Welcome to Hickstead, home to both Seven Oak Stables, and Blue Acre - two rival stables. Both offer opportunities for their clients to reach the highest level of excellence. Each stable differs from the other, so choose wisely and never forget, loyalty is everything... Meanwhile as the stables battle it out, there's trouble brewing at the university. Be careful, if you don't pick a side you may get caught in the cross-fire...
This is an chilled out rpg with a super friendly and relaxed atmosphere! Remember to sign up with your characters full name in all caps and don't forget to do your claims! Thank you and Welcome, we've been established since 10th March 2009 but unfortunately have had to close guest view of our boards due to multiple sites ripping off our hard work, such a shame! Come chat to us in Discord before joining if you like!.
Normally Shaun wouldn't have called any of his kids for help, usually content to do things of his own accord. And he had tried, he genuinely had. But his shoulder given in pretty quick as he tried to move one of the large work benches in the garage so he could make better use of the space. It was probably a lost battle, he knew that, but he could try. It forced him out of the house to do something mildly constructive, maybe even get himself to fix the truck which was looking more than worse for wear nowadays. He really didn't want to sell it for cheap and dig himself a further hole in debt to get a new car. But all the same, he'd tried to get a hold of Keith first, but he got told no - which at first hurt, but he'd accepted it, knowing that his boys shouldn't have to do anything for him. He'd tried Derek too, but he knew that was dicey - hell, he half expected that to be turned down too. He would've called Stephen, but he knew Stephen wasn't about to leave his studies, and frankly asking Maverick or even Jace to help might've led to some stupid fight. So he let them be.
He caught a glimpse of himself in the side mirror of the truck and stared. His beard was unkempt, his hair all over the place, his face sunken, eyes hollow. Was this what the boys were seeing? He shook his head, considering going inside again to clean up, maybe even tell his son not to worry about coming over to help. Maybe that was better? After all, he knew they all had jobs and dreams of their own and he didn't want to cling too hard and make them hate him. He'd hated his own father clinging to him all the time, he couldn't stand it, so it made sense to just let the boys be themselves. If they needed him, they'd come and get him.
Derek frowned at his phone. He'd been frowning at his phone for the past fifteen minutes, ever since he'd hung up from the call. Most people didn't contemplate their life after finishing a call with their dad - most people didn't have the fucked up family history that Derek did. Perhaps that was a little unfair, there were plenty of people who had worse, and it wasn't as if he had ever gone without exactly, but there were other contributions to Derek's past that made him wish his life had been simpler. He didn't have an excuse not to go and help his dad, he could easily have made one - he had somewhere to be, or he was at work, or he had someone to see or an appointment to go to. He hadn't though, instead he'd said okay, he'd be over shortly.
It wasn't like he didn't like going over, he popped into the family home frequently enough. Derek liked to check in on his brothers, to make sure there was food in the fridge, there was washing on the line, that the bills had been paid. No, it wasn't his job, not really, but he felt obliged, despite that itch of resentment that needled him whenever he went home and the fridge was empty, or there were dirty dishes stacked high, or nobody had thought to do laundry. He sighed and pushed himself to his feet, shoving his phone into his front jeans pocket. If he didn't leave now, he'd drag his feet about it and end up feeling guilty.
He hadn't even taken off his shoes from his morning work at the tattoo shop, and all he had to do was grab his jacket - a precaution despite the baking June sunshine - and his keys, locking up the flat on his way out. Home was in walking distance, which was both convenient and a reluctant tie to his home life. It made it easy for his brothers to drop in if they needed and visa versa, but sometimes he wished the distance was greater. He gave one loud wrap of his knuckles on the back door as he pushed it open - no need to wait to be allowed entry, his family was used to his comings and goings, and he doubted anyone would answer the damn door if he stood there and waited. "Hello?" He called out loudly, unsure who was in and where, "Dad?" He added, raising his voice louder. Shaun had sounded sober on the phone, whether that was the case or not was another story - he'd been fooled before.
After hanging up from Derek who had said he'd come around, he had at least decided to try and tidy up - shaving his beard back to a suitable stubble and dragged a comb through his hair. He still looked like hell had run him through, but he was at least a bit more presentable. Moving downstairs, he moved to the kitchen and flicked on the kettle just as he heard the back door.
"Hello?" He called out loudly, unsure who was in and where, "Dad?" He added, raising his voice louder.
"In the kitchen!" he called back as he grabbed a coffee cup, "Just flicked the kettle on, you want a coffee?"
He moved to the cupboard and reached for the coffee stowed away at the back. Setting it on the counter, he started massaging his shoulder. It irritated him that something so minor had stripped away his career like it did, it was times like these where all he wanted was to hit something.
"Thanks for coming around," he said, his tone some-what warm, "I tried to move the work bench on my own but my shoulder isn't strong enough to be much use to me."
He generally didn't complain, if anything, he was more the sort to keep things to himself - especially his sports related injuries. He knew the boys had seen him beaten and bruised after many a fight, it made things difficult at times, but he'd never told them the extent of the injuries he'd had over the years.
"In the kitchen!" He heard his father call and he popped his head into the kitchen almost warily, wondering what state it might be in. Last time it hadn't been too bad - the time before he'd spent at least an hour cleaning up empty bottles, old take out containers and emptying the bins. He was pleasantly surprised to see that the kitchen looked clean. "Just flicked the kettle on, you want a coffee?" His eyes glanced to the boiling kettle and he nodded, "please," he agreed, pausing by the fridge to grab the milk from the shelf.
Looking over at his dad, he saw the way he massaged his shoulder. "It's playing up?" He asked, though the words were almost more like a statement. He knew that it was a habit of his father's, he'd caught him rubbing at his shoulder time after time, and always with that same faraway, almost pained look. It frustrated Derek, to know that his thoughts would pull away from beer to boxing, his greatest love, for the pain in his shoulder - but it was that much harder to pull him into the world of his kids.
"Thanks for coming around," Derek waved off his thanks, "It's fine, really." and it was, it was good to see his dad lucid and perhaps trying to make some kind of good change; do something proactive. "I tried to move the work bench on my own but my shoulder isn't strong enough to be much use to me." He nodded again, that confirmed his suspicions about the shoulder. "It's okay to ask for help, dad." As if that didn't have a double meaning.
He nodded again, that confirmed his suspicions about the shoulder. "It's okay to ask for help, dad."
Shaun looked up again at that, his eyes for a moment searching Derek's face before he smiled sadly to that, "I know - your mother often said that to me. She always said I was three-quarters skull and one quarter brain. I should ask for more help, I know that and I have no excuse Derek, I know it."
Just thinking of Tracy, the look in his eyes - lost and still holding tight to the grief - made him look so much older. Shaking his head, he finished up his own coffee and slid Derek's half filled mug over for him to finish. He felt bad not remembering how his son preferred it, but he wasn't going to try bluffing it and hope for the best.
Derek had to admit he felt a twinge of relief to see the containers he'd brought over last were in various degrees of full in the fridge - but at least all of them had been touch. Someone was eating them at least. He only gave the contents a cursory glance, knowing his dad was awake enough to notice if his son was checking things, before he shut the door. If he had time, he would try to do a deep dive and make sure anything moldy or out of date was thrown. "Sugar?" Derek shook his head, "No thanks," Trying not to get stuck on the fact that his own father didn't know that he rarely touched sugar and he never took it in his coffee.
"Comes and goes. It'll pass, always does." He gave a slight nod as he put the milk down on the counter for him and took a step back, leaning a hip against the counter for a moment as the drinks were made. Sometimes he would rather his dad was hooked on pain meds or drank for the physical pain. He thought that was something you could easier move on from in the end than emotional pain - from the shit in his head. "I mean it, thank you." Derek jerked his chin, feeling awkward. "Yeah," His voice a little gruffer and he cleared it. He didn't want the thanks, not really, not for this - thank him for keeping the kids fed, for coming round to tidy up a house he didn't even live in.
He met his gaze head on, unafraid and unashamed for it. His father needed help - professional, proper help - and the sooner he could admit that, the better everyone's lives would be in this family. That and figuring out what the fuck was up with Jace. The smile was sad, he could see it from here, and though a little fissure in Derek's heart broke for it, the rest of him, the steeliness of the remainder of his heart, refused. It was sad, his mum had died, but he wasn't here, drinking his liver to death. "I know - your mother often said that to me. She always said I was three-quarters skull and one quarter brain. I should ask for more help, I know that and I have no excuse Derek, I know it." Derek clenched his jaw, gritting his teeth together at the mention of his mum and the accompanying stench of grief his father gave as the mood soured. "Glad to know you know you're a shit show." He couldn't help it. It wasn't anger, not quite, but there was a growl in the words - frustration. He was glad to know his dad knew he had fallen apart into a million scattered pieces, whilst Derek was stuck unable to even break into two. People needed him, but hell it shouldn't be just his job. He busied himself with adding milk to his half-made coffee, almost sloshing it over the sides as he dashed it in and then returned it to the fridge, taking his moment to cool off even as the containers in the fridge flashed him another reminder of his irritation.
He could hear something in Derek's voice that silently twisted a knife in his side; he'd been absent from the boy's lives when he would've much preferred to have been apart of it, he guessed that was a feed on from his own father who had regimented him and his brothers into the love of boxing and an overflow of foolish pride. He didn't want to bring it up, but it felt like it was now or never - he'd brought it up with the other boys where he could find the moment to catch them.
"I know I'm a shit show Derek," he said, keeping his voice steady despite how much it hurt to say it, "I have been from the day I was born, I admit it. I can hear it in your voice, you don't approve and I'm not mad at that. Hurts yes, as much as I probably shouldn't be feeling that, but not mad. I've thrust you and all your brother's into a position I shouldn't have... I'm a poor excuse for a father, I'm a clone of your Grandfather, just more... aware I guess, no better, just aware."
He hung his head as he held onto his mug, taking a deep breath, "I... I've fucked up, I'll start trying to be better and it might take me a while to pull myself together... I-I..."
He sipped his coffee and set it down on the counter, "I can't be mad at anyone of you... save for Jace, I don't fucking know what's going through that boy's head... So if you want to air out your, annoyances? Peeves? I don't know what you want to call it, but anything I've done to fuck you boys over in all your years, now is the time to start yelling. I can't change the past, and it'll stick with me for the rest of my days, but I want to try and be better."
It had taken a lot out of him to bring that up, especially with his older sons; he owed them more than that, but it was a start and he'd doubted he'd ever give them the chance to yell or scream at him for not being there for them.
"I know I'm a shit show Derek," Derek's expression remained stoic as he looked across the kitchen at his father, raising the mug of coffee to his lips and taking a cautious sip. It burned on the way down, but he was too preoccupied with Shaun's words, waiting for the rest of it. "I have been from the day I was born, I admit it. I can hear it in your voice, you don't approve and I'm not mad at that. Hurts yes, as much as I probably shouldn't be feeling that, but not mad. I've thrust you and all your brother's into a position I shouldn't have... I'm a poor excuse for a father, I'm a clone of your Grandfather, just more... aware I guess, no better, just aware." He wanted to roll his eyes - it was a cop out to say that, since the day he was born he was a shit show. That excused everything - and he thought that was bullshit. Because, Shaun hadn't always been shit.
Instead, he remained with his hip propped against the counter, watching his father hang his head. "I... I've fucked up, I'll start trying to be better and it might take me a while to pull myself together... I-I..." Derek gave a slight shake of his head, working on holding back his frustrations. "Just quit drinking, it's not that hard." Which was unfair, deep down he knew - once people got stuck in their addictions it wasn't easy to battle their way back. "There are people here that need you, you put the bottle down for them." It was black and white in Derek's head - again, unfair perhaps, but if he could come home to feed his siblings and clean up he saw no reason why their own father couldn't. "You get up in the morning, you get dressed, and you do go through the motions because they need you. It's not always about you." Harsh perhaps, that made it sound as though he shouldn't put himself back together for himself - that he should just go through it for his kids, but he had a duty as a parent - children before self.
"I can't be mad at anyone of you... save for Jace, I don't fucking know what's going through that boy's head... So if you want to air out your, annoyances? Peeves? I don't know what you want to call it, but anything I've done to fuck you boys over in all your years, now is the time to start yelling. I can't change the past, and it'll stick with me for the rest of my days, but I want to try and be better." Derek took another sip of coffee as the words sunk over him. "Jace needs help." He said simply. "There is something wrong with that kid, fuck knows what but it's beyond anything we do for for him." He could keep trying but he was rarely not at logger-heads with Jace, and how was that going to help. "I'm not going to yell at you, what would that achieve? This isn't something you can just fix by saying 'yell at me and I'm going to be better now'." He'd heard shit like that before. He was going to need more than that - he needed time, to prove it was true.
Derek gave a slight shake of his head, working on holding back his frustrations. "Just quit drinking, it's not that hard." Which was unfair, deep down he knew - once people got stuck in their addictions it wasn't easy to battle their way back. "There are people here that need you, you put the bottle down for them." It was black and white in Derek's head - again, unfair perhaps, but if he could come home to feed his siblings and clean up he saw no reason why their own father couldn't. "You get up in the morning, you get dressed, and you do go through the motions because they need you. It's not always about you."
"Jace needs help." He said simply. "There is something wrong with that kid, fuck knows what but it's beyond anything we do for for him." He could keep trying but he was rarely not at logger-heads with Jace, and how was that going to help. "I'm not going to yell at you, what would that achieve? This isn't something you can just fix by saying 'yell at me and I'm going to be better now'."
Shaun listened. He felt anger rise up and fall just as quickly. Derek had always been a hard case to understand; his views were so clean cut that it often left Shaun feeling awkward for being on middle ground. The fact he thought giving up the drink was that clean cut was more of a stab than he thought it would be. But he let that roll. Everyone was allowed to have their thoughts and he had asked. Though the way Derek spoke still prodded at his pride a touch.
The subject of Jace made his mouth sour, "That boy..." he shook his head, feeling that shame under the surface, "I got a call from the college saying he got into a fight and has walked off campus today, so I've got to head in this afternoon to deal with that. If it means I have to ship him off to a legit military school, I will."
It had always been a hollow threat and a joke when the boys were little; telling them that if they misbehaved they'd be sent to the boy's military school. It had worked for the most part, and now Shaun felt like it was becoming a real possibility.
"I didn't say it was going to fix things," Shaun said calmly, "It was just a chance to let out whatever you might want to say."
He set his coffee down on the bench and began wandering out to the garage. The garage had been a chaos heap, and taken apart, it seemed even more so, but at the same time, orderly. Tools were in piles by their type, buckets and jars held respective tacks, nails and screws. The work bench was completely free of clutter, the few draws set aside so they had room to grab and move them without fear of the draws just falling out.
"That boy..." Derek let the topic change, thinking it would be better for both of them if they didn't touch on it too much - or one of them might end up swinging. His head raised from his cup at the words though, that boy? His mouth pressed to a line at the words; the boy. This was the probably one reason Jace thought he dad didn't like him. "I got a call from the college saying he got into a fight and has walked off campus today, so I've got to head in this afternoon to deal with that. If it means I have to ship him off to a legit military school, I will." Derek sighed, taking a sip of his coffee to give him time before he responded. "Maybe it would help, if he had proper structure and authority," He shrugged, not that he knew much about military school. "He needs more than he's getting here," For all intents and purposes, a dead-beat dad and a gaggle of brothers that fought with him in varying degrees, older brothers that only dipped in and out, a dead mother... what did the kid really have?
"I didn't say it was going to fix things, It was just a chance to let out whatever you might want to say." He shrugged at that, but didn't give much else away, his face impassive. "It's going to take more than one afternoon," And he'd said enough as it was, he didn't want to go into it any further right then. He rubbed the back of his neck and followed his dad out into the garage - the real reason for his visit after all. He took a glance around at the clutter, the sight of it hurt his eyes but the more he looked, the more he supposed it was sort of organised. "Alright, so what are we moving?" He asked, putting his half empty cup down on a side that had a little space.
"Maybe it would help, if he had proper structure and authority," He shrugged, not that he knew much about military school. "He needs more than he's getting here."
He shrugged at that, but didn't give much else away, his face impassive. "It's going to take more than one afternoon."
"Alright, so what are we moving?" He asked, putting his half empty cup down on a side that had a little space.
Shaun didn't let it show, but the words hurt. It was like his sons had found all he weak points and knew how to twist them. It hurt when those words twisted in those soft spots, but he had learnt how to keep it from registering on his face. It wasn't a good thing, he knew - but it wasn't going to be undone overnight; twenty plus years of fighting and masking pain and surprise was a naturally ingrained part of his being.
He made a gesture, "Moving the bench onto the short wall nearer the door; make it easier to work on the truck. Should only take a dozen steps an it'll be over and done with; then I can start putting everything back before I go to pick up Paul and Creven from school."
He wasn't sure if Shaun would respond to him or not, but he was almost un-surprised when he didn't. It probably wouldn't have made things better, if anything it would have made things worse. He wasn't ready to hear it, not yet. It was still so fresh, the hurt so raw and he wasn't ready for some half assed 'I'll be better' apology. It took time, he needed to see it first. If his father was serious about the change and was honest and made an effort, then he would see, maybe a bridge could be made, however fragile. But until then, one good day of 100 didn't make a difference to him. Not yet.
Derek followed his gesture, turned to take a look at the item they were moving. "Moving the bench onto the short wall nearer the door; make it easier to work on the truck. Should only take a dozen steps an it'll be over and done with; then I can start putting everything back before I go to pick up Paul and Creven from school." His eyes turned to where it was going as Shaun spoke, clearing a mental path to the bench's new home as he nodded. "Alright, should be easy enough." Between them it wasn't a hard task, and he briefly wondered if his father could have managed it on his own but had thought it might be a viable excuse to bring Derek over instead. "Are you ready?" He asked, noting that at least his father had remembered about his younger brothers and that he was unlikely to get a call from the school about picking them up today. He didn't mention that though and instead, put his hands on one end of the bench and bent his knees in prep, looking over to Shaun for when he was set.
Shaun nodded as he got himself ready on the other side of the work bench, preparing for the short move. A dozen steps at best, less than a minute of strain.
"Yep, count of three we lift," he nodded, "Alright - one, two, three!"
He lifted the bench with as much strength as he could, just barely getting his side off the ground. He made a mental note that he needed to get back into some form of shape, he was weaker than he used to be by half already. He set his side into the corner once they were close, and rubbed his forehead.
He saw his dad nod and once he felt him take up the weight, he also bent at the knees and lifted. "Yep, count of three we lift, Alright - one, two, three!" His muscles gave a small groan of protest but between the two of them, the bench didn't feel too bad. He always kept himself in good shape not just due to his work, but out of the necessity in case he needed to defend himself or a loved one - it sounded stupid but there was always a voice in the back of his head that he might need to one day, and it kept him from slacking off at the gym. He noticed that it wasn't quite the same for his father, the bench dipping down toward Shaun's side; alcohol did more than affect just your mind, his father's body was weak too.
"Thank you Derek, For helping." He gave a nod as they moved the bench to it's new place and Derek set it down carefully, taking a moment before he straightened out his back to avoid anything pinging. He wasn't even old but on occasion his muscles didn't like fast movement when he was shifting about heavy objects. "No worries, any time... just a call away." He couldn't help but say it somewhat warily. He was only too happy to come to his aid when it was something meaningful, a productive or positive change in his life. The drunk phone calls, that Shaun barely seemed to remember, where he needed help getting up where he'd fallen, or his brothers calling cause they'd found him collapsed or hurt something from drink, those he did not appreciate. It had been one too many times...
Shaun nodded, picking up on the way his son spoke but said nothing. He wasn't even sure any more if his sons cared all that much about him, not that he blamed them. If anything, he was surprised they hadn't all flocked out of the house after the funeral. He'd almost expected it. He might've been able to deal with it. Maybe he would've destructed less or more. Who knew.
"I know." He said gently, making a mental note to avoid bothering Derek any further than he had already.
"Got any other plans for the rest of your day?" he asked, slowly moving over to the assorted tools to begin putting things away.
He wanted a smoke, hell he wanted to sit down and sleep too, but it was probably for the best that he just kept working. Maybe tomorrow he could start work on the truck and avoid getting yelled at by his sons. Maybe be productive. He might just cook dinner after packing everything up in the garage.
