#I wasn't sure if you meant thalassophobia

[mad-hunts]

the relationship that jack had forged with his father was different than the others in ways he couldn't explain. for example, in comparison to matilda whom always seemed to be hyperaware of where her and barton stood, jack felt like he never quite knew where he quote unquote 'was' with his own caretaker — leading to these issues he had with attachment that a therapist long ago once told him were likely due to the fact he grew up in such an unstable environment.

but flying the coop, though it sometimes seemed appealing, was not something jack felt like he could do. because despite everything that barton had put him and their family through, jack felt this strong sense of loyalty to the rest of his siblings as well as to his father. and its not like he had a stable job at the moment; he was trying to secure a spot with a ballet company, after all, which was his true dream. but jack was working part-time as a lifeguard in between all of his classes and ballet related events.

which actually wasn't that bad of a job all things considered. it reminded him at first of how, after julien had died, he'd been afraid of the ocean for several years however. it was like jack's heart was on overdrive even around small bodies of water back then. so developing the strength to overcome this fear was probably the best thing for jack. and considering what had happened to gotham in recent events (with the riddler flooding the city), it made him think about how lucky he was to have done so before that all occurred.

i mean, could you imagine what it would've been like if jack still had thalassophobia with the flood suddenly hitting gotham like it did? lets just say, jack was grateful that jervis filled up some of the silence in the room right after he was burdened with that train of thought. a lopsided smile spread across his lips at jervis's approving comments about colin. jack had actually been keeping the fact he had a boyfriend a secret from his father, for fear that barton would take one look at colin and tell him 'no.'

therefore, it felt good to hear that from someone. the only thing he uttered was a soft 'yeah' in response to that as his eyes darted to jervis's moving hand, ❝ okay. do you like your eggs scrambled, or sunny-side up? and do you want just butter on the bread or is strawberry jam also good with you? ❞ that, as far as he could remember, was the only type they had in the fridge. jack kept his gaze on the cards as jervis spoke now, but let him know he was listening by nodding to what the other was saying.

❝ well, i'd definitely say it's a process. but you know what's funny? i don't know if you believe in any sort of afterlife but... ❞ and that was where barton had cut in, standing at the doorway as if he was waiting to be invited in like a vampire. and trust me when i say the doctor knew that jervis was probably not thrilled to see him. for, not even barton's own son looked to be eager to see him, but maybe that was just because jack knew the two held a general distaste for one another? barton didn't know but he waited in silence in any case for the farceur to leave the room with the medicine he'd given jervis.

he stepped in then only to reveal that, although he wasn't in dire straits anymore, he was still hooked up to an IV on a pole: which was a humble reminder to barton that his degree of brain swelling couldn't go away on its own. though, he wished it could. the expression on his face when jervis spoke to him said all that needed to be said: barton didn't believe for a second that the other meant that. ❝ no, you want to see me burn in hell, don't you? the least you can do is be honest about it. ❞

he stated this in a very 'matter-of-fact' tone, as if the thought of someone hating him that much didn't affect him. an incredulous chuckle left barton's mouth afterward, though, and that wasn't nothing. he slowly but surely used that IV pole as leverage to drag himself over to the cabinet next to jervis's bedside. opening the bottom drawer revealed old clothes of barton's within it, ❝ ravi, the man you met down at the bistro we went to earlier today? he called me, and he immediately asked me if i was in some form of trouble. because ravi told me he had to lie to the cops about us being at the bistro. ❞

barton pulled out a clean shirt to replace his dirty and bloodied one with before turning to face jervis, ❝ and i thought we were in enough trouble already, but marty, the guy i killed was apparently the son of a police captain. meaning those pigs in the GCPD might not actually stop until they find us. so i might need your help with creating a very... elaborate plan to kill him. ❞

Poor Jack's anxiety was written all over his face and body language. Despite his efforts to appear calm and reassuring, Jervis could sense the strain beneath the surface. Though he disliked Barton, he couldn't bring himself to be indifferent. It wasn’t in his nature to ignore someone else's pain, and the last four hours must have been brutal for the Mathis siblings.

A part of Jervis was still ashamed that he had even lost consciousness under the physical and mental strain, sinking into the depths of his mind like something swept away by the Lethe’s currents—except, unlike the myth, Jervis couldn’t forget. His past, fractured as it was, stayed with him. And as much as his memories pained him, Jervis refused to let them go. Forgetting Alice and Sylvie would be like losing them all over again. That was unbearable.

A shiver ran down his spine at the thought, and his hand instinctively reached for the chain beneath his collar, rolling his and Sylvie’s wedding rings like rings on an astrolabe.

He wasn't a fool. Jervis knew this was a difficult situation they had dragged Jack and Matilda into, and he felt sorry for both. But his empathy ran deepest for Jack. He didn’t know the young man well, but there was an unmistakable connection—a shared understanding, almost like neurons firing in unison. What had Sylvie once told him? Something about fungal hyphae—that they could sense their environment, responding to the slightest change. They weren’t like staid, immobile plants, she had said. Hyphae were dynamic, constantly adapting to their surroundings.

Even all these years, Jervis could still hear her voice, vividly recall the way her eyes lit up when she spoke of such things. "They feel their way through the world," she'd explained, with that endearing mixture of fascination and tenderness he had grown to love so well. "They detect ridges and surfaces, change their shape to fit. They know how to survive, how to grow, even in the strangest conditions."

It had stuck with him, the way she saw life in things most people overlooked. Jervis laid there, nodding faintly as Jack's voice washed over him; the parallel trains of thought made him pause. Maybe grief was like that too—constantly adapting, reshaping itself to fit the cracks in your soul.

Jervis’ hand loosened on the chain as he looked over at Jack, the faint clink of the rings barely audible as they slid along the silver links. He nodded slowly, his gaze dropping briefly. "Yeah... She was everything," he said quietly, almost to himself. His voice wavered, caught between the here and now and somewhere else entirely; hoarse but steadying. "Accepted every part of me, even the worst parts." His fingers tightened again, this time more gently, as if grounding himself.

Behind Jack, Sylvie was seated on the floor, legs folded casually beneath her. She tilted her head, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "You always were too hard on yourself," she murmured, her tone light.

Jervis' breath hitched, his eyes briefly closing before refocusing on Jack. "You and Colin—he sounds good for you. Someone who keeps you on your toes, makes life richer." He paused, blinking slowly as though waking from a dream. "That’s… important."

Sylvie stood now, a faint shimmer at the edge of his vision, her fingers brushing lightly against his arm as she passed. "I’m still here, you know." Her voice was soft, steady. "You called me."

Jervis swallowed hard, his hand instinctively reaching for the space where her touch lingered before dropping back to his side on the mattress. "Breakfast for dinner sounds good," he said, almost absently, a quiet smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I think… I’d like that."

His eyes flicked once more to where Sylvie had been; gone without a trace, but the weight of her presence still lingered like a hint of smoke drifting in the breeze.

"You know…" Jervis started again, the words coming slowly as he glanced back at Jack while he began sifting through the tarot cards. "It's strange. Sometimes you think you’re done… that you’ve made your peace, and then the grief sneaks back up on you. Makes you feel like you’re right back where you started... it's almost enough to drive anyone mad... but it's a process, right?"

The moment shattered with a soft clearing of a throat from the doorway. Jervis tensed, every muscle recoiling. He didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Oh, bloody hell… this bloke, again?

It took everything in him not to snap at Barton to piss off. Irritation surged through his chest, white-hot, but exhaustion won out. He almost couldn’t bring himself to react, in all honesty, the weariness in his bones outweighing the anger... You’re like a damn cockroach… he thought, half-bitter, half-bemused. Terribly rude of you to interrupt.

"Hey, citrouille," Barton said casually to Jack. "Mind stepping out for a minute? I need to talk to Jervis."

Jack hesitated, glancing between his father and Jervis, but eventually rose. Barton patted him on the shoulder, tone light, as if unaware—or possibly indifferent—to the tension in the air.

As Jack left, Barton held up his phone, waving it in front of Jervis. "I just got an interesting phone call I thought you might want to hear about."

Jervis exhaled, met Barton’s gaze. It took every ounce of flagging willpower not to tell him exactly where he could stick his ‘interesting’ call. Sylvie’s presence slipped further from his mind, swallowed by the suffocating weight of Barton’s intrusion.

He forced a tired smile, his voice flat. "Glad to see you back on your feet," he finally muttered. "At least one of us is standing upright."

[illusionsofdreaming]

Hey! It's nice to see you update from time to time in my timeline :)

Instead of the main trio, could you write a hc of a reader who's afraid of sea life but can't help but adore Archie and Witira regardless of that? (Reader got attatched to the pair when they read TCF, haha.)

Notes: This is such a beautiful prompt and I'm so happy to finally get requests for the whale tribe <3 <3

Ft: Archie, Witira

Archie

as one who’s always looking for trouble he does not notice your weak presence much at the beginning

but then after a while, he began to realise there’s this one person from Cale’s group who seem to watch them but always look away immediately when their eyes happen to meet

he ignores it with a snort, since it wouldn’t be the first time weak species have oogled them, he’s got bigger fish to fry

however, every time he returns from a fight (of his own making or otherwise) there’s always medicine, bandages and warm food set out for him

After a bit of asking around he figured out who did it. However whenever he tries to find you to say thanks (he may be a brute but he’s got manners) you run the other direction

the flip-flopping treatment gets annoying after a while so he corners you one day “What’s your deal? You hate us or something? Cut it with the fake sympathy, we don’t need your pity.”

and you kinda spill - you admire the whale tribe but you’re also very squeamish about sea life, you can’t stand the sliminess or the smell. Really! you don’t hate them but-

“Seriously?! Thats all?” he interrupts your rambling in exasperation and grabs your hand to place it on his arm. “See? There’s no scales, we’re the same as you fickle two-legged humans in this form.” 

You were about to scream from shock until your mind processed his words and hey, he’s right. There’s no fishy smell either

“Of course not,” he snorts and you blush in embarrassment when you realise you said that out loud. “We’re cleaner than you humans.” He grumbles and walks away shaking his head

Afterwards, you’re a lot more at ease around them but definitely still shy

He tells you its not necessary to bring him bandages and medicines but you still worry regardless and after a while, he just lets you do as you please, so long as you’re not sneaking in and out like some kind of thief

Witira

Witira is known to be a whale with a sympathetic heart, especially so towards those who are weaker

she noticed your pale features and clammy pallor from the corner of her eyes and realised that something was wrong, but couldn’t call it out because they were currently in an important diplomatic discussion

when a break was called, she noted how you had rushed out the room and after a moment’s debate, she excused herself from the conversation and went to look for you

she found your hunched over form over the balcony and alerted you gently of her approach

“Is something the matter?”

it shocked her when you suddenly started hyperventilating but she was quick to act, telling a passing servant to get help while she tried her best to help you calm down

the doctor arrived quickly and guided you to slow your breathing and eventually you were calm enough to explain that you have a phobia of sea life

Witira listened and took this in quietly. Didn’t laugh or frown at your weakness. She could sense your frustration and hatred of yourself for not being able to contain the anxiety attack and she was not going to blame you for something that you can’t help.

Eventually, she crouches and asks if she could approach you. With your permission she kneels in front of you and you gasped and nearly bolted up in surprise, the future Queen of Whales shouldn’t have to kneel to you but she waved it off and implores you to sit down and keep calm

“I understand that phobias aren’t something one can control and know your reactions are not because of any prejudice against my species either. Since we’ll be working together soon, if there’s anything I can do to help make things easier for you, please tell me.” she smiles, and for a moment you forgot about your fears, blinded you were by her beauty.

“Surely the whales you’re thinking of don’t have these?” she lifts her hand in front of your eyes, spreading fingers apart and wiggles them

It tempts a small chuckle from you and a little of the tension ebbs away

you were a bit reluctant at first - partly because you didn’t want to be a burden to them and partly because some part of you still blames yourself for freaking out

but Witira is understanding and eventually convinces you that these things are better tackled together than alone

slowly and with a lot of patience, the two of you found your triggers and developed ways to work around them

eventually, you've got a good enough grasp on your anxiety that you could work side by side by the whale tribe without breaking out in cold sweat and hold proper conversations without needing to bolt

you nearly fainted when you first saw her transformed whale form - but that’s a story for another day