#if I loved it less I might be able to talk about it more

[livelaughloveluffy]

comfort - portgas d. ace

a/n: this is long overdue, but here is finally the ace version and that marks the end of this series!!! i have lots more series planned in the works, however, i like to keep my secrets every now and then, so you'll just have to stay tuned and find out 😌

nothing but fluff here 💗

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when he comforts you:

-like his brother, ace hates to see you sad. while he might not be as outwardly determined as luffy, he definitely puts in more effort than usual to make you laugh or smile.

-he'll never stop to hesitate before he pulls you into his arms, carries you into his bedroom, and give you endless cuddles. using his devil fruit, the feeling of his soft warm tan skin against you is one that brings instant relief. the sound of his soft voice murmuring sweet nothings into your ear. his strong arms wrapped tightly around your body as he gently whispers "i'm not going anywhere"

-ace is both an amazing listener and advice giver. he always knows exactly what to say to comfort and calm you while also either solving your problem or making you feel drastically less stressed about it.

-this man showers you in attention and affection. ace will grab your face and kiss you hundreds of times, or until you smile or giggle, with absolutely zero care for who is around to witness it. his eyes are always on you, and when you catch him staring, he'll give you his iconic little smirk. his hand is either intertwined with yours, or placed on your thigh when the two of you are together, he'll run his fingers gently across your skin drawing shapes or lines into you.

-ace does not hesitate to remind you how amazing you are and everything he loves about you. he'll give you a long laundry list of reasons why he is absolutely obsessed with you. never giving you time to doubt yourself.

-when you're sick, injured, or on your period: you've never been more grateful for your boyfriend being a human heating pad than when you're cramping on your period. no matter the time or place, ace will slide his hands up under your shirt and place them against your stomach, warming them to the perfect temperature to ease your pain. while he is typically a bit clingy in a normal scenario, when you don't feel good, ace absolutely refuses to leave your side. he will be curled up in bed with you the entire time, napping with you, providing cuddles, chatting with you, and all with his charming boyish smile never leaving his face.

when he needs comforting:

-ace really values your opinion and advice. being able to talk to you about his problems is something that took some time to get used to, being an older brother tended to hardwire him to always have the answer, and admitting that he needed help was a struggle at first. since you tend to have an extremely objective and fair stance when it comes to giving advice, it grounds him and calms him down, making him less anxious about any problem he is having.

-despite his confident energy and personality, ace thrives off of praise and words of affirmation. telling him that he's doing a good job, reminding him of his kind nature and character, how much you love him, makes all the different to him.

-physical affection is an instant relief to ace. crawling into his lap wherever he may be, dragging him to bed for cuddles, lots of kisses, constant hand holding, playing with his hair, tracing the tattoo on his arm or back, anything and everything is on the table, as long as you have your hands on him in some way, he'll feel much more at ease.

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a/n: i have no idea why i struggled with this ace fic as much as i did, but i simply can no longer look at my laptop anymore 💀

a/n: enjoyed this fic? here's my masterlist!!

[twirlyleafs]

“Reckless.”

Charles Leclerc x driver! Reader

TW: mention of death, fighting

~~~~

“What the hell was that?”

Charles’ angry voice cut through the hum of your garage like a whip, startling you enough to make you spin around to face him. You hadn’t expected him to be here this fast, you’d barely gotten out of the car, but then again maybe you should have. You knew he’d be angry considering the intense qualifying session where you’d wrung every last bit out of your car—and yourself. In those final two laps, you’d driven with reckless precision, pressing Alonso so hard in the corners that he’d had to back off to not risk contact. It wasn’t exactly clean racing, but it had earned you a spot on the second row. Fourth on the grid, your best start all season. The best you would probably be able to get out of your car. But as satisfying as it was, you knew that Charles would have something to say about it.

“Keep your voice down, Charles.” You muttered while unzipping the top half of your suit, hoping you could brush this off before it turned into a scene. Charles wasn’t having it. Out of the corner of your eye you could see him, jaw clenched, his hands slicing through the air as he spoke, disbelief radiating off him.

“Keep my voice—are you serious? What’s your problem? That overtake was reckless. Fernando was barely an inch away from accidentally sending you flying into the wall!”

“Calm down.” You shot him a look as you brushed past him, hoping he’d drop it if you just kept walking. But Charles scoffed, immediately following you, his tone hard and unforgiving.

“Don’t tell me to calm down! I was right behind you! I saw the way you went in—God, you’re just lucky it was Alonso and not one of the rookies. That could’ve been a disaster.” Charles was relentless, his words chasing you all the way to your driver’s room. Your fists were clenched, nails digging into your palms as you worked to keep your own frustration under control. You knew his worry came from a place of love, but right now, it felt like he was questioning you as a driver, as if he didn’t trust you to know what you were doing. And that stung more than you cared to admit. Once the door shut behind you both, his words softened, though they still held an edge. “What were you thinking out there?”

You let out a heavy breath, finally turning to meet his gaze. “I was thinking about getting a decent starting position. I wanted-“

“You don’t risk everything for a good position!” he interrupted, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Have you talked to Fernando? He’s probably fuming! If that had been me in his shoes, I would’ve lost it—”

“Good thing it wasn’t you, then.” You snapped, turning your back on him as you began unzipping the rest of your suit. It felt safer to face the wall, where he couldn’t see the raw mix of emotions that tightened your throat and threatened to spill over. “You don’t get it, Charles. You have a team, a car, a contract. You have a future. A name. I’m fighting for scraps, like every shot is the last one I’ll get.”

He fell silent and for a moment you thought he might back down, let you have this small victory. But his voice cut through the quiet, low and sharp. “Maybe I don’t get it. But I do get that you’re pushing yourself too far. And one day it won’t just be a scare. You’ll get hurt.”

“Yeah, well, I can handle myself.” You retorted as you turned to face him, your gaze defiant. “I knew what I was doing with Alonso. I wouldn’t have tried it with one of the rookies, I knew they couldn’t handle that.”

“Can you?” His eyes held a look you rarely saw, a mixture of frustration, fear, and maybe even doubt. “Can you handle it, Y/N? Because from where I’m standing, that looked less like confidence and more like…like desperation.” His words hit you like a slap, hurting more than you wanted to admit. Was it desperation? Maybe there was some truth in that, but you weren’t about to let him see you flinch. Not when he didn’t understand what it was like to constantly have to prove yourself, to feel every race could be your last if you didn’t show results.

“Are you calling me a bad driver Charles?” You asked, the challenge clear in your tone. He ran a hand over his face, sighing in exasperation.

“I’m calling you reckless. Stupid, even. You could be amazing, I know you’re amazing, but you keep pulling moves like this and I’m just scared it’s going to end in disaster.”

You swallowed, ignoring the sting of his words. “I can’t afford to play it safe, Charles. You wouldn’t get it, you don’t have to get it. You’re in a car that could win a championship. I’m just trying to prove I belong here.” For a moment, he looked as if he was about to argue, his eyes narrowing with the usual stubbornness you knew too well. But instead, he just shook his head, stepping back, disappointment flickering in his gaze. He lingered for a moment, his gaze softened, as if he wanted to reach out but held himself back. Then he turned, leaving the room as quickly as he’d entered, his words hanging in the air, heavy and unshakable. You stood alone, the silence pressing down on you, and no matter how much you wanted to brush it off his words kept echoing in your mind.

The hours dragged on, the buzz of qualifying still lingering as you were pulled from one interview to the next. You smiled for the cameras, deflected the sharpest questions, and managed to shrug off any mention of that heated moment with Alonso. But under the surface, your mind churned with the memory of your earlier fight with Charles. His words still echoed in your head, gnawing at you in a way you couldn’t shake. Reckless. Desperate. You’d been called a lot of things, but hearing it from him hurt like hell. It was late when you finally reached the hotel, the quiet of the lobby a stark contrast to the noisy paddock. The tension in your shoulders was nearly unbearable as you made your way up to your room, the thought of sleep the only thing keeping you moving forward. When you unlocked the door and stepped inside Charles was there, sitting on the edge of the bed, his gaze flicking up from his phone when you entered. He looked worn, the earlier fire in his eyes now replaced with something gentler, but equally intense. You felt your heart skip, torn between relief and irritation as the weight of your argument settled heavily in the air between you.

“Hey,” he said quietly, watching you as you set down your things.

“Hey.” You shrugged off your jacket, avoiding his gaze, the room feeling too small, too charged. Silence hung thickly for a moment before he spoke again.

“I’m sorry,” he began, a slight hesitance in his voice. “For showing up like that. I shouldn’t have come into your garage and… yelled at you. That was out of line.”

You nodded, acknowledging his apology but not yet ready to let go of the frustration simmering beneath your skin. Slowly making your way across the room you stopped by the dresser to remove your jewelry, plopping your watch and bracelet down on the cold surface before turning around to look at him again. “You still think I’m reckless? Stupid?” Your voice was calm, even as your heart pounded in your chest. Charles looked down, rubbing his hands together as he seemed to weigh his words.

“Yes. I do. I think you’re incredible out there, but sometimes…” He paused, looking up at you, his eyes soft yet resolute. “Sometimes it scares me. Seeing you push so hard, knowing one wrong move could just, you know, just end everything.”

You sighed, crossing your arms as you leaned back against the dresser. “Charles, I’m fighting for my career. Every weekend, every race—it’s not just about points or a title chance. It’s about proving that I belong here, that I’m not just some driver filling space at the back of the grid.” You hesitated, struggling to put into words what you’d felt for so long. “I don’t have the luxury of playing it safe.”

“And you think I don’t get that?” His voice rose, a hint of frustration slipping back in. “I know what it’s like to fight, to have to prove myself. You think Ferrari didn’t make me feel like I had to earn my place every damn time I got in that car?”

You scoffed, feeling a flicker of bitterness as you met his gaze. “It’s different, Charles. You still always had the team behind you. A car that can get you to the podium on strategy alone. I don’t have that. I have to be better. I have to take risks.”

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t fight.” His voice was softer now. “But not at the cost of your safety. There’s a difference between fighting and driving like there’s nothing left to lose.”

You felt a flash of anger, his words hitting a raw nerve. “Maybe I don’t see a difference because I don’t have anything to lose, Charles. I’m already at the back. Already being picked apart by the media trying to prove women don’t belong here. That I don’t belong here. A good result like this might be the only thing keeping me on the grid next season.” Your voice wavered as you continued, the weight of your own words settling heavy on your chest. “Maybe I can’t afford to think about what I have to lose.” At that Charles expression softened, his eyes searching your face.

“And what about me? What if I lose you? Maybe you don’t see it that way, but to me you are the most important thing in this equation.” His words struck you like a blow and for the first time you felt the edges of your anger soften, giving way to something deeper and more vulnerable. You let out a breath, your gaze dropping to the floor as the truth of it all began to settle between you. You swallowed, feeling the prick of tears in your eyes but refusing to let them fall.

“You have to let me fight. Even if it scares you. Because I can’t be the driver I need to be if I’m holding back just to make everyone else feel safe.” Even with your eyes trained on the floor you noted Charles getting up, moving across the room towards you. The ache in your chest reached its peak when his hands carefully found your arms, slowly stroking down them until he could grip your hands in his. He sighed, his thumb rubbing gently over your knuckles.

“I don’t want you to hold back. I’d never ask that of you, I just-“ he paused and you slowly lifted your gaze to meet his. “I just want you to be careful. To remember that you can get to where you wanna be without dying on the way. Baby I want you to have everything, I think you deserve everything and I’m here for you, as long as you don’t disappear on me.” The last of your frustration melted away as you let out a shaky breath, leaning into his embrace. The second Charles noticed you moving closer he dropped your hands, wrapping his arms around you instead. Tucking your head against the crook of his neck you let out a deep sigh, nodding slowly.

“I get it. I get what you’re saying. It’s just hard to think like that when I’m out there, seeing my chances slip away.”

“I know.”

“But I’ll try.” You whispered, the words more of a promise to yourself than to him. “I’ll try to be careful. But I need you to understand that sometimes, this is just how it has to be. It’s the only way I know.” You felt Charles nod, his lips pressing soft, reassuring kisses against the top of your head. You shuffled closer, letting your arms wrap around his torso as his tightened around your frame, grounding you in the warmth and steadiness of his embrace. “You won’t lose me.” You murmured against his shoulder, the words both a promise and a hope. Charles held you close, his lips pressing gently to your temple as you both stood in the quiet of the room, letting the tension and hurt melt away. And for a while, neither of you said anything more, content just to hold each other, finding a fragile peace in the shared silence. Tomorrow, you’d be back on the track, fighting just as hard. But tonight, you were simply here, together.

[lucy90712]

Puppy- Pedri

Life has been a lot recently I moved away from my hometown and my parents to move in with my boyfriend after being long distance for nearly two years. Getting to live with him has been amazing I love Pedri so much and now we don't have to miss each other in between being able to visit one another. Moving from Tenerife to Barcelona has also meant I needed to find a new job which luckily didn't take long so I've just started at a new company and moved which is a lot all at once but so far it's been mostly good.

I do feel like I'm kind of just getting through each day I wake up and then I'm at work and then I come back home again. My life doesn't feel like my life anymore I had a whole routine back home but now everything is different and I don't have the little things in my routine that helped each day feel less mundane. The best part of my day is when Pedri gets home and we can cuddle on the sofa and watch a movie which has become a daily routine. Don't get me wrong I love my new life as I get to be with Pedri but it's a lot of change all at once and I feel like it's finally catching up to me and I'm starting to miss home a little. 

It's going to take some time to get used to being here but I'm sure eventually Barcelona will start to feel like home and I'll forget all about this time where I felt out of place. I know this is where I'm supposed to be as otherwise Pedri would've never come into my life and he's definitely the best thing that's ever happened to me. When we get used to living together and I get used to the city I'm sure it will all be perfect right now we are just going through an adjustment period. 

Pedri's POV

Like most days when Y/n got home she seemed stressed until she saw me then she put a fake smile on her face. I can tell she's faking it because the smile didn't reach her eyes like it always does when she's actually smiling. I know the move has been a lot on her we both knew the first few weeks would be hard but I can tell she's still struggling and that just breaks my heart. It's not that she doesn't want to be here as when we go places together she really enjoys herself but whenever I have to leave her or she goes to work the next time I see her she looks stressed and just generally unhappy. 

I should've known that moving so far from home and getting a new job all at the same time would be hard for her but I underestimated how big of a change that would be for her. I remember when I first moved here I didn't know anyone and it was my first time living alone it was scary and I missed home a lot and that must be how y/n feels as I know she is really close to her family so not being close to them distance wise anymore is difficult. I want to do something to make her feel more at home here but I have no idea what the right thing to do is as I can't just magically help her settle in. 

This has been on my mind for a few days and I can't decide the right thing to do so I've decided that I'm going to ask some of the other guys if they have any ideas. I've told Ferran about my dilemma but he was no use and the same goes for Gavi neither of them gave me any serious ideas they just joked around like they always do. Asking them made it clear that I need to talk to one of the older guys who might actually offer some sensible advice. 

"Hey Raphinha can I get your advice on something?" I asked 

"Of course man what's up" he said 

"You know y/n moved in with me a few months ago well I just feel like she hasn't fully settled in and I don't know what to do she just seems stressed and unhappy" I said 

"That's hard she must just miss home I know this isn't the answer your looking for but time is the best thing for that and just talk to her asking her how she feels will help you understand what you can do to take some of the stress away" he advised 

"Thanks man I'll definitely talk to her" I said 

"Wait Pedri did you say y/'s missing home" one of coaches said from across the hallway 

"Yeah she just seems to be lonely I guess she's only got me and anyone I've introduced her to so when we aren't around that's when she seems to be the worst" I said 

"This might not be the solution you're looking for but my brother found a puppy dumped in a bin last night maybe having something in the house would help y/n feel less lonely if you want to meet the puppy I'll give you my brothers number" he said 

"Actually that sounds like a great idea" I said 

Getting a puppy was definitely not something I'd planned on doing for a while as I'm not around as much as I would need to be to look after a dog and I didn't want to put that all on y/n as she's getting used to life here but maybe it would be good for her. Having a little puppy around the house to keep her company while I'm not around sounds like a great idea to me and she can meet new people taking the dog for a walk. 

~~~~~~~~~~

After seeing the puppy my mind was made up he was so sweet and he reminded me a lot of the family dog y/n has back home which seemed like a sign that this was the decision I needed to make. It took a few days to get everything sorted but finally today I picked up the puppy and brought him home to explore a bit before y/n got home from work. So far he's done just that he hasn't stopped running around and playing with the few toys I got him as well as my shoes but we will work on stopping that another day. 

Your POV

Today has been a long day we had a big presentation at work today and I had a few important meetings and now I'm just exhausted. When I pulled into the driveway Pedri's car was already there and that made me feel a little better as seeing him and cuddling with him sounds like it will make all my problems go away at least for tonight. As I entered the door I saw a little plastic ball on the floor which had me confused as I don't know why Pedri would have one of those or why it would just be on the floor. Then it all made sense when a tiny ball of black fluff ran towards me grabbed the ball and ran away again towards Pedri who picked up the puppy and brought it towards me. 

As soon as he placed the puppy in my arms I was in love it looked exactly like my parents dog back home which they got when I was little and we grew up together. Holding the puppy made me feel like I had a bit of home with me and it reminded me of my childhood and all of the photos I have with my parents dog. 

"Whose dog is this?" I asked Pedri 

"He's ours" he said 

"I have so many questions" I said 

"Well one of our coaches at the club overheard me talking to Raphinha about how I think you've been missing home and feeling lonely here and said that his brother found a puppy dumped in a bin so I went and met the puppy and instantly knew he'd be a perfect fit for us and I know we both have busy lives but I thought he'd keep you company while I'm away" Pedri explained 

"Who would dump this little cutie" I cooed to the puppy

"I do have one last question does he have a name yet?" He asked 

"I haven't properly named him yet as I didn't want to do it without you but I was thinking we could call him Nilo" he said 

"I like that welcome to our crazy household Nilo" I said 

Pedri took my bag off me while I took Nilo to the living room so I could sit and play with him to destress from my day. It didn't take long for Pedri to join us and we both threw the little ball across the room and watched little Nilo scamper after it. A puppy would've been the last thing I thought I wanted if you'd have asked me even just yesterday but I actually think Pedri is right Nilo is going to be great at keeping me company when no one else is here and having such a happy little thing here to greet me when I get home is definitely going to brighten my days. It feels like I've got a little bit of my life from back home here now that we have a dog and hopefully that will help make Barcelona feel like home. 

For the rest of the night we didn't take our attention off Nilo but eventually we had to go to bed now we had agreed that Nilo wouldn't sleep in the bed with us but that went out the window within two seconds. As soon as we saw him sitting on the floor in his bed whimpering and wanting our attention Pedri got up and put him on our bed which stopped his crying instantly. Nilo was quick to make himself comfy in my arms as Pedri put his arms around me and we settled down for the night as some sort of weird family.

"Thank you for getting Nilo just having him here has made me feel more at home" I said 

"There's no need to thank me I just want you to be comfortable here and honestly as soon as I saw him there was no way I was leaving without him he was just too cute" Pedri laughed 

"He certainly is cute you have competition now" I joked 

"I don't think I'm going to win that competition" he said 

"No you won't but I still love you" I said 

"More than Nilo?" He asked 

"Of course for now at least" I joked 

Pedri rolled his eyes but I know he feels the exact same way I do. 

[jweekgoji]

I love your platonic hcs with five!! Can you make more please?:33

Yandere!Five/Reader [platonic/hcs]

tw: very soft yan!dad!five, reader described as child here, mentions of Five/Dolores romantic relationship, brief mentions of Five's past trauma, hints on eating disorders, overprotective behavior word count: ~900. a/n: Thank you for your request, Anon. It was good to write something about my old interest after quite a break. I made this is mostly based on information I had read months ago from some book. Tiny sequel for this.

Kinda sad that tua fics aren't as popular as before and slowly dying.

Let's ignore the ending and other moments we shouldn't talk and pretend like...everything ended well for the Hargreeves family! All the siblings mostly live separately from each other, but they still care for one another and meet on birthdays and other holidays.

Five meets a young, pretty lady during one of his undercover missions, and after that «love at first sight» trope, their relationship grows strong, leading to Five finally abandoning his job as an agent (honestly, good for him).

I really like the idea of Five having a quiet, peaceful life somewhere far away with his family. His wife is a popular fashion model and earns enough money for the family, while Five is the one who stays at the house, keeping you safe and raising the way he wished he was.

Five is scared to repeat the past mistakes his family members made; that's why I see him being extra overprotective with you. He wants to give you everything he never had in his childhood, and it often leads to you growing into some spoiled brat.

I can see him pausing for a moment and having that «wait...WHAT?» look when you reply with a sassy remark, and that's the moment he sees that you're basically becoming the tiny version of his young self. Part of him is proud, he knows that you will be able to stand up for yourself in the future, but the other part...he's not really happy to deal with someone who uses his own methods against him, as we can tell from the show (points at the other versions of Five).

Five is that parent who wakes up early in the morning to prepare breakfast for you. He has a sweet tooth, but he avoids giving you too much sugar, like I mentioned before. By the moment you wake up, you see a plate of eggs and bacon carefully formed into a smiley face with a glass of juice next to it.

I see Five spending a lot of time reading about parenting. He is well-educated enough in many fields, but it's just something he likes to do when he is free from house chores. Sitting in the chair with glasses on and a warm blanket laid on his lap, it's a heartwarming sight. Dolores will return from work later this day, only to see her husband having a nap in their little library and their child eeping next to him.

Five is especially careful with the food he prepares for you. After decades of loneliness in the apocalypse, he had few food choices. Every day felt like a constant survival, and the idea of you experiencing the same at such a young age terrifies him. He unconsciously gives you a little too much food, constantly asking “you need more?” just to make sure you're well-fed. Five might pay less attention to himself, but you're getting the best meal ever.

Five gives me the idea of that dad who will hold you close next to him 24/7. Yandere Five just can't bear the idea of you being somewhere away from home for more than an hour. There's a deep conflict in his heart, and his wife always tells him that it's fine. You're growing up, it's natural for you to try and separate from your parents, but this bothers him to insanity.

There's no more apocalypse, no more The Commission; the world is quiet now; there's no need for him to worry about. He never argues with you about it, the moment you leave your home to meet with a friend, your phone will cry from constant messages like “are you okay?”, “where are you now?”, “when will you go back?”. He needs to know it in case, well...just something happens, he's responsible adult, after all.

For most parents, Five seems like the ideal father figure, but he gets a little overbearing sometimes. When you snap at him, giving something like “just leave me alone!”, he would get quiet immediately. It is a significant difference between him now and in the past.

Usually he never lets people to dismiss him like that, he would have dragged you back and lectured you about disrespecting him, but now he's just sad. He will let you cool down, just to think what he has done wrong.

Five loves spending time with you, mainly because he never had the chance to spend some time with his own family. There were missions, there were trainings, there were constant fighting, etc., and after his retirement he plans to give his full attention to you. He knows a lot, from how to solve some difficult equations under 15 minutes to how to kill a person with a pencil, but it's not the same when the person whom you trust the most teacher you everything.

Reginald never bothered to spend a simple father and son moments, how to be a man and deal with various situations in his life, that's why he wants to teach you of something simple. He knows it's not as impressive, but it's quality time that matters.

[mad-hunts]

in response to the other's answer in regards to what jervis would prefer on his toast, jack simply nodded. he'd found himself at a loss for what else to say even though that was actually quite rare for him. maybe it was the idea that barton could be outside at that very moment, listening in, that made jack suddenly feel like a fog had rolled into his mind; making it so that he could protect himself without even knowing for sure that there was a threat in the first place.

barton didn't like talking about julien - he'd pretty much stowed away every single picture but one the family had with him in it, in fact. for it still hurt him too much to look at them. therefore, especially considering his father's history of not being able to regulate his moods well, jack might have to perform 'damage control' if that were the case. but crossing the bridge if he were to get there seemed to apply quite well here. so, the farceur chose to move on and it turned out to be wisely, too.

jervis did look very tense lying there with jack visibly appearing to want to curl up into himself and never come out. after going to the nearby trunk in the room, he opened it. this was done as a means to distract the both of them from succumbing to the weight of their own differing circumstances. though there was certainly a good cover reason for jack to, ❝ oh, wow. ahh... i almost forgot that its supposed to get down into the forties tonight so you might need this. its going to be cold, after all, ❞ it was also hitting sundown at that moment as well.

jack could tell by just looking through the crack in the curtains of the one window in the room. while gnawing on his bottom lip, he pulled out the plush blanket inside of the chest only to shake it out a bit. now, as jack tossed the blanket up just enough to cover jervis's body without touching him? something matilda told him a few years ago echoed in his mind during a conversation they had late at night: 'you know, i know you'd like nothing more than to get rid of all your feelings sometimes - but i hope you never change.'

jack just remembered looking up at the tent he was in that day of camping afterward, as he decided he should probably get to sleep. but it felt validating in a way he couldn't explain as well even now. because jack's first instinct upon seeing jervis was that he was struggling, so he should help him; though one could definitely say that sense of responsibility had made him suffer in the past. thank goodness sucking in a deep breath through his nostrils and exhaling could allow jack to quiet his mind then.

he tilted his head at the other's words and squinting his eyes, deep in thought. of course if jervis didn't believe in one, that was fine, but it appeared like he might. these sorts of concepts could trigger whole debates for a reason, however, as spirituality was something that jack affiliated himself with. but religion? he wasn't so sure, so he more than understood when jervis settled for saying his loved ones being at peace was simply something he wanted to believe in. with jack's sudden exit came the arrival of a much less benevolent figure, to say the least, and barton couldn't say he blamed jervis for seemingly somewhat disappointed that his son left.

jack was easy to get along with, and with just a little bit of time spent with him, he might just win someone over with his compassionate nature. barton knew this well along with the reality he had to learn other people's behaviors throughout the years to appear at least 'semi-normal.' how that was going for the doctor would often depend on who you asked, though. barton could only snort derisively at that, ❝ funny. just remember, you'd be in arkham right now if it weren't for me and my daughter. ❞ he pointed a sharpened nail in the direction of jervis as he proceeded into the room.

the same crack in the curtains jack had once looked through was soon closed with a quick 'swishing' motion. barton was personally raised with a very limited exposure to faith, as neither wesley nor winslow were particularly religious father figures. but barton could admire those who participate in it regardless of their level of involvement in it. though it could be used as a force of evil as much as it could be used for good, a lot of humanity existed in shades of gray.

so even if they were under the threat of suffering through something like eternal damnation after death... in barton's mind, it was only a matter of time before someone used a widespread thing like faith to their own advantage. and maybe this was bad of him but thinking about wesley being in such a place somewhat brought him a sense of twisted satisfaction; because at least barton would be getting a form of justice for every fearful moment wesley put him through that way. barton only blinked as his eyes trailed from jervis's face to the teacup that jack had presumably brought him.

shockingly enough, all he felt when he discovered that marty's father was a powerful figure was an incredible amount of disbelief for a moment before it fizzled away. barton was used to things getting worse even if he couldn't have seen this coming. plus, he'd gotten frighteningly good at treating human lives like this police captain's more as obstacles than actual beings. it remained to be seen which one jervis was to barton. he squinted his eyes before standing up and ultimately finding out that, yeah, he had done that too quickly.

barton felt like he was green around the gills all over again, ❝ that is one way to put it, jervis. but don't worry. you just reminded me that, although we're going to have to get creative, there are ways of getting away with it. i'd say pinning his murder on someone else might be the best. ❞ he uttered after swallowing thickly, making a 'turn around' gesture with his finger towards the other. barton talking about murder as if it was light dinner conversation said everything that needed to be said about how he felt about their current predicament.

maybe it was because he was still feeling a lot of malaise, but no part of it bothered him in particular. the doctor was more worried about jervis becoming queasy because he accidentally saw the scars where he'd stitched on yves's arm to his own body, ❝ uhh, just in case you didn't get that, turn around. i'm going to change my shirt. ❞ once that was done, barton slipped his current bloodied one over his head only to replace it with the other. he slumped down in the chair to the table opposite of jervis and looked over the tarot cards laid out before him.

barton, too, knew how to interpret them. ❝ what were you two planning on doing with these? a 'past, present, and future' reading? because i can do it while my son's gone for you. ❞

Jervis gave the barest of shrugs as he glanced at Jack through his bangs, the quiet rhythm of their breathing, the slow drip of the IV, and the faint shifting of the cards against the tabletop the only sounds piercing the air. "Either one sounds perfectly agreeable. I defer to your good judgment." A ghost of a smile, pale and wan, tugged at his mouth for an infinitesimal moment.

Call it the lingering pangs of paternal instinct or projection, whatever you felt was most appropriate, but some flicker of warmth—worry mingling with concern—stirred within Jervis' breast; softening the veneer of exhaustion and discomfort that clothed him like a second skin. Like an invisible cancer that had latched onto him, draining his vitality—a slow-acting poison decades in the making; only this time, the source was external, a reflection of Jack's own unease radiating across the space between them.

Jervis drew in a shallow breath, feeling the tightness in his chest not as his own, but as if their nerves had blurred and grown entangled. He tried to focus, willing his own breath to steady, his hands to unclench. A low chuckle escaped Jervis' chapped lips at Jack's query. The medications in his IV coursed through him, cold and prickling, sending a frisson over his skin as goosebumps rose in response. And yet, somehow, it eased the deep ache within him, dulling the edges of both pain and nausea. He could feel the weight of his discomfort receding, just slightly, as though the medicine were smoothing his raw nerves; coaxing him toward a delicate, unfamiliar calm.

Not quite like ketamine.... not like the cozy, blithesome feeling that coursed through his veins with each dose. Even when most of his prior consumption of the drug hadn't been consensual—thick enough to cut his teeth on, it ensured small pockets of blissful ignorance hardening into a dissociative shell, like callus. (God bless those poor, ministering angels at Arkham... only a trace of spite and animosity there, rage bleeding with sorrow at how his autonomy and consent was completely ignored, snatched... one wrong move, and he was left cowering in a crumpled heap, or otherwise dead to the world... but now? Would the scales be tipped, if they managed to drag him back there? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know that answer.) If Odysseus and his crew had been desperate to escape the Lotus Eaters only to stumble unwittingly into the clutches of Polyphemus, Jervis felt quite the opposite.

For better or worse, the ketamine had left him numb to everything.

The pain, the grief, the anguish that tore gouges in his heart and mind; lacerated his psyche to shreds, in conjunction with the ECT. Somehow, he compartmentalized it... gravitated to the cannabis as an alternative upon his discharge, once he'd regained his center of gravity and emerged from his self-immurement; the fractures left by his losses and lessons grinding him to the bone. Everything it cost him and what he'd earned in exchange. Simon. Arabella. His time in Ireland. Sylvie. The flood. Alice.

The lengths he had gone...

And so Jervis chuckled; the sound dry and hollow, barely touching his eyes. He met Jack’s gaze, his expression tightening as he mulled over the question, tasting the irony in it.

“An afterlife…” he murmured, his eyes drifting. Thoughts and memories broke the surface like apples bobbing in a bucket: Simon and Stephen putting aside their differences over the blessing at Passover; his and Arabella's quiet, but spirited discussions of Heaven and the saints and catechism, the differences between the Old and New Testaments as they strolled along the shoreline. Stories of the witch trials in Ireland, of John Calvin and his legacy in Scotland.

All the old beliefs he’d grown up with circled back and hit like a tidal wave, tied as much to memories of family as to the concept of religious faith itself, all its beauty and diverse forms, yet it left him feeling frigid now. For a little over three decades, he'd told himself that he could appreciate the mythology of it all, even found it strangely comforting at times, but belief? That had always been a different thing entirely.

Jervis' mind tugged him back to reality. He could sense Jack’s curiosity pressing at the edge of his own awareness, a secondary presence so strong it was almost rendered a physical form. "That's.... a complicated notion, from where I'm standing.” He let out a slow, careful breath; curled his fingers back around his necklace as he dissected the question. “But... yes. I'd like to think our loved ones are at peace."

He could map it all in a dozen lines, right down to his own lived experiences, the rules he tried so hard to follow, the ideals that always seemed to warp and fray. There was karma, consequence, perhaps even the lingering shadows of what people might call a curse. But the idea of any higher being calling the shots? It gnawed at him like an old wound. And so Jervis looked back at Jack, almost apologetic, the faint sting of an old ache flickering beneath his words.

He was spared from elaborating with Barton's sudden appearance; lurking on the threshold like a wraith. Poor Jack's confidence and ease withered like a hapless petunia caught in the dead of winter. A few quiet words of dismissal and a pat to the shoulder were all that heralded the reluctant, leery departure of his one potential ally in the wolf's den.

'As phantoms frighten beasts when shadows fall.' Jervis sighed, slowly pulled himself into a sitting position, looked Barton in the eye; as well as he could, anyway, with the lingering gray spots and his missing glasses still impeding his line of sight. “Maybe we each make our own heaven—or our own hell.”

Perhaps that was petty or harsh of him to say out loud... though that was the truth of the matter. Jervis didn’t need religious belief to drive him, after all; he needed only his own peculiar code, that precarious balance between curiosity and cynicism, and the sense of duty he still felt for a daughter who had deserved something far more stable, more secure; safer than the patchwork life he had known. Whatever his flaws, his faults, some small part of him still respected the right to believe—what faith meant to others; its power to inspire, to build, to destroy. The cause and effect of human history, the double-edged promises of faith. And maybe that was the root of it: faith could be a tool, a guide, a balm.

But then the stark, often bitter truths he’d learned through survival would come rushing back. Besides, he reckoned, Barton likely wouldn't give a damn about any of his prior train of thought. In any case, on the topic of hell, Jervis never pictured the vast, cavernous expanse of fire and brimstone that Jonathan Edwards had once preached about in the summer of 1741. No. Hell always conjured up fevered images of a frozen lake in the deepest, darkest part of the center of the earth, untouched by light and warmth and life—the last of Dante Alighieri's nine circles.

'I sometimes think we must be all mad and that we shall wake to sanity in strait-waistcoats.'

He was torn from the thick mire of his thoughts, yanked back outside his mind as if caught in a sudden hurricane at Barton’s next revelation. Jervis shut his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, then reached for the cup of tea Jack had brought him. The liquid within was a warm, golden amber—like sea glass he’d once collected as a child in Bermuda, or the bits Alice would gather along Gotham’s coastline on their rare visits when she was little.

How simple those days were...

"Well." Jervis' voice was completely flat, his brow creasing with incredulity and disgust. Barton’s outline weaved and blurred before his eyes like a will-o’-the-wisp. No more, no more… no room, no room. He felt completely hollow. "Trading one problem for another, are we?" His scarred knuckles bulged as his fingers curled around the delicate porcelain; his grip hard enough to produce a faint, foreboding crack.

He would weep, if he had anymore tears left to shed over their predicament. For Marty and his partner, for the trouble Jack and Matilda had been brought into by association… but none for himself or Barton. He wasn’t certain he was worthy of it; and Barton had no qualms over their actions, he’d freely admitted it at that bistro earlier. Jervis’ hands tingled, as if they were still covered by the bloodied gloves he wore when he dispatched the driver in order to retrieve Alice’s rabbit, wielding his hatpins on pure impulse; there was no premeditation involved, but there was no discounting how surgical his actions had been in their efficacy with each targeted nerve cluster and artery. He wasn’t indulging in self-pity, oh no… nothing so shallow or solipsistic. Not like that at all. Just a pure ant mill of growing dread and horror and regret, one that couldn’t be encompassed by words alone.

His teeth sought the gouges in the corner of his mouth from where he’d previously bit himself in the throes of his nightmares, worrying at the cuts till they began to sting anew.

‘Despair has its own calms.’

[respectthepetty]

An appreciation post for 3 Will Be Free.

It had the Jojo as the director.

It had a composer, Yim Tirit Jitjang.

It had a poly plot.

It had a trans character with a dedicated plot.

It had an elite cast.

Everyone, including people we cared about, died, yet it didn't bury the gays.

It had TWO cinematographers: Pongthorn Thongwattana (55:15 Never Too Late, Cupid's Last Wish, Mama Gogo) and Rath Roongrueangtantisook (He's Coming To Me, A Tale of Thousand Stars, Mama Gogo), which shows.

Did I mention the poly plot?

Because it had it!

Sprinkle a little respect on this show for doing the most in 2019 when it did not need to.

[yrsonpurpose]

This scene is such a pivotal moment in the film but also in their relationship.

[ulgapodatkowa]

cry all you want but at the end of the day I am forever and always a slut for "the confession comes from the seemingly less emotional one of the two" trope and I will watch it again and again to devour it properly

[introspectivememories]

too many of you guys think nico is the loser and not lewis for letting the divorce go on for so long. like they're both losers about each other. emotionally constipated idiots who can't talk about their toxic homoerotic friendship that imploded on itself like 8 years ago and are now making it everyone else's problem. yeah nico's on television or in beer gardens talking about lewis all the time but like every other month some reporter is like "lewis, what's your favorite moment in your career?" and lewis no hesitation is like "oh man, karting, y'know? everything was simpler then" and then spends another six months skirting around nico's name. like this whole thing they're doing in the media isn't some kinda extended foreplay for them. they're both still pressing on the bruise to make sure it's still there!!! every few months, they're literally just asking on public television, does it still hurt for you like it does for me? and like clockwork, someone will release new information about them or one of them will say something about each other (in my heart, he's still my best friend/yes... and teammate) and the answer will remain the same, yes, of course, always.

[ruffaloon]

Hawkeye & BJ | No Big Deal (I Love You)

these two make me sick. here's a fanvid about all the things they can't help but leave unsaid.

[jimmyspades]

she looks like the real thing she tastes like the real thing my fake plastic love

[gayofthefae]

The entire show: Mike is good at telling the truth and bad at lying Mike is good at telling the truth and bad at lying Mike is good at telling the truth and bad at lying

Mike: can't tell El he loves her

Everyone: it's so sad how he can't tell her because it's just too true

[marlokelly]

i am like obsessed with the way christina ricci always describes misty with such a finality. “she knows no one’s ever going to like her” and “isn’t capable of being the best version of herself”. and by obsessed i mean it makes me miserable.

[fangwhoria]

yayyyyy buck!!!! yay!!!!!!!! hes found his forever home!!! yippee!!!!!!

[makedonsgriva]

I think the worst part about Yunmeng Brothers is that reconciliation is practically impossible for them. Like obviously their paths would cross from time to time but they will never dare to talk to each other heart to heart because they fucking suck at it.

Any attempt to talk would be seen as awkward at best and hostile at worst. Obviously they both love each other so much, the biggest regrets they would have the day they die is that they never got to make up. But even that would never make them talk it out.

I think some stories are bound to end that way. But hey, at least the love was there?

[buckysteve]

another thing about the both men saying “i’m gonna say something that’s gonna make you angry.” parallel is how they both basically talk about the same thing. about art wanting to retire. patrick knows. all those years apart, probably keeping up with art’s career and he knows. he still understands him. and how tashi is easier for him to approach for some reason and he doesn’t fear her rejection and it kind of excites him but with art he can’t handle it and he’s gutted by it.