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!.
Just a bit. I think the whole family is crazy, period. Glad to hear at least one of them is doing something, although dad did seem to have his shit together the other day when I dropped in.
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.
"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.
"we're not housebroken yet.... Yup. .that reminds me, I need to go sharpen the spears before we go hunting later." He rolled his eyes as two of them chirped up with their ridiculous answers, but the slight twitch of his lips threatened at a smile. "Well, you see this stuff here? It's mold - mold is bad, you throw it out. And then the plate goes in here..." He indicated the gone off food with his index finger as he grimaced and chucked it, putting the plate into the dishwasher and then adding a few others that had piled up in the sink. "Sometimes I have to remind myself I don't live here anymore," He muttered, though it wasn't meant in a horrible way, just that he sometimes wondered if he should have stayed- then again, he'd probably had lost his mind if he had.
"no better place for him actually." He frowned and shot a look at his brother, "Mav, don't." He wasn't the peacekeeper really, he was terrible at it, but he couldn't stand there and listen to them snipe at each other. Then Link made that damn noise and he let out his own grunt of frustration, "Link, not helping." God honestly sometimes he felt like their father. "Dad would love that, wouldn't he? He's always saying that I'm a fuck up, so why does he bother?" And here it went, he gave a heavy sigh and turned to face Jace for the onslaught. "Well he wasn't talking to you fuck-stain!" Derek folded his arms across his check, brows lowering as there was a further growl. "You are not animals, enough of that shit," He snapped slightly, jesus where the hell was dad's head at these days, the kids needed proper managing. "No, he wouldn't love that Jace, none of us would. As fucked up as you are sometimes you are still our brother." Maybe not the best choice of words but his tether was wearing short.
"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 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.
"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.
At Link's thanks, Derek inclined his head to acknowledge. He just wanted to make sure they were fed, he knew they could go out and buy their own or whatever but pizza only cut it so far and the younger lads didn't have so much choice. He would do it regardless of the reception he got, but the thanks and appreciation was always welcome. It made him feel that it was worth the effort - though any time he returned to find the containers empty he felt it was worth it. He didn't even entertain the idea that the food was being thrown away.
He moved a few things in the fridge as he started stacking, frowning as he found a few molding vegetables from a shelf - and then sighing when he saw a whole corner of mold covered food tucked at the back. He ignored the conversation happening behind him in favour of cleaning out the shit. "Do you all live like savages?" he interjected, dishing out the disapproval to each of them as he began stacking his meals in inside. He was happy to help but they were all old enough to at least clean up the trash.
"I didn't ask for the assessment. What the fuck would any of you know anyway my day. You didn't give a shit last week, last month, ever really so shut the fuck up." Derek's frown deepened and he looked at Jace. "There's no need to be rude, since when didn't we care?" Jace might be the quickest to rile his temper but he was still his brother. "If we didn't care you'd have been locked away by now." as if Jace didn't know how of his many messes his brothers had fixed over the years.
Derek frowned as one of the containers threatened to spill out of his arms, huffing as he wrangled them back into some kind of order in his arms. Derek used to just buy ingredients; an array of vegetables and meats and the odd extra that might be useful, but he'd quit doing that when he'd kept coming in to find the vegetables had gone off, left to rot in the fridge because nobody had thought to try and use them. It was disappointing, and he'd been angry at the waste of money - he wasn't exactly Mr Money bags, and a part of him wondered why he bothered - but every time he looked at the empty fridge and one of his brother's hungry faces he knew exactly why he did it. If he didn't help, who else would? Instead, he'd taken to mass cooking simple meals that his brothers would eat if they were hungry enough, packing them into containers and taking them over when he had time - pasta meals, chilli, curry... easy enough to re-heat.
He gave his usual knock on the back door - the singular wrapping on his knuckles before entering, just about managing to juggle the full armload into the kitchen, seeing two of his brothers already there as he put everything down onto the counter. "Hey," He said, taking in both of the younger boys - Link looked somewhat harassed, Jace looked like he'd been in a fight. Derek's brow furrowed. "What trouble did you get into now?" He asked, the instant irritation at Jace flickering a little. It was that whole thing of who would he have to sweet talk now into not pressing charges, or to remove a suspension from school or avoid it becoming a bigger deal.
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.
full name • Derek Daniel Breckah nicknames • Breckah, D age • twenty-two birthday • 9th November occupation • Bouncer/Tattoo artist former university student - mechanics gender • male sexuality • bisexual
the appearance
face claim• Tyler Hoechlin
identifying features• bright blue eyes, a contrast to his dark hair and face full of scruff
the personality
likes • art - particularly line art/heavy detailed pencil , working with his hands , detective/crime TV shows , soft serve ice cream , running - clears his mind , cars and tinkering with them , doing romantic gestures , reading - not many people catch him with a book though , going for drives and seeing where he ends up , a good burger dislikes • alcohol and drugs - is t-total , boxing , drunk people , films with terrible endings , hospitals , peer pressure , technology - terrible with it , people who are up themselves , meeting new people , his brothers talking back to him/giving smart mouth responses strengths • good boxer , hiding his emotions , art - in particular tattooing , good at seeing through bullshit weaknesses • always runs to his family if they call - struggles to say no to them , mumma's boy (or he was until she died) , falling in love - would give someone the world if he was in love with them , cigarettes - tried to quit once but failed dreams • to meet the right person and fall in love , that his mum would come back; he's aware that isn't possible fears • his father will drink himself to death , his brother's falling off the edge like their father , his past will stop him from being able to let his guard down around the potential love of his life , bees - allergic overall personality • guarded, overly controlled with his emotions, often perceived as grumpy due to his lack of smiling and perpetual frown, bottles up his emotions, hard edged, doesn't take bullshit and is good at seeing through it with other people, calls people on their crap, over-thinker at times, good at juggling things in life, will take on too much and over-burden himself, protective, loyal, would do anything for his family even whilst resenting them for what he might have to do, looks after people if a little reluctantly, has a lot of walls up to protect himself and is quite tough to break through, can seem blunt, dry sense of humour, has a hot temper but does well to hold it in check, underneath it all however he is actually quite sweet, he's caring, he has a soft side for women and finds it hard to say no to them, is quite the romantic and likes to spoil - would do anything and give everything to the right person, generally honest, thoughtful, hard working, resilient, doesn't really like change and struggles to adapt - gets set in his ways.
the history
father • Shaun Gavin Breckah - 43 - boxing coach, former pro MMA mother • Tracy Breckah - deceased siblings • Keith - 23 Stephen - 20 MAVERICK THOMAS BRECKAH - 19 - horse exerciser at BA Jace Christian Breckah - 17 - student LINCOLN HARVEY BRECKAH - 16 - student Paul - 15 Connor - 14 important people • none hometown • Dublin, Ireland overall history • Born the second child in the Breckah empire, Derek didn't last very long as the youngest child; two years to be exact before he became the middle child, and then suddenly he was the second eldest - and that was where he sat. He didn't resent it, not entirely. He felt a little thrust into role of protective older sibling, of the additional caregiver, and at times he wasn't interested. There were quite a few years between him and the final youngest of his brothers, and at times it was painful, other times bearable. He watched his father break his back to pay for them all, and he always vowed from a young age that he would never put himself into such a situation - having so many mouths to feed, so many bodies to clothe, so many to keep tabs of.
His memories of Ireland were spotty at best, though most of them revolved around the absence of his father as he fought to bring home the dollar. Derek idiolised his mother. Being one of the eldest, she doted on him a little, and with his father often out of the home, and the more children that kept popping out, the more he clung to her, making sure she didn't neglect herself when it came to handling all the infants. He preferred to look after his ma, than his siblings, but reluctantly stuck his oar in to do what she needed him to do when he had to. Sorting out breakfast, moderating fights and smacking heads when someone was being an asshole. Derek adjusted when they moved to England - being only young, he hadn't had a chance to make many relations, but he hated their new home. Manchester felt cramped and dingy, Birmingham was better but as Derek grew older, not much better in his mind.
It was difficult to settle into life, the family was consistently upheaved by the arrival of another child and then another. The only time Derek felt that he spent with his father was when it came to training. At first, he didn't want to box. It was the reason his father was always gone for long periods of time, the reason he came home covered in cuts and bruises - money troubles aside, Derek didn't like it. His attitude toward it shifted somewhat as he got older, he used boxing as a way of letting out his frustrations and anger, but he never loved it. In all honesty, he hated the sport. But he persisted - for the attention of his father, for the loathing he could put into it. He hated what it did to his brothers, how, when they fought, it was brutal and often bloody thanks to the training of their father.
Another move, at 7 years old, Derek's life was ripped away from him once again, but though at first he was frustrated to have to start once again at a new school and make new friends, he preferred the space he got in Hickstead, and as he hit his teenage years he finally started to branch out away from his family. The madness at home. He often felt like he couldn't breath in the house, he felt suffocated, like a weight added to his shoulders every time he stepped in the door. He fell into a group of people that were considered outcasts at school. He didn't particularly make trouble, but they weren't the kind of people you fucked about with. He did his school work, he got the odd detention for being a shit, and he passed most of his classes. With each arrival of his siblings, he did the brotherly thing and looked out for them, using his status and his friends to warn other people off from bullying or taunting. He refused to fight all their battles, but he felt the pressure to live up to what he was meant to do as one of the eldest, to do what his father expected - what his mother asked of him; look out for his family.
The spanner in the works came in Jace. Derek tried, he did. He tried to relate to him, tried to look out for him, but the little shit just seemed to throw it back in his face. He would always start with the intention of being decent, and then Jace would just keep pushing and pushing and his patience would evaporate, he'd needle him back or rile him up and make him worse. There was something about him that Derek just couldn't get on with, and he just couldn't help himself.
Derek's life changed in an instant when his mother died. He had spent his life making sure she didn't give more than she had to the family, and in one moment she was gone forever. Even with this, his family came before him, and like the good son he was, he let it happen. He bottled up the grief, he bottled up the anger, he hung up the phone call from the hospital - his father too inconsolable to speak to - and he threw away the plate of food that sat waiting for his mother that would never come home. He kept all of it bottled up as he drove to the rest of his family. Keeping it together for them, doing everything for them. He found Link tucked into a corner and he told him it wasn't his fault, he helped his eldest brother make the arrangements for the funeral, he got his father to come home and put on a suit, he made sure everyone ate, he picked up his mother's duties for a short while, he picked up Maverick from the hospital. It was all a strange mix of going through the motions almost numb, but feeling everything simmering and boiling under the surface.
After the funeral, he moved out. He dropped out of university where he'd been training to become a mechanic, he scrapped what pittance of pennies he had together and rented out a flat in town. He needed to breath, he needed to be able to be his own person and without his mum there any longer, he felt a little lost. He picked up a job as a bouncer at the local club, along with persuading the tattoo shop in town to take him on. Art had been one of the few things that had kept his brain occupied, everything always went quiet in his head, the roaring silencing when he drew, and the same happened when he tattoo'd. He always pops in to check on his brothers periodically, but tries hard to keep a firm line between how far he'll step in these days.
the role player
alias • I don't remember age • 150 year old vampire other characters • none, this is totally my first
GENDER: male AGE: twenty-two D.O.B: 9th November SEXUALITY: Bisexual STATUS: Single PLAY-BY: Tyler Hoechlin HEIGHT: 6ft HAIR: black EYES: blue
"WHEN THE LIGHT FADES AND THE DAWN"
TATTOOS:this on his left shoulder/arm SCARS: A couple from the odd fight DRINK: nope SMOKE: the odd one DRIVE: yes GLASSES: reading glasses HOME: Woodbain flats BORN AND RAISED: Dublin, Ireland
"BREAKS, THAT'S WHEN IT'S HARDEST TO FIX"
guarded, overly controlled with his emotions, often perceived as grumpy due to his lack of smiling and perpetual frown, bottles up his emotions, hard edged, doesn't take bullshit and is good at seeing through it with other people, calls people on their crap, over-thinker at times, good at juggling things in life, will take on too much and over-burden himself, protective, loyal, would do anything for his family even whilst resenting them for what he might have to do, looks after people if a little reluctantly, has a lot of walls up to protect himself and is quite tough to break through, can seem blunt, dry sense of humour, has a hot temper but does well to hold it in check, underneath it all however he is actually quite sweet, he's caring, he has a soft side for women and finds it hard to say no to them, is quite the romantic and likes to spoil - would do anything and give everything to the right person, generally honest, thoughtful, hard working, resilient, doesn't really like change and struggles to adapt - gets set in his ways.
LIKES: art - particularly line art/heavy detailed pencil , working with his hands , detective/crime TV shows , soft serve ice cream , running - clears his mind , cars and tinkering with them , doing romantic gestures , reading - not many people catch him with a book though , going for drives and seeing where he ends up , a good burger DISLIKES: alcohol and drugs - is t-total , boxing , drunk people , films with terrible endings , hospitals , peer pressure , technology - terrible with it , people who are up themselves , meeting new people , his brothers talking back to him/giving smart mouth responses STRENGTHS: good boxer , hiding his emotions , art - in particular tattooing , good at seeing through bullshit WEAKNESSES: always runs to his family if they call - struggles to say no to them , mumma's boy (or he was until she died) , falling in love - would give someone the world if he was in love with them , cigarettes - tried to quit once but failed FEARS: his father will drink himself to death , his brother's falling off the edge like their father , his past will stop him from being able to let his guard down around the potential love of his life , bees - allergic SECRETS: sometimes he wishes he could walk away from his family and never look back. , Dirty Dancing is one of his favourite films
"WHEN YOU'RE LONELY AND YOUR HEART"
STATUS IN SOCIETY: working class OCCUPATION: Bouncer/Tattoo artist former university student - mechanics EXPERTISE: Boxing , art - tattooing in particular , dealing with conflict WEALTH: getting by PROUDEST MOMENT: Getting into Uni, he wasn't sure if he was clever enough to achieve the grades and he finally felt like he was leading his own life by separating from his family. MOST EMBARRASSING MOMENT: His first kiss, he was young and it was some stupid game - there was an awkward clash of teeth, he didn't close his eyes, they bumped noses. It was ugly.
Born the second child in the Breckah empire, Derek didn't last very long as the youngest child; two years to be exact before he became the middle child, and then suddenly he was the second eldest - and that was where he sat. He didn't resent it, not entirely. He felt a little thrust into role of protective older sibling, of the additional caregiver, and at times he wasn't interested. There were quite a few years between him and the final youngest of his brothers, and at times it was painful, other times bearable. He watched his father break his back to pay for them all, and he always vowed from a young age that he would never put himself into such a situation - having so many mouths to feed, so many bodies to clothe, so many to keep tabs of.
His memories of Ireland were spotty at best, though most of them revolved around the absence of his father as he fought to bring home the dollar. Derek idiolised his mother. Being one of the eldest, she doted on him a little, and with his father often out of the home, and the more children that kept popping out, the more he clung to her, making sure she didn't neglect herself when it came to handling all the infants. He preferred to look after his ma, than his siblings, but reluctantly stuck his oar in to do what she needed him to do when he had to. Sorting out breakfast, moderating fights and smacking heads when someone was being an asshole. Derek adjusted when they moved to England - being only young, he hadn't had a chance to make many relations, but he hated their new home. Manchester felt cramped and dingy, Birmingham was better but as Derek grew older, not much better in his mind.
It was difficult to settle into life, the family was consistently upheaved by the arrival of another child and then another. The only time Derek felt that he spent with his father was when it came to training. At first, he didn't want to box. It was the reason his father was always gone for long periods of time, the reason he came home covered in cuts and bruises - money troubles aside, Derek didn't like it. His attitude toward it shifted somewhat as he got older, he used boxing as a way of letting out his frustrations and anger, but he never loved it. In all honesty, he hated the sport. But he persisted - for the attention of his father, for the loathing he could put into it. He hated what it did to his brothers, how, when they fought, it was brutal and often bloody thanks to the training of their father.
Another move, at 7 years old, Derek's life was ripped away from him once again, but though at first he was frustrated to have to start once again at a new school and make new friends, he preferred the space he got in Hickstead, and as he hit his teenage years he finally started to branch out away from his family. The madness at home. He often felt like he couldn't breath in the house, he felt suffocated, like a weight added to his shoulders every time he stepped in the door. He fell into a group of people that were considered outcasts at school. He didn't particularly make trouble, but they weren't the kind of people you fucked about with. He did his school work, he got the odd detention for being a shit, and he passed most of his classes. With each arrival of his siblings, he did the brotherly thing and looked out for them, using his status and his friends to warn other people off from bullying or taunting. He refused to fight all their battles, but he felt the pressure to live up to what he was meant to do as one of the eldest, to do what his father expected - what his mother asked of him; look out for his family.
The spanner in the works came in Jace. Derek tried, he did. He tried to relate to him, tried to look out for him, but the little shit just seemed to throw it back in his face. He would always start with the intention of being decent, and then Jace would just keep pushing and pushing and his patience would evaporate, he'd needle him back or rile him up and make him worse. There was something about him that Derek just couldn't get on with, and he just couldn't help himself.
Derek's life changed in an instant when his mother died. He had spent his life making sure she didn't give more than she had to the family, and in one moment she was gone forever. Even with this, his family came before him, and like the good son he was, he let it happen. He bottled up the grief, he bottled up the anger, he hung up the phone call from the hospital - his father too inconsolable to speak to - and he threw away the plate of food that sat waiting for his mother that would never come home. He kept all of it bottled up as he drove to the rest of his family. Keeping it together for them, doing everything for them. He found Link tucked into a corner and he told him it wasn't his fault, he helped his eldest brother make the arrangements for the funeral, he got his father to come home and put on a suit, he made sure everyone ate, he picked up his mother's duties for a short while, he picked up Maverick from the hospital. It was all a strange mix of going through the motions almost numb, but feeling everything simmering and boiling under the surface.
After the funeral, he moved out. He dropped out of university where he'd been training to become a mechanic, he scrapped what pittance of pennies he had together and rented out a flat in town. He needed to breath, he needed to be able to be his own person and without his mum there any longer, he felt a little lost. He picked up a job as a bouncer at the local club, along with persuading the tattoo shop in town to take him on. Art had been one of the few things that had kept his brain occupied, everything always went quiet in his head, the roaring silencing when he drew, and the same happened when he tattoo'd. He always pops in to check on his brothers periodically, but tries hard to keep a firm line between how far he'll step in these days.
PETS
Buck - Husky - 4 years
THE STORY SO FAR
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