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valdeswan · 3 months

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36 year old KRS taking all his savings and buying a farm in a town in the middle of nowhere.

His line of work was a dangerous one, being a bodyguard for high-profile clients

After a job where KRS was blinded in one eye, he took the compensation money and his savings and quit.

His idea was to buy a small, nice house in a town far from the city. But LSH and CJS convinced him that he should buy a couple of acres and make it a farm. Their argument was something about how he should keep himself busy with something to avoid getting into trouble.

Bullshit. If you ask him. But they made him promise that after a three-hour session of them yapping, he only managed to convince them to buy something smaller. There is still a lot of space for only one person (for now)

They made him promise that once they retire, he would give them a room at the farm. KRS sometimes wonders why they tend to ask obvious questions.

The land was acquired at a low price due to its condition: weeds everywhere, rocks, and a two-story old wooden house with leaks.

He wouldn't have bought it if it weren't for the fact that the previous owner had told him he had completely redone the plumbing and wiring a few years earlier.

The only thing Roksoo carried with him when he arrived at his new residence was a bag with clothes and another with his few precious belongings: books, a coffee machine that his coworkers gave him for his birthday, and his pillow.

The moment he set foot on his new property, Roksoo kind of regretted it all because of the work the property needed. He was aware of the condition of the house when he moved in, but for some reason he thought it would be easy. Never again.

He blames LSH and CJS for putting ideas in his head about moving to a farm; this wasn't his idea about living like a slacker. He could do nothing but sigh and enter the house.

The first step creaked as he walked on it; he avoided stepping on the second one, which was obviously rotten. The board on the third and final step creaked and broke. KRS cursed and fell into the hole. He had scratches all over his calf when he managed to get his leg out of the hole.

KRS wondered if he should have been less stingy when it came to shelling out money to buy the property. It's not like he couldn't afford it; he wasn't as rich as he would have liked to be, but he wasn't lacking either.

There was nothing he could do now, so he simply sighed again and opened the creaking door. A cloud of dust made him cough and step back.

KRS mentally thanks the previous owner, who was kind enough to leave him his old tools in the shed. He left his bags on the floor and went to look for a broom to clean the interior to make it minimally habitable for the night.

Sexy Ahjussy activities. Imagine a tall, buff, black-haired middle-aged man with an eye scar🗣️🗣️🗣️🔥🔥🦅🦅🦅

#he is gonna colect people and make them work for him #“they work for me so is not like they really like me” type of angst #even if LSH and CJS are not dead #he still has trust issues and push people away #im gonna eat a stupid amount of stardew valley fanfics to write this #because im obviously a city creature #and the only two plants that i had in my life died after two weeks because i forgot about them #he kind of gets the happy ending #if you ignore the fact that he lost an eye #the children are here in some point I promise #cale henituse #kim roksoo #kim rok soo #tcf #lcf #trash of the count's family #lout of the count’s family #krs farmer

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jade-of-mourning · 4 months

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jobs

Mako is five; Naoki puts her hands on his shoulders and tells him that Mama and Baba are both busy today, and can he do a job for her? Yes! Mako is small and eager and so determined to be serious and responsible. Your job is to take care of your brother today, okay? And Mako nods and Naoki leaves, and he reaches on his toes to grab the jook off the counter when Bolin wakes and cries, and methodically shovels the food into his tiny baby brother's mouth when it drops open, and watches him while he's sleeping to make sure he doesn't choke on all the drool slipping out.

Mako is six; San and Naoki dress him up in a too-big uniform that will soon be well-worn and grow stitched-over tears again and again, and tell him it's his job to go to school — to learn, to get the education he needs to go further in life than they ever did. He applies himself to this job with dedication, swallowing the knowledge spewing from his teacher's mouth like iced babaozhou on hot summer days, turning the numbers in his head and marveling at how they fit together so perfectly.

Mako is eight; San hastily wraps his scarf around Mako's neck and tells him his job is to run away from this alley and find help and to not look back. There are tears in his eyes and he's scared, but Baba told him it's his job, so he turns away and he runs away from the alley. The screaming starts and Mako looks back, mesmerized by the flames lighting up the dark narrow walls closing in on him and framing his parents' silhouettes as they hit the gravel, frozen by the scent of burning hair carried to his nose by the smokey wind, terrified by the way the man grips his mother's limp body and groans.

(It's the first time Mako fails a job. The consequences are ceaseless. He resolves to himself that he will never, ever fail another job, because he will never unsee this night.)

Bolin is sobbing as they stand in the police station, shaking in Mako's arms. The police officer hauls his little brother off of him, tells him that he needs to recount what happened in a metal room that echoes too much. Mako can't bring himself to speak, his voice caught in his throat, and every time he tries to open his mouth, he chokes and feels like he might vomit all over these pristine floors, so he can't get anything out. Eventually, the officer gives him a sheet of paper and lets him attempt to write out what he can in shaky characters, and sends him back to his brother, still sobbing in the lobby. He holds onto Bolin like it's the first time he's ever touched a person, and remembers what Naoki told him when he was five: Your job is to take care of your brother.

Mako is nine; he is thin and small and alone, putting his food on Bolin's plate when the orphanage staff doesn't watch and holding Bolin at night when he cries. He fights the kids who make fun of Bolin's inability to stop crying at the right times — always with fists, never with fire, but the matron still tells him that he needs to control himself, because firebenders are dangerous. (Mako already knows that.) He's silent and detached, but it's enough for Bolin, until the day a couple comes to take Bolin away from him. Mako can't take care of his brother if Bolin is adopted, so that night, he takes Bolin and runs, and does not look back.

Mako keeps Bolin safe on the streets. He finds places to hide at night, away from the police that might come to take them away, away from the gangs that might try to recruit them. He collects newspaper and cardboard that they can sleep on, begs for scraps during the day and steals from the dumpsters during night to keep them fed. He teaches himself to learn apathy as fire sprouts to life in his palms for the first time in a year, learns to fight other street kids who are just as desperate as them and willing to do whatever it takes to survive, rust on his tongue and gold in his eyes. He fights and fights and fights to stay alive, to keep going despite the temptation induced by weariness — to take care of his brother.

Mako is ten; the cotton mill is always hiring kids to spin and weave to make the clothing that the people of Republic City wear, and searching in the dumpster isn't enough to feed their starving stomachs turned inside-out. The job cuts his fingers open on the vast machines, leaves him sweating like he's in the sweltering heat of the Fire Nation despite being the midst of winter; sends him crawling into the spaces between all the deafening, rattling creatures, because he's one of the smallest kids there, lanky bones and hollow skin and utterly pathetic. It's the first paid job Mako ever works, and every yuan dropped into his palm at the end of the week goes into the layers of his ratty clothes or into feeding their starving stomachs turned inside-out. At night, he bends the heat off of his body to keep them warm inside earth tents erected in the back of narrow alleys, slipping out of himself and forgetting.

Mako is eleven; Bolin is thin and sick and won't get better no matter how hard Mako tries to keep the fever down, and Mako sells himself. The job at the factory doesn't pay enough fast enough for him to afford help, even with the yuans he's been saving up since getting the job, and he can't do two jobs at the same time because there's not enough time in the day. Naoki has always told them to do good, to never get involved in crime, because Mako can't afford that if he ever wants to be someone. He hears about it from the other desperate street kids who say that there's decent upfront pay, and he's desperate. Afterwards, he doesn't limp back to the alley where he told Bolin to wait, instead hiding behind a sleazy bar and digging the heels of his hands into his eyes as he throws up bile and cries and tries to not lose himself to the haze. He hates himself more than he's ever hated someone in his life, aches. It doesn't pay quite enough for him to justify. Every minute now, Bolin is closer to death, and Mako's job is to take care of his brother. He turns to the triads.

(And he feels selfish, because he knows that it's because he can't bear the gross feeling crawling all over him, but. But.)

Mako's first job for the Triads is to run numbers, the delivery boy intermediating the transfer of drunkards' bets. He collects the slips and money, sliding between cigarettes and alcohol and sex, heady from the money dropped in his hands after reaching headquarters. Bolin is finally sleeping inside of walls and breathing easier and Mako feels a stark relief inside of him at the sight of his little brother's peace.

He bookkeeps when Shady Shin smokes too much and slips the numbers over to him, crunches numbers in an instant to ensure that odds are best turned in the gambler's favor if they're in the Triple Threats. People take notice of the way numbers flow in his head and slide some cash his way to use him, and Mako is filled with shame as he remembers his parents sending him to school to get the education he needs to go further in life than they ever did, filled with shame for using that education to fall further in life than they ever did.

He runs messages during drug transactions, stands on lookout during late-night raids. He fights fire with fire when he's told, a fierce intensity burning in his bones, vicious and biting until Viper takes the man out. He refuses to let Bolin get too involved, because there's a roof over their heads and real food in their stomachs, and Mako can handle keeping it this way alone.

Mako is twelve; lightning courses through his fingers and burns through his veins. Zolt catches the bolt and shoots it into the sky, matches his eyes to the seriousness and utter determination in the grimy kid's eyes. Mako is twelve, unrelenting and tenacious to take care of his brother, and all-too-easily forgets to be a person when his brother's safety comes into question. The separation of chi is easy, and Zolt laughs as he conjures up the lightning again and again and again, throwing it back and forth like a dangerous game of catch. He is unparalleled in age, but unknown to the world above the dirt he grew up as.

Mako is thirteen; he closes his eyes and sends cold fire into cold water.

(The scent of burnt hair is floating through the air over the dying screams hitting his ears, but Mako will not be sick.)

Mako is fifteen; he and Bolin are living in the attic of the pro-bending arena, under a conditional that demands them to fight and win. They sweep the arena floors each night after all the dizzy spectators have poured themselves out onto the streets like fish into the bay; they scrub the bathrooms and sinks and inspect the hundreds of seats for remnants of their ever-changing occupants. His job is to become a pro-bender — one that can win the tournament by the time they meet the age qualifications. He trains day-in and day-out; batters back the urge to fight low and dirty; learns to use the distance called for on the floor; refines his flame to be more precise, less raw.

He finds another job at the lightning-bending powerplant, where he can make money while they train up to enter the tournament. They hire him promptly, Mako fulfilling the criteria of performing the relatively uncommon task, and despite the exhaustion weighing down his bones at the end of each shift, he's paid more than he ever was as a ten-year-old spinning cotton between deafening factory machines. They still need to buy groceries, still need to eat and save up money — because even though they currently have a place in the arena while they clean and train, nothing stays.

Mako is seventeen; his job is to win the pro-bending tournament, and Hasook doesn't turn up. They can't participate if they don't have a waterbender. Mako bites his tongue until he tastes rust and narrows his gold eyes and feels a panic crawling up his spine; there are consequences for failing to do the job.

And there is a girl, bright and blazing and clad in blue, and she fights for them without gravity. She's the Avatar and she's terrible at following rules she doesn't know, and they are beaten down, and Mako thinks that it's over — until something clicks within her.

(Mako's life will never be the same.)

The first time Mako has a job that he truly loves without reservation is when he joins the Republic City Police Force, a job that means something more to him. Something he feels redeems himself as a desperate kid on the streets, unable to do anything to help himself, something he feels can help the desperate kids on the streets he used to be. Lin Beifong offers him an application after seeing his work with Korra despite knowing his past in running with the Triads; tells him that he's a good fighter, that he's got a good head on his shoulders and that she'd like him to stay on the right side of the law for it. Tells him that the job pays well, searching his eyes, and he knows he needs a steady way to take care of his brother. Deep down he's always known that pro-bending isn't sustainable, just an opportunity to be something more than the orphan, the scrappy firebending street-rat, the lightning-bending gangster. He applies himself to the job like he's done with every job in the past, a vigor and determination coursing through his veins to do right, and for once, he feels that he's succeeded.

(Mako is twenty-one; his arm is wrapped in a sling, and the city that chewed him up and spat him out is in absolute ruin around him. He's indefinitely suspended from the police force because Beifong refuses to let him work while he's still healing, and there's a gaping hole in his life that he's always filled with needing to do one job or another. Bolin looks at Mako shut in his empty apartment's bedroom, losing himself after his suspension.

You've made it your job your entire life to take care of me, Bolin tells him, swallowing hard. But I'm okay now, don't you see? You can rest now. You don't need to work right now.

But —

No. Bolin is firm. It's my turn to take on this job. Let me take care of my brother.)

my ao3 (not posted there… yet?)

i accidentally spontaneously manifested this in three hours. um. i dunno if i want this on ao3 or not cuz i was planning to just write a silly tumblr post going "do you ever think about how mako has been working his entire life" and it accidentally became 2.1k words. it's a little bit scuffed. it's almost 3:00 AM and i haven't proofread. hope it's cohesive! apologies if not lmfao

(i wrote one completely different paragraph last night, then i was suddenly fixed by a need to write more just now :P)

#lychee's word trash #mako lok #mako tlok #there's some very-mildly-implied but-very-seriously Messed Up stuff here #just be careful yeah :thumbsup:#gutter in a toxic storm

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