The Eldest Sons || The Three Princes || The Eldest of the Third Generation
I had this posted on my Instagram art account before but wanted to post it here too, for cohesiveness with my previous Mae sketches hehe
This may be one of my first drawings related to Silm.
Something very curious about the dynamics of the eldest amongst the 3rd generation finwions. They're all eldest sons, each with different perspectives on their family's tension and relation, they belong to different age groups, and they all share the same burden as the eldest child, eldest son and eldest prince in the family. Hmmmm...
Would love to hear your thoughts on either or both the interpretation and art! Do feel free to comment and thanks for stopping by!
not a dick grayson kin bc i raised my siblings OR because i raised myself but a secret third thing:
i had all my physical and emotional needs met but as a child i could tell that there was something wrong with my parent. and they needed to heal. but they weren’t.
and i grew up trying to help them with something they didn’t even admit was there. and then when i was an adult with the same problem they were like “I never wanted this for you!! I was trying to teach you to be better than me!”
a/n: post number four! 🩵 rewrote this draft, i literally just had a bad day making this but enjoy:)
my love was as cruel as the cities i lived in— everyone looked worse in the light...
the agganis arena concourse was completely buzzing after the boston university win. the student section was still chanting, the smell of stale popcorn and melting ice hung heavy in the air, and families were lingering by the glass to congratulate the players. you stood a few feet back from the crowd, your hands shoved deep into the pockets of an oversized bu hockey sweatshirt. you tried to smile as you watched macklin laugh with his teammates, but the smile felt entirely hollow, heavy, and exhausting to maintain.
it had been a brutal month. as the eldest sister in your family, the invisible weight of the world had officially landed squarely on your shoulders. between your own heavy course load, working two draining part-time jobs, and trying to scrape together enough extra money to help cover your younger sibling's upcoming tuition deadline, you were running on absolute fumes. you were entirely drowning in financial panic and mental burnout, and you hadn't slept a full night in weeks.
you had quietly distanced yourself over the last few days, keeping your texts short and your visits brief because you simply didn't have the energy to explain the suffocating stress to macklin, whose world was currently revolving around scouts, draft rankings, and frozen rubber. you didn't want to burden him. unable to take the overwhelming noise of the post-game crowd anymore, you quietly slipped away before macklin could even make it out of the locker room tunnel.
you walked out into the freezing boston night, your breath blooming into heavy white clouds as you made your way to your beaten-up car in the dark corner of the student parking lot. you unlocked the door, slid into the driver's seat, and pulled it shut, the heavy silence of the cabin instantly magnifying the throbbing ache in your temples.
you leaned your head back against the headrest, staring blankly at the steering wheel. you pulled your phone out, checking your bank account one more time, and the sheer deficit staring back at you was the final breaking point.
the dam completely shattered.
you dropped the phone into your lap and broke down secretly in the dark, burying your face in your hands as you began bawling your eyes out. it wasn't a quiet, pretty cry; it was a violent, shoulder-shaking, sobbing release of months of repressed stress, exhaustion, and the terrifying loneliness of being the one who always had to hold everything together for everyone else.
back inside, macklin had practically bolted through his media obligations. his eyes had scanned the hallway the second he cleared the locker room, and the total absence of your face made his chest tighten. he knew something was wrong. you’d been a ghost all week. he didn't even stop to take off his team track jacket. he grabbed his phone, saw you hadn't texted, and sprinted out into the cold parking lot, his eyes tracking the rows until he saw the faint, interior light of your car.
through the windshield, his heart absolutely broke. he could see your silhouette completely hunched over the wheel, your shoulders heaving. macklin didn't hesitate. he stride over, gripped the handle, and opened the car door wide.
the sudden rush of freezing night air made you gasp, your head snapping up, your eyes completely bloodshot, glassy, and swimming with hot tears. you frantically tried to wipe your face with the sleeves of your sweatshirt, turning your head away in absolute mortification. "h-hey baby... go back inside, you're going to freeze—"
he didn't say a word. he just looked at you, his dark eyes filled with a raw, agonizing amount of tenderness and protective worry.
leaving the car door completely open to the night, macklin didn't try to pull you out into the cold. instead, he just leaned his massive, athletic frame completely inside the vehicle, crowding into the narrow space of the driver's seat. he dropped to one knee on the cold asphalt outside, his upper body draping entirely over your lap as his long, strong arms wrapped securely around your waist, pulling you tightly against his chest.
"hey, hey, shh... i've got you," macklin murmured, his deep voice incredibly soft and rough with emotion as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. his large hand came up to cup the back of your head, pressing you flush against his broad shoulder. "i've got you, love. just breathe."
the familiar, grounding scent of his cologne and the intense warmth of his body completely filled the freezing car, and the last shred of your defense mechanism dissolved.
you wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging to his track jacket like a lifeline as you continued bawling your eyes out, your face buried entirely in his shoulder. the tears soaked right through his jacket, your chest heaving with deep, ragged, ugly sobs as you finally let go of the weight you’d been carrying alone.
macklin just held you through the worst of it. he didn't tell you to stop crying, and he didn't try to offer quick fixes. he just kept his arms locked securely around your waist, his large hand gently stroking your hair, rocking you slightly in the narrow seat while the cold boston wind blew a few dead leaves past the open door.
"talk to me," macklin asked you softly and tenderly against your skin, his voice an absolute whisper as your sobbing finally began to slow into shaky, uneven breaths. "what's happening lately, baby? you've been so busy, so quiet... please let me help. you don't have to do everything by yourself."
"i'm just so tired, mac," you choked out, your voice cracking completely as you pulled back just enough to look at him, your eyes raw and ruined. "the tuition deadline for my sister is next week, and my shifts got cut, and i just... i can't stretch the money any further. i feel like i'm failing everyone. i didn't want to bring all this heavy stuff to you when you have the season to worry about."
"failing?" macklin repeated, his jaw clenching slightly with a wave of fierce, protective frustration—not at you, but at the fact that you had been hurting in the dark for so long.
his large, rough thumbs came up, gently and tenderly wiping the hot, wet trails from your cheeks. he looked up at you with an absolute, unyielding amount of devotion in his dark eyes. "you are the strongest, most incredible person i know. you take care of everyone else, but you have to let me take care of you. the money, the tuition—we will figure it out. i'm here. i'm not going anywhere."
before you could even process the heavy relief of his words, macklin leaned in. his mouth found yours, pressing a succession of soft, lingering kisses against your trembling, salty lips, your forehead, and your wet eyelids. the kisses were pure comfort, slow and filled with a quiet, fierce reassurance that completely erased the lingering cold in your veins. his hands remained cupping your face, his thumbs smoothing over your skin with a worshipful reverence until your breathing finally synced with his.
he rested his forehead against yours, his dark eyes glittering in the dim interior light. "no more keeping secrets to spare my feelings, okay? if you're drowning, you pull me under with you. we handle it together. always."
you let out a small, watery, breathless laugh, a genuine smile finally breaking through the exhaustion as you tangled your fingers in the collar of his jacket. "okay, mac. together."
(biggest hugs to all the eldest sisters out there, i am deeply loudly proud of you.)
