her feet. she was the girl her peers hated, because they'd see snapchats of her partying the night before an exam, and then she'd still end up getting an a. her grades got her into medical school at boston university but her lack of extra-curriculars got her rejected from the better med schools on the east coast that she was really gunning for, so she packed her shit up and headed to boston. med school saw an entirely different side of taren because it had to — this one studied hard, and stopped fucking around. her cocaine and adderall use didn't cease, but instead of keeping her out at the bar, it kept her awake all hours of the night so she could study. that continued until she read a publication outlining the cardiovascular effects of cocaine and other stimulant drugs on the body — and then she flushed her entire supply.

match day for taren came quickly and without much excitement. her grades were decent but not good enough to get her into any of the top surgical residencies in the country, but matching at harbourview was pretty high on her list considering the fact that she was still itching to get away from the west coast, and so far her residency is the best thing that ever happened to her. still totally neurotic and slightly unhinged, taren thrives in an environment where the pressure is just enough to keep her heart pumping but not too much that she feels like spiraling. cardio sort of fell into her lap just like everything else in taren's life, but she'd known from the moment she held her first live heart that it was the specialty she wanted to focus on. she no longer needs stimulants to keep her blood pumping, the rush of a cardio case is more than enough to make her feel alive.

𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬.

the mentor ( can be found @theharbourwc ) — this person is taren's saving grace at harbourview. she puts on a good act, but they were able to see past the bloodshot eyes and the tardiness and the chaotic energy, and realize she's a talented surgeon when she puts her mind to it. they're likely the sole reason she's done well at harbourview so far because they're the one person who believes in her — preferably, they're an attending surgeon, most likely a cardiothoracic surgeon as that is her specialty! arabella fairchild.

the intern she kind of accidentally adopted — they were terrified of her during their first rotation, but now she buys them coffee and occasionally yells at anyone who’s mean to them. she doesn’t know why she cares and they don’t know why she’s being nice. christopher santiago.

the one who knows too much — this person has seen her at her worst — blackout in the locker room, crying in the stairwell, making ethically questionable decisions in the OR. they keep her secrets, but it’s only a matter of time before one of them gets too big to ignore. sloane shepherd.

the rival resident — they came in around the same time and taren thinks they’re annoyingly competent. they think taren’s a disaster with a god complex. still, there’s mutual respect there.

the one who calls her out — someone who doesn’t buy her bullshit. maybe another doctor or a seasoned nurse who’s been around too long to be intimidated by her. they’re not afraid to tell her when she’s out of line — and they’ve earned her respect for it.