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lanajvmeson · 4 years

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emerges frm a field of corn slinking in w a faux mink shrug dangling around my elbows n a strand of wheat between my teeth..... farmer eleganza.... hlo! my name’s nai. i am bt a humble ghoul arrived to haunt ur home. 23 n she/her pronouns n i live in manchester. fun fact my friend’s neighbour used to b harry styles PE teacher. i played delilah yrs ago as carlson young (n even cara delevingne at one point what the fk) which feels so weird n ancient to me nw bt i missed her a lot so decided to spruce her bk to life.... ANYWAY delilah’s pinterest is here n i’ll jst leap right into things without further ado

(NICOLA PELTZ, CIS-FEMALE) - Have you seen DELILAH ASTOR? LILAH is in HER JUNIOR year. The POLITICAL SCIENCE MAJOR is 21 years old & is a CAPRICORN. People say SHE is BEGUILING, BLUNT, CUNNING and APATHETIC. Rumors say they’re a member of CALLOWAY. I heard from the gossip blog that SHE WAS IN A REHABILITATION CENTRE IN SWITZERLAND INSTEAD OF DOING CHARITY WORK LIKE HER SOCIAL MEDIA CLAIMED. (NAI. 23. GMT. SHE/HER.)

HISTORY

their family is kind of modelled off the sedgwick family like old money n pretty dysfunctional bt all abt keeping up a seamless facade of perfection... with a pinch of the kennedy’s in there. her dad’s high up in politics n his dad before tht ws in politics n it’s just a long prestigious line of clones in expensive suits as far as delilah’s concerned. her dad i picture as like.... nate archibald’s grandfather in gossip girl.... personality wise.

for as long as she cn remember she’s found this cookie cutter white picket fence life boring. stifling. to delilah it’s like being hemmed in a stuffy room n forbidden frm opening a window. it’s all vry Rich People Problems i wnt lie bt <3 she feels everlastingly bored. All The Time. plus her family hs always been a focal point fr tabloids etc which doesn’t help this feeling of not rly Living but just being the focus of a spectator sport. they’re lowkey a bit of a household name so they get a bunch of scrutiny n......... well. new bullet point alert! cue a powerpoint transition

(self harm & depression tw) frm being young delilah always knew there ws sort of. a white noise inside her where everyone else saw a technicolour movie screen. it rly hit her at like 12 i’d say as she was jst coasting towards adolescence. it ws pretty obvious frm her behaviour i’d say bt her parents only became Aware it ws a problem when she stuck a fork into a socket n short circuited the power in the house. she got shocked unconscious n when she woke up she told the in house dr they’d called (to keep it under wraps frm outsiders) tht she just.... couldn’t feel anything. she’d been reading frankenstein (she’s always liked gothic literature) n thought it’d zap her to life like the monster

her parents got her on medication n figured that wld fix everything. they didn’t like to talk abt things and that was that. it wasn’t to be mentioned again

delilah’s parents r just very.... sterile. family is abt appearances. they’ll be all smiles n flowing conversation when ppl are around bt it feels like being an actress n reading frm a script. being a toy in a dollhouse

she had two siblings: an older sister named clara & a younger brother named elijah. clara ws always like.... the Dream daughter. did everything right. amazing grades. america’s sweetheart. LOVED by the press. did sm charity work. elijah was fine/kind of a slacker compared bt coasted by on athletic prowess (captain of the rowing team). delilah hs very much always been the anomaly in this idyllic line-up. middle child effect! altho having said tht she’s always ran w the popular crowd of her age group bc Rich + Pretty = Status. it’s all quite superficial n delilah’s attitude on the matter can b summed up w this photoset. having said tht there was Some merit in constantly being paraded around as “such a pretty thing” bc a few modelling agencies attempted to scout her bt delilah found that boring. she wants to b called brilliant not beautiful. her mother called this her “not playing to the advantages that god gave her”. with a tight-lipped smile and a “god forbid i use my brain”, delilah only disappointed her further <3

(drugs & ed tw) delilah gt pretty heavy into partying fr the sake of trying to Feel something. intense on the drugs front (coke n prescription pills). rarely eating. she got a silver broach of a swan tht she pins to most of her clothes n u can unscrew the swan’s neck n pull it out to reveal a little powder spoon. still wears this today. clara n delilah were always super close n clara wld cover fr her a bunch. making up lies n jst having her back to their parents if they ever asked where she was / she ws in trouble n needed to keep it under wraps. when delilah hd an article in a tabloid pretty mch like this one clara talked their parents dwn frm sending her to a rehabilitation centre in switzerland. they gt it pretty much scorched frm existence bt delilah kept a clipping bc honestly she thought it was funny hw pale her mother went abt it

(car accident & drunk driving & death tw) at a fancy benefit the astors were all attending among 4857925974 uppity families delilah wound up heading off w some of the rich kids n one thing lead to another n a couple of them gt arrested fr a coke scandal. delilah used her phone call to contact clara n fr once clara hd let loose a little n hd something to drink bt still drove to the station to bail delilah out n try n fix her mess bt.... skipped a red light n crashed. she died upon impact.

(hospitalisation & drugs & addiction tw) this made delilah spiral massively obviously.... she clung on by the skin of her teeth fr a while bt she rly was just getting quite out of control doing an extremely excessive amt of coke to get by at this point so her parents actually did.... end up shipping her off to switzerland for rehabilitation. they didn’t tell anyone this tho n as far as ppl were/are aware she was doing charity work with habitat for humanity in trinidad. her parents literally........... hired ppl to take photos of things there n a social media team posted them to her instagram account jst. the most elaborate lie.... it’s a lot.

delilah jst pretty much went along w whatever they said at the facility bt didn’t absorb any of it too much.... she did get sober there bt it was vry much bc she had no other choice rather than a want to......... she even pretended to “find god” while she ws there n memorised bible lines to recite w a coolly detached smile. in her head she ws probably thinking abt hw her mandated therapist cld gladly eat shit and she’d be happy to watch. it was just like.... everyone there was RLY hideously overpaid bt did they actually Care abt their work or patients? debatable. wasn’t the most healing experience thru delilah’s eyes bt... maybe it’d work better if she’d actually opened her mind to it bt anyway...... <3 cornelius fudge voice: she’s back. the dark lord.....

PERSONALITY:

nw tht her history is out of the way i’ll leap like a flea off a shaggy dog’s back into personality! aesthetically she almost ALWAYS wears white/cream. reminds me of the woman in white frm sharp objects. rarely she’ll dabble in silver or gold or like..... vry pale green bt.... always muted tones. usually white or cream. big white sunhats. white sunglasses. white pussybow blouses w a little white skirt n a pearl barrette in her hair. she even smokes white sobranie cigs tht r imports like it’s a lot she’s truly committed to the aesthetic.... paired w like. classic patent mary janes.... she tends to flutter around the place like a silk moth. likes lace too. hs a very put together image n even demeanour like she’s very lithe n graceful n drifts like a ghost which kind of contrasts w... who she is at her core bt in the astor family it’s all abt appearances <3 the only deviation from this is she sometimes wears dark blue mascara once in a blue moon n if ppl comment on this she’s like. idk what ur talking abt? glides away like a ghost in a haunted mansion n is never seen again.

very perceptive. incredibly observant. yrs of early life media training n being born frm politicians means she’s an excellent liar. she knows ppl n knows what makes them tick bt she’ll only use this when necessary. she isn’t a terrible person bt she knows how to b Very mean n will equip this as a weapon shd a situation call fr it. also more prone to lashing out since her sister......... she hs sometimes played chess games socially fr kicks

dark n biting sense of humour. rather frank abt things. VERY ruthless when scorned bt she isn’t particularly?? emotive abt it??? her bf cheated on her once n when he told her she slapped him rly hard in front of sm ppl he knew n then jst walked away. blocked him on literally everything. removed him frm the face of the earth as far as she ws concerned. had him blacklisted frm every event n told ppl they’d be cut too if they continued to associate w him. goodbye sir <3 u are the weakest link <3 needless to say he regretted it <3

very loyal to u until she isn’t. finds it very easy to cut ties if need be. once her trust is broken it is gooooone baby goone.... the trust is Gone. selective in who she cares abt

vry cavalier abt sex. she doesn’t sleep around hugely i dnt think??? bt when she does it isn’t often tht emotionally invested she’ll jst out of the blue very nonchalantly blow out a wisp of smoke n b like. so u want to fuck me then? cool. proceeds to get up as if she’s walking to leave n then looks bk n is like what do ur legs not work? follow me. n leads them somewhere

nothing rly.... moves her particularly. she isn’t very animated. it’s like she jst finds the entire world thoroughly unimpressive. it’s difficult to stimulate excitement from her. it’s like that hugh laurie quote where he realised he had depression bc “boredom is not an appropriate response to exploding cars”.

has a pet swan bk at home she’s named lilith inspired by satan’s offspring. lilith bites ppl if they get close n is honestly an abomination of a bird. delilah finds her funny n throws her bits of croissants sometimes bt even she isn’t immune to her pecks. in some ways they’re similar...... hv a graceful surface appearance / aesthetic bt a darker attitude beneath the surface

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

exes: the ex bf tht cheated on her n she got blacklisted from 94872347 social events cld be a fun thing to explore..... delilah wld be EXTREMELY cold towards him n honestly want him dead. wouldn’t show any shred of caring abt him at all she’s very gd at stoning her emotions n keeping them inside. hasn’t cried since her sister died as an example of how..... withdrawn she is from confessing her innermost thoughts n desires. maybe an ex bf before tht that she rly didn’t take seriously at all..... typically she just isn’t interested/invested in romance she’s vry apathetic abt it all

party friends: those tht run in similar rich kid circles tht she would have smuggled off with at fancy events so they could let loose.......... ppl tht r completely her opposite who she finds interesting bc they represent everything she always wanted outside the oppression of her strict regiment family....... mutual bad influences tht are heavy into drugs n always enable each other...... u name it!

hook-ups: she doesn’t have a HUGE amt of these bt.... maybe a select handful.... some she wld have hooked up w once n never again n just been like >_> if they implied they shd as if it was preposterous n she was thoroughly over it.... some maybe she’d find interesting enough to extend beyond tht...... none she’d invest in if she cld help it altho? maybe someone as an exception to tht rule cld be fun

friends of her sister: (death tw) clara was universally well liked for being rly sweet n well intentioned n she attended yates only two yrs delilah’s senior so she might have some connections here still somehow??? cld be angsty to work with

i won’t lie i’m rly hungry as i write up these wcs so my brain’s going blank n i’m gna have to sprint to get some toast bt <3 roommates, enemies, competitive friendships, resentments, angst, chaos, drama, strife, u name it n i am dwn!!!! hits post n takes off galloping dwnstairs

#yatesintro #drugs tw #ed tw #depression tw #death tw #grief tw #car accident tw #drunk driving tw #addiction tw #cowabunga chim chimmeny cheroo it's a tw extravaganza <3 #hmu fr plots go crazy go stupid

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

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Nate and Danny: The Lucky Ones

This is just a little recovery drabble - someone a while back requested a sweet moment with Nate and Danny, so here it is! You know, to get you all nice and relaxed before the next BTHB piece.

CW: Referenced past abuse/violence, noncon, drugging, dubcon (on both sides), trauma recovery. But, you know, I swear this one is really sweet at heart. Some hint of spice. Like PG-13 spice.

Tagging @bleeding-demon-teeth, @spiffythespook, and @special-spicy-chicken. Also I owe a debt to @orchidscript for this one, as it pulls from a scene she and I wrote out a while back in a different context. Oh, and here is a link to the song that is in this piece if you haven’t heard it before.

“No, Danny.”

“Please? Come on, Nate, please, it’ll help, I know it will.”

Nate looks up from his position lying in the bed, where he’s been for the past three days. Danny stands between him and the window, and the hint of sunshine outside lights a halo around the red hair, turning the edges to a brilliant gleaming copper. Danny’s face is slightly shadowed this way, not exactly silhouette. It fades out the scars until they’re barely visible, lessens the hint of silver-gray visible just at his scalp if you know where to look.

But it doesn’t matter how dark the shadows make Danny’s face, Nate can still see the vibrant warm blue of his eyes.

Danny’s wearing a heavy sweater and soft cotton pants - he’s always wearing sweaters now, even as the weather begins to warm, even as flowers bloom in the landscaping at the edge of the apartment complex’s parking lot and the leaves bud on the trees outside. The sweater is a deep green, nearly the same color as Nate’s own eyes, and sets off every inch of the redhead’s pale freckled skin.

Nate swallows against the way the guilt pricks at him, a million little needles that never leave him alone. He hasn’t moved in days because he’s been thinking about how much they’ve all lost, and his sense that the life he is building here - taking care of Danny, going to therapy, watching Ryan Michaelson be the world’s biggest jackass until he looks at his brother and suddenly that drops and melts away into a devotion Nate has never seen before - is all going to be ripped away.

It was too easy, sending Bram to prison.

It was all too easy, and it won’t last.

Nate looks up at Danny, who gives him a shy and nervous smile, and thinks, My hands tied you to the headboard even when I begged him not to make me. My hand held the knife. My hand pulled your head back by your hair so he could watch the blood drip in your eyes. My hands helped him put the muzzle on your face that last time, my hands cleaned you up when he let you back out of the cellar, my hands, mine, I am covered in your blood. I am complicit, I’m as guilty as he is, it doesn’t matter what happens with his eyes.

I deserve to be dead.

Why am I here?

He slumps back onto the bed. “L-Leave me alone, Danny. I j-j-just want to stay here today.”

“No.” The word is a surprise to both of them - when Nate blinks and looks up, Danny’s eyes are wide and a little frightened at himself.

Nate swallows hard against the rush of self-loathing as he reads the thought clear as day across Danny’s face: puppies don’t get to say no. “I, I mean…” Danny’s jaw sets, and Nate is even more surprised by the look of determination when those blue eyes move back to his. “I mean it. No. This always helped me when we did it up in the woods. I want to help you, Nate. I want you to believe me when I say I want you here. I want, um, I want… I want you to get out of the bed. Okay?” As though all his strength had bled out in his words, Danny’s shoulders slumped a little, hunching into himself, making himself smaller. “... please?”

It’s the crack in his voice on the final word that gets Nate to move. He’d tried to kill a man to save Danny. He’d burned down the cabin and driven away in the middle of the night. Whatever he was - however guilty - Danny didn’t see him that way.

Danny never seems to see the man that held him down to be hurt - only the man who watched movies with him late at night and helped him pick bundles of wildflowers to press, only the man who would sometimes kiss the bruises Bram had left with perfect tenderness. Danny saw the man who had saved him and not the man who was the reason he had been broken in the first place.

Danny saw the man who stitched him up after he was forced to step into the trap and not the man who had done nothing but uselessly hold him while Abraham made him do it.

Whatever he is, has been made into, Nate had discovered the ability to stand up when Danny needed him, in the end. Danny needs him to stand up now.

So Nate pushes back the covers, which seem to weigh three tons, and slides his feet off the side of the bed. He leans over for a second, hands on the edge of the bed, just sitting in his pajama pants and looking down at himself - the wicked stripe of pale, faded scar up his torso (Ashley), the twisted one along his collarbone (Bram), the smaller pockmarked places knives had gone in and out of him like love (Bram, always Bram, endlessly Bram).

When Danny holds out his hand, Nate reaches up with his good one to take it, lets Danny pull him up off the bed. Danny holds both of his hands, grip gentle and barely-there on the bad hand so as not to push the misplaced bones together.

“This helped, when you used to do it with me,” Danny says softly, looking down at him, and Nate tilts his head back to look up. It’s always so strange the way Danny can seem so small until you stand next to him and realize how tall he is, the height he hides as much with his personality as with the way he rolls his shoulders forwards and curves his spine.

If he disliked Ryan a little less, he’d ask if he was always like that, or if that was something he’d only learned in the cabin. After all, he and Danny had only seen each other a handful of times before Abraham came for him.

Nate had met some people and kind of fallen in with them, and Danny had been on the periphery of the group. Most of Nate’s interactions with him prior to the night Danny had come over to watch a movie with him - and Bram had finally hunted Nate down - had involved pretending not to watch Danny push and shove and dance with a crowd in a dark bar in front of a stage. Pretending his mouth wasn’t dry, that he wasn’t staring at the way Danny moved when the sweat slicked him up, dampened his shirt, left little bits of red hair stuck to his forehead and the back of his neck as he knocked back another drink, shot Nate a half-shy, half-bold flash of toothy smile before he went back to the crowd.

Nate had spent the time they were around each other pretending he wasn’t interested, because it wasn’t safe to be interested. Then he’d let his guard down, and here they are, nearly five years later, a broken puppy and Bram’s black-haired prince who burned down the fucking castle.

Danny takes Nate’s other hand in his, tilting his head with a nervous, shy smile, and Nate lets his eyes move back up to the halo of sunlight around his hair. Maybe Bram named the wrong one of us the prince. “H-How long have you been awake?” He asks, voice low and deep and uncertain. Danny smells like his shampoo and soap, an odd mix of flowers and something like mint. This close, Nate can tell his hair is still the slightest bit damp.

(do you like him better this way, baby?)

Of course I like him better free

(but he was so good for you, before)

He’s better for me now

Nate shakes off the thoughts, the hint of Bram’s voice that never quite leaves him, and sighs. “Fine. We’ll t-t-try it. But if it doesn’t w-work, you let me get b-back in the bed, okay?”

“It’s a deal. It’ll work, Nate, I know it will.”

There’s hardly enough room, with Danny’s big bed and his desk and a dresser, but Nate lets himself be pulled, moving to the one space in here big enough for what Danny wants to do. Now that he’s agreed to it, Danny’s smile has shifted, widened, become more certain of itself and sincere. It crinkles the scar tissue at the bridge of his nose, makes the broken line of his jaw on each side less obvious, makes the tiny pinprick scars from the sharp pieces that stuck off the metal and jabbed his skin less noticeable.

Nate wants to touch the scar, to trace it with his hands like he does when Danny is scared or goes too far inside his own head for them to follow. The touch that brings him back when he’s lost in the woods. He never wants to stop touching the scars, rub his thumbs right into them until they both forget what made them.

He swallows as Danny moves him, the taller man’s face gone serious and thoughtful, his eyes a little distant, lost in thought, in memory.

He made me hurt you so many ways, and when I can’t get out of bed, you still come here to pull me up.

There’s an infinite, innate capacity for forgiveness in Danny that Nate cannot begin to fathom, is utterly unprepared for. He doesn’t deserve it, didn’t expect it. He expected to be tossed out as soon as his testimony was done, as soon as his part in putting Bram away was over. Instead, Danny spent a day with his parents and came back shaking, fucked up, but with enough promised money to cover Nate’s therapy and medical bills and an offer to let Nate stay here as long as he wanted to stay.

Forever, Nate wants to say, but he never does. I don’t know how to start over any longer. I don’t want to start over without you.

“No, come, come here,” Danny murmurs, sliding an arm around Nate’s waist, pulling him close until they’re pressed together. Danny’s hipbones, still sharp from years of never eating enough, push just a little against Nate’s abdomen. “Too far away.”

“Wh-why?” Nate asks, and he’s asking a dozen different questions with that one single word - afraid of what the answer might be for most of them, desperately wanting an answer to the rest.

“Because it worked, when you did it on the days I didn’t want to get up off the mat. Because it worked, then. It can work for you, too.”

Danny’s arms slide around him, and Nate echoes the motion, his forehead dropping to rest on Danny’s shoulder, feeling the jut of his collarbone even through the heavy fabric of his sweater. When Danny starts to move, Nate moves with him, the slow shifting back and forth of a middle-school dance but without what Nate’s grandmother had called ‘space for Jesus, Joseph, and Mary’ between them.

He fights the hint of helpless, sad laughter, the thought of what his grandmother would think of him now, slow-dancing in the bedroom of… whatever Danny was to him. Whatever they were to each other.

(I’ve met real gods, you know - and real gods never forgive you)

Nate swallows, and he must tense, because Danny’s arms tighten around him. “Here, let me help the wrong thoughts,” Danny whispers, and Nate closes his eyes at the rush of shame there. Wrong thoughts, Bram’s words in Danny’s voice.

(do you think you’ve earned forgiveness, sweet thing? do you think you’ll ever earn it?)

Danny begins to hum, slightly tuneless and off-key, resting his chin on Nate’s hair, the two of them still moving slowly, back and forth. He’s too aware of Danny’s body, of the warmth of the arms around him. He’s too aware of the scars that his hands caused at Bram’s command, inside and out.

He’s too aware of what he’s done, too sure that he will never, ever deserve the forgiveness that Danny never stops offering him.

“I c-can’t-” He starts, and Danny’s arms tighten even more, until they nearly hurt, until they nearly steal his breath.

“Yes, you can,” Danny murmurs into his hair. “I could, for you. You can for me.”

There is silence, for a while, the sun cutting stripes through the blinds across Danny’s old wooden desk under the window, the rumpled covers with the quilt on top. The green of Danny’s sweater soft against his cheek, the hint of dark red and copper blending in his hair. He knows just what Danny’s eyelashes look like right now, closing against his cheek, bright, light ginger-copper and so long it’s fucking ridiculous - no one should have eyelashes that long.

“Better?” Danny whispers - and it almost is.

(your body belongs to me, your love is for me, your life is mine)

Nate shudders and shakes his head.

Danny nods against his hair, and there’s quiet for another little while. He’s not sure how long, because all he can think of is how much he doesn’t deserve this moment. He should be in prison right next to Bram, in his own solitary cell, a menace, a destroyer, a villain in Danny’s narrative.

Then Danny starts to sing.

It’s halting and cracked in his hoarse, rough voice, and Nate turns his head so his ear is against Danny’s shoulder, mouth just barely brushing the skin of his neck. This way he can feel the vibration of sound through Danny’s chest.

“It was a Monday when my lover told me, ‘never pay the reaper with love only’,” Danny sings, off-key, but Nate presses his lips together and his ear a little more against Danny’s sweater, listening to the soft sound. He knows this song, doesn’t he?

He’s heard this song before, but where?

“What could I say to you,” Danny sings, “Except ‘I love you’, and ‘I’d give my life for yours’?... I know we are, we are the lucky ones-... I know we are, we are the lucky ones. I know we are, we are the lucky ones, dear…”

“Wh-what are you s-s-singing?”

“Sssshhh,” Danny says softly, and Nate falls silent again. Danny never gives orders, never gives commands. He’s submissive and eager-to-please, nervous and worried all the time. This version of him is vanishingly rare, and Nate wonders if this was what he was like with his boyfriends, before - and Nate just never had the chance to learn about it, then.

“The first time we made love, I wasn’t sober,” Danny sings, voice warming a little, “And you told me you loved me over and over-”

I’m s-s-so sorry, I’m so s-s-sorry, Red, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, j-j-just look at m-me now, okay?

(what are you waiting for?)

‘Kay, can do it, can look-... your eyes are bleeding, Nate, like green sky, you’re stained glass, you’re a fucking saint sparking fucking starlight fuck, ah

J-Just look at me, Red, just look right at me, it’s going to be oh-okay, it’s okay, I d-d-don’t want to, I promise, I just, I have to-

(of course you want to. and if you don’t, I will)

Sssshhh, s’okay if it’s you. Always if it’s you. I want you too. Saint Nate, ha, Saint Nate saint… Saint Nathaniel, patron saint of, of puppies and fuck, what’d he put in my drink? Shit, you feel so good, don’t stop

Fuck, R-Red, I’m so sorry

(stop holding out on him, baby, he’s asking for it)

“-how can I ever love another, when I miss you everyday?” Danny kept singing, shifting them back and forth with the slightest movements in rhythm to his song. Nate kept thinking he’d heard this song before, somewhere, in his past, in the life before Abraham.

There was a life before Bram.

“Remember the time we made love in the roses? And you took my picture in all sorts of poses-”

Look at this, Nate! It’s like all the flowers bloomed at once this year! Here, let me make you a dandelion chain. My friend Kelli taught me how to do this when we were kids, let me make you one, it’s like a crown, like you’re a, a prince for real.

G-G-Go for it, Red, I’ll pretend I d-don’t look ridic… ridic-... that I don’t look stupid.

You never look stupid, you’re the smartest person I’ve ever met. Here, I’ll make chains for us both, that way we both look stupid, right?

Right.

You could never look stupid, you know. You always look so good.

Wh-what?

Never mind. Let me grab more dandelions, I’ll be right back.

Danny with the yellow dandelions woven through his hair, grinning at him, a flash of white teeth and crinkled scars and the sunlight that turned his freckles darker and darker while his skin stayed pale and white. Sitting shirtless in the garden while they worked, sun burning his shoulders reddish pink, the smile on his face when he settled the second chain on the top of Nate’s head.

And Bram never saw that moment - that memory was theirs, alone.

“-How can I ever get over you, when I’d give my life for yours?”

I tried to kill for you.

“I know we are, we are the lucky ones-... I know we are, we are the lucky ones… I know we are, we are the lucky ones, dear… my dear…” Danny’s voice cracks again when he tries to hit the high notes, and Nate is struck by how fucking awful his singing voice is, and how he doesn’t care at all, it sounds amazing to hear it.

Like watching him dance in his kitchen when he thought no one was watching, barely hitting the high note. The way his heart had leapt when Ryan had popped out onto the patio with a finger on his lips, the sound of Danny’s music blaring in the kitchen behind them, and whispered, come on, motherfucker, you have got to see what he’s doing now.

“It’s time to say I thank God for you,” Danny sings, “I thank God for you… in each and every single way-... and I know, I know, I know… it’s time to let you know, time to let you know, time to sit here and say…”

I’d kill for you again.

“I know we are, we are the lucky ones-”

I hurt you.

“I know we are, we are the lucky ones-”

I couldn’t save you for four fucking years.

“I know we are, we are the lucky ones, dear…”

I loved you so much and I still couldn’t save you.

“We are the lucky ones, dear…” Danny’s voice trails off, the two of them still moving in rhythm, and Nate takes a deep breath of the smell of Danny, the simple scent of his skin layered under clean soap and that weird floral shampoo he buys. His hands tighten in the fabric of Danny’s sweater.

“What’s that s-s-song?”

“Huh? Oh, it’s… it’s B-something, Naked…”

“Bif Naked,” Nate blinks. “I knew I kn-knew that song. I used to l-l-love her… where d-d-did you ever hear that song?”

“... promise not to laugh?”

“C-Cross my heart and hope to d-die.”

“Buffy the Vampire Slayer.” Nate has to bite back the instinctive laughter in return, and barely manages it, and feels Danny stiffen a little. “Don’t judge! Ryan loves Buffy, or did. We watched all the reruns. She and some guy dance to that song, and I… I liked it, so I downloaded it and listened to it a bunch. I was listening to it earlier cleaning the kitchen, and it… made me think of you. Of… of us.”

There’s a silence that stretches between them, comfortable but weighty.

Then Danny says softly, “There’s an us, right?”

“Danny, I w-w-want to go back to the bed,” Nate replies in a rush, and feels Danny’s shoulders drop a little. Feels the sudden well of fear that threatens him. “W-wait. Don’t, just… just let me f-f-finish. I w-want to go back to the bed and I want y-y-you to come with me.”

Danny pulls back and away all at once, and Nate swallows back the spike of panic that he’s crossed a line, gone too far. They’ve done nothing more than this, than maybe a few kisses, since they came back. He doesn’t deserve any more. He doesn’t deserve this.

Danny catches his eyes, and Nate thinks, no one could ever earn the forgiveness you never stop giving me.

The scarred hands find their way up to his face, rough fingers with skin calloused to near-numbness by years of being forced to work too hard, to hurt himself. Nate’s own hands cover them, the pads of his own fingers pressing into the scars without flinching, without fear. He doesn’t mind Danny’s hands, he never has. He loved them clean and he loves them scarred. He loves the body he knows too well and for all the wrong reasons.

He wants to erase all the wrong ones, all the times Danny was hurt, and cover him over in something new. But maybe he isn’t the right person, for that - maybe Danny needs someone else, someone who isn’t complicit, who isn’t guilty, who isn’t-

“Yeah, let’s go to the bed,” Danny says, and smiles. Nate’s heart breaks, but it beats harder, too, and he can’t reconcile the two feelings, the sense of being given a gift, again, that he should never have been given at all.

“D-don’t, you don’t have t-to,” Nate says softly. “I know that y-you, that you need to take time-”

Danny leans in to kiss him, and Nate hasn’t felt the warmth of his lips quite like this since that night in the truck, since he took the muzzle off and Danny came back to life. “I need time,” Danny agrees, nuzzling against the side of his face. “But I have time. And I have, um, I have you. Can I have you, too, and time? Do I get to have both?”

Nate hesitates, uncertain what answer he’s meant to give to that, what the question even means. Then Danny grabs him by the hands and pulls him back to the bed, pushes him onto his back, and Nate’s uncertainty breaks apart and melts under the sudden weight of Danny climbing on top of him, pressing him into the soft blankets and the mattress that gives just a little under their weight. Danny kisses him again, slowly, wonderfully, hands running slowly up Nate’s sides. There’s a surety, a certainty, to him that Nate would give anything to see more of.

Nate, look, the body had a canoe in this shed. Do you… do you think I could lay down in it? Do you want to see if we can, um... do you want to?

Look, I found baby rabbits. Do you think the mother’s around here somewhere?

I, um, I made you this - for you. Do you like it? Is it okay?

Do you think we would have really gotten together, if it hadn’t been like this?

I’ll take a shower before he gets back, Nate, he won’t ever know.

Danny’s hands slide rough-skinned over Nate’s shoulders, feeling over the scars Bram left on him. He licks at the scar on Nate’s lip, the tiniest nick that only shows when he smiles, really, and finds his way to his ear and down his neck, trailing lips over the circles that Ashley cut into him, over and over again.

“D-Danny,” Nate murmurs, sliding hands up into his hair. “Danny, don’t d-d-do anything you don’t w-want to do-”

“I want to,” Danny says softly. “I want to. I want to all the time, but I’m not, I’m not supposed to want to any longer-”

“Hey.” Nate’s fingers tighten just a little in his hair and Danny stills, looking at him with the blue eyes, the sun catching them just right to make them seem almost to glow. His face is flushed and red, and Nate smiles at the sight of him, the way he bites his lower lip, just a little bit. “You get to w-w-want whatever you w-want, now, remember? We’re free.”

“Free,” Danny breathes out, shivering at the word. His hips press just a little into Nate’s, and he can’t quite catch his breath at the way that feels. Warm and human and he feels like a live wire under Danny’s body, shifting a little at the press of Danny against him. “I get to say no, now, right?”

Nate nods, slowly. “You get to say no. Forever. Anytime you w-w-want. Even right n-now, Danny. Tell m-me to fuck off, and I will. No hard f-f-feelings.”

“I don’t want you to fuck off. I want you to...” Danny colors, bright red covering up the freckles and scars across his cheeks, and they both realize the joke Danny wants to say at the same time as they realize he’s not quite ready for that, yet.

“You d-d-decide what happens now,” Nate says, firmly. “All y-you, Danny. Every step of the way.”

Danny swallows, hard, and lowers himself until he’s resting on his elbows, their bodies touching from breastbone all the way through their legs. The weight of him isn’t nearly enough for his height, and Nate feels the curve of his muscled shoulders, down his biceps, slides his hands up under the sweater, pushing it up to feel the rippled whip-scars that line his upper back. “If I get to say no, Nate, I want… I want to, um.” Danny looks to the side, shyly, then back at him. He leans in to kiss him, one more time. “I can’t... not to everything. But to a little... I want to say yes.”

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bethanthrax · 5 years

Text

Elizabeth Nora Jones

VERY LONG POST about my OC, Beth Jones.

I found this question list here: https://www.deviantart.com/catastrotaffy/art/Blank-Character-Bio-Sheet-90733420

BASIC INFORMATION Full name: Elizabeth Nora Jones Pronunciation: Pretty self-explanatory Nickname(s) or Alias: Beth or Betty (Only Nate called her Betty, though). Gender: Cis female Species: Human Age: 34 (or 244, taking vault time into account) Birthday: 2nd September 2043 Sexuality: Pansexual Nationality: American Religion: None, though she celebrates Christmas City or town of birth: Providence, RI Currently lives: Boston, MA Languages spoken: English Native language: English Relationship Status: Married/Widowed PHYSICAL APPEARANCE Height: 5′5″

Weight: She prefers not to know… Figure/build: Full hourglass. Big up top, slender waist, shapely hips and butt, soft post-partum belly. Average-sized arms, long legs (She’d say her legs are her best feature if you asked). Hair colour: Light brown Hairstyle: Long and curly, nearly always frizzy. Usually wears it tied up with a headscarf. Facial Hairstyle: N/A Eye colour: Gray Skin/fur/etc colour: Super pale, freckly. Tattoos: None. Piercings: Just her earlobes. Scars/distinguishing marks: None really, though she broke her nose in 4th grade falling off the top of a jungle gym, and she’s been self-conscious about the little bump there since High School. Preferred style of clothing: Classic 2070′s flared dresses; she feels they flatter her figure. Frequently worn jewellery/accessories: Her engagement ring, wedding band, and simple diamond stud earrings that Nate got her when she had Shaun. HEALTH Smoker? Occasionally Drinker? Yes Recreational Drug User? Which? No Addictions: None…though she does enjoy a drink. Allergies: None Any physical ailments/illnesses/disabilities: She’s struggled with her mental health, as she and Nate had been told that she couldn’t have children. Any medication regularly taken: None PERSONALITY Personality: If you asked her, she’d say she was an introvert. She prefers quiet nights in with a select few people, rather than big events with crowds. Tends to get suspicious when she receives attention, suspects that they have an agenda. Others find her very difficult to read - she doesn’t give much away about herself until she really trusts someone. Incredible poker face. Beth was never a ‘popular’ person; she chooses her friends very carefully, and can come off as stand-offish. However, she is very kind, almost to a fault, and sees the good in everyone; this has lead to people taking advantage of her in the past, resulting in her closed-off demeanour as she got older. Likes: Literature, poetry, art, theatre, riddles, sunny days (as long as there is shade), heavy rain (as long as there is shelter), animals, nature, food. Loves when people are polite and kind. Dislikes: Mathematics, physical exertion, people who lie, large crowds, arrogance, violence. Hates people being unnecessarily cruel and closed-minded. Fears/phobias: It happened the day the bombs fell - losing everyone she loved. The fear that she still may lose her son is what is keeping her alive. Favourite colour: Light blue Hobbies: Cooking. Beth absolutely adores making large meals, and bakes almost every day. Nate used to tell her that she was the reason he couldn’t fit into his formal jacket since they got married. One of the little things she really misses post-Vault. Taste in music: Generally prefers upbeat songs, but is pretty easy. SKILLS Talents/skills: She’s good at knowing what to say, and can fly on the seat of her pants in almost any situation. She’s a very fast learner, and will not stop practising something until she is at least capable. She’s convinced this started with the multitude of burnt/soggy/collapsed cakes she had to endure before she got good. Can figure out how things work simply by studying them (both objects and people). Intuitive and good at blending into the background when needed. Ability to drive a car? Operate any other vehicles? Beth misses her old powder-blue Corvega convertible so much. She used to take any opportunity to cruise around Boston with her big sunglasses and headscarf on, the radio chattering happily and the trees flitting past. EATING HABITS Omnivore/Carnivore/Herbivore (Vegetarian): Just…loves food. Will eat (almost) anything. Favourite food(s): Liquorice. Holy shit, the woman could decimate a bag of the stuff easily. She has to settle for Gum Drops post-vault, which don’t compare, but needs must. Favourite drink(s): Can’t function in the morning without two large, strong cups of coffee. Enjoys a beer. Disliked food(s): She hasn’t found anything she doesn’t like yet (lucky, since she never thought she’d be eating Iguana On A Stick). Disliked drink(s): Can’t stand whiskey - she get very sick one night as a teenager after drinking nearly a full bottle to herself. Just the smell turns her stomach. HOUSE AND HOME Describe the character’s house/home: Beth’s a homebody, so the house is nearly always immaculate and beautifully decorated. This is something she takes with her into the wasteland, and spends days meticulously constructing pleasant living quarters for her settlers. Do they share their home with anyone? Who? Nobody, any more. Her German Shepherd, if that counts. Significant/special belongings: Her rings and earrings; they were all picked for her by Nate and she would never part from them. She wears Nate’s wedding band on a silver chain around her neck, tucked underneath her clothes. CAREER Level of education: College graduate.

Qualifications: Law degree Current job title and description: Homemaker - she quit her job as a legal secretary after having Shaun, and surprisingly had never been happier. Name of employer: N/A COMBAT Peaceful or aggressive attitude? Peaceful. Will always attempt to diffuse a situation rather than engage in violence. Fighting skills/techniques: Honestly, she’s pretty terrible. She has bad short-range aim, and isn’t particularly strong or resilient. However, if she can find a vantage point where she’s not likely to be seen, she can pick enemies off one by one with proficiency. Tries to avoid close combat, preferring to lure enemies into a trap or snipe them at long-range. She spends a lot of time and energy modding her weapons and armour, because for her, they’re the best chance she has at survival. Special skills/magical powers/etc: n/a Weapon of choice (if any): Long-range, high-spec guns. Weaknesses in combat: Anything close-combat or requiring a lot of strength. Strengths in combat: Like a freakin’ ninja. You won’t know she’s there until she wants you to. FAMILY, FRIENDS AND FOES Parents names: Ryan and Mary Williams. Are parents alive or dead? Dead Is the character still in contact with their parents? n/a Siblings? Relationship with siblings? An older brother, Tobias, and a younger sister, Amelia. Not particularly close with Tobias but would speak to Amelia every day. Other Important Relatives: Was very close with her grandmother, who passed away when Beth was in her early 20s. She features regularly in her dreams, over ten years later. Partner/Spouse: Nathaniel Jonathan Jones (deceased) Children: One - Shaun. Best Friend: She would probably consider her sister Amelia her best friend. Other Important Friends: She had a small group of very close friends - Jennifer, who she’s known since High School; Moira, who she met in college, and Marcus, who she worked with at the law firm. She prefers not to know what happened to them on the day the bombs fell. Acquaintances: None - she would be polite with the neighbours, but generally preferred the company of her three friends, sister, and husband.

Pets: None before the war. Dogmeat post-Vault. Enemies? Why are they enemies? That bald, scarred bastard that killed Nate and stole her baby. She has vowed that she would do unspeakably violent things to him if she ever got her hands on him. She was not prepared for the searing hatred she felt towards him, or her intense desire to inflict pain on him. She didn’t realise she was capable of such emotion. BACKSTORY Describe their childhood (newborn - age 10): Elizabeth Nora Williams was born in Providence, RI on September 2nd, 2043. She was the middle child of Ryan Williams, a College professor, and Mary Williams (nee O’Shea), a biologist. Her family lived in Pawtucket, RI, where she grew up and went to school. Beth was a quiet and solitary child; though she wasn’t particularly shy, she preferred drawing and playing alone in the garden to engaging with the other kids on her street. Beth had no desire to be part of the group at school (’Why would I want to play house? I’m going to do that for real when I grow up. It’s boring.’), and was pegged as being ‘bright’ at a young age. Describe their teenage years (11 - 19): Teenage Beth was, she would say, unremarkable. She achieved very good grades, but was not top of any class. She was neither particularly popular, nor a loner. She spent her free time hanging around with her friend Jennifer at each other’s houses. In her later teens, she started to get romantic attention from others, which she had no idea how to react to. She brushed off most of the advances she received, suspecting they were insincere, or only after one thing. Her first love was Nate, whom she met the summer after she finished High School. Nate was in the military and they met by chance at a party for Jennifer’s 18th birthday. They spoke as friends for a few months, keeping in touch when Beth went to study Law at Northeastern University, and met up back in Pawtucket that Christmas, where Nate confessed his feelings for her. By this point, Beth had fallen hard for him, too, and the rest is history. Describe their adult years (20+): Beth and Nate got married in 2066, when she was 22. Nate was away on tour a lot, so Beth lived with Nate’s parents until he unfortunately lost his right foot in action in 2068. Nate subsequently left the military and became a mentor for young people who wished to join the armed forces, giving talks and running courses. He was very active in veteran events, and accepted an offer to become involved full-time in charity fundraising in Boston in 2069, which is when they moved to Sanctuary Hills.

Beth worked as a legal secretary after leaving college; she used to say that she had ‘lost her passion’ for Law, and had no desire to enter into the competitive and cutthroat career following the near loss of her husband. Nate wore a below-the-knee prosthetic after losing his foot, though around the house he preferred crutches.

Beth and Nate wanted a big family; they started trying for a baby in 2070, and carried on trying for six years. They went for tests and were told Beth was unable to have children. Beth was crushed, but tried to see the bright side of the situation, planning vacations and making the most of the time she spent with Nate by doing fun things together. They had just gotten their heads around the idea that they may never be parents, when Beth fell pregnant by complete surprise. Nate was over the moon, and spent every spare moment fixing things up for the nursery, and reading up on parenting. Beth was…terrified. They’d waited so long, and she’d convinced herself that it wasn’t meant to be - now the enormous weight of what was happening had fallen on her from nowhere, and she worried that she wouldn’t be a good mother, after it all.

The biggest shock for her was how easily she fell into motherhood. She had never been more happy; she didn’t resent the night feeds, or the dirty diapers, or the changes in her body. In complete contrast to what she thought she wanted in childhood, Beth quit her job at the firm and became a full-time homemaker. She loved showering Shaun with love; she loved baking pies and making meals for her family. She loved the scent of her baby’s head, the feeling of making up the bed in the morning, the casual strolls around the quiet neighbourhood just outside Boston where they lived. She reignited her loves of reading, the theatre, and art; she spoke to her sister daily and her mother weekly. Beth would spend one day every week with Jennifer and her two daughters, catching up and relaxing in each other’s company. Beth convinced Nate to invest in a Mr Handy to help her around the house, meaning that Nate wouldn’t have to feel that he ‘wasn’t pulling his weight’ due to the restrictions in his mobility.

Everything felt perfect.

Until October 23rd, 2077.

#elizabeth nora jones #fallout 4 oc #long post #anything but moderate

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pllandcompany · 6 years

Text

Out Loud (Part Two)

Summary: Hospital!AU. The aftermath.

Warnings: talk of gun violence/injuries, mention of blood, mention of medical procedures, life or death situations, mention of anxiety, depression and past suicidal thoughts, mention of past addiction and drug use, flashbacks/PTSD symptoms

Pairings: QPP Moxiety and budding romantic Logince

Tagged: @ziallwarrior @thefallendog @jakesmolbean @a-ghosts @band-be-boss-blog @thecatchat @flyingfreeyt @apologieslogan

Notes: The cliffhanger meets its resolution! (I know, I was evil for that, I’m kind of sorry.) I figured the boys have been tortured enough; let’s let them heal…mostly. The end does get a little intense. Also, I made use of a certain slow-voiced short character....wink wink! As always, please heed the warnings and enjoy!

Roman shifted uncomfortably in the chair across from the therapist’s desk. His bruised ribs were still sore from the surgery to remove the small piece of metal that threatened to take his life. He shifted again, welcoming the pain that came with each movement.

It was a reminder that he won. A reminder that he was still alive.

“Dr. Courtland? Are you all right?” Roman shook his head, the voice jolting him out of his thoughts. “Of course, Nate. I’m here, I’m with you.”

The psychiatrist smiled gently at his colleague. “Now, Dr. Courtland, I know we know each other but you know that here I’m Dr. Christopher,” he intoned in that slow, gentle baritone that seemed to instantly put anyone at ease.

“But that’s such a mouthful,” Roman joked blandly. His affect had been intensely dulled as of late but that didn’t seem to off put the friendly therapist. “Well,” he began, “I suppose we can drop the formality for now. This is our third session. I’m glad you chose to come back in.”

“I’m a neurologist. Of course I value the importance of mental health. And we as a hospital went through a highly traumatic experience so it’s important to talk about how we’re feeling. I fully respect that, Nate.”

Dr. Christopher nodded, slow and thoughtful. “And how are you feeling, Roman? Are you respecting your emotions?”

Roman paused, the question catching him off guard. “I’m definitely feeling. Can’t speak on exactly what judgments I’m making on those feelings though.”

“And what do you feel?”

“Surprised, honestly. After getting the green light here, I was expecting to be antsy about getting fully cleared for surgery but I’m perfectly willing to wait for my physical.” Nate scribbled down a quick note before looking up. “Right, yes, that's the last step for you. Anything else?”

“I’m worried about Logan. Uh, Dr. Taylor, I mean.”

“I understand that you two have been seeing each other lately.” Roman tensed again, wincing when his ribs screamed at him. “Don’t worry, Roman. Patient-doctor confidentiality, remember?”

Roman allowed his features to fall into a gentle smile. “Yeah, we…we have. It’s part of why I’ve kept coming back even after you cleared me. I hoped that if he saw me healing in every sense of the word he’d be…motivated to do the same.”

“Do you think he’s not healing?

“He’s certainly not talking about it! To me, to anyone.”

“Well, he’s not known to be overly public about much of anything. Maybe he’s just the type that heals privately?”

“I’d be inclined to agree with you but he also won’t let anyone clear him for surgery. He just hides in the skills lab all day until his shift is done, maybe he’ll come out for a consult.” Roman sounded slightly panicked now. The astute therapist quickly sensed his distress and signaled him to breathe which Roman complied with willingly. Non-verbal communication of self-care seemed to work best with the neurosurgeon as verbal orders occasionally made him feel patronized. Nate had learned this the hard way in session one and since then they developed a system of sorts that helped Roman to manage his rapidly shifting emotions. Taking his cue from Roman, Nate continued to speak. “I understand your concern. And yes, it does worry me that he’s refusing to operate but as hard as it is, you have to focus on you even when someone you love is hurting. Heal yourself first then you can help him. So I’ll ask again: How are you feeling?”

Roman swallowed thickly, nerves coiling in his belly. He couldn’t avoid the question now, it was too direct. He cleared his throat and shifted once again, the pain jolting through him like lightning. “How do I feel, Nate? I…I’m terrified…all of the time. Someone moves too fast next to me and I jump out my skin. Yesterday, Virgil dropped a chart and I hit the floor. I walk into a patient’s room and if I see their family there, my heart starts pounding out of my chest because I’m afraid to make even the slightest mistake in front of them lest they suddenly pull out a gun. I am a surgeon, I am supposed to be composed and-and strong and dependable but lately I am just…scared. So tell me, Nate,” he leaned in glaring at the therapist, “how do I fix that?” Nate leaned in, clasping both hands in front of him, a sign that he was considering his words carefully.

“It takes time but the first step to healing? You name it. You call the demon by its name. And Roman? You just did that.”

Roman slowly sat back, his glare fading into something much gentler, a fragile and silent hope blossoming in his heart for the first time in weeks.

****

“Virgil Davidson? Patton Parker?” The two doctors’ heads swiveled around in unison, causing Dr. Christopher to chuckle. They walked in hands intertwined, a symbol of both their combined trust and trepidation of this upcoming session. Nate gestured for the two to sit which they did while still conjoined, an action unmissed by the observant doctor. “Well, doctors, it’s good to see you both here.”

Patton chimed in first. “Um, not that I’m complaining but why are we both here? Virgil wouldn’t say much about it.”

Nate smiled reassuringly. “May I?” he asked, indicating towards Virgil who nodded, slow and small. “Well, Dr. Parker, in our last session Dr. Davidson expressed that there is something he’s wanted to ask you for a while but he hasn’t known how to articulate it. I suggested he bring you here to a safe space where we could work through any potential issues that arose.”

Patton turned to look at Virgil, concern and hurt etched into his brow. “Virgil…you know you can talk to me about anything. Not that I mind being here but you don’t have to bring me to therapy to confront me.”

“Is there something you’re concerned would come up in therapy? Something you may not want to confront?” Nate read between the lines of Patton’s reassurance like a book. Patton froze momentarily before breaking into a brilliant grin. “No, of course not! I’m an open book, Dr. Chris.” Nate nodded his face impassive while he notated the stilted manner of Patton’s speech. “Dr. Davidson, whenever you’re ready.”

Virgil took several calming breaths before he actually opened his mouth. “Pat…I wanted to ask you…if you were okay after…you know, after everything that’s happened.” Patton scrunched up his face in confusion. “Of course I am, Virge. You know that. You see me every day.”

“I know but…I’m worried. We haven’t slept with the light off since-“

“I know, Virgil.” Patton sounded suddenly defensive. Nate noted that he had dropped Virgil’s hand. “You know where I was.”

“I do, Patton. But…do you know who you are?”

“What? Virgil, you’re not making sense.” Patton was shaking his leg now, a rare signal of anxiety creeping in.

“Just hear me out, Pat. You delivered a baby by the light of a cellphone. You developed a system of silent communication on the fly. You calmed a panicking resident and saved the lives of everyone in that room. By all accounts, you are a hero. But the way you’ve been acting when you think no one’s looking…it makes me wonder if you think anything of yourself at all.”

The bouncing ceased to a halt. “I…I don’t know what to say, Virgil. I’m sorry.”

Virgil shook his head forcefully. “You don’t have to apologize. Just listen. You told me something afterwards. When that…man banged on the door to your room, you said that there was a point where you thought you would have to give yourself up.”

“Stop it, I don’t want to talk about that.” Virgil looked over at Nate in panic but the therapist simply nodded calmly to keep going. He then grounded himself once more and started again. "Pat, just hear me out, please. I only bring it up because I'm scared of how easily you could even consider giving up your life. I mean, did you even think of me?"

Patton's head turned back to the younger man on a swivel. "How could you say something like that? Of course I thought of you. Every second I thought of you. It would not have been an easy choice to make."

"But before-"

"That's not what this is about." Patton turned to Dr. Chris who seemed to be asking a silent question. "Dr. Chris, Virgil is referencing my first couple of years in med school. I struggled with depression and had some...scary thoughts. Never attempted anything and with help, I pulled myself out of it. That dark period...shaped me into the doctor that I am today. It made me value human life so much more, including my own. So no, Virgil, on this one, you're wrong. It's not that."

"Then what is it, Pat?!" The words exploded out of him before he could refine into something gentler. "I mean...I know it's something. You've held me together these past few weeks, sat with me through countless nightmares and anxiety attacks. But anytime I try to do the same for you or talk about what happened, you shut down and pretend that everything is fine when it's not. So please, talk to me. Why are you running from this?"

"Because I don't know how to do this, Virgil!" Patton shouted.

"Do what, Pat?"

"Any of this! I mean, depression I get but this...this fear? This anger, I do not understand how to deal with it at all." Nate perked up at the last thing Patton said. "Talk to me about the anger, Dr. Parker. Tell me the truth of what you're feeling."

There was a long, pregnant pause before the fetal surgeon started again, his voice raising with every word he spoke. "I...am angry for Melody! This was her first child, one she finally got to have after years of sacrificing her desires for her career. It was supposed to be one of the best times of her life but instead she now has this permanent and horrifying memory. I'm angry that her baby was born into violence when they should have been born into a world that's safe for them. I'm angry that some...person with an axe to grind decided to take the lives of thirteen of our friends and colleagues and leave the rest of us terrified for our lives! I'm angry that I'm so scared that I can't sleep without the lights on, that Virgil can't make it through the night without a nightmare, that Roman got shot and almost died, that Logan...I just...I hate what that man has done to our family! I hate him! And I hate myself for becoming the kind of person that hates people but I do and it makes me sick so I don't talk about it. I'm supposed to be grateful. I'm supposed appreciate human life but his life? The shooter? Well...I'm glad he's dead." Patton looked physically ill at that last admission. He turned to Virgil with a look of defeat on his face. "There. I said it. Happy now?"

Virgil sighed, actually looking relieved. He cuddled Patton's cheekbone with his hand and wiped his thumb across his lower eyelid. "Oh thank God," he breathed, "you're finally crying." Patton blinked a few times before he realized the magnitude of what he'd been holding in and finally chose to let go. Nate quickly conjured a box of tissues from the desk behind him and waited for the two doctors to compose themselves. "Damn it Virge," Patton chuckled through his tears, "you're brilliant, you know that?" Virgil shifted uncomfortably. It didn't go unnoticed by Patton. "Honey...were we maybe projecting when you said I didn't think much of myself?" Silence. "Virgil..you helped save Roman as much as Logan did, you know. You kept him alive and safe until he got there. You're a hero too."

"But if I had been able to help him more, Logan wouldn't have had to come at all and he wouldn't have had to go through-"

"Stop." Patton cradled Virgil's face in his hands. "What happened to Logan is not your fault. It is that man's fault. You did nothing wrong. You did everything you could and Roman is so grateful to you for it. You are good, Virge. You're so good. Believe me when I say that, okay?" Virgil nodded, blinking his own tears. Nate chuckled, drawing the attention of both doctors. "Well, you two are so good together, it seems like you hardly need me."

That day, both doctors walked with yellow slips marked with a "cleared" stamp.

****

In hindsight, maybe directly after a shooting wasn't the best time to start a relationship. Roman hadn't been able to resist the raven-haired surgeon who had been by his side since he operated on him, hoping beyond hope for him to wake up. When his eyes finally met with Logan's gaze of tearful relief, the sight broke Roman's defenses down and he'd ended up confessing the depth of his feelings right then and there. He would never forget Logan's earnest reply before the soft, passionate kiss they'd shared: "I don't ever want to be without you." It was the romantic's ultimate dream fulfilled, a beautiful moment born out of such unspeakable tragedy.

Such a shame that honeymoons always have to end.

Roman hadn't anticipated just how unspeakable their shared tragedy had become for his lover. He walked into the foyer of Logan's apartment, greeted by the same heavy silence that had prevailed over these past few weeks. "Logan?" He entered the bedroom to find the cardiologist still under his comforter with his back towards the door, obviously not having moved in quite some time. "You didn't go into work today." A statement, not a question. "I had no consults today. Didn't see much of a point." The monotone response only served to sink Roman's heart further. He sat on the opposite side of the bed from Logan, fighting the urge to deflate and join him. No, he would not sink into the encroaching darkness. He was going to help pull Logan out of it. "I had my physical today. I'm officially fully cleared for surgery.

Silence. Overwhelming silence.

Roman cleared his throat, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm scared to operate too. But we have to try. It's who we are."

"Thirteen people." It was barely audible but Roman caught it instantly. "Logan..."

"Thirteen people are dead because of the last time I operated."

"The last time you operated, one person lived." Roman was fighting back anger now; it wasn't fair for Logan to hurt like this. To hurt so much he couldn't see the good anymore. "You are not a killer. The man who shot those people is the murderer, not you."

"His name," Logan said listlessly, shifting to get up and walk to the bathroom, "is David Bacall." The door closed with such a finality that Roman barely fought the urge to scream. Instead, he sat there helpless, choking on the thickness of his inability to help console his partner. "I'll make us dinner," he said to no one in particular, leaving the room just as empty as he felt inside.

Once Logan entered the bathroom, he braced himself on the sink as the flashbacks began. He looked in the mirror at hollow eyes and sunken cheeks that morphed into the stone faced features of David Bacall in the background, a cold metal gun so close to his face his eyes crossed slightly to focus on the end of it.

"Mr. Bacall. You don't have to do this."

"I didn't want to do this. I came here for two people, not over a dozen. But it was brought to my attention that your beloved Chief Thomas was away on conference and I got...angry."

"Killing people doesn't solve anything. It doesn't help the anger. And it doesn't bring your wife back."

"YOU WOULD KNOW, WOULDN'T YOU?!" He shook the gun wildly, sending Logan's body into internal convulsions from the fear. His face didn't betray him, though, he remained visibly calm and collected. He had to if he had any shot of diffusing the situation. "I am not a killer," he whispered, "I am a doctor. I work to save lives, not end them."

"Oh really? And I quote. '33 year old Lauren Bacall came into Sanders-Stokes Memorial presenting with cardiac symptoms due to a complication from a heart defect. Protocol indicated a long but mostly effective procedure which I initially determined as the surgical plan. However, the chief of surgery took an interest in the case. Upon further research, he found a new protocol being tested at Baylor for the same defect. Recovery and operating times were shorter but the procedure was more complex and risky. The chief strongly recommended that I do the new procedure as he believed it was in favor of the patient. I agreed and adjusted my plan accordingly. Unfortunately, upon attempting the new protocol, the patient became unstable and subsquently died from cardiac failure.' That's exactly what you said at the deposition. And those sharks sided with you. But that's not the whole story, is it? You didn't tell them how you had reservations about the surgery, how you and Chief Thomas fought in your office over it."

"You shouldn't have overheard that."

"Admit it, Dr. Taylor. You didn't want to do the procedure."

"I agreed-"

"Against your better judgment, you chose to the procedure that killed my wife! And now you're responsible for all of this! Admit it! You did this! ADMIT IT! NOW!"

"I am not responsible-"

"YES! YOU ARE! YOU HAD A CHOICE AND YOU CHOSE WRONG! ADMIT IT!"

Logan couldn't find the words over the deafening sound of the safety clicking. Bacall's hands shook violently and Logan couldn't tell if it was from fear or determination. The tears choking his tone indicated both.

"You...killed my wife. Your hands...murdered her."

"No," Logan said weakly. "Her heart was too weak. She could have died regardless of what I did-"

"DON'T YOU DARE BLAME HER FOR THIS! YOU KILLED HER!" Bacall panted, breaths rushing from his lips like an angry dragon. Tears and sweat mixed together and ran down his face. He was unraveling; Logan knew it was any minute now before he snapped completely. Without warning, Bacall's face twisted into a sinister sneer, a look that unnerved Logan to his core. "Dr. Taylor...do you know else you've killed?"

"I have not killed anyone-"

"The thirteen people that were shot here today. You wanna know how you killed them? You see, the day my wife died...I died too. I stopped living. I stopped breathing. I became a shell and the only thing I could focus on was making things right. I had one mission: evening the score. Taking out the people responsible for the death of the best thing that ever happened to me. But there were so many...obstacles and I was so...angry because I couldn't find either one of you...until now. And now I have you right where I want you." Bacall calmly lifted the gun that was wildly gesticulating seconds prior, his grip steady and his aim true. Logan closed his eyes, acceptance breaking his heart into pieces. "So this...this is for Lauren."

A shot rang out in the air and Logan felt something warm spray across his face. He couldn't bear to open his eyes and see the damage Bacall had inflicted. Instead he sensed desperately for the blinding pain at the point of entry. Maybe he didn't fatally wound him, maybe he could get to Virgil...the pain never came. Was he already...no, that's his heartbeat, he's still alive. But why?

"Sir. Sir, are you all right?" Who was that? "Sir, are you hurt? We have to evacuate this part of the building, can you walk or do you need assistance?" Police. He was surrounded by police. He was alive. But why? And who's blood...? He slowly opened his eyes. Bacall's.

"Sir, can you walk? We have to move." Logan stammered before he finally found his voice. "N-no, I can't leave! My coworker is very hurt and I'm the only surgeon on the unit who can save him!"

"You know where he is? I'll escort you to him." Logan nodded and began running in the direction towards Roman, trying to shut out the sight of Bacall's lifeless body as he stepped over the growing pool of blood...

He blinked twice and was back in the bathroom. He touched his face, expecting his fingers to come away bloody. Instead, he found tears that turned into quiet, painful sobs, suppressing the sound with sternum-crushing force. The guilt swiftly stole his voice while the never-ending questions pounded against his brain, demanding answers. Why did he survive? Why didn't Bacall just shoot him? Why didn't he just do the other procedure? Why did he let the chief talk him into the risky surgery? Thirteen people would maybe still be alive if he had any sort of a spine and defended his plan. Thirteen people are dead because of him. He was responsible, he was guilty, guilty, guilty, guilty-

He couldn't take it anymore.

Frantically, Logan swung open the bottom cabinet and searched at the back of his cleaning supplies, finally producing a bottle of pills. He stared at the medicine for a indefinite amount of time, the inner debate growing inside his brain. Sacrificing years of sobriety for temporary relief from pain wasn't worth it. It wouldn't solve anything. He knew this all too well.

It didn't stop him from pouring three pills onto his hand and swallowing them whole.

#sanders sides #ss surgeon au #moxiety #logince #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #angst #tw:/addiction #tw:/violence #my writing #sanders sides surgeon au

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pcndemoniums · 4 years

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VERSE: SHAMELESS

CHARACTERS: MILES WALKER

DATE: ?

LOCATION: HIS HOUSE

TRIGGERS: SUICIDE ATTEMPT, DRUGS

From far away, his big house looks dark and uninviting, like the mouth of a cave or black hole pitched between other buildings and concrete walls. The awnings droop with rain, sagging and useless and partially obscuring its modern flourish. None of it matters. Another detail whose significance was not lost. Gossip magazines would detail the things that most would not find terribly important: the way he was dressed; the note he didn’t leave behind. The isolation of this man is all in the subtext. It does not have to be spelled out.

He knows. If he kills himself at home right now, no one would know that he died. That’s the most disturbing part: the premeditation, the decision to do this in the house, knowing that the door is unlocked and someone could potentially step in and find his body. That even though he lost the will to live, he still has the presence of mind to do the act in a way that would keep him from rotting alone for too long.

Still empty and struck with regret, he finds himself longing for nothingness, the only thing left to combat the sorrow. He does not believe in God or the afterlife; he tells himself that he hardly believes in much, and reason least of all. Therefore, it is only natural that he should decide upon his fate, for it is never a rational approach to decide to kill oneself. Yet, to Miles, it is escape without judgement; it is the decision to run and run effectively – to go to a place where he will never hurt anyone or get hurt again.

When the choice is made, he is alone in a house filled only with memories mostly good, but also miserably tainted. It is on the bed he once shared with Nate that he decides for certain, and when he does, he inhales. The scent reminds him of moments he would never get back. Filled with the horror of memories, Miles only wants to run again, and this is exactly what he does. He thinks that it will hurt, or that if it doesn’t that he will be frightened so much that it will, and so Miles searches the cabinets for pills that will numb him, which he swallows as he finds them. By the third bottle, he is so tired that he can barely hold on to the belt, but that is alright, he thinks, because he doesn’t need to try hard for it to be effective – and really, he thinks that if the hanging does not kill him, the overdose might.

He has never thought about how to murder himself before, though the prospect has crossed his mind as an option. Either way, Miles thinks that he had no time to prepare. He strings the belt in the upstairs hall, the easiest place to find a rafter – or perhaps the easiest place for someone to discover him. He does not think of his sister or of his friends for very long; by the time the belt is strung, he hardly remembers them at all.

The truth is, Miles is not afraid of being dead. What worries him is that no one will find him and bury him, and that perhaps maybe after he is dead and gone that he will hang from the ceiling forever until the belt breaks and his body falls. He is afraid that from there he will lie on the floor and continue to lie there, and then that his body will rot and, by the time someone notices his disappearance, they will never be able to recognize him at all. Most of all, he is scared of dying – not being dead exactly, but of dying, and he continues to hope that it will not hurt, because he does not need any more pain. He thinks that he at least deserves this comfort, and prays that, if there is a God, he is awarded this delight at least.

He doesn’t leave a note or a message. Miles thinks that no one would want to read it. Besides, the shame is so overwhelming, and he is so drunk on medication that he decides it is better to say nothing at all. Putting that hardbelt around his neck, his arms are heavy… heavier than they have ever been in his life. He kicks the chair, struggles for what feels for two solid seconds before the belt snaps and Miles falls right on his ass.

It’s his assistant who finds him. A relic of his former self. Miles is lying in a heap on the floor, tired, nauseous, medicated, but not dead. Not dead. And as soon as the realization hits he begins to wail as though nothing in the world could console him.

#figured i should save it here #for reasons #( c. miles walker )#( v. shameless )#suicide attempt tw #drugs tw

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phgq · 4 years

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Rotary International honors Bong Go with Golden Wheel Award

#PHnews: Rotary International honors Bong Go with Golden Wheel Award

MANILA -- For his dedication and passion for public service, Senator Christopher Lawrence “Bong” Go was given the Golden Wheel Award by the Rotary International District 3780 during a ceremony held at Novotel Hotel in Quezon City on Saturday night.

Rotary International—a global humanitarian organization which aims “to advance goodwill and peace around the world”—confers the Golden Wheel Awards to outstanding individuals who best exemplify the Rotarian spirit of “Service Above Self” and the guiding principles of the Four-Way Test.

As the main awardee, Go delivered a speech during the event, saying that he has always been reluctant to receive awards because he is only doing his job as a public servant.

“Sa totoo lang, ayaw kong tumanggap ng award kasi ginagawa ko lang naman ang trabaho ko bilang (In fact, I don’t want to accept an award because I’m just doing my job as) public servant,” he said while expressing his gratitude to the organization for the award he has received.

Go, who served as aide to President Rodrigo Duterte for more than twenty years when the latter was still Davao City mayor, also recounted how the past few years have changed his life.

“From being a relatively unknown individual serving a city mayor, I was thrust into a position of serving the country’s most powerful leader and our beloved nation,” he said, adding that he now has greater responsibilities to fulfill as senator of the republic.

“I am not just the bridge that connects the Filipino people to the President. As a duly elected Senator, I also now serve as their voice in the Senate,” he said.

Senator Christopher Lawrence ‘Bong’ Go poses with members of the Rotary International District 3780. (Contributed photo)

Initial accomplishments

Go shared with the audience his plans and accomplishments during his first year as a lawmaker, including the progress of some of his priority measures in the upper house of the 18th Congress.

“Isa po sa mga pinakamahalagang polisiya na ito ay ang Malasakit Center (One of my best measures is this Malasakit Center),” he said.

The lawmaker from Mindanao said he worked hard for the passage of the bill which will help many Filipinos particularly the poor.

“After the lengthy hearings and deliberations in the Senate and the House of Representatives, the Malasakit Center Act of 2019—which I authored—is now a full-fledged law. It is also one of the first legislations to be approved by the 18th Congress,” he said.

Registered as Republic Act (RA) 11463, the new law provides for the establishment of Malasakit Centers in 73 hospitals that are run by the Department of Health (DOH) all over the country and in the Philippine General Hospital in Manila.

The center consolidates the medical and financial assistance that patients may apply for from four government agencies, namely, the DOH, Philippine Health Insurance Corporation (PhilHealth), Department of Social Welfare and Development (DSWD) and Philippine Charity Sweepstakes Office (PCSO).

Go also shared his other priority bills, including Senate Bill (SB) No. 206 which seeks to amend RA 8972 or the Solo Parents’ Welfare Act of 2000 to expand the discounts, benefits, exemptions and privileges that solo parents are entitled under the law.

“We know how hard it is to take care of children even with the help of our spouses, so imagine the immense difficulty and social stigma that solo parents must be facing every day,” he said. “I believe it is our duty to help them or else we will be setting them up for a future of failure and poverty.”

Citing the country’s vulnerability to natural disasters as manifested by the recent eruption of Taal volcano and the series of earthquakes that hit Mindanao late last year, Go said his proposed bills seek to reinforce the country’s disaster preparedness, management, and mitigation efforts.

“I have filed Senate Bill 205 or the ‘Disaster Resilience Act of 2019’ which proposes for the creation of a Department of Disaster Resilience or DDR,” he said.

Go said he envisions the proposed executive department to become “an empowered, highly specialized department with a clear unity of command and primarily responsible in ensuring safe, adaptive and disaster-resilient communities.”

He is also pushing for the passage of SB 1228 or the “Mandatory Evacuation Center Act” which mandates the establishment of safe, permanent and dedicated evacuation centers.

“If passed into law, this will require every city, province, and municipality to construct evacuation centers that will be equipped with basic necessities, such as emergency kits and medicine,” he said.

“Wakasan na natin ang kultura na kikilos lamang kapag nariyan na ang problema. Huwag na nating hintayin na magkaroon pa ng isang mapanirang sakuna bago natin tugunan ang pangangailangan nating ito (Let’s stop this kind of culture that will only act if there is a problem. Let’s not wait for disaster to happen before we act on the needs of our people),” he added.

In congruence with the government’s fight against corruption, illegal drugs and criminality, Go also said he filed a bill which seeks to re-impose capital punishment for certain heinous crimes involving dangerous drugs and plunder.

“This law will not only serve as an effective deterrent against would-be criminals; it will also establish that the Philippines is committed to building a better future for the majority of good, productive and law-abiding citizens,” he said.

Continue to serve

Go then assured the audience that he and President Rodrigo Duterte will continue to serve the welfare and interest of the people and the generations of Filipinos to come.

Amidst various criticisms thrown at them, Go reiterated that he will continue to stay behind the President.

“Gagawin namin ang lahat para sa ikabubuti ng bawat Pilipino. Kung ang mga sakripisyo at mga ipinaglalaban naming ito ang maging dahilan ng pagbagsak ng ating Pangulo, babagsak din po ako kasama niya (We will do our best for the good of every Filipino. If these sacrifices we are fighting for will put the President down, I will be with him),” Go said.

Go also vowed not to waste any opportunity to do good, particularly to those who are really in need of help.

“Minsan lang tayo dadaan sa mundong ito kung ano pong kabutihan o tulong ang ibibigay natin sa ating kapwa tao gawin na natin ngayon dahil hindi na po tayo babalik sa mundong ito (We only live once. Whatever good thing we can do, we have to do it now because will never go back on this earth),” he said.

He promised to use the opportunity given to him to serve as senator, calling all his fellow awardees and public servants to extend the public service the Filipinos are expecting from them. (PR)

***

References:

* Philippine News Agency. "Rotary International honors Bong Go with Golden Wheel Award." Philippine News Agency. https://www.pna.gov.ph/articles/1091967 (accessed January 26, 2020 at 10:50PM UTC+14).

* Philippine News Agency. "Rotary International honors Bong Go with Golden Wheel Award." Archive Today. https://archive.ph/?run=1&url=https://www.pna.gov.ph/articles/1091967 (archived).

#Philippines #News #Filipino #Pinoy #Tourism #Politics #Culture #Editorial #Environment #Society #History

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othersportsnews-blog · 7 years

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A look at the UFC 1 yr right after its historic sale

New Post has been published on https://othersportsnews.com/a-look-at-the-ufc-1-yr-right-after-its-historic-sale/

A look at the UFC 1 yr right after its historic sale

Just one yr in the past today, Lorenzo and Frank Fertitta pulled off the largest sale in sports activities heritage.

After shopping for the UFC for $2 million in 2001, they, together with high faculty close friend Dana White and a team from Abu Dhabi, sold their empire for $3.seventy seven billion to company WME/IMG, together with private fairness firms KKR, Silver Lake Funds and Michael Dell’s investment decision agency MSD Funds.

It was a amazing sum that was partly attained by optimistic expansion projections by UFC management, which believed that the UFC would proceed to mature at a equivalent charge as it had in the earlier, when it rose from a $50 million enterprise in 2005 to a $600 million enterprise by 2015.

That self-confidence didn’t just manifest alone on paper.

White, whose 9 percent share in the sale was worthy of $340 million, signed a deal to stay on with the UFC as president for the following five years. His income? 9 percent of the annual revenue, in accordance to sources.

The sellers, which include White, also place $325 million into the new company, while they could get $250 million again if their projections on future earnings hold.

A rough yr

Judging by optics by yourself, the initially yr less than the new possession has been as tough as 1 could visualize.

Zuffa LLC has sold UFC for nearly $4 billion to a team led by talent giant WME-IMG, with the official announcement of the sale made Monday morning.

After the current sale, many within just the UFC had the very same dilemma: “What does this signify for me?” Brett Okamoto polled a amount of fighters and administrators for their take on what is following.

one Associated

A women’s division anchored by Ronda Rousey, which pushed UFC much more into the mainstream than it had ever been, has become largely irrelevant outside the hard-core enthusiast base.

Of the thirteen major UFC cards of the new possession, at minimum nine of those situations have had fights canceled or postponed. Fighters withdrew normally at the pretty past moment, generally from diseases and accidents, from time to time as a final result of cutting body weight as well dramatically.

That isn’t going to consist of a significantly less-than-marketable Stipe Miocic as a heavyweight champ and a paper champ in mild heavyweight title holder Daniel Cormier, who had to wait around a yr for his archrival Jon Jones‘ drug suspension to conclude.

“We had just the yr we considered we would have, centered on when persons fought,” White said. “Cormier-Jones is on a ridiculous card for 214, as well as we have Conor [McGregor] and Floyd [Mayweather].”

Conor McGregor has been the UFC’s major hard cash cow, but he has fought only 2 times in the Octagon above the earlier yr.

The undefeated Rousey, represented by new house owners WME/IMG, scored e book and movie specials and was considered of as unbeatable right after she piled up twelve straight victories, but she was vanquished by Holly Holm in surprising style at UFC 193 in November 2015.

All was not lost. 5 months right after the sale, Rousey received again in the Octagon to experience new bantamweight champ Amanda Nunes. Rousey lost in forty eight seconds.

Nunes won 2 times as champ and was scheduled to be the major event to UFC 213 on Saturday night time, but she made the decision not to compete mainly because of health and fitness complications. White informed supporters Nunes was medically cleared but effectively didn’t want to fight. The penalty? Preserving the women’s champ in its most high-profile division off future major situations.

It can be also harmless to say the UFC has been stalled in its initiatives to get new blood into the activity, inspite of all the advancement automobiles that the UFC has constructed to be certain a pipeline of talent.

“I’m used to this,” said a fired-up White. “In the early times, they would say, ‘What are you going to do when Chuck Liddell is completed? What are you going to do when Anderson Silva is completed? When GSP [Georges St-Pierre] is completed?’ I will say that there will hardly ever be yet another Ronda, but there will be new stars.”

The Conor McGregor brand name carries on to mature with his most recent endeavor in opposition to Floyd Mayweather. Michael Reaves/Getty Visuals

McGregor as a income stream

Then there is certainly McGregor, who has been the major event on four of the 7 cards in UFC heritage that have yielded much more than one million shell out-for each-check out purchases. (Rousey was the major event on two of the other 3.) McGregor avenged his loss to Nate Diaz at UFC 196 by beating Diaz at UFC 202, just 1 thirty day period right after the sale.

And there was McGregor’s overall look in UFC 205 in the organization’s initially card in New York, which broke all sorts of records for the UFC, which include a $seventeen.7 million gate, about eight instances the typical major UFC card ticket income.

But there is certainly vulnerability in McGregor, as well.

Just like when Rousey went thirteen months in concerning her earlier two fights, so as well will McGregor — if the UFC is fortunate. The advertising is hoping to get him again in the Octagon by December, but there is certainly no warranty there.

White reiterated to ESPN this week that McGregor’s contract with the UFC does not warranty he’ll fight in the activity again, and with a opportunity payday of $one hundred million or much more on the horizon for his Aug. 26 boxing match in opposition to Floyd Mayweather, the UFC income he can make pales in comparison.

“I labored for years with persons in this article, who cherished what they did, and they made a bunch of income [in the sale] and still left,” White said. “There is certainly hardly ever any warranty that when you make that a great deal income you may ever return.”

Though McGregor’s extended absence from the Octagon is a blow, the UFC is at minimum monetarily safeguarded.

Its most profitable event this yr will be the bout concerning McGregor and Mayweather, with sources indicating the UFC house owners could net much more than $forty million from what McGregor has to shell out the firm as component of his contractual obligation.

Content investors

Irrespective of the obvious struggles, there are not many problems staying voiced publicly.

As a private company, how the UFC is accomplishing monetarily is unidentified, while WME-IMG co-president Mark Shapiro did inform ESPN that the UFC “will hit the projections forecasted in our acquisition program and will possible exceed them, given the options in our attain across traces of businesses.” Shapiro’s remarks ended up confirmed by UFC main running officer Lawrence Epstein.

Those projections have hardly ever been publicly disclosed.

As component of the sale agreement, the UFC, which yielded $a hundred and seventy million in net earnings from June 2015 to June 2016, would have to generate $275 million in the adhering to yr (June 2016 to June 2017) to set off a $175 million bonus payment to the former house owners, which include the Fertittas and White. Neither Shapiro nor White would comment on regardless of whether the bonus was induced.

Though the UFC above the earlier yr has completed reasonably well in advertising tickets to situations — which include web hosting massive crowds in Cleveland, New York, Toronto and Las Vegas for UFC 203, 205, 206 and 207, respectively — details received by ESPN reveals that the reside event enterprise can make up significantly less than 14 percent of its income.

More significant is the shell out-for each-check out income, which has commonly been all over 35 percent of annual income in current years, in accordance to paperwork received by ESPN.

Though not publicly introduced by the UFC, estimates made by those who protect the activity advise that the earlier twelve fights less than the old possession (UFC 189 to 200) averaged about one hundred,000 much more purchases for each card than the initially twelve fights less than the new possession (UFC 201 to 212).

A UFC official disputes that estimate but would not offer any even more perception on shell out-for each-check out numbers or UFC Struggle Move subscriptions or offer any particular details supporting the expansion of the enterprise.

The most significant chunk of the UFC’s total income, unquestionably by the time 2019 rolls all over, will be the new U.S. media rights.

Though it truly is as well early to have an understanding of how those negotiations will go, Shapiro did reveal to ESPN that new intercontinental tv specials struck in the Middle East, Asia and Latin America came at boosts of much more than 200 percent, which is not a shock, given WME/IMG’s strength in negotiating and generating tv specials.

“We labored with the UFC for years and are assured in our investment decision,” Shapiro said. “This home, on its personal, is not like any other, and now it is staying supercharged by our global network.”

ESPN has received, having said that, projections shown in a document dispersed by MSD Funds, which shortly right after the sale sought to offer some of its danger in the investment decision, as it had constantly prepared as component of a common financing move.

Those projections instructed that total income would mature by a sturdy $354 million from 2016 to 2019, the initially yr of a new U.S. media rights deal. The UFC’s benefit by that yr, centered on multiples (a comparison of a company’s benefit to its income) arrived at in the sports activities marketplace, could be worthy of $7.8 billion, paperwork indicated.

The U.S. central banking method, the Federal Reserve, was concerned adequate with the projections for the UFC’s future that in the slide, it sent a note to Goldman Sachs, which is financing $one.8 billion in debt on the deal, in accordance to Bloomberg Information. It is not identified how, if at all, those problems ended up dealt with. Both equally the Federal Reserve and Goldman Sachs declined comment on the make a difference. But given Standard & Poor’s quality of B-as well as on the debt alone, it isn’t going to seem to be of dire worry.

“There are only two places for this investment decision: It will possibly be regarded as a excellent 1 or a excellent 1,” said Richard Sarnoff, controlling director of private fairness for KKR, which place $410 million into the deal.

Quantities in the MSD Funds deal document advise that, at worst, the UFC will get $280 million from the initially yr of a Television deal in 2019, up from $168 in 2018. At greatest, the deal will be worthy of $450 million in 2019.

Hitting the leading amount could possibly call for a new participant, these as Fb or Amazon, to move up and invest in component of the deal, specifically as media rights specials are staying much more closely scrutinized, mainly because of the cable tv bundling drop.

“We have the greatest entity in the planet handing those rights,” Sarnoff said. “It can be a item that has these a unique audience not only is it escalating, it truly is escalating between the young audiences that are hard to attain. There is certainly nothing at all in the marketplace to invest in, as considerably as reside rights go, above the following two years.”

The UFC’s reside event enterprise can make up significantly less than 14 percent of the UFC’s income. Rey Del Rio/Getty Visuals

The future

White has an reply for anything.

He understands the past-moment bowing out of fighters is hurting the activity. It can be why he’s not ashamed to say that the company’s new $twelve million, thirty,000-square-foot coaching middle in Las Vegas just isn’t only to serve the fighters — it also will help him help save fights. Finish with nutritionists and conditioning gurus, fighters, if they pick out, can perform with the UFC’s specialists to help them cut body weight in the most secure way possible.

To White’s credit rating, no serious party bidding for the UFC wished to take on the advertising without the need of White associated, since he’s plainly the glue that holds the pieces together. But not many outsiders envisioned him to be an even better existence than he was prior to the deal.

“When I made income in this deal, a good deal of persons considered I was going to bounce and be long gone,” White said. “I have hardly ever been busier, hardly ever been much more engaged.”

White admits that in the new deal, there is certainly much more amount crunchers all over than ever prior to, but he likes to guess on himself and could not be much more very pleased of what he has constructed. He states that in his personal unique way:

“All people who doubts us, we will shove it up their a–.”

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