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hi folks! sorry for the delay on adf august, and my apologies for not using the official @adfaugust blog! i lost my login and i haven't had the time to come up with a long list. hence, we'll be hosting an adf august week this summer! as always, feel free to tag your works as #adfaugust2024! please check below the cut for a plain text version of the prompts:

day 9 : wound ( from @adfaugust )

this isn’t the war they were promised, not even close. no safety in trenches, no bombs deployed from the air, far away from any damage. instead, they’re thick in the jungle, getting their heads blown off by traps, assailants nowhere to be seen. paul didn’t even want to be here, fought the draft to the last second, and now here he is, clutching a rifle and feeling sick to his stomach. wishes, not for the first time, that he’s just one of the ladies in the sick bay. sure, the injuries are horrible, but it’s better than being out here. 

he’s playing nurse right now, surprised by his own strength as he starts lugging bear to the bushes, rifle swung dangerously over his back, where he can’t take it out if someone attacked. he needs his arms, anyway; bear’s in no shape to walk. he’s losing blood fast, a bullet in the side. and when paul pulls up his shirt to check, there isn’t an exit wound. considers, stupidly, if he could just pluck it out with his fingers, but he knows that’ll be worse, that he’s gonna give bear an infection. which he’s sure the poor guy already has, or maybe he’s just delirious from the pain.

“paul,” bear coughs, and he shows his teeth in a smile that’s gnarly, but not in a good way. it still seizes paul like his hand’s got a heart in its vice grip, and the sight of him must do something for the guy, since that grin only gets wider. “at home, in the barn… we got this kayak.”

bear’s got a tone in his voice that tells paul he’s on some long-winded story. he debates telling bear to save his strength, but there’s a real chance he’ll die out here before paul can get him help, so he lets it go. “yeah? what … what kayak?”

“beautiful — ” and bear cuts himself off with a series of coughs, blood coming up on his shirt in a way that makes paul feel faint — “beautiful boat. some men like their fancy cars and impressing women with ‘em. like their… their speedboats. but there ain’t no better joy than being the engine to your own vehicle.” still smiling broadly, bear claps a hand over paul’s. “i’ll take you out one day. once the war’s over. once the fish come back.”

“you’ll get there,” paul promises, shirt off so he can use it as a bandage, ripped all the way around and then some so he can get it wrapped. bear’s always been a big guy, hence the nickname, but he’s stronger than anyone else paul’s ever known. a little rough around the edges, and dante never liked him, but paul’s never liked dante much either. at least, he don’t got a lot of faith in the guy. paul didn’t know much about bear before getting drafted, where bear was already on his last few years. seemed like, if all went well, paul’d get out of this place four months before bear’s time was up. he signed up, twice — but he’s still in the trenches like all the other draftees. makes paul wonder if there was ever much of a choice. but bear sticks up for the little guy, and he prays with whoever needs it. lotta guys here are turning to faith. hard not to when people’s legs and arms are getting blasted off, when they go flying. and bear always matches paul drink for drink, indulges him when they get too drunk to keep pretending there ain’t an issue with what they’re doing.

he remembers now, suddenly, how many times bear has clapped him on the shoulder and told him he’s a good man. asked him earnestly if he’d make sure sharon’s cared for if he don’t make it back. paul has to wonder if bear knows. if he knows what feelings paul’s had for his girl. what feelings he used to have about bear — jealous and envious and hateful and awed all at once. similar, he guesses, to how he feels about his cousin. 

bear squeezes paul’s hand. “we’ll get there.” paul’s always wondered why bear talks like he’s older than he is, like he’s on his deathbed. it makes it all the more chilling, knowing this is just a normal conversation, that bear could be anything, could be drinking or taking a swim or laughing by the fire, but instead, he’s dying and he talks the same.

paul flags down a tank and a couple of guys work to hoist bear up onto it, planning to take him out to where the copter can pick him up, take him to a hospital. can barely bring himself to let go of bear’s hand. “just take it easy, buddy. don’t you dare die on me.”

the guy only laughs, soft and self-loathing. “take care of sharon for me. take care of her.”

and when paul sees joyce with the bottle of alcohol, his lips twitch. gaze drifting to the woman bleeding out on the couch. and when he’s asked how she’s doing, he says, hard to say. i’ve seen it go a lot of different ways. cause it’s true. what’s also true is that a lot of those guys that made it still strung themselves up in the end, or took a bullet to their skull, or drowned themselves in drink. sure, the physical wound mended up, no infections, but what they suffered up there? in their minds? it ain’t as easy as getting an operation done.

day 5 : sacrifice ( from @adfaugust )

all he’s ever done, he did it for this family.

tyler’s long been used to hours of work with little reward, underpaid for hard labour and chalking it up to his family name. the world’s out to get him, he’s always known it, has been told so time and time again by the holt matriarch. and he knows better than anyone that sharon wouldn’t lie, has been an honest woman from the day she was born. if she ever was dishonest, it’s cause she had to be, cause she wasn’t given another option. but ma’s honest, gets her way through respect built from her steely and admirable nature. sharon, impossible not to respect with her fingers poised elegantly around a cigarette. lord knows tyler gladly picked up that habit for a few stolen seconds of her company. always wishing blindly to soak up her presence, as if it would somehow cure him of his own inferiority, childishness she frowned upon. he always feels adult standing next to her — ’cept for when he don’t, when he feels like he’s quakin’ in his boots just being near her. tells himself it’s because he loves her, because he can’t stand the thought of her coming to harm. knows that he’s her protector and that’s all he is, and for a holt, that’s a blessing. no higher honour than to be at sharon’s side, making sure their shitheel of a pa don’t try anything. 

never strikes him that he might be thinking backwards, that the person he’s afraid of is the very person he loves the most. so wrapped around her finger he can’t see it for what it is, embraced into her perfumed storytelling, lies that sound like the truth, until tyler can’t help but believe in her. she’s his ma, and she needs him, everyone does. shoulders heavy burdens so she don’t have to, under the firm belief that he had a choice, but that no sane man would choose the other option.

what man would leave his ma to suffer all alone? none that are mannerly or polite, none that really care for her. tyler’s signed away his life, all twenty-five years of it thus far and whatever rest of it that cruel fate gives him. quickly revises the thought, since he oughta be grateful for what he has — the opportunity to be there for his ma, for his brothers. 

still doesn’t stop the white-hot jealousy from bubbling up in a weary chest when he sees how easily dale and jay are awarded with ma’s attention. don’t know the last time she called him sweetheart — or if she ever has. keeps blindly charging forward, since he knows why dale’s got ma’s heart; no one could hate a face like that or deny him a thing. and jay… as much as he don’t contribute, as much as he ain’t really one of them ( as much as his sensitive nature is rewarded when tyler’s was long stamped outta him, told time and time again that he’s the eldest and real men gotta keep their upper lip stiff ) … sharon’s affectionate towards the golden boy because he reminds her of that sister of hers. that woman who got herself knocked up and imposed herself on her charitable sister, only to wind up dead and leaving her screaming kid behind for sharon to care for like he’s hers.

( and if tyler had to pick up those motherly responsibilities, it’s cause ma obviously couldn’t, not after her own sister had died, and no one could have expected her to be well enough to take care of a kid or her three-year-old and certainly not her seven-year-old little man, the nickname brooke gave him as she pinched a solemn cheek still ringing in his head — )

— but ain’t he the same as brooke, now? running off to save his own skin when dale’s … a sharp pain lancing through his chest, solid evidence of how he’s failed the family. still feels the sting on his cheek when ma told him clear as day — he ain’t got this, he wasn’t responsible enough, never good enough. and selfishly he wonders how long he has to sweat and toil for … her approval, but he’d never say that. sharon don’t give out praise that ain’t earned, and tyler never earned it a day in his life. no matter how hard he worked. no matter how little he slept. no matter how kind he was to his charity case of a cousin. 

and he’s doing everything he can, even if ain’t good enough, even if it ain’t perfect. tells himself this is the best he can do for the ones he’s lost — protect himself cause he’s the only one left to protect her. when dale’s gone, pa’s in some hospital after his act of cowardice, and they had to leave jay behind when the cops were too close for comfort. he’s the only one left, and sharon’s safety’s all that matters. they come up with a plan, her and her only child, and there’s an unspoken understanding that passes through ‘em. the knowledge that they’re all they’ve got anymore, that they have to stick together. 

it’s everything he wanted. least, he thought it was. until jay shows back up on their doorstep and tyler’s left to stare. a brother back from the dead and the short-lived attention from his ma itching at the back of his ribcage. forced to think horrible thoughts, wondering if it was jay all along who took this from tyler. if sharon’s affections were only doled out to the youngest boys because that love’s finite, and because jay just had to be difficult, ruin things by taking that book and killing dale, the sting of a motherly slap across the cheek still smarting. can’t accept that he wants more than he’s got, so it’s jay’s fault. that festering itch getting worse until it’s damn near unbearable. it’s jay on the doorstep of the cabin and not dale, not his baby brother who sat on his lap and babbled to him in half-formed sentences, who didn’t leave him ( didn’t leave the family, comes the mental correction ) to go galavanting off in the woods. 

still, tyler takes first watch. is used to staying up and expects that neither ma nor jay will wake up for a second watch. maybe he’ll catch an hour or two, but he ain’t counting on it. more important that sharon gets her rest, and it’s not like tyler trusts jay to stay up and keep an eye out. not after he found out about brooke, the long-kept secret that shoulda been told to him long ago, so he could understand why he’s gotta make it up to the family more than ever. if anything, he thinks maybe jay’ll try to slink out and talk to him. the lie weighs heavy on his chest, but it’s the most sensible solution. ma needs to go on the motorcycle, and jay can survive out here in the woods. if tyler stayed ( and his chest constricts at the mere thought ) … he’d die. still, even though ma knows that, it’s still his duty to stay back. even with this busted leg, even with his lack of familiarity of the bush of two rock. when jay wasn’t around, the solution was simple. now, it’s staring him right in the eye. his imminent death. the same fate as dale. loving jay, then dying for it. 

the door creaks open, and tyler’s heart squeezes in his chest seeing it’s ma. it ain’t rare for her to seek out his company, whether it’s to unload some stresses or just cause he’s smoking at the same time as her, but that weary heart still jumps when she does. hard and clear evidence that he’s doing something right. but that brief hope gets squashed like an insignificant insect as soon as the words leave her mouth. can we talk about this canada thing? 

shoulda known she was coming out to ask about it, silently curses himself for not realizing sooner. remembers the other mistake he made, telling jay about his real ma, and braces himself for a scolding that thankfully never comes. sharon’s not a petty woman, and she’s moved onto more pressing matters. wondering why jay can’t have the prized seat next to her on the bike. wondering all that when she’s whip-smart and definitely smart enough to know tyler’d die if he stuck around back here. and it all comes flooding out. a juvenile confession, practically sobbed out. a desperate begging for love he’s always thought he was above. is it so wrong to want to live? is it so wrong to want a shot at life even when it’s long over? all his life, he’s given her ( the family, he hurriedly corrects, because even now, he can’t stop the helpless fawning over her ) everything he has, everything he is. and here he leans against the cabin post, staring up at the consequence bearing over him like a giant. finds himself scared and utterly alone in the face of this insurmountable beast. 

he just wants to live. and if that’s gotta mean just surviving from here on out, he wants that. if his fate was never to live his life, he’ll mourn it and bury it alongside dale. clenches his fists and jaw and tries not to let the grief consume him, crush that bad leg before he’s even got a chance to try to keep going. wouldn’t dale have wanted him to live? wouldn’t dale have wanted… and it feels blasphemous to even think, but wouldn’t dale have wanted his happiness? couldn’t sharon have loved him enough to want that for him?

but it can’t be about dale and it certainly can’t be about sharon, so it’s about jay, the boy who got everything tyler wanted just by being. who whines and gets his way, the eternal favourite and the one dale eventually left tyler behind for. but tyler knows he can still win. he’s just gotta convince jay to stay back. and he does. feels that affection he always had for the kid come back full force, all babyish smiles and hints of wisdom he don’t think even jay knows he has. tyler will miss him. he gets that now. wishes blindly and with all his heart that there were three seats on the motorcycle, even if the thought of sharing ma with jay was nauseating just an hour ago. 

tyler trudges back to his world, leaving jay to his own. greets sharon with a weary look, disillusioned like he hasn’t been in a long time. no longer is he excited to be the only one left. misses his brothers, both of ‘em, like hell. but at least he’s got ma, his sole purpose for as long as he can remember. something nettles him about that. maybe it’s just that jay taking off didn’t make him feel any better. 

that’s what he sticks with until one night at the church turns into two, and then three.