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sp0o0kylights · 9 months

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Part One / Part Two / Part Three (you're here)/ Part Four

A03

It ain’t much.” Wayne started, half-curious if the sight of his trailer would be the thing to offend Steve’s (so far lacking) born-rich sensibilities.

Of course turning to look at the kid proved he was in his own head about this more than Steve was, because Steve had his eyes closed and looked two seconds away from puking.

Right.

Pain management.

“I’ll get your stuff.” Wayne said as he guided the truck to its usual parking spot.

Steve’s quiet ‘okay’ had him hustling a little bit, and the fact he had to gently guide the kid’s hand off his bag handle told him it was the right choice.

The nailbat could wait in the car for the moment he figured, as he led Harrington in. He’d get it sorted once he’d fished out the pain pills and gotten Steve settled a bit.

"Eds--he's my nephew that I told you about--has the bedroom, so you and I get to share out here." Wayne explained as he loaded Steve up on Tylenol and put a bag of frozen peas in his hand, not bothering to give a tour of the trailer.

It was pretty damn clear which door led to the bathroom and which didn’t, given Ed’s door was wide open.

Steve peeked at the absolute chaos strewn about beyond the doorframe but didn’t say nothing of it.

Didn’t, in fact, even look too long, instead sitting at the table as directed.

Seemed to sink a little into it, leaning an elbow on the cheap wood to help keep his head up.

"The couch is a pull out, but I'll warn you the bar across the middle is nasty. I usually sleep on the cot over there," Wayne nodded to where it was rolled neatly against the opposite wall, "but given the state of you, I'll let ya have your pick."

Steve blinked (or winked, not like Wayne could tell since the peas were pressed against half of his face) finally seeming to perk up a bit. "I can't take your bed."

"I'm not going to fight you for it, I'm just offering." Wayne responded, now focused on trying to locate the bandages in his ancient medical kit.

The one on Steve's hand was falling apart, and he didn't like the look of the injury he could see under it.

Yeah, Wayne was absolutely going to need to make a run to the store.

“Lemme see.” He asked as he finally got what he wanted.

It seemed to take Harrington a minute to process what Wayne wanted, but he finally held out his injured hand, watching as Wayne unwrapped the bandages.

"I'll take the couch." Steve said stubbornly, but Wayne was past it, too busy frowning at the kid's hand.

It took him a moment, once he'd gotten it all off, to properly realize what he was seeing--that the mottled bruising on Steve's wrist was separate from the cut across his palm.

In fact, it looked a hell of a lot like…

Wayne paused, then pretended to fuss with the dirty bandages for a moment while his eyes sought out Steve's other wrist.

Sure enough, matching bruises.

Someone had tied the kid up--and it hadn’t been the feds, because these bruises were partially healed.

Wayne had initially thought of Steve as having been tortured in the same way roving bands of neighborhood kids tortured their peers. The kind of hurt that came when it was an unfair fight; four on one and wielding knives, so you had to take what you were given and pray you didn't get stabbed.

He was not thinking actual, honest to God torture.

Yet here the evidence was, plain as day.

'What the hell went down in that mall.'

Someone as young as Steve shouldn't have been caught up in it, and it made a deep part of Wayne ache for the poor kid across from him.

All this shit, and his parents still couldn't be bothered to come home.Just left him on his own, as if it was another Tuesday.

Did they even know? Wayne wondered as he got to work. Had Steve, or Hopper, or anyone tried to call them about the mallfire? Let them know their son got hurt?

Jim said he hadn’t bothered to reach out regarding the spooks, but that had been a week or so later past the fire.

Wayne couldn’t even imagine it.

Getting a call that Eddie been involved in such a thing would have him off the couch in an instant, and the image that played on the news, the ones all the reporters talked over of a gurney being wheeled out of Starcourt’s on fire front doors…

He’d have been a wreck until he had his kid in his sights.

‘Nothing you can do for that,’ Wayne figured silently, ‘but you can help him now.’

Wayne wasn't exactly an expert when it came to wound care, but like many people who just couldn't afford to go to a doctor he'd gotten by.

Learned a lot of home remedies. Figured out pretty quick when something needed to be seen by an expert and when you could hold off.

Made friends with some of the local nurses on the night shift down at the Red Barn, well enough that a few well baked treats and dishes could sometimes be traded for looking over a potentially broken arm or two.

It had come in handy plenty, given Ed’s ability to attract trouble, but thankfully he’d never managed to hurt himself like this.

He’d never even gotten caught in a bad fight.

A black eye or two sure, but the kid had adapted his “scary” act not too long after Wayne had gotten him, and it seemed to work as intended. It was half the reason Wayne never said anything about it (and hell, even let Eddie take his ancient leather motorcycle jacket.) .

All of that was to say that he could tell Harrington's hand needed cleaning before it could be rebandaged, but didn't appear to need stitches.

Course pouring alcohol all over an injury like this wasn't exactly going to be fun, and he told Steve as such.

"I know." Steve replied, with a grimace. The kid’s injuries seemed to be getting to him, and Wayne anticipated he was going to drop here the second Wayne was done looking him over.

He hoped Harrington could get in a few hours--particularly before Eddie came home.

Wayne gently wiped it clean, noting how well Steve sat given the amount of pain he had to be in.

Tylenol, even given the more than recommended amount he'd given Steve, just wasn't going to cut it.

Not in general, and definitely not for this.

What could help was likely something Eds had, which was yet another conversation Wayne wasn't looking forward to having.

Particularly given that Eds had sworn off selling hard drugs after his last encounter with Hopper, and Wayne knew damn well that had only lasted until the damn kid caught sight of an overdue bill.

Too smart for his own good, Eddie was.

"I can give you something to bite down on, if you like." Wayne said to Steve, getting the alcohol and bandages ready to go.

He got a tight smile in response. "So long as you don't use a needle, I'm good."

And Wayne figured it was just teenager talk--a young man who didn't really know how bad this was going to be, and prepared himself to hold Steve's arm down accordingly so they wouldn't have to do it twice.

"Four." Wayne counted down. "Three. Two."

He poured on two.

Better that than Steve clenching up in anticipation.

Steve hissed, arm jerking, but stilled it under his own power as Wayne began dabbing his hand with some of the medkit’s wipes.

He felt his eyebrow raise as Harrington froze himself in place, breathing in a way that felt practiced.

This, Wayne decided, was not Steve's first rodeo.

"Almost done." He promised softly as he finished wrapping the wound back up, this time in the pattern he'd been shown long ago.

"Thanks." Steve said, blinking rapidly.

The kid's eyes were wet, but he didn't let a tear fall, and that perked Wayne's attention more than anything.

Some men felt they weren't allowed to cry--and pushed the same ideals on their sons.

It wouldn't surprise him any if Richard Harrington was one of them.

"I know you got hit more than just your hands and face kid." Wayne said, after letting Steve have a moment to recover. "You bleeding under that shirt?"

"Not bleeding." Steve murmured, looking more and more like he was struggling to stay upright now that the worst part was over. "I think my hand got the worst of it."

"Do I want to know what happened there?" Wayne asked, keeping his voice calm and non judgemental.

Like they were back to talking sports.

"I fell back into a broken window.” Steve responded, and now that Wayne had seen the kid lie, it was easy to see when he was telling the truth.

"Ouch." Wayne said flatly. Which made that hint of a smile flash across Steve's face.

"I'll cut you a deal. I taped last weekend's game, but haven't had time to watch it yet. I figure you might not have had a chance neither." He sat back, nailing Harrington with a no-nonsense stare. "You let me take a look at what they did to your chest n' back there, and I'll put it on."

Steve just looked at him a little miserably, a beaten dog still hesitant to wag its tail. "I don't think there's anything you can do for it, it's really mostly bruised. Nothing feels broken though."

"You know what broken ribs feel like?" Wayne questioned partially out of curiosity but mostly to make sure.

Teenage boys loved to think themselves immortal after all.

Or at least his did.

"Cracked, but yeah." Steve admitted. "Couldn't finish out the year on the basketball team because of it."

He said it like it didn't hurt, but Wayne knew better.

Boy like Steve?

He'd bet big bills something like basketball was all the kid really had, in terms of positive relationships.

(Except apparently, whatever had made Hopper decide to look after him.)

"I mostly just wanna make sure nothing looks like it's broken or bleeding internally son." Wayne said, then tried to cinch it with some good old guilt tripping. "I'd hate to have to tell Hopper that after all he went through to keep you safe, you up and died on my couch."

"Hey, it might save him some future gray hairs." Steve responded but he looked a little more open to the idea, at least.

It took a bit more coaxing, but Wayne finally got the kid to take his shirt off.

The damage had him whistling out of instinct.

A fucking artist had gone to town on his torso, with bruised of all shades parading around to his left side.

Thankfully most of it didn't hold that deep, dark tone that indicated any kind of bleeding, his back had scratches and road rash, and his shoulder had one long, thin line that looked a hell of a lot like Steve had narrowly avoided getting cut with a knife.

"You got lucky, kid." Wayne told him.

Steve let out a shaky breath. "I know."

He hesitated, then opened his mouth, a question clear on his face.

Which of course, was the exact moment Eddie chose to walk through the door.

"Hey old man, I--Harrington!?"

"Munson?" Steve said, looking just as confused. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here?" Eddie had frozen in their little entryway, so close the door nearly whacked him on the ass as it slammed closed.

Privately, Wayne cursed his nephew's awful timing.

"What are you doing here?" Eddie challenged back, and it was only years of Wayne knowin’ the kid to see he was struggling to decide how he wanted to react.

“Uh…” Steve said, trailing off and looking pointedly at Wayne.

Eddie saw this just as he registered all of Steve’s injuries. “Shit Wayne, did you hit him with your car?”

“Don’t try to be funny, boy.” Wayne warned. There wasn’t much bite there, and Eddie, far too used to him, didn’t take it seriously.

Eddie was glued to the spot, eyes narrowing, “... Did Harrington hit the car with his fuckin’ face? Jesus christ.”

Wayne could tell he was struggling to pull one of his usual little bits, eyes too wide and voice too high.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Eddie.”

“We can take him out back and shoot him, put the poor bastard out of his misery.” Eddie continued, like a runaway train.

All gas, no breaks.

It was a joke but a poor one, and it made Steve straighten out of his sideways slant.

‘Dammit.’ Wayne thought with a sigh.

He needed to stop this now, before the two of them went for each other's throats.

“Since you already know each other I won’t bother with introductions.” Wayne cut in, before Eddie could blow up like a tea kettle--or cause Harrington to do the same. “Steve’s gonna be staying with us for a while.”

That of course, got the reaction Wayne had been hoping to avoid.

Eddie stood stunned for a second, mouth gaping like a fish.

“Why!?” He finally landed on, seeming both at a loss for words, and equally trying not to have a proper meltdown in front of Steve.

Certainly wasn’t for Wayne’s benefit.

"I'm…" Steve glanced at Wayne a second time, "...on vacation?"

It took everything Wayne had in him not to run a hand down his face.

He was going to give Harrington a pass, on account of the head trauma.

"You’re vacationing here.”Eddie’s tone was flat, but seething, like a lit fuse. “In my living room?”

“...Yeah?” He finished poorly tone up-ticking at the end like it was a question. “It’s a--college thing. Supposed to help my applications.”

This time, Wayne did run a hand down his face this time.

God save him from idiot teenagers.

Hands clenched tight, Eddie took an aborted glance to the right before shaking his head hard and scoffing. At least it let Wayne know exactly what his kid was thinking.

To Eddie’s right was the counter where Wayne kept the bills.

Before he realized just how badly Ed’s daddy had messed him up about such things, Wayne hadn’t bothered to hide the bills that were past due. Turns out the kid noticed such things, and worry over money had been the leading factor in more than one of Eddie’s run-ins with Hop.

Clearly, he thought it was the cause of Wayne entertaining this bullshit.

Offense was written in every rigid line of his body, and Wayne knew betrayal wasn’t gonna be far behind.

“What the hell Wayne!” Eddie spat, taking a singular step forward, the accent he tried so hard to hide growing thicker the madder he got. “We’re not a damn experiment--why would you agree to that!?”

He had seconds to salvage this, before Ed’s ran and did something dumb.

“‘Steve’s here cause I owe Hopper a favor.” Wayne answered honestly, standing to put himself between the two. “He reminded me of all the times he’s been good to you, and then he called it in. Now,”

He cut Eddie off before his rant could pick up steam and bowl them all over. “I need you both to listen to me. Steve, I need Eddie to know the basics in order to keep you safe. I’ll only tell him what he needs to hear to understand why that is.”

Steve stared at him for a moment, catching Wayne’s eye as the elder man positioned himself so he could see both boys at once.

“Okay.” Steve said, dropping the hesitant tone for something serious.

Eddie said nothing, crossing his arms tightly over his chest and gripping the edges of his jacket hard enough to leave creases.

Judging that as good enough, Wayne continued. “He’s not here on vacation, Ed’s. Hopper has asked us to house Steve for a bit due to an ongoing situation. It’s a dangerous one, and it’s important you do not tell anyone that Steve is here.”

Eddie’s mouth did the thing it did when he desperately wanted to say something, but Wayne held up a finger in the universal “wait.” position.

“Let me finish.” He warned, and though he caught a hell of a glare for it, Eddie remained silent.

“Right now I need you to trust me, son.” He said softly, and prayed that alone was enough for now. “I don’t do things without a good reason behind it. I know you know that. Let me get Steve settled, and I’ll come talk to you.”

He could go in depth a little more, outside of Harrington’s eyesight. There Eddie would be inclined to drop the parts of his personality he put on blast as a defense mechanism, and ideally, Steve could get the sleep he so desperately needed.

“It’ll be tight, but we’ll all get through this so long as you two keep your heads. “You both got plenty of problems right now on your own, you don’t need to add to it. You understand?”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed dramatically as he sucked in a deep breath.

“Fine.” He snarled, letting air hiss through his clenched teeth. “As long as King Dick here can keep himself out of my shit.”

Steve didn’t rise to the bait--or perhaps, was simply too tired to want to do anything but exit the conversation.

‘Yes Sir.” He said instead, and Wayne didn’t bother correcting him that time. Simply clocked the title as a nervous tick of Steve’s and let himself feel that brief pang of sorrow that he’d caused the kid to backslide a bit trust wise.

No use for it, though.

Not if he wanted peace in his home.

“Good.” Wayne said.

Eddie stormed past, beeling towards his room.

The door closed with an angry slam, the sound echoing throughout the trailer.

Steve reacted like a puppet with its strings cut, letting out his own breath and going right back to slumping sideways.

“Come on kid.” Wayne said quietly. “I think it’s beyond time you got to lay down. Let’s get you a shirt and some blankets.”

Steve didn’t say a word, just managed to get himself up and over to the couch, fumbling for his bag.

“Oh.” He said after a moment, pulling a green sweater from the duffel and blinking dully at it. “Shit--I mean, shoot.” He shot a guilty look to Wayne, like Eddie hadn’t just sworn up a storm in front of them both.

“What’s the matter?” Wayne just asked.

“It’s nothing, I just-- grabbed the wrong bag.” Steve told him earnestly. It was clear the day had taken a hard toll on him, because he was blinking rapidly, fighting away sleep.

A bad sign, given the energy Eddie had just come in with.

It should be taking him longer to feel safe to drop off, and that he was doin’ so anyway was a bad testament to the state of him.

“You need a different one?”

Steve shook his head. “No this is just my grab bag for the Upsi-errrm.” He hummed, before falling silent for a minute.

Wayne let him fish for words at his leisure.

“These are just clothes that I couldn’t get stains out of, kept them as backups.” Steve managed, before beginning the long process of pulling a shirt on.

Wayne almost offered to help, except he knew he’d likely be rejected. It was too soon, the trust between them not there yet.

He almost let the clothing comment go, figured it as just one of those things the brain did when it was injured and run down. The sweater Steve was struggling with was expensive and soft, and Wayne didn’t even see a stain until the poor kid finally finished getting it on.

He nearly froze, for the second time that day, when he did.

On one sleeve, smeared like Steve had wiped his face with it, was a bloodstain.

This one was old, and clearly attempts had been made to get it out.

‘Aw kid.’ He thought, staring at Steve as the kid managed to swing himself up on the couch, looking seconds away from dropping off. ‘What the hell has life done to you.’

It didn’t take long before sleep took him, but Wayne watched over him for a bit longer anyway, working up to what the hell he was going to tell his kid.

Eddie might very well not forgive him for this, but Wayne had a shot now to head things off before they got worse.

He just had to find the right words.

#small town rumors #steddie #pre steddie #wayne pov #outsider pov #wayne munson is a bamf #hey look eddie showed up!#little shit FOUGHT ME and is still fighting me a bit in the next chapter #I need him to quit being an asshole and go into more of that hurt/comfort section of this fic #hurt/comfort #enemies to lovers #sorta #its on a03 noooowstranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #0o0 fanfics #beat to shit steve harrington

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spirk-trek · 2 months

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imagine amanda watching how mothers on vulcan share a telepathic bond with their children and not being able to do this for spock

imagine how it would break her heart, how she might worry they'll never connect when she sees a mother touching her daughter's face or holding her son's hand with purpose, without words

imagine spock melding with her as soon as he's able, showing her he loves her because he can't say it, he'll never be able to say it

imagine her being so proud of her little boy for researching and teaching himself to meld with a non-telepath just for her, all for her

holding him after when he's so exhausted he goes boneless in her arms and she strokes his hair and thanks him

and he mumbles something about it being illogical to thank him before falling asleep and she holds his little hand and feels the tiniest sparks of love still there, so small she might've imagined them before he's snoring softly

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skialdi · 2 years

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Sometimes, you just need a hug (whether you realize it or not)

If you’ve seen Stargate Atlantis, you may recognize this scene. I just had to draw it with Quinlan and Obi-wan. It was too perfect.

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cillianhead · 7 months

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thighs in my mouth please 👄👈

that’s all…

#please #i just need him more than anything #I CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE #cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #cillian x reader #peaky blinders #cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy fanfic #peaky blinders imagine

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flyolai-brainrot · 14 days

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i'm gonna need bram to have a suguru moment and take control of his body back to save aya

#i'm delusional in thinking this can happen but #i can dream #and hope for soft heart breaking fanfics and fanarts #i needed so many more chapters of him being a father figure #asagiri why do you hate us #bram stoker #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd 114.5 #bungou stray dogs 114.5 #bsd spoilers #bungou stray dogs spoilers #bsd aya #bram stoker bsd

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kisses4kaia · 8 months

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in my feelings - tommy shelby

summary; you hate tommy shelby. tommy shelby hates you. from the way he walks to the way he talks, you hate him. and from the same things, he hates you, too. infinitely. imagine your dread when you are put in a position where you are forced to gain thomas’ help.

warnings; smut, angst, enemies to lovers, angry sex, rough sex, piv, and all around dirty fucking filthhhh, oh yeah and a shit tom of cursing☺️

a/n; angsty enemy’s to lovers with tommy shelby?? me thinks yes

PART TWO OUT NOW -

as your father tells you that he has to sell the farm you grew up on, the soil that held so many memories, the land that raised you to be the woman you are today, your heart broke into a million pieces.

because, see, without the land, there would be no places for your horses or other beloved animals to go, meaning you would have to sell them, too.

when the tears began taking a seemingly permanent residency in your eyes, he pulls you into a hug. “no, no, there has to be another way!”

and as the tears stained your fathers coat, he spoke. “there is one thing,”

and that is exactly how you got here. sat across from your mortal enemy since your schoolgirl days, tommy shelby, in his office.

he had that stupid, smug, annoyingly hot, smirk on his face.

“so, you’re telling me, that you need to marry me,” he practically laughed in your face.

“i don’t need to marry you, the farm does. if we get married, then a portion of your income goes to my family. and then, after saving enough, if everything goes right, we can get divorced and we never have to speak again.” you explained.

he nodded. “okay. say i do accept this outrageous proposal, what’s in it for me?”

you figured he may ask that. “my late mothers brother is the chief of police in birmingham. i can make a few calls, get them on your payroll, only without the pay.”

“but i am paying, aren’t i?” he furrowed his eyebrows and nodded once, making a statement more than a question.

he’s a smart man, so you figured he may say that, too. and here came the most humiliating part.

with a sigh, you spoke. “as my husband, you can… have me whenever you want,” you memorized what you were going to say earlier when it came to this, and only spoke from that script.

your voice was low, static, the humiliation of having any emotion in your voice would be too unbearable.

you honestly couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth and apparently, neither could tommy.

you weren’t so bothered by the prospect of fucking thomas, as much as you hated to admit it. it was just knowing that he would definitely hold it over you to the worlds end.

“you’re so desperate to save this farm, that you would let me fuck you whenever i want, however i want? if i pay you? you do realize that’s the definition of whoring?” he was genuinely amused at your proposition.

you scoffed, in disbelief kf his immaturity. “yes, i do realize, thomas. and yes, i really am desperate,”

he seemed to be in thought for a moment before speaking. “and what makes you think i want to fuck you? you’re really so narcissistic?”

you genuinely laughed at this. “you’re one to talk about narcissistic. and you’ll fuck just about anything that moves, i can’t imagine i’d be much of an exception,”

thomas chuckled lowly at this, his face seemingly challenging you. you wouldn’t let yourself be bullied, so you straightened your posture and finally asked. “so?” your voice was flat, almost disinterested.

he stared at your face for a few moments, like he was trying to break past your stoned demeanor.

“alright. we have a deal.” he confirmed. you nodded, fighting back happy tears.

as he held his hand out to shake, you glanced at it once with a silent decline.

“what, you’re ok with letting me fuck you like a whore whenever i want but you don’t want to shake my hand?” he stood, and because you wouldn’t let him have power over you- ironically enough- you stood, too.

“i didn’t realize you were so sensitive, shelby,” you spoke up.

“and i didn’t realize you were so headstrong, shelby,” he enunciated the last word, letting the epiphany set in for you.

oh god, you were going to be a shelby. for at least a few months, you were going to be a shelby.

you tried to make peace with the fact, but the it was just gnawing at you that all of this was plain unfair.

nonetheless, you shook his hand.

—

“what’s she doing here?” arthur’s thick accent sounded throughout the room.

tommy decided it’d be best for you to be there when he informed his family of the arrangement.

“well, brother. that is because she is my soon-to-be wife,” he cut straight to the chase and your eyes widened at his directness

polly nearly spat out her tea, john bursted out laughing, and the whole room was generally in an uproar.

ada, too, was puzzled, but quickly sedated the energy in the room with a loud “shut the fuck up and listen to the man!”

you were sat on a chair next to thomas’ standing body, not speaking.

“you two are getting married? you two? has hell frozen over? can pigs now fly?” john joked, but was serious in his disbelief. and he was right to. it wasn’t a secret that…

it all started in year nine. tommy was a 10th year and obnoxiously ‘cool’. he would hang out with the secondary school boys, sleep with their sisters, and torture anyone who’d let him, and most people did.

he was smart, but so were you, and you would not let him.

you were the only 9th year at the top of a predominantly year 10 class, tommy being a close second.

see, the shelby boy wasn’t used to anybody being better than him in any sense, but you made him get used to it.

he couldn’t stand you. from your way-too-short plaid skirts, to the way your hand would shoot up at every question asked.

he hated how he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you in class when you had your hair tied up in a pretty ponytail, gnawing on the eraser of your pencil, your eyebrows twisting in confusion when you couldn’t figure out an answer on a test.

just looking so innocent.

and most of all, he hated the nights he spent with his hand wrapped around his aching cock, whispering your name to himself like a prayer until he came hot strings of cum all over his heavy chest.

tommy rolled his eyes at his family’s immaturity. “it’s an arrangement. she needs money, and her uncle is the chief of police. we can take the coppers off our payroll,”

he left out a small detail but you weren’t complaining.

“after a few months, we’ll get a divorce and we can forget we ever crossed paths.” you spoke for the first time in the meeting.

the transaction seemed simple enough to most people in the room, and they all seemed to accept it.

“anyone have a problem with it? speak now or forever hold your peace,” he called out to the room, waiting for a potential objection.

and one never came. “alright, family meeting adjourned,” tommy waved everyone out of the room.

—

the weeks leading up to the wedding felt like they went on forever.

polly dragged you by your wrist to what seemed like a million different modistes and boutiques, dress shops and spas.

it was exhausting, but in bad there is good.

ada became your closest friend. she was the only person who knew about the other condition to you and tommy’s matrimony.

you were friends even as schoolgirls, despite you and thomas’ disdain for each other.

and now she was your best friend, and you felt inclined to make her your maid of honor.

the hours before the wedding were the worst of it. at least six women were in the room at all time, scrutinizing you to the moon and to saturn. they studied and judged every crevice and line on your face and body.

after being poked and prodded at for forever, it was finally time to walk down the aisle and see your soon-to-be husband.

you were in an over the top, yet elegant gown, the purest color of white you’d ever seen, with a sheer veil covering your face.

you did look quite beautiful, you thought as you looked in the mirror. but you couldn’t help but begin to cry.

you cried because you thought the day you’d see yourself in white would be under much different circumstances. you wanted to marry someone you loved, and for that someone to love you, too. and lord knows, thomas shelby did not love you.

even despite your own feelings for him.

ada came up from behind you in the floor mirror and rested her head upon your shoulder. “you look beautiful,” she spoke, noticing, yet disregarding your tears.

“thank you,” you sniffled. “it will all be okay. i spoke to tommy, he’ll treat you well, i promise,”

her words provided some much needed console to you. “thank you, addy. i wouldn’t have made it had you not been with me. thank you, and love you,” you turned to look at her face.

she just smiled and hugged you. “in less than an hour, we’ll officially be sisters. that should prove some motivation to get your ass down that aisle!” she exclaimed, already tugging on your arm to leave the room and enter the chapel.

you laughed and allowed her to pull you away, long since forgotten your woe.

—

“with the power invested in me, i now pronounce you man and wife. you may now kiss the bride!” the priest announced, signaling for you and tommy to get off of your knees and kiss.

as you both rose to your feet, thomas brought his face to yours in a seemingly disinterested kiss, it almost seemed practiced.

it caught you off guard, and caused a deep sadness in your belly, but you shut it down as ada, polly, esme, and all of the female shelby’s came to congratulate you.

you and your new husband were dragged outside to the car, destined for tommy’s estate, where festivities would begin.

the drive was short, and your patience was thinning, as you just wanted this all to be over.

you knew you were in for a long night as people began flooding into your new home.

and like every shelby-hosted event ever, an all-out rager-like party commenced.

thomas would not speak to you. unless, of course, somebody who was none the wiser to your contract would mention how in-love the two of you seemed. then he could not stop smiling at you, holding your waist tight, even sometimes kissing you.

you had never wanted to die more.

you must have drunk atleast eight glasses of champagne by the end of the night, just trying to get through it.

and that is how you spent the rest of the evening. you got through the first dance, you got through the kind old women talking about what an attractive couple you both made, and you got through seeing tommy flirt with other women at his own fucking wedding.

and at last, it finally came time for the party to end. you practically shoved people out of your door, ready to sleep in your no-doubtedly own bedroom.

you knew it was an arrangement, it was a tale as old as time, and yet you still couldn’t help but feel disappointed. nothing went the way you wanted, nothing. and at the end, all you had to show for it was a farm. it was actually kind of hilarious.

a maid hurriedly showed you where you’d be sleeping, and as you walked into the room, you realized it was indeed thomas’, with the way papers were stern all over the desk and the whiskey on the tray beside the bed.

she was gone before you could turn and ask any questions.

you groaned and sat down on the settee across the room from the bed, your dress making it impossible to see your feet as you tried to remove your heels.

your hair was next, pulling the many pins out of the intricate hairstyle.

you were almost out of this nightmare of a dress, before your zipper got stuck. “fuck,” you groaned.

“couldn’t wait for me before you started undressing?” your heard thomas’ deep voice from the door. he was teasing you, obviously, but you really weren’t in the mood for it.

“thomas, i’m tired. you try spending 8 hours in a dress of this size, then see if you want to tease me for trying to get out of it as soon as i can,” you quickly snapped back, and also quickly getting frustrated with the zipper.

he seemed to understand that you were not be messed with at the moment, so all he did was approach you, turn you around by your shoulders, and tug the zipper down until the dress pooled at your feet.

you hurriedly stepped out of it and sighed, feeling like the weight of the world was off of your shoulders.

“thank you, thomas,” you said contently, rubbing your shoulders, not realizing your compromising position.

you were half naked, only covered by your meticulously created and tailored white lingerie, and knee-high white socks.

apparently, thomas’ eyes could not force themselves to your face, because even as you realized his gawking and called him out for being so materialistic, he wasn’t seeming to follow what you were saying.

instead, all he did was walk over to you, place his hands on your waist like his life depended on it, and kissed you deeply, the kind of kissed you yearned for at the alter.

you almost got lost in it, before all the horrible memories of this past night came flooding in. you quickly pushed him away and slapped him right across his perfect cheekbones.

“fuck was that for?” he’s asked as if he was taken aback, yet made no effort to move away from you.

you scoffed with a laugh, but nothing was funny. “you know, i would be surprised had i not known you,”

“what are you talking about?” he seemed as though he was getting mad at you being mad, which you caught and fueled your anger further.

you got up in his face, sticking your finger in his chest and spoke condescendingly to him.

“you know, you could at least wait until after the fucking wedding to start to begin practically sticking your dick in every woman you see!”

“we never agreed on loyalty! that wasn’t part of our arrangement!” his voice began to increase in volume as well.

you glued your eyes to his piercingly blue ones and leaned closer to him. “i hate you, thomas shelby.” you whispered, yet your tone was anything but gentle.

“yeah? well, you can bet i hate you more,” he stood straighter, his height forcing to you look up at him.

the two of you stood there, waiting to see who would break eye contact first. he did, looking down at your lips, but just as quickly, he was right back onto your eyes.

“fuck it,” his thick accent almost growled, grabbing your face and smashing his lips unto yours.

this one was different from the one earlier. that one was a feigned love, a lust. this one was angry, hateful, and sultry.

oh, how you hated him, however his aggression intrigued you, making you kiss back even harder, forcing your tongue into his mouth.

your lips stayed connected as tommy walked you back to his desk.

your tongues fought for dominance and only disconnected for air. he fumbled with his belt before sliding off his jacket and removing his shirt.

he roughly pulled down your panties and unclipped your bra with one hand.

“jump,” he muttered into your mouth. you do so and he catches you, preceding to sit you on the desktop.

tommy runs his middle finger down your slit, collecting the embarrassing amount of wetness from you.

he chucked lowly before gripping your hips and lining his cock up with your entrance. “hate me, huh? i don’t think this cunt quite agrees with you,” he teased, but you were quick to rebuttal.

“i don’t think your dick agrees with your supposed hatred for me, either,” and you were right, his cock was painfully hard.

he suddenly decides he’s tired of teasing and pushes his full cock into you, bottoming out when he feels his tip prod at your gummy wall.

a choked gasp was emitted from you, and it sounded like heaven to thomas. he groaned as he pulled out almost all the way, then slammed into you again.

his speed is relentless, showing no mercy for your unprepared pussy. as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t deny how good it felt.

you wrapped you legs around his hips and tangled your hands in his hair before whispering in his ear, “i fucking hate you, hate you so fucking much,”

his growls were animalistic as his thrusts became more determined. “fuck you,” tommy gritted, right before a long since held in moan fell from his lips.

as much as you hated to admit it, you found your orgasm building in your stomach, the heat becoming unbearable.

“oh, shit, i’m gonna cum, oh my god,” you moaned loudly, your pussy tightening around him.

your release came to you in a hot white flash, your back arching impossibly more, your chest pressing against his, and you were on the very edge of the desk now.

a string of curse words and moans flowed from your lips like chords from a song tommy never wanted to end.

you whined at the sensitivity of your cunt, tommy not ever slowing down. “sh, sh, shhh. i know, i know, doll. i’m almost there, just hold on a little longer,”

soon, his hips met yours in one final, deep, long, thrust as he released bands of warm hot cum into you.

“fuck me, y/n,” he let out an exasperated laugh as he pulled out of you, watching the both of yours ecstasy pour from your abused hole.

“i believe i just did, thomas.”

#tommy shelby #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby smut #cillian murphy #tommy shelby fanfic #oneshot #kaia writes! 💌#this was sooo fun #i need to write more for him #send asks you guys !!!!#kaia writes tommy

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tatakaeeren · 10 months

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*Mind empty* I can only think of this 💖

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detectivenyx · 10 months

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i hate cinemasins so much you would not believe

#it's an easy formula. i get it.#ha ha plot hole! it must be bad because plot hole!#[plot hole is intentional and explained 10 minutes later]#[plot hole contributes to themes of film]#[plot hole is not actually plot hole if you employ even the most rudimentary of reading between the lines]#[plot hole is thing unimportant to the scene as a whole]#it lets you feel smart without actually having to put the legwork in #'smart' isn't even the right word. 'mildly observant'.#but because of this fucking loser and his stupid little ding sound effect #films have to be spelled out for people or they'll go 'OOOOGH PLOTHOEL????'#'WHY THEY SHOOT THE DOG AT START OF DAS DING? PLOTHOLE DING'#'WHY NO CONCRETE ANSWER FOR QUESTION PROPOSED BY TEXT? DINGGGG'#[THINK!!!!! THINK DAMN YOU!!!!!!! THINK FOR YOURSELF!!!!!!!!!!]#if your critique could be easily slotted into a cinemasins video go back and think about WHY #is it a question answered by the text???#and im more frustrated it took THIS LONG to repair my brain scorching!#even with kokichi's critique video im not happy with it because i did go back and look at him closer #i still don't fucking like him or think he was very well executed but i understand exactly why he was executed the way he was #and so many fanfics who took my critique on board and are like 'i can fix this!' just cinemasins the shit out of him #he needs Standard Character Arc and he must be A Hero #NO!!#you missed even the point i was making back then!!!#it was that his redemption was completely arbitrary! and though it didn't do it well it was intended to poke fun at EXACTLY THAT!#the The Villain Needs Redemption because that shit was all the fucking rage and people were doing it shit!#and it all goes back to this jackass and his stupid monotone voice and his attempts to enable a generation of media illiteracy!#and it WORKED! our ability to analyse narrative got fucking sacrificed on the altar for His Paycheck #and he's a shitbag who makes fun of women with breast cancer #long post

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philchy · 7 months

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Remember him? I certainly do ☺️

#moomins #moomin #joxter #moominvalley #fanart #art #i need more of him pls some good fanfics for example

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fumifooms · 2 days

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Chilchuck, family & alcoholism

Collection of thoughts and speculation on Chil’s upbringing, his dynamic with his family and how alcoholism ties into it all. If you want the groundwork info on Chil’s background I recommend my masterpost on his family, here it’s really just me speculating from the crumbs we get of his parents and siblings, how it’s all affected him and in turn affected his own wife and kids etc etc.

There’s nothing more I’d like on mother’s day than to speculate about Chilchuck’s maladaptive attachment style. I’m fascinated by how distant everyone is and how much he’s been devoted to them all despite having been so absent. Intergenerational trauma get over here

Actually it’ll be easier if I make a rundown here too, it’s just stuff I reiterate from my masterpost tho.

Tiny table of contents: 1- rundown: family facts 2- rundown: alcoholism 3- dad 4- parenting 5- daughters 6- wife

^ Every time his dad gets mentioned. His mom never gets mentioned. His siblings I think are only ever mentioned in this extra, and then there are more ambiguous relatives cameos.

We know is hometown isn’t Kahka Brud, but we’re not sure wether he moved there upon getting his own house (presumably around when he got married at 13), or if it’s only after his wife when he rented out his place to relatives then rented the place in Kahka Brud.

If he rented it out to relatives, maybe that meant it was in his hometown? Especially if he and his siblings are "almost strangers" so presumably he doesn’t really keep in touch with his family. And I mean, he hasn’t seen his wife or daughter in 4 years so you can imagine how he’s like with his more distant family…

Additionally half-foots and Chil are very coded to be from an impoverished opressed working class people. So that’s the context.

I’ll say that I mentioned intergenerational trauma at the beginning, and I def think the distrust of elves is part of that, but here I want to focus on the interpersonal effects rather.

Copy pasting my masterpost thoughts overall: Chilchuck is hinted to have had a rather dysfunctional family himself (alcoholic father, distant siblings, etc). So he doesn’t really have the best model on how to raise someone and such. I imagine it was a sort of neglectful home situation, where the kids are encouraged to be independent. If they didn’t have to work or help around much, then a free range parenting sort of thing.

We do see how the family has full and warm feasts, where someone cleans his mouth with a rag, so it’s not like he didn’t have caring people or had a tragic childhood though! I don’t remember if it’s explicitely stated but he’s heavily implied to having grown up poor, as most half-foots, and I just think it’s the hardened hardworking family type of childhood where just like he does with others, they instilled somewhat harsh life lessons in him, which in turn encourages him to indulge in the simple pleasures of life like alcohol and sex, or at least women’s beauty and crass jokes. We do see he seems more optimistic when he’s younger in flashbacks, so a bunch of his harsh view on the world is still likely learned and earned rather than taught.

I still think he inherited many flawed views from how his father acted, like his attitude about excessive drinking not being a big deal, it being worth it. That work hard play hard, enjoy life die young mentality he has, shown mostly in the “alcohol” section of his Adventurer’s Bible profile, could very well be partly a result of the general poverty half-foot communities are that he grew in as well, like how he doesn’t hope for things to be as best as they could be and contends with good enough. As far as I remember, his mother is never mentioned, but I doubt it implies she was out of the picture. She was probably a regular sort of mother that took care of the home and was still around when his father died, not unlike how Chil’s wife was implied to be a housewife. It looks like there’s a good age gap between one sibling to the next, that could be interesting to speculate about too. Mostly though I think it’s big family because it’s just sorta what happens when you regularly have sex and you don’t have contraception, being poor often makes family planning harder for various reasons and leads to more children.

Alcoholism context rundown:

Good Chilchuck analysis baseline here. Alcohol seems to be his main stress reliever/coping mechanism, especially for how emotionally constipated he is, and his job is being stressed about his party’s safety. Then he also mentions as a changeling that having his senses dulled feels relaxing to him, further confirming alcohol, as a drug that dulls senses, is something that he likes for the intoxication aspect and feels it’s relaxing. Alcohol also acts as a hunger suppressant, so it for sure has played a role in his dieting and unhealthy eating/diet habits, especially since he shows the instinct to drink to soothe hunger, all of that about how going hungry for 3 days used to feel manageable. Chil dieting info compiled here.

Chilchuck is at his most effortlessly cheerful when drunk or drinking. Compilation of every time he was drunk here.

And to be clear, a cheerful drunk is still a drunk. He literally will drink anytime he gets the opportunity to even if he’s aware overdrinking leads to health problems and death. Like canonically. He does NOT see how drinking should be a problem and does not seek to show restraint with it.

Dad of the dad

Marcille and Chilchuck having a talk on how losing a dad be like "You lost your dad young too…? I know how it is, it must have hit you hard…" "No not really tbh. Do you want lasagna or chicken for dinner?" <- either genuinely doesn’t feel much about his dad’s death or has 10 layers of repression, idk which is worse

I think Chil not making a big deal out of his dad’s death, not having worries in following into his footsteps that way in the least, is super interesting.

As a buddy @saccharineomens puts it: " I kinda imagine chilchuck and his dad didn't have a bad relationship, but in general chilchuck is so blase about drinking (he sees it as a delightful time, a wonderful thing! he wouldn't mind dying doing something he loved!) that he's not very upset about his dad's passing? like "yeah, he died, but i was already an adult, he was an adult, he made his choices, i make my choices, it's cool" " And I’ll nitpick that we don’t know how old he was when his dad died, I always assumed it was pretty early since Chil left home when he got married, and like I’ve gone into he doesn’t seem to be the keep in touch type. It’s on the table though, and he could have learned about it through letter if nothing else and that contributes to the "meh" reaction.

And that is very Chilchuck, the whole "we made our choices, it is how it is, he died doing something he loved", and you can totally believe that that’s the crux of it, but I do think the nonchalance hints at the family overall being distant and not only the siblings, that there’s dysfunctional shenanigans going on in there more than just… Healthy coping and having moved on.

I wonder when Chil first drank… And I wonder how he came to realize he liked alcohol a lot. His father probably gave him sips… Or he stole them

No because, with how disaffected he is about his father and siblings I could definitely see him having started to kind of numb himself/dissociate with the help of alcohol in that home environment that felt so… Either devoid of feelings or too messy to get attached.

Because too… We saw him have a family/community feast of some sort presumably when he was a kid, in that chapter cover, so it’s not like there’s no warmth or sense of family at all, but then like… What went wrong? If as I theorize that girl with short black hair in that panel is his future wife, since she’s his childhood friend and all, what if his family/home life was always kind of cold and distant, even when gathered and cheery or despite those occasions? So then it’s like, at the family gatherings, she’s the most important person there to him, the one he actually connects to the most, the warmest presence he has…….. Someone he jokes around with that feels on the same speed as him, that doesn’t have the same connotations as everyone else present, a bit of a haven, someone different, a breath of fresh hair and a regained sense of childhood… Spitballing of course of course

I feel like they had a pretty big family and they were poor and such so there were always chores to be done etc, so their household might have operated like a mini busiess of sorts where everyone’s too busy, always has this and that to do and the mother asks them to go do tasks. I used to think it might be more of a neglect situation, where the kids are expected to provide for themselves and so cook their own meals and whatnot, both parents distant, but I don’t think so with the feast illustration. Chil at the beginning of canon used to see eating as a practical thing more than anything, you have to eat to live but don’t eat much or your weight will make your job more dangerous, might as well skip meals and have beer instead, etc etc. So the thought that he doesn’t know how to cook all that well despite this speculated background where he cooked for himself and keeps cooking minimalistic, since he does tell Senshi he taught him about cooking, is fair, but still… There could definitely be a situation where his older siblings were pushed into a parental role too, where they helped with the food and raising the younger siblings etc etc. As mentioned, the age gap between siblings may play into the dynamic as well. But on this front I have less ideas…

So yes my general take on Chil’s family is that everyone was too busy to emotionally connect as much as is normal, the parenting leaving things to be desired with alcoholism and emotional neglect.

Fathering

And I think that’s especially interesting considering he hasn’t been keeping in touch with his daughters either. It’s "they’re independent now" and that’s kinda it. His daughters haven’t sent him letters or visited him or tried to make him talk to their mom again. It does feel like with his own parents and siblings to me, where people are almost strangers, where relationships grow apart and everyone shrugs and goes ‘that’s how things are’. Is it that everyone including all his daughters gave up on trying to keep in touch, or is it that they all went "well divorced or not he’s absent, this is our normal tbh", and which is worse?

So yes, I think his relationship with his daughters is probably similar to his relationship with his parents, sort of hands off. Chil's dad was probably not a good dad but probably not quite a bad dad. A definitive He Was There, to quote another friend heh

Imo the thing with Chil is that he was pretty absent bc of work travels to dungeon dive, right. He’s working hard to provide for his family but in the process he’s not spending much time with them, slowly making a gap grow between him and them as they drift apart and change as people. He’s a career dad who never realized spending time with his family was more important and threw his pager into the ocean— But also here’s the thing!! You want to say being his family is more important, but money is arguably more important! They’re poor, they don’t have the privilege of free time as much. Sure he’s not there, but he is providing for them what they need to keep living and growing healthily. Similarly, you want to say Chil should stop doing harsh dieting for weight management, but, he has a point, maybe starving is still preferable than dying in traps. Of course the ideal would be to change jobs, but again, life is a struggle and that’s not always an option.

^ Truly the classic "if you don’t listen to me, your parent, a cryptid is gonna kidnap you!" international experience………

He is so so so the "What? My way of parenting is kinda bad? But my father raised me like that, and look how great I turned out!" <- emotionally dysfunctional…….. "Pshhh what do you mean having an alcoholic parent negatively affects you? My father was an alcoholic too and look at me" 🤡

All of it was behavior normalized to him. And listen, I’m saying this but not as like, shirking of his part in it. This isn’t a teen or young adult, he’s middle aged, he’s become the one giving and not receiving the generational trauma. He’s chosen to never think deeper on the topic.

And like, he himself is so indifferent to his father and what their relationship was like, of course he wouldn’t notice if a parenting choice wasn’t great for his daughters. He doesn’t have a relationship with his dad, he’s not (at least not consciously) traumatized by him, so from his perspective it’s mission success! He got raised decent enough 👍⭐️ Except he doesn’t realize that like, not particularly caring if he died is sign of a problem between them in itself… And this even as he remains somewhat of an important figure in his life, especially since that’s who he sees on the other side of the life river in the ghost chapter. It’s implicitly the biggest instance of loss through death Chilchuck has in his life I think.

But despite it all he obviously does love his family a lot, right. So I do believe that like, while he has imperfect standards when it comes to parenting he still tries to be better than his dad was, that even if it’s necessary that he has a lot of long work travels, he spends time with them. And there’s sort of this dissonance that he’s both "it doesn’t matter wether i’m here or not, they’ll live, they’re tough girls. Oh they didn’t like my scolding earlier? It’s just how kids are" dismissive and "I love them so much and I want them to have a good life. I want to do my best by them" devoted and so so caring. And like that’s why he works so damn hard, he does it for them, but also that’s why the girls grew up with an absentee father and aughhhh AUGHHHH the unsolvable dilemma of it all Chilchuck in Dunmeshi truly represents like, the harshness of reality & the world and how sometimes things will just suck no matter what, and then of course balancing that with Marcille in their shared arc where she tacks on "And despite that there is beauty everywhere even in the small and menial things, despite that your flawed relationships and dreams are still worth fighting for" ie giving reconciling with his wife a shot, etc.

All that said I think the very strict "you’re gonna grow up to have a stable job by god, young miss" attitude, those strong work ethics he highly values and focuses on and no doubt tried to instill in is own kids, is something he somewhat inherited from his own upbringing and parents.

In my masterpost bit on his parenting, I said I don’t think he’d do any kind of corporeal punishment, but. I do wonder about spanking aftee all. It can be so so easy to rationalize it… Sigh

Daughter pov

Again, my general interpretations for the daughters are written in my masterpost. I think Patti knows her father the least and is the one least worried about jobs and stability and least settled down as a result. Flertom is the more social one who I imagine tended to be the one worried about her parents’ couple and their emotions the most. And Meijack… Ohh Meijack.

When your father tried his best to provide for you but he worked all the time and even when he was home he was either tired or stressed and he’s always liked to get drunk to relax and cheer up. When you know he values work ethics and respectability so you grew up to be capable and quiet. And when he says you’re like him you’re sort of puzzled, does he really know you so little, or does he know himself so little? But you like the feeling of your father ruffling your hair so you accept it and still you stand next to your mother just as quiet and just as stoic during family gatherings. He leaves again and again and when your mother leaves him nothing changes, really. You wonder if it’s more telling that you know him better than he seems to himself or that you don’t know him as much as you wish you did, or that you don’t think about him all that much these days. Out of sight out of mind

Thinking of those posts about how kids never forget and during the "draw your family!" things at school, some of the kids draw their working parents seperate from the rest of them...

Absent father and when he’s at home you get the crumbs of him that you get and you’re grateful for it and that’s that <333

She doesn’t know how much he loves them bc he hasn’t showed them in a long time </3

The horror of drunk Chil in my fics is often about what in this state he can’t do rather than what he could do, how someone who’s as proud of his skills and work ethics as he is has truly changed, not comprehending how he could become so sloppy or how he could allow himself to get like this, marred the values he preaches above all else. It’s in the way that he fumbles with doorknobs, that he could never lockpick a door if you were to lock it, and it both being your salvation and bringing you extreme distress at the thought of it all. His footsteps usually featherlight now sound heavy as stone, like a troll’s.

You know the thing that gets me so bad with alcoholism angst is when people describe the drunk person as a stranger. Often making a metaphor that they’re monsters, have some monster they shapeshift into uncontrollably once in a while, as a way to split the unreconciliable halves of the person sober and drunk in your vision of them……. It gets me soooo bad Little Puckpatti growing up on tales of trolls kidnapping disobedient kids and replacing them with doubles so no one even knows they’re gone… Coming face to face with a drunk Chilchuck that roams the halls of the house with heavy steps in the night, because she wanted to go drink a glass of water, too thirsty to sleep………..

And this is where I reveal that I wrote a fic about just that!! Trolls that thump and tiptoe through the night Mei @ Chil, You made me of stone and still every day you wear me down and chip away at me bit by bit

In the end notes I describe my takes and interpretations: With Mei I tried to give the sense of a kid who sacrifices some parts of childhood to feel closer to her parent, like not playing games to spend more time with him no matter how empty, or wanting to be worthy in his eyes. With Fler, since she was the one in canon to take in their mother and write Chil a letter explaining the situation, I feel like she’s always been the one most involved and aware of the problems in their family. The one most there to emotionally support or to understand what the vibes in a room meant. Puckpatti I think knows her father the least, since with time I think Chilchuck was more and more away from work and more and more cynical like the flashbacks of younger him dungeon diving. I think because of her not minding unstable odd jobs that she’s the most passive, that she’s the most go with the flow. I do also love when Mei is the one most aware of her parents’ flaws and most critical as the eldest, but not in this fic. Meijack grows up to never touch a drop of alcohol, what people joke is the one difference between her and her father. Flertom drinks, too much sometimes, but she considers drinking should be a social activity rather than a habit. Puckpatti only drinks on special occasions when she has the chance.

They already don’t have that much time together because of his work, I wonder how big of a percentage the amount of memories the daughters have of him are when he’s not himself truly… How they kinda reconcile it all. It’s their normal.

And the thing that’s gutting too, is that Chil always looks so so much more open, relaxed, cheerful and happier when drunk than he usually is. He doesn't know how to get his defenses down without alcohol

"you're all that's good"

Because we do see how he truly used to not be so closed off and bitter. But distrust and fearing for betrayals from both coworkers and then his wife aka the person who’s supposed to be closest to him (he doesn’t even have close family besides his daughters. Does he even have close friends) turned him into what he is now. He was so cheerful!! Happy and trusting and optimistic.

He leaves and she left

God there’s the whole ‘wife leaving him’ trauma too is the thing… It had to have fucked him up so bad like no wonder he got paranoid and decided not to open up to ANYONE like. He never saw it coming is the scariest thing. He didn’t expect her to just up and leave. He didn’t see the warning signs. He won’t know if it’s coming this time either.

….. But then also, why he didn’t reach out to her (besides hurt) was because it was a petty silence treatment, like "oh she left without saying a word? Fine well I won’t reach out to her either" <- man who is so not fine and collected about it. It’s been FOUR YEARSSSSSSS I wonder if he always was like… "This week she’s gonna send a letter. … Ok fine, this month she’s gonna crack. … Within the year she’ll come crawling back." and it’s a bit why it was allowed to go on for this long unchecked like… Why he still considers her his wife even though functionally she’s more of an ex by that point after 4 years.

I can never stop thinking about him and his wife they’re fucking crazyyy. Him not reaching out to her started as a silent treatment from frustration. She never reached out to him either, she just up and left, didn’t even leave or send one last letter she’s just gone and has left this all behind, the house and everything in it. It’s been 4 years but he still considers her his wife and considers themselves only "estranged", "due to circumstances we haven’t seen each other in years". His face in the panel he said this is interesting too, trying to be casual but defensive and exasperated, already dreading the judgement and questions. He moved out of his house to rent a place in Kahka Brud instead. How much of him not reaching out was avoidance… Guilt, frustration, sadness, confusion, just procrastinating and dread and fear of a rejection more concrete, or something else… Maybe realizing he doesn’t miss her as much as he should, not enough to chase after her or try to get her back, just resigning himself to it… Is he a bad husband, is he a bad person? Should they reconcile?

Not seeing it coming… It’s half trust, that this person who’s so dear to you could never just up and leave and hurt you like that, half entitlement, thinking that she would never think of leaving, and third it’s blinding himself to the warning signs, not wanting to believe or acknowledge them. Because like, there WERE some, he said she "suddenly fell into a bad mood on the way back [from the outing]" and I don’t think he’s too dumb to be aware that something was off, he literally just dismissed it and then went surprised pikachu face when it turned out things were indeed off.

Part of it is definitely, how do you even react if your wife walks out on you without warning. If it happened to me I think that I wouldn’t reach out for a while either, wait for them to reach out to me first, give them space. As I put it in one of my marchil wips, "I respect your right to be rid of me too much to try and shackle you to me if you want to leave". Inaction is easier than admitting he’s scared to check and find out that the worst case scenario is true. It’s been years and he still hasn’t worked it out why she left. Do you think that’s on purpose. That he doesnt want to know for sure. It’s so so so scary to try and do anything about it

He said he didn’t reach out right away when she left because he was petty and wanted to give her the silence treatment back. Ok but is it that he blames her for their marriage falling apart or does he blame himself and he’s just misdirecting the conflicted feelings? Did he not reach out because a part of him was too scared to know why she left or if she would refuse to come back? Did he just think that she’d come back on her own, and things would get fixed while still staying unsaid and unconfronted like they always have, the first month, then the next and the next, until it was a year in and it sunk in that oh, maybe she wasn’t coming back?

He seems genuine here when he says that he was angry about it and gave her the silent treatment, but it is an habit of his to lie to make himself look worse instead of showing vulnerability, so who knows.

He is so so scared of being affected by relationships. Same thing with his compulsive habit to disguise his worry for anger. It’s why he doesn’t want people to have expectations of him, "I’m a coward I’m selfish", because then they can’t be disappointed, they can’t be surprised if he bites, they can’t leave when you lose what they’ve been staying for.

He has avoidant tendencies too. Every time there’s an interpersonal issue he just accepts it’s out of his control immediately. He’s passive when it comes to relationship problems, just like with coworkers, relationships are a ticking time bomb to him, and he just wants to be left out of it and come out unscathed. It comes back to his pessimism. He doesn’t think that like, things could be better. According to him life is tough and cruel, you accept your lot in life and make the best out of it and that’s it. If people are scummy you don’t whine about how unfair it is, you close yourself off and work to not be taken advantage of again and adapt. So then with his wife, when Marcille is like "Have you tried… Talking?" it’s such a crazy idea that it might work at all, that he could have the power to fix things… And that’s why it’s such a big deal when he goes "Alright I’ll try… I don’t know if it’ll go as well as in the stories, but I’ll try". That CRUMB of allowing himself to be hopeful is so huge

Honestly for the longest time I misread this bit, I thought she left in the night like how Marcille framed it, but no she left after he left for work. She left after he left again.

The way it’s told, it really sounds like Chilchuck just came home from work, stayed probably a couple of days in which they went to that outing together, then left for work again right away/soon after and it’s like. Was that outing the most special thing you guys did together. You came home from like a month of work, you had one outing where she ended up having a bad time, y’all didn’t talk about it further and then you left for another couple of weeks. Are you kidding me

Your married life is waiting for your husband to come home, spending mediocre time together, being shut down when you voice discontentment, and things being left unaddressed before he leaves again.

She left when he was gone for work, but did she leave the day of, or did she flip flop on it and took a while before working up the strength to leave? Was she waiting to see if he’d say anything before leaving and when he didn’t that was the last straw?

Chilchuck trying to prove a point that half-foots can make it out there, trying to rely more on himself because that’s the only person he can trust. His wife feeling like he's leaving her behind (because he does. over and over and over and over.) This guy just keeps throwing himself into work because he thinks it's what's best for everyone. Hey sir neglecting emotional needs can be kinda detrimental to everyone involved, I think you might wanna know that ^ quotes courtesy of @soappox

And to come back to alcoholism for a bit, alcoholism is alcoholism, and someone asked why I thought that a Chilchuck with depression would drink and cope through alcohol, since drinking seems to be something cheerful to him. It does puzzle me a bit but it’s worth going over, so… I don’t think him using drinking as a coping mechanism is far fetched at all. Cheerful drunks that are alcoholic still can absolutely use alcohol in ways like that. If something makes you happier, or even just more numb which translates to you feeling more free etc etc, then I definitely think it tracks that he’d keep drinking. Like personally I do think he’d drink a lot after his wife left him, and in rough patches like that. Depression -> not wanting to have to think, the days are blurring together and you either don’t want to be conscious or you want to feel something etc etc -> drinking for the alcohol. Alcoholics tend to be, well, dependent on alcohol. If something bad happens etc they’re usually more likely to go harder on it rather than stop. We can debate on when and why Chilchuck first started to drink but it’s straight up his favorite food now and it’s deeply ingrained in his life, in his favorite outings and activities and priorities and moods and meals. A CHEERFUL DRUNK IS STILL A DRUNK!!! They drink to get happy not drink because they are happy, though obviously the two can have overlap.

Chil represses sooo much. His solution to interpersonal conflict and feelings is just don’t think about it and dull your feelings & senses to everything ✨ I love him. I need to kill him with hammers Like the other day I was thinking about an AU where he might have ran away from his neglectful home or something, but then I remembered he deals with everything including his family by dulling his feelings and senses to things 🫠 He wouldn’t leave

I’d say he doesn’t look troubled by loss through death, moreso loss through mistakes. His nightmare is his daughters dying yes, but moreso them being killed, there’s an axe in the wall etc, it’s about having failed to protect them.

If he can’t fuck something up or if he’s already fucked it up there’s this pacifying sense that he can’t have the rug pulled from under him, because that’s what having connections is, having a wife isn’t an insurance it’s a rug waiting to be pulled. And his brand is sort of Flawed Mr Mistakes Man so he’s kinda been having to cope lol. I do think he throws himself into workaholism, because it’s sort of the only way to live he knows, making yourself capable and useful and spending his days working like that, less time to think, too tired to think. Senses dulled, senses that are usually too sharp, cutting with clarity that he prefers ignoring and avoiding. Work is something he doesn’t have to feel through, something that gives him pride and self-esteem, something through all the danger and life or death risk feels safer, emotionally. No one taught him how to deal with things another way, it’s always been suck it up and work.

Conclusion

Stop smoking we love you and we don’t want you to die

No drinking will not externalize your feelings no it won’t vent them out well please Chilchuck ple-ea-ease…….

</3 They should invent an alcoholism that doesn’t make you dysfunctional and hard to be around

^ Drunk, by The Living Tombstone

I’ve been thinking about enneagrams and Chil is 6w7 highkey. Becomes 3 when stressed, a little 8 but it’s more that he wants security so much that he becomes paranoid rather than having the core of an 8 y’know. I haven’t dug into it for quotes yet but this paper goes hard if you’re curious.

Dropping my relevant Spotify playlists here bc why not: Chilchuck & his wife, marchil angst

#I’m allergic to making short casual speculation posts apparently #Dungeon meshi #chilchuck tims #chilchuck’s family #Chilchuck’s wife #theories #meta #analysis #It was mother’s day when I decided to gather my old discord message and work on posting this so. Not fixing that intro #I’m always too late </3 #Marcille singing A Girl Worth Fighting For @ Chilchuck #Spoilers #i lost half of this post TWICE. This is my Joker arc #Hopefully i can finish my web weaving about this today #Chilchuck is so cool I wish dads were real #Chilchuck “my family doesn’t need me” tims #This almost killed me it’s not even the topic it’s bc tumblr wanted me dead. This silly post. It was supposed to be CASUAL and SHORT #Analysis #i just ended up talking about chil a lot again. Give me excuses to talk about him more #Character analysis #meijack #Puckpatti #flertom #fanfic #Fumi rambles

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sparkles-rule-4eva · 3 months

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🎵 Whoooo wants a nice little short 'n sweet post-Prime one shot with Sonic and Tails and some angst and also fluff and cuddles and nightmares and sadness and cuteness and the implementing of that one headcanon from the post I made about Sonic getting more cuddly and clingy when he's hurt or upset??? 🎵

Sonic Prime - Healing Hugs

Something had happened in the cave with Sonic. Tails was absolutely certain of it.

At first, it had just been pleasant changes, pleasant surprises. Sonic had suddenly switched to being a 100% team player, had started paying attention to each and every thing Tails instructed, and seemingly communicated with Shadow just as the Ultimate Lifeform arrived out of nowhere to Chaos Control the Paradox Prism to who-knows-where.

Then there had been the more weird changes.

Every time Tails opened his mouth, Sonic would drop everything to listen to every word with laser focus, even if it was about something as simple as what he was going to get for dinner or some cool comics he'd read. He was giving a lot more hugs, too, far more than usual. Sonic used to be a lot more selective about physical affection, but now, Tails couldn't seem to get through 30 minutes of a day without his older brother scooping him up in an embrace, however brief. Not that he was complaining, it was nice.

He kept catching the hedgehog lying around in the grass, fingering the green leaves with utter delight in his eyes. Once he found him on the beach, sitting in a palm tree and singing some kind of pirate-y sounding song. Another time he found him wandering slowly around the woods nearby, talking to the flickies about how pretty the trees were.

Something was off, but Tails couldn't put his finger on it. From his perspective, he hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary happen during the battle in the cave, but Sonic's change in behavior made it painfully obvious something had.

Especially when the more negative changes started manifesting.

Not negative in a sense that Sonic was doing anything wrong. But he seemed . . . a little rattled. Some of his hugs were far more than just quick side squeezes. Sometimes he'd stare at Tails with an oddly pensive, faraway look in his eyes.

In bed, one night about a week after the cave incident, Tails found himself tossing and turning. These thoughts were driving him up the wall with how often they'd been occupying his mind lately.

He wanted so badly to sit down with Sonic and ask him what happened. He knew something had happened. But whether Sonic was willing to talk about it was another question entirely. He knew something was different, but he also knew his brother. Sonic didn't like uncomfortable conversations. If he felt unsafe, he would run.

Tails knew better than to confront him with questions that Sonic would likely not want to answer. If he'd wanted to tell Tails what was going on, what was different, he probably would've told him already.

With an exhausted sigh, Tails gave up trying to sleep and sat up in bed, casting a quick glance at the digital clock on his nightstand.

3:47 a.m.

Great. Even when I'm not working on a project, I STILL end up sleep-deprived. He smirked. At least Sonic can't get ticked at me this time, it's not my fault.

Speaking of the Blue Devil, he was right down the hall. Conked out on the couch, where he often slept. In fact, he'd been sleeping there every night for the past week.

Since he couldn't sleep, anyway, Tails slipped out of bed and crept down the hall, having memorized which boards creaked and which ones didn't. He half-hoped Sonic was awake so he'd have someone to talk to, but as he emerged into the living room, he saw his brother sound asleep, half-curled on his side.

Tails blinked and looked closer.

Sonic was asleep, but . . . he was also clinging extra tightly to his pillow. And he looked . . . incredibly stressed.

Was he having a bad dream?

Tails took a couple steps towards the couch until he stood right beside it. In past experiences where he'd found his brother having a nightmare, talking it out rarely helped. Sometimes even waking him up didn't help, either. He usually just wound up disoriented and panicking, and sometimes even ran off to deal with his feelings alone out in the wilderness.

Tails really didn't want him to leave. He also didn't want him to be alone.

He reached out and ever so gently placed his hand over Sonic's clenched fist, both ungloved.

One thing he had discovered about his brother during hard times like this was that he became more clingy. On the rare occasion he was visibly upset, he'd sometimes come up and just hug Tails without a word. When he was sick or injured somehow (and actually allowing himself to be taken care of), he tended to snuggle more. If he was in enough pain, he'd hold onto Tails as tightly as he could. Sometimes he'd do the same with their other friends, but Tails was always his go-to.

Not that it happened very often. Tails only knew these things because he'd known Sonic for most of his life. Sonic had raised him. He'd seen more of Sonic than anyone else had.

Now, he rubbed a finger over his brother's fist for a moment, then very carefully tugged the pillow out of Sonic's unconscious grasp. He set it softly on the floor, then carefully clambered onto the couch next to him, lay down, and hugged him tightly.

Without waking up, Sonic wrapped his arms around him in return and held him close, burying his face between Tails's ears with a barely audible whimper.

Tails could feel his brother's heartbeat racing, so he snuggled in closer and softly began to purr.

And, with time, he felt Sonic start to calm down.

A couple minutes went by, and his heart rate slowed down just a bit. The tension coiled throughout his entire body started to unwind, and his spiked-up quills lowered slightly in a more relaxed position. His ears were still kinda droopy, but he seemed a lot more restful than he had a few minutes ago.

Tails smiled, still bundled up tightly against Sonic. And his smile only grew wider when he felt his brother start purring, too.

There was something infinitely comforting about being held, about snuggling with his brother, the person who loved him to the moon and back. The person he loved in exactly the same way. For those moments, the very problems that had been keeping Tails awake half an hour earlier seemed to fade. He was here, Sonic was here, no words were spoken or needed, and they would be okay.

Tails slept soundly for the rest of the night.

The sound of flickies singing from the treetops woke Sonic the next day. He blinked blearily as his eyes came into focus, and he realized that Tails had joined him sometime during the night.

Once upon a time, waking up to find him right there had made him jump. It didn't anymore.

He smiled, carefully adjusting one hand so he could stroke his little brother's bangs and give him a tiny scratch behind one ear. Tails mumbled something unintelligible in his sleep, and snuggled closer in Sonic's chest.

He grinned wider. Tails hadn't been snuggly to this level in a while. Granted, he'd always been the more snuggly one of the two of them, but still. It kind of reminded Sonic of the first couple years he'd been taking care of Tails, when the kit was between 3 and 4 years old.

His smile faded a little as he thought of Nine at that age, still alone, still being bullied and hurt, with no one to save him and show him the love and care he deserved.

He could only hope that the other Shatterverse variants were showing him such kindness now. The thought that he would never get to see him again made his heart ache in a way he couldn't quell.

Sonic studied Tails's sleeping face, noting the intense similarities and differences between him and Nine. He wondered whether Nine had always existed even before the Shatter event, as a part of his little brother that Tails would never bring to light. Was it the same with Mangey and Sails?

A tiny snort escaped him against his will as he thought about whether Mangey's existence was an implication that a part of Tails just wanted to go a little feral. Sometimes he couldn't blame him.

His suppressed laugh had Tails stirring, blinking open his big blue eyes. He looked back at Sonic, grinning sleepily. "G'morning."

Sonic ruffled his bangs again, smiling as Tails giggled. "G'morning, little buddy."

Stop calling me that!

He froze at the memory of Nine's angry shout, and Tails clearly saw it.

"Are you okay?" he asked with a gentle, inquiring frown, slowly sitting up.

Sonic sighed as he sat up as well, leaning back to stretch, then pulled his little brother close again. "I've got a story for you, bud," he admitted, deciding it was about time to open up about what had really happened in the cave.

Tails gazed up at him with surprise, but then smiled and nodded.

"I'm listening," he replied quietly.

AO3 version

Did I come up with this while hugging a giant pillow during my nap earlier today? Maybe :3

I also maybe just really wanted to implement that headcanon somewhere teehee

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