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herballwitch · 3 months ago

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Altars For The Greek Gods

Hello, My name is Alva Tauri! I am an herbalist, spirit worker, tarot and oracle reader, and lunar and herbal witch dedicated to closing the education gap when it comes to herbalism and witch practices!

Today, I wanted to talk about ways in which I connect with the Gods and deities I worship in my life via my altar, as well as some of those Greek gods that I do not have a direct connection with to help those who are just starting!

NOTE: I did already say this above but I am going to say it again, I only work with (as far as Greek gods go) Hades, Apollo, and Dionysus. However, I have been working with spirits, Gods, and deities for nine years now, so the information found in this post will be a compilation of everything I have learned in those nine years from my own experiences and the experiences of friends. If you have any information you feel should be added to this post please feel free to message me!

With that being said, let's get into altar work with Greek gods...

ARES

Ares is the God of war and the spirit of battle and was typically associated with:

ANIMALS: eagle owl, barn owl, poisonous snakes, boar, vulture

COLORS: red and purple

CRYSTALS: bloodstone, garnet, red jasper, smokey quartz, black tourmaline, hematite, metals, obsidian, carnelian

OTHER ASSOCIATIONS (good for offerings): spicy things, chocolate, basil, cinnamon, weapons

ARTEMIS

Artemis was the goddess of chastity, hunting, and the moon. She is often associated with:

ANIMALS: deer, wolf, wild boar, hunting dogs

COLORS: white, blue, black, brown and green

CRYSTALS: morganite, moonstone, celestite, moss/tree agate, amethyst

OTHER ASSOCIATIONS (good for offerings): anything moon shaped, frankincense, cypress, mugwort, amaranth

APHRODITE

Aphrodite is the ancient Greek goddess of sexual love and beauty. She is typically associate with:

ANIMALS: swan, dove, sparrow

COLORS: red and pink for love/sexuality. white and blue, and gold.

CRYSTALS: rose quartz, pearl, opal, aquamarine, rhodonite, ocean jasper, moonstone

OTHER ASSOCIATIONS (good for offerings): roses, chocolate, shells, myrrh, gold

APOLLO

Apollo is the God of archery, music and dance, truth and prophecy, healing and diseases and, mostly commonly known as, the God of the Sun. He is commonly associated with:

ANIMALS: deer, hawk, crow/raven, cicada, swan, bees, wolf, fox

COLORS: yellow, white, red, orange. purple and green for the Oracle.

CRYSTALS: sunstone, amber, calcite (specifically honey and yellow), citrine, sapphire

OTHER ASSOCIATIONS (good for offerings): sun shaped anything, bay leaves, laurel, cypress, playing music (especially the lyre), poetry

ATHENA

Athena was the goddess of wisdom, war, and the crafts and is normally associated with:

ANIMALS: snakes and owls

COLORS: white, grey/silver, red

CRYSTALS: metals, celestite, fluorite, bloodstone, obsidian, iolite, azurite, and lapis lazuli

OTHER ASSOCIATIONS (good for offerings): anything to do with olives, snake shed, cedar, cypress, cinnamon, weapons

DEMETER

Demeter is the goddess of the harvest, grains, and agriculture. She is typically associated with:

ANIMALS: serpent, farm animals (especially pig), lizards, turtle-dove, crane, owl

COLORS: green, brown, yellow, and black

CRYSTALS: jade, tree/moss agate, carnelian, amber, aventurine, rutilated quartz, pyrope, and almandine

OTHER ASSOCIATIONS (good for offerings): oats and grain, anything baked, flowers, spices (like cinnamon or cloves, allspice is good too), leaves that have begun to change colors for fall, mint, poppy

DIONYSUS

Dionysus is the God of wine, pleasure, and festivity and he is typically associated with:

ANIMALS: panther/leopard, tiger, bull, serpent

COLORS: purple and green for association with grapes/wine, leopard/tiger print for his holy animals

CRYSTALS: amethyst is largely associated with Dionysus, as well as grape agate, garnet, and rose or rutilated quartz

OTHER ASSOCIATIONS (good for offerings): grapes (or any derivative), alcohol, cinnamon, ivy, pinecones, playing music, partying, sex/masturbation

HADES

Hades is the God of the underworld. However, Hades also rules over wealth and finances. He is typically associated with:

ANIMALS: naturally, dogs are frequently associated with Hades, as well as owls, sheep, and cattle

COLORS: black, red, and white are typically used in association with death. purple and metallics are used in association with riches/wealth

CRYSTALS: hematite, onyx, black crystals (like obsidian), jet

OTHER ASSOCIATIONS (good for offerings): narcissus, mint, asphodel, white poplar, pomegranate, coffee, cinnamon, elm, money, chocolate, keys, shells

HEPHAESTUS

Hephaestus is the Greek god of fire, volcanoes, blacksmithing, and metalworking. He is typically associated with:

ANIMALS: donkey, dog, crane

COLORS: red, orange, and yellow, metallics.

CRYSTALS: metals, fire opal, honey calcite, smoky quartz, black quartz, rock crystal, amethyst, chloritized quartz, and rutilated quartz

OTHER ASSOCIATIONS (good for offerings): spicy things, hot beverages, anything handmade (especially if made by you), dragon's blood incense, seashells, anything on fire

HERA

Hera is the goddess of women, marriage, and childbirth and is frequently associated with:

ANIMALS: peacock, cuckoo, cow

COLORS: red, pink and white for association with love and marriage. gold because she's the Queen of the Gods.

CRYSTALS: pearls, diamonds, topaz, opal, moonstone, malachite, tourmalinated quartz

OTHER ASSOCIATIONS: iris, rose, patchouli, coconut, cypress, maple, peacock feathers, pomegranate

HERMES

Hermes is the messenger of the gods and the mediator between the realm of the dead and the kingdom of the living. He is commonly associated with:

ANIMALS: tortoise, ram, goat, hawk, pig

COLORS: green, red, gold, white and brown

CRYSTALS: theres actually not a lot of evidance that crystals and stones were used in the past for altar work for Hermes. however citrine, alexandrite, and tigers eye are used frequently today

OTHER ASSOCIATIONS (good for offerings): money, crocus/saffron, strawberries

HESTIA

Hestia is the goddess of the hearth, home, and hospitality. She is normally associated with:

ANIMALS: donkey, pig, crane, cow

COLORS: red, orange, and yellow, brown or white

CRYSTALS: amber, jade, red garnet, ruby, sunstone, amethyst, honey calcite

OTHER ASSOCIATIONS (good for offerings): tea/coffee (drink with her), pine, bread, cider, apples, anything on fire, cinnamon, anything that feels like home to you

PERSEPHONE

Persephone is the goddess of the dead and queen of the underworld in ancient Greek religion and myth and is typically associated with:

ANIMALS: deer and ram

COLORS: purple, pink, yellow, green - any spring colors. (Hades colors can be used as well)

CRYSTALS: the garnet is the most commonly associated with Persephone, but amethyst, moss/tree agate, milk quartz, and jade can also be used

OTHER ASSOCIATIONS (good for offerings): pomegranate, flowers, grains, lavender, rosemary, Spring

POSEIDEN

Poseidon is the god of the sea, earthquakes, horses, and water. He is typically associated with:

ANIMALS: horse, bull, dolphin, hippocampus

COLORS: blue and white, gray, brown and green

CRYSTALS: coral, opal (especially water opal), blue calcite, aquamarine

OTHER ASSOCIATIONS (good for offerings): coffee, mint, ocean water, salt, seashells

ZEUS

Zeus is the god of the sky and is considered the ruler, protector, and father of all gods and humans. He is typically associated with:

ANIMALS: eagle, bull

COLORS: white, blue, gold, grey, yellow and black

CRYSTALS: opals are said to have come from Zeus' tears of joy after defeating the Titans, so they are heavily linked to Zeus. diamonds, gold, turquoise, lapis lazuli, celestite, iron/steel, any quartz

OTHER ASSOCIATIONS (good for offerings): rain water, oak, olives/olive branches/olive leaves, vervain. images of himself or anything with lightning bolts or shaped like a lighting bolt

That's all for altar connections with Greek Gods! I hope that you found this helpful in your spiritual journey and I hope that you are able to apply this information to your practice.

if you have any questions regarding anything discussed here or anything you feel that I have missed, please send an ask to my ask box! I appreciate all comments and questions!

For more information on my practice, witchcraft, herbalism, spirit work, and divination please check out the guide on my page (linked here)! Everything I have ever posted can be found there!

I wish you all a blessed day filled with peace, endless wealth, and eternal health! Until the next time we meet!

#witchblr #witch #witchcraft #greek deities #greek gods #gods #altar #greek altar

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axie-lot · 5 days ago

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Sparrow

Characters: Boothill

Warning: Male characters,Spoiler,mention of death,child death.

Very well, this fic will be split into two parts. Part 2 won’t take too long to post. Well, this fic was a request, but this part will serve as more of a "Prologue" for the idea behind the request.

Theme: angst

This work was originally written by me in Portuguese, and I translated it using Google Translator, so I apologize for any translation errors

Summary:Well, a life on the farm, a happy life, until the lands of his planet were invaded by those dogs, bringing hell with them.

[Masterlist]

Boothill remembers very well how he met [name]... Even though so much time has passed, even with his body entirely altered, he still remembers him. How could he forget? Oh, that boy who was as clever as a raven, But at the same time as gentle as a small sparrow. He remembers that meeting as if it were yesterday. It happened during his childhood, And one thing he knows for sure—that meeting Was an unusual one.

Well, young Boothill had just finished his breakfast with his siblings, and Nick had asked him to get the hay from the barn to feed the animals. That was part of his routine back then, so he thought everything would go as it always did. He went about his usual tasks, helped Nick clean up the kitchen after breakfast, and fed the dogs before heading to the barn. But as he was on his way to the barn, something unexpected happened. He heard a desperate scream coming from the road. Curious, he turned to look at the dirt road and noticed something unusual, Something very unusual... He saw a boy, about his own age, running. The boy looked desperate—and rightly so—because right behind him was a large group of geese chasing after him. Boothill was stunned by the sight, having never seen so many geese in one place before.

“What the hell,” was all the white-haired boy could think as he watched this bizarre scene unfold before his eyes.

He stood there, frozen, not knowing how to react. For a moment, he simply watched, but then he noticed something—a small detail. The geese were getting closer. Much closer.

Realizing this, the white-haired boy started running too, before the furious geese could reach him. He looked around for somewhere to take cover and spotted the barn. Without hesitation, he ran towards it, the only place that could offer safety.

He managed to reach the barn entrance, and only then did he glance back to assess the situation. To his surprise, the boy who had initially been chased by the geese had also made it to the barn. Boothill was shocked at how fast the boy had caught up with him, despite the considerable distance between them. But there was no time to dwell on that—the geese were closing in.

The two boys scrambled to shut the large barn doors just in time, before the terrifying geese could get in. They stared at each other for a moment, unable to process what had just happened. Finally, they both spoke at the same time: “Holy shit...”

After that chaotic situation, the two began to talk. And over time, Boothill started seeing the boy more frequently around the farm.

At first, [name] was hesitant to open up to Boothill, always staying on the defensive. But little by little, [name] began to let his guard down. Boothill got to know more about [name]’s personality and discovered that beneath that wary, bird-like demeanor was someone as gentle as a little sparrow.

[Name] would come by every day to visit Boothill, help with the farm chores, and then spend hours chatting and having fun once the work was done.

“Come on, Boothill! If we finish quickly, we can go swim in the river,” said the boy as he dashed past Boothill, who was carrying a bundle of hay.

“Sparrow, it’s just a chicken. She’s probably more scared of you than you are of her,” teased the gray-eyed boy, holding back laughter as he watched his friend being cornered by a small chicken.

[Name] always seemed to show up at the farm out of nowhere, and sometimes he arrived with bruises on his body. Boothill would always worry about his friend when this happened. That’s when he realized he knew almost nothing about [name]’s life.

He tried asking about [name]’s family and where he came from, but [name] always changed the subject. Over time, Boothill stopped asking.

As the two grew closer, they were almost inseparable. Boothill even introduced [name] to Graey, Nick, and his other siblings. He was so happy they liked [name].

Graey and Nick quickly grew fond of little [name] too. They could see through [name]’s lies about his family and noticed the pain he was trying to hide.

And so, the truth came to light: [name] was a street boy. That explained everything—why [name] always avoided talking about where he came from, how he could come and go as he pleased, and the bruises that always seemed to appear on his body.

In the end, they welcomed [name] to live with them. At first, [name] was reluctant, not wanting to be another burden for the men to take care of, but after much insistence, he finally agreed.

Well, if they were close before, now they were inseparable. Living in the same house, it was rare for them not to be together or at least within each other’s line of sight. One was always following the other

Whether it was to tend to the sheep, Check on the cows, Or even ride horses.

Speaking of horseback riding, it was Boothill who taught [name] how to ride. That day was hilarious because [name] was terrified of losing control of the horse and falling off. But by the end of the day, everything went well, thanks to Boothill, who stayed by his side to help with any problems that might arise.

Even though [name] now lived with them, he still held onto some habits from his time living on the streets. He remained a wary bird when strangers visited the farm, and every time that happened, Boothill had to calm him down.

The two of them often went out at night to hunt small game, staying out all night and only returning to the farm in the morning. These were some of the moments when they bonded the most and opened up to each other, as it was just the two of them, their weapons, and the forest throughout the night.

However, the most precious moments for Boothill were when he picked up a guitar and played for everyone, while [name] accompanied him, singing like a beautiful bird.

Oh, those sweet moments… Moments that now belong to the past.

And so it went on for a long time. But time passed, and those children began to grow into young adults.

Oh, Boothill remembers how much [name] had changed as he matured. That young boy with the soul of a skittish bird had grown into a handsome young man. He had let his hair grow long, always tying it in a low side ponytail adorned with a small braid that Boothill himself would often weave into his hair.

And his personality had changed a little. Once a wary and distrustful wild bird, [name] had become a gentle and kind sparrow, though his classic skittishness would occasionally resurface.

Some things had changed during this time. Now, he rarely saw his brothers, but he knew they were doing well. It was also during this period that the most emotional day of his life occurred— The day he proposed to [name]. It wasn’t the most elaborate proposal, but for him, it was deeply moving.

The proposal took place as they were heading home after a tiring day. The sun was already setting, casting its orange glow across the sky. Boothill had the idea for the two of them to stop for a moment to talk beneath a large tree on the farm. He wanted to surprise his little sparrow, even just a little.

He began to talk about their life together, from the time they were children to the present moment. He reminisced about how they met and how they had never left each other’s side. It was at the end of that heartfelt conversation that he made his proposal.

“My sparrow, you know better than anyone that I’m not very good with words. But I want you to know that all the moments we’ve shared together, the countless fun times we’ve had, have been incredibly special to me. You, my sparrow, are incredibly special to me. So now, I’ve decided to take a step forward in our relationship. And so, I ask you—will you marry me?”

He remembers [name]’s tear-filled eyes as he spoke. And as soon as he finished, [name] threw himself into Boothill’s arms, hugging him tightly and saying “I accept” over and over again.

A few weeks later, they got married. It was a simple wedding with just close family members present. It was the happiest moment of Boothill’s life.

He cried—one of the few times he ever did—as he watched [name] dressed in a simple suit. He was moved seeing Nick and Graey, also emotional, watching their adoptive son get married. It was such a beautiful moment.

After the wedding, they began their married life together in a small, simple house near Graey and Nick’s home.

Now both grown men, they lived together, starting their little farm.

Their life was perfect.

The two lived in complete harmony. They worked together, managing the household chores and farm tasks. [Name] even got a job to help with the farm expenses.

For a time, it was just the two of them on that small farm. They adapted well to that life, but both felt something was missing—something to make their family truly complete.

And so, she appeared… Their sweet and dear little girl.

On a silent night—a rare occurrence, as the sounds of rustling leaves or distant animals from the forest were usually ever-present—Boothill sat on the porch, staring into the vast darkness ahead. He had lost sleep and, not wanting to wake [name], who was sleeping soundly, stepped outside to see if the fresh air might bring his restlessness to an end. Lost in his thoughts, he suddenly heard the sound of loud, piercing cries echoing through the stillness of the night.

Following the cries, he discovered a small baby, wailing and inconsolable. Boothill didn’t know what to do at first, but eventually, he picked her up just as Graey had done for him many years ago and brought her home.

When he returned, he found [name] awake and slightly groggy, likely roused by the baby’s cries. Boothill remembers the look on [name]’s face when he showed him the baby—pure joy. The idea of becoming a parent made [name] so happy, he couldn’t stop talking about how excited he was to take on the role.

From that moment on, the two of them became parents. The void they had both felt was filled by that little girl.

Oh, how attached they became to her.

The next morning, they visited Graey and Nick to introduce them to the newest addition to their family. The two were overjoyed at the thought of becoming grandparents.

As days passed, the baby grew a little older. She began to take her first steps and babble her first words. Though, to her parents’ dismay, one of her first clear words turned out to be a small swear word—something she must have overheard from one of them, simply repeating the sound without knowing its meaning.

Boothill found immense joy in watching [name] hold the little girl and show her the animals on the farm.

Every evening, they had a routine. The two would tuck the little girl into bed, with [name] telling her a story while Boothill played a soft melody on his guitar in the background. Boothill even crafted a small guitar for her, something she could play when she grew older.

Oh, those sweet, precious moments…

But all good things must come to an end.

And it was on that fateful day that hell began.

Boothill wasn’t home when it started. He saw the enormous excavators appear on the horizon of the plains, paying no heed to the protests and despair of the local residents. Black ore began to gush from beneath the earth. Armed guards attacked the locals, forcing them from their homes, insulting their dignity, and disregarding their lives.

Though he managed to infiltrate one of the ships of those invaders, Boothill soon realized that his family needed him. He had to make sure they were safe—he had to protect them.

Cannon fire rained from the skies. When he finally stumbled back to the farm, he found it reduced to ashes. The elderly Graey and Nick, along with all the friends and siblings he grew up with, had already lost their lives. Their lifeless bodies lay scattered across what used to be the farm he called home.

Clinging to a sliver of hope, he rushed to their small house, praying he would find the figures he cherished so deeply alive. But to his horror, the house had been destroyed entirely. With tears streaming down his face, he began searching through the rubble.

What he found broke him completely: the lifeless body of the little girl he had raised as his daughter.

A cruel world, to take the life of a child—a child who had just started walking, a child who would never grow up.

Boothill held her small body close and cried like he never had before.

But then, a thought pierced through his grief: where was [name]? Where was his husband?

Desperate, he searched for [name], combing through the ruins of their home and the surrounding area. [Name] had been staying home that day to care for their daughter. Boothill should have found him there. Yet, no matter how thoroughly he searched, he never found [name]’s body.

What happened to [name] remains a mystery.

All Boothill could feel now was a deep longing for the past.

He missed the times when he could still see the people he loved.

He longed for the days when he still had his daughter and [name] by his side.

In a single day, he lost everything. And it was all the fault of the IPC’s dogs.

Boothill swore vengeance on those who had taken everything he loved from him.

Much time has passed since that fateful day. Over the years, everything changed. Boothill was no longer the same man. His body had been completely modified with mechanical parts, turning him into a cyborg.

Now, he had joined an organization—he was a Galaxy Ranger.

But that wasn’t the only thing that had changed. He had become a wanted man, with a bounty on his head.

That was the price he paid to pursue his ultimate goal: revenge.

Now, this was his life—a cyborg with nothing left to lose because everything he had loved had been turned to ashes.

He was now a cybernetic cowboy wandering among the stars, a member of the Galaxy Rangers who had vowed to punish the wretched by any means necessary. That was all he was.

His purpose was simple: to draw the attention of the IPC. He attacked their ships, slaughtered their lackeys, and spread chaos to lure them out. All to fulfill his ultimate goal—revenge.

Yet, no matter how much his life had changed, a lingering pain remained in his chest. A deep ache for his past. The guilt of failing to save his daughter, of not being able to protect Graey and Nick, and the unbearable sorrow of not knowing what had truly happened to his husband.

Speaking of [name], the question haunted him endlessly: what had happened to [name]’s body? Despite searching relentlessly, he had never found it, leaving him to agonize over its fate.

But after a long time, Boothill finally found the answer to that question.

One day, after destroying yet another IPC ship, the cyborg decided to take a break at a random bar on some distant corner of the galaxy. He wanted to drink and clear his head. Choosing an isolated corner to avoid drawing too much attention, he ordered his long-awaited drink and leaned back.

As he waited, he scanned the bar’s surroundings. It was a dingy, run-down place, but it had its charm. The room was filled with customers, most of whom seemed engrossed in the bar’s center. This gave Boothill some relief—he could enjoy his peace without interruption.

But then, something caught his eye.

On one of the bar’s walls, there was a board filled with wanted posters. He spotted a few familiar names, like the Stellaron Hunters. His gaze trailed across the posters, pausing momentarily on some of the members, until it stopped abruptly on one specific face.

A face that made his circuits freeze.

"WANTED: Stellaron Hunter [name]—Reward: 6.13 billion credits."

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

It was unmistakably [name] in the photo. Though their appearance had changed somewhat with time, Boothill recognized them instantly. He could never mistake the love of his life, no matter how much they had changed. What kind of husband would he be if he couldn’t recognize his beloved pardal?

And now, Boothill had a new purpose in his wretched life.

In addition to destroying the IPC, he would find his pardal.

He would bring the love of his life back to his side once more. to be continued.....

#boothill #hsr boothill #boothill honkai star rail #hsr #boothill x reader #Boothill x male reader #male reader #x male reader #honkai star rail x male reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #hsr x male reader

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asqadia-banthen · 3 months ago

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Introduction!! :3

please read 😭

We are an multigenic (willogenic, stressgenic, and just endogenic) system (intros linked on names)

Neb/Buddy: host, semi-frontstuck

Maxwell/Max: regulates emotions

Ash/Ashen: rarely fronts, helps with creative work

Jordan: will not post here, has own sideblog ( @jordan-in-paradise

[REDACTED]: helps with derealization, nonverbal

Fern: likes trees, co-host, fronts a lot, has own sideblog but will still post here ( @smash-or-pass-trees )

Lonely Wizard: S T I M U L A T I O N ! ! ! fictive ( @lonely-wizard-irl

Koda: wont post here

Mineta: fictive

Kirishima: fictive, front repulsed

genders + sexualities + pronouns

Neb: panagender, cassgender, demiromantic, uranic, diamoric, objectum, it/it’s, any neopronouns, any xenopronouns

Max: transmasc, boyflux, aroace, no pronouns

Ash: genderfluid, lesbian, trixic, she/her, they/them, it/that, pup/pupself

Jordan: intersex, nonbinary, abrosexual, conceptum, shi/hir

[REDACTED]: gendervoid, aroace she/it

Fern: botani, conceptum, pansexual, they/them

Lonely Wizard: the wiz <|:3, unknown, he/they

Koda: heterosexual, biromantic, she/her

Mineta: bisexual, demiboy, he/hym

Kirishima: unknown

we are a furry, therian, otherkin, and fictionkin 🐾

Neb is objectum, conceptum, and mangerum, and is attracted to water trick snakes, DS, highlighters, semi trucks, traffic cones, traffic lights, and fries

Max is objectum and is attracted to the moon

Jordan is conceptum and is attracted to sunsets and sunrises

Fern is objectum/conceptum/botani and is attracted to american beech trees

We have collected 4+ leaf clovers for almost 3 years- ask us about them!! 🍀

we are autistic, have selective mutism, and have many sensory issues ♾️

my special interest is dragons :3 🐉 (ask me about them!)

we like to draw

I follow back!!

we are interested in dragons, animals, mashed potatoes, analog horror, music, and art

Kintypes

awakened since 2020-?

(kintype specifics linked)

Therian:

sloth bear

honey badger

gray fox

standard poodle

dingo

domestic cat

jaguar

tiger

harbor seal

gelada

cottontail rabbit

norway lemming

syrian hamster

sperm whale

wild boar

common hippo

suri alpaca

spectral bat

caloshua macaw

bluejay

bald eagle

song sparrow

wild turkey

emerald tree boa

ankylosaurus

dragonfly

northern acorn barnacle

eastern tiger swallowtail butterfly

Otherkin:

sphinx

oasis dragon

fuji dragon

kelpie

leviathan

brown werewolf

wingkin (barn owl)

harpy wingkin (white dove)

ghostkin

skeletonkin

merfolkkin

robotkin

Fictionkin:

P03 (Inscryption)

sand wraith (HTTYD) (rusty colored)

bearowl (The Croods)

Copinglink:

eastern white pine

plastic spinning top

Otherhearted:

golden retriever

raven

Questioning:

reptilian

chupacabra

wolpertinger or jackalope

we will edit these as we confirm/uncomfirm :3

warnings for userboxes

“This user practices filbism /srs” is in reference to an analog horror called “Doctor Nowhere”, if you are sensitive to distorted faces then dont research

“this user loves Jack Stauber” Jack Stauber is a musuc artist and animator many of his songs can trigger derealization, talk about su1c1d3, and have semi-distorted claymation people, if you are sensitive to any of this then do not research

“this user loves vulture culture!” vulture culture includes dead animals and bones, if you are sensitive to anything like that, dont research

NO DNI

Just don’t be an asshole ❤️

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vivwritesfics · 7 months ago

Note

COMING AT YOU WITH A SOFT BOY RHETT!

He’s working on his ranch when a horse comes onto his land and it’s fully tacked but there is no signs of the rider. It’s spooked but he manages to calm it down and catch it. He’s tacks up his own horse and goes on the search for the missing rider! - nurse-sainz 🥰🥰🥰

I'VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS SOOOOOOOOOOOOO FUCKING MUCH

Rhett x english rider omg

Rhett Abbott sleeping in his truck was nothing new. He was usually sleeping off a hangover, and that morning was no different. He knew he had chores to do, which might have been why he slept in his truck. Waking up when the run rose (well, that was the goal, but it wasn't always the result).

Today, as with most days, Rhett didn't wake up because of the sun. You'd think he'd be used to the sound of horses, after living on a ranch for his entire life.

But this, this was different. The horses that his father had trained, they didn't stampede towards the house like that. They had been taught better than to come to the house.

Rhette sat up, grabbed the Stetson hat covering his face, and looked out of the truck windows. "Shit," he muttered as he pulled on his shirt, covering up his bull rider tattoo. He placed his Stetson on his head and climbed out of the truck.

There he was, a pretty white horse with a dappling of grey spots on his ass. He was fully tacked up, wearing a saddle, a bridle, and some fancy ass boots around his legs. The mane was plaited, along with the tail.

"Woah there," he said as he approached the horse. Since cantering towards the Abbott house he had stopped to much on the grass. He raised his head towards Rhett, who held his hands up as he approached.

His eye ears went back and he let out a snort. Rhett slowed his steps. He reached his large hand towards the reins. But he couldn't get close enough, not without the horse rearing up. "Little shit," Rhett found himself muttering.

As the horse cantered to the back of the house, Rhett moved his truck, blocking the horse in. He climbed out of his truck and made his way around to the horse that definitely didn't belong here.

As he walked around to the back of the house, the kitchen window opened. "Who's horse is that?" His mother asked.

Rhett shrugged his shoulders. He hadn't seen it before, didn't know there was anything other than cowboys riding around Wabang. He certainly hadn't seen this fancy looking thing in the show jumping saddle.

When Rhett asked his mother for a carrot, she happily handed his over. As soon as Rhett had the carrot, it was easy enough to grab the horse. He was far more interested in the carrot than running away from Rhett. "Who are you?" Rhett asked as he held the reins and stroked down his face.

For a total of five minutes he put the grey horse in the barn while he grabbed his own. As soon as he was mounted, he grabbed the grey ponies reins and rode off.

Rhett was a cowboy. Rhett liked going fast. Rhett's horse was used to galloping across the field until they were out onto the rode. The grey horse was making it near impossible. He stayed at a stubborn walk when Rhett trotted off, stretching his neck out until Rhett could get no further away.

So, Rhett was stuck at a slow walk as he made his way around, looking for anybody that was missing a horse. Most of the usual cowboys, most of the usual other ranch owners, laughed when they saw the fancy pony following him.

Rhett let out a sigh as he began riding along the road towards the Abbott Ranch.

"Sparrow!"

Suddenly, the grey horse was pulling against him. Rhett didn't let go, though. He turned himself around to see a girl. She had a black hat on her head, but not like his Stetson. That one was for safety. Long, shiny black boots were on her feet and she wore these tight, black Jodhpurs.

Definitely not a cowgirl.

She ran over and grabbed a hold of the reins. "Oh, you are in so much trouble," she said and kissed the horses face. "Sparrow, I swear. You gave me a heart attack!" She pulled the hat from her head and tucked it beneath her arm as she kissed the pony a couple more times.

And then she turned to Rhett. He didn't recognise her, not at all. But her face twisted in confusion. "Rhett?" She asked. "Rhett Abbott?"

"Uh, yeah," he said, adjusting his Stetson on his head. "And you are?"

She held out her hand towards him and gave her his name. Rhett shook it. "I've seen you at the rodeo a few times," she said. "I... thank you for finding Sparrow. I thought he was ready to go out alone, but I think somebody needs a little more training," she said and released his hand.

Rhett swallowed. "I think he found me," he answered.

Immediately, her face dropped. "He... he broke onto your ranch?" She asked and Rhett couldn't help but grin as he nodded. "Shit, I'm so sorry!" She cried. "Let me know how I can make it up to you."

Rhett couldn't deny that she was cute. Not his usual type, not the usual cowgirls he had wearing his Stetson and riding his cock. Well, Rhett wanted to know more. "You can let me take you out f' a drink," he said, leaning forward.

He watched as she placed her foot in the metal stirrup (incredibly different from the one his foot was placed into), and climbed up into the saddle. Immediately, Sparrow was moving. He walked in an agitated circle as she tried to stay looking at Rhett. "So, if I want to find you, Sparrow should know where to go?"

"An' you can give me your number. Y'know, in case he forgets."

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott fluff #rhett abbott oneshot #rhett abbott x you #outer range #outer range imagine #outer range x reader #outer ranger fluff #outer range x you #lewis pullman #lewis pullman imagine #lewis pullman x reader

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kaybreezy3000 · 2 months ago

Note

that new head Cannon story was so good. Will you do something of a bigger scene of him in the apocalypse suffering or something like with him not okay and hitting like a mental break down and someone needs to help him. Family or whatever makes sense? Your broken season 4 five is amazing./ But anything you want to do would be appreciated

Please Hold me

~A one-shot reader request, rated General, 5780 words, This one for the sake of being different is Season 3 Five and his family, Mega Whump with no warnings other than panic attacks and traumatic flashbacks of the apocalypse

Summary: Set at the beginning of season 3, the pain that had been inflicted on Five mentally and physically up until this point comes to a head. Little did Five know, when the truth comes out and he finally breaks, he is going to get the love and support he was dying for all along.

(~Anon: Thank you for reading my last headcanon s4 story. I am so happy you liked it. I have written so many things with Five dealing with the demons we saw him fighting on the show. I never felt like they gave him his due on screen with that stuff, and then worse, he and his family never came to terms with any of it. It all just got swept under the rug for all of them, so here you go. Here's a little story that hopefully gives you what you were looking for in this request)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Standing in the lobby of the hotel Obsidian, as Five slowly passed him, looking even more out of it and mad than he did in the park right after they got their asses handed to them by the Sparrows, confused, Luther asked, “Where are you going?”

“I am going to get a lay of the land,” Five mumbled, then without another word, he made his way down the hall behind them, intent on looking for a bathroom. He didn’t feel like he was going to vomit anymore, but at least knowing where he could seemed like a good idea.

Five found his objective not long later. There was a small, very out of date public restroom just off the main foyer. Oddly, it was dark inside as he opened the door. Feeling around for a light switch, he quickly found one, and then just as fast, the brightness was painfully burning his blood shot eyes.

Moving on autopilot, Five used the toilet then found himself standing in front of the mirror, mindlessly washing his hands. When he looked up, he was taken aback.

His young face was a mess of dirty smudges and dried blood. There wasn’t an ounce of color to his skin. His clothes weren’t much better. Looking down, he saw that he was covered in grimy patches of dirt and who knew what else from the floor of Sissy’s barn. Without thinking, he tugged at his shirt, untucking it so he could pull it and his vest up.

His eyes traveled over the maze of purple and black bruises that covered nearly every square inch of his chest and torso. His fingers slowly moved over the darkest areas. There were three, and they happened to be exactly where the bullets had been after The Handler shot at him.

Five winced from the pain as he touched. His labored breathing started to get worse. He was starting to panic. The floor was swaying. His hands frantically grasped for the counter to prevent him from falling.

‘Breathe…just breathe,’ he mentally ordered himself, forcing his eyes to focus on the black and white tiled pattern on the floor.

“You can’t break. Not like this,” he panted as his insides rolled with sickness.

His head spun, but somehow, Five managed to stand up straight again, tucking his dress shirt back in his schoolboy shorts in a somewhat respectable way.

On the way back from the bathroom, he could hear Diego talking to the rest of his family as he sluggishly moved past the reception desk, heading back to the lounge area in the main lobby.

“Apocalypse avoided or not this time. Do you guys really think we should trust Five’s take on all this timeline stuff?” Diego asked.

Realizing they were talking about him, Five slowed his zombie-like pace even more.

“After all these years alone and then the messed-up shit he did after that for the Commission, I am pretty sure it’s safe to say Five is a little out there when it comes to his way of thinking,” Diego continued. “I’m not sure if you guys noticed, but he is not exactly what you’d call stable. Did you see his little moment back there at the Sparrow’s evil lair? I had a hallucination incident too after I got goobered on, but mine was at least awesome and if it had been real, it would have been great way to solve our differences with those assholes. Five was in la-la land.”

“Ah-huh… Dance offs are very realistic when trying to stake a claim on lives that are no longer yours,” Allison laughed while looking over at Viktor sitting next to her, who smiled tensely, clearly not doing so great either.

“You have a point,” Klaus said, deciding to chime in since no one else was. Rubbing his chin, his lips pulled to the side. “Our little old guy got all sorts of freaky with his imaginary girlfriend back there. Five’s Dolores thing is just…” He frowned. “I don’t think you can just come back from that kind of thing; he's so attached. Five may be on another level when it comes to brains, but that stuff…” He shook his head. “It did something to him. Bad stuff, like very very bad stuff that ruins you,” he finished, just as Five came back into the room.

Allison’s eyes shot Five’s way, but that didn’t stop Klaus.

Thinking their worried expressions meant that they didn’t understand what he was say, he kept going. “I’m just saying, I don't know about what's going on inside Five’s head or not, but I do know he was totally shaking the sheets with his plastic woman," Klaus laughed. "I mean, who can blame him, really, after all he went through. She’s hot and she doesn’t talk back and Five likes that. And we all know that he still considers Dolores a big part of his life whether she's here with him, or not. And even worse, who knows if Five ever got laid like for real real while he was with the Commission. He has no idea what it's like to have intimacy like that, not in a way that's real anyway. Just look at him now and his cute face always bent out of shape with rage. He’s a ticking time bomb of teenage hormonal insanity.”

Klaus pointed to small boutique across the grand lobby from where they were sitting.

“Someone should probably go tell them to hide their mannequins. We have a horny little monster on the loose,” he giggled, but then, realizing nobody else was laughing with him, he followed Allison’s wide-eyed line of sight straight towards Five.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry, Five,” Klaus tried but Five was already turning. “Why didn’t anyone say he was right there?” he asked, looking at the stunned faces glaring back at him. “Five, wait!” Klaus tried again, but all he got was Five lifting his middle finger as he rushed down the hall he’d just come from.

Once out of sight, Five staggered, tripping over his own feet, frantically trying to get away from them. His head was pounding so hard he couldn’t think.

Falling into the elevator, he slumped against the wall, punching the floor with his room number on it.

Rushing to beat him, Klaus took off, sprinting up the stairway to the second floor. Racing down the maze of halls, he reached Five’s room a minute later, just as he was trying but failing to get his key in the door.

Suddenly, eyes rolling back in his head, Five started to fall. Klaus quickly reached out to balance him. “Whoa there,” he gasped, finally feeling just how small and vulnerable he was and that only made him feel worse about everything he’d just said about him.

Five was not the boy they all saw, but it was hard to remember that when the tormented eyes looking back at them were that of the little angry kid they’d lost so long ago.

Five blankly stared at Klaus, trying to focus, but his eyes wouldn’t cooperate. Klaus took the dangling keys from his finger, opening the door for him so he could help him across the small room. As soon as Five was next to the bunk beds, he slipped sideways onto the lower bunk, crashing into the musty bedding.

“Just stay down man, I’ll be right back,” Klaus ordered.

Five whimpered.

Klaus appeared a few minutes later, skidding around the door frame with a bottle of water and some crackers in hand.

He carefully sat down next to Five on the small mattress, his dark eyebrows furrowing with worry. “Are you bleeding internally or something else awful and not telling us again? Because you don’t look so good, little buddy.”

“No. I’m just sick of all this bullshit," Five snapped, but his normal bite had no bark. "It never stops, and I’m just fucking tired. And don’t call me little buddy ever again unless you want me to strangle you.”

“Okaaay,” Klaus skeptically replied. “Will you eat something?” he asked, offering Five the pile of crackers in his hand. “I can’t remember the last time I saw you eat anything.

Hearing the worry in his voice, Five weakly reached out and took one cracker, but he couldn’t bring himself to eat it. He was too sick to do anything anymore. His body was shuddering and even just the mentioning of food was bringing back memories of burning human flesh and it was leaving a sickening taste of bitterness on his tongue to add to sour taste of failure that was already there.

Five’s revulsion and anger didn’t help the concerned look on Klaus’s face from growing.

“Five, I didn’t mean that stuff I was saying. You know me, I have a big mouth.”

“I know,” Five muttered. He knew Klaus meant it, because it was all true. Klaus just didn’t mean for him to hear it.

“I’m sorry,” Klaus begged.

When Five didn’t say anything, Klaus set the water down on the rickety nightstand.

Wordlessly, he rolled back the bedding and urged Five to roll under it. When he noticed the gun stuffed down the back of Five’s little shorts, Klaus took that too, placing it on the bedside table.

Five didn't have the strength to fight him. Instead, he desperately bundled up under the comforter. Laying there, falling apart as he listened to Klaus get up, a moment later, he felt the bed frame wiggle, then more blankets from the upper bunk fell over him.

“Just try to get some rest, man.” With that, Klaus shut the dingy curtains, blocking out the light and the noise of the city, then the door clicked shut.

Alone and glad not to have his brother looking at him still like he was a puppy that just got smoked by a car, unfortunately the pounding in Five’s head grew worse. When he closed his eyes, the room kept spinning like when he drank too much.

Klaus’s voice in the hall as he talked to who Five assumed was one of his siblings, eventually trailed off.

Five’s mind was as shattered and the phantom pains taking over his body had him to the point that he couldn’t fend off the exhaustion anymore. As the nightmare he was living mixed with the nightmares of his past and his heart sank even more, it hit him that his family didn’t need or want him anymore.

They never did.

With that thought in mind, everything slipped away in the darkness of his dreams.

The inside of his tiny hotel room, everything disappeared as Five lay there, finally at rest but not at all at peace.

Twisting in the blankets, Five’s sore and horribly split feet crunched along on a debris filled road in his boots that were a size too small.

The gloom of an apocalyptic horizon was all he could see for miles and miles.

His insides danced in a flurry of nerves, but there he was, almost certain there wasn’t a trace of fever this time. He hadn't eaten anything that had gone bad.

He didn't know.

He stood, facing yet another burnt building, flinching at the familiar sight of a charred body. His insides clenched from starvation even as the sight of it made him sicker.

That smell…

The smell of burnt flesh, and rot.

His mouth watered. Then he gagged.

He couldn’t…

Never that.

It had been more days than Five could count since he had put anything in his mouth that resembled food. The few canned goods he was able to find in the ruins of a grocery store months ago were long gone. If he was going to find anything salvageable, he was going to have to start digging deeper through the mountainous piles of rubble, but he had almost no strength to do it.

He was so weak. He could feel his own bones rubbing painfully against the tightly notched belt at his waist. He was starving to death, and the fear that he was never going to get out of that place was consuming him as much as his own body was consuming itself.

He felt the ground against his cheek before he even realized he had collapsed.

Then it all went dark.

When he woke, it was gloomier. The usual ominous red in the sky had grown slightly more prominent on the horizon, the only indicator that there was sun still at all. He gingerly pulled himself up to a sitting position, trying to gather his bearings.

It was almost night.

His head hurt more than before. He raised his hand and fingers slowly, inspecting a patch of dried blood at his temple.

“Passed out. Again…” he said, his mouth so dry he could hardly form the words.

He took a deep breath, looking around. His wagon with his meager finds was still only a few feet away.

Dolores looked back at him kindly. ‘It’s not like I can move on my own silly,’ she said, sweetly as she could.

In his head, she sounded like Grace.

Just that alone helped, even if it was in the smallest way possible. Five would never forget the only mother he had and her caring for him when no one else did. Even if she wasn’t a real living thing and she had no choice and didn’t really love him because a robot couldn't love, at least Five could say he had something. Something awful but good?

With Dolores, she was trying to make light of their dire situation. For years, since she’d become something real to him, Dolores had always tried to make Five smile no matter how bad things were.

Wanting to reassure her, Five managed to pull off a weak version of a smile, but only because he knew she was so worried about him.

Pain digging at his insides, Five knew that if he didn't find food and water of some kind, there was little time left and his body would shut down completely. He needed to move, or he was going to die.

Drumming up all the strength he had left, Five staggered to his feet on wobbly, bone thin legs.

“I’ll be back,” he said to Dolores. There was no need to explain that he wasn’t strong enough to pull the wagon or carry her with him. She already knew.

He stumbled along, doing his best not to fall over the broken world in his path. There had to be something left. He was certain when he had come that way two days before, that at one time, this had been a bustling neighborhood, filled with large homes and massive stores. Now it looked pretty much like everything else, and he had yet to find anything.

He walked on. Eventually his eyes grew too tired to survey the landscape, and instead they fell to his feet, but he kept moving.

After walking like that for an undetermined amount of time, Five looked up and realized there was an indication of a partial structure still standing up ahead.

He moved as fast as he could towards it.

It had to have something!

As he moved closer, he could make out signs that it had been a store of some sort.

Oh my God thank you!

Scrambling over the broken walls, avoiding the deathly glass blades still sticking out of the rubble, Five came across what he needed. Canned food, not destroyed, or having exploded or leaked out on the parched earth.

He fell on his knees, immediately tearing through his pack, looking for an opener.

He didn't care what it was, the labels were burned and unreadable if they even had any. He attacked the metal, hardly getting it open before he was desperately sucking the liquid out.

After a minute or two of that, he had forethought to open the can all the way, but his patience wasn’t much better as he dumped the slippery substance down his throat, hardly even taking the time to chew.

It was mistake.

Five lurched forwards, his stomach seizing in pain as his prize splattered to the ground.

“Fuck.” He gasped for air, fighting the sensation of sickness as each wave racked his body.

It had been too long. He wasn’t used to eating that much at once.

“You can’t be so fucking stupid!” he angrily yelled, his voice echoing in the nothing around him.

Five knew he couldn’t afford these kinds of mistakes, yet he kept making them.

He slid back on his butt, moving along the dirt, away from his mess. He fell back against a large piece of cement, thankfully avoiding the sharp rebar sticking out of it. All it would take was one small infection from a cut and he would be gone. He was too weak already.

He looked up at the sky, fighting tears…tears and precious fluid he couldn’t afford to lose.

“Just breathe, breathe…in and out…” he repeated. Gritting his teeth, air moving through his nose much too fast.

He couldn’t stop. He was spiraling.

His mind screamed at him because he could no longer speak. There is no place for this here!

With a deep breath, and then another, the darkness folding in around him eventually withdrew. Five reached over and took the can again. Slowly this time, he pinched a piece of what looked like some type of fruit and brought it to his cracked lips. This time he needed to make sure it stayed in. He let it roll in his mouth as he savored the flavor. It wasn’t ash or flesh and that was all that mattered.

After keeping that in, he kept going, very carefully. He had to stop before he finished a third of the can. Then he closed his eyes. Drained, Five fell asleep, not waking until the world around him was completely dark.

Dolores would be worried. She would be scared, but he couldn’t get back to her like that.

But he would.

He had to get back.

Even though he couldn’t see what he was doing, Five kept trying to finish the can. Eventually he did, even licking every last drop off his filthy, ragged fingers.

“You can’t die here. You can’t do that to them,” he scolded himself.

Finally regaining his senses as he started to wake up, blinking rapidly, Five looked out from under his massive pile of blankets. The room was dim, but the bright light shining in from the crack along the edge of the ugly curtains and the birds chirping outside proved it was morning.

Last, he could recall, it was late afternoon.

Or was it…?

He didn’t know anymore.

Five felt so disoriented while trying to remember what happened. After laying there for probably ten minutes or more, he finally noticed Klaus sitting next to him with a very worried look on his face. Five immediately tried to sit up, but just as fast, he collapsed back into the bed, feeling everything from the sheets to his clothes completely soaked through.

He was still dressed in his academy uniform, minus the ugly bowling shoes. His soiled dress shirt was clinging to his sweaty frame. He had no idea where he was or what timeline it was anymore.

Every bone in his body shook and quivered. Fire felt like it ran through his veins, but his outer core was frozen. The only thing that felt warm was the flood of fresh tears that had rolled down onto his damp pillow.

Seeing his normally put together brother crumbling proved to be enough for Klaus to lean over, hesitantly coming closer.

He raised his arm, resting the back of his hand against Five’s forehead. Five’s jaw set even tighter as Klaus said, “This is not good. You’re burning up.”

His words came out unevenly through chattering teeth as Five asked, “Where am I?”

Klaus’s brows furrowed. “The hotel.” He paused and shook his head apologetically. “Remember? Dad not being all that thrilled to see his long-lost children again, and then the new and improved Sparrows doing their best to kill us?”

Five let his body fall back on his damp pillow.

“We all came back here afterward,” Klaus explained.

It should have given Five some sense of relief to hear that, but it didn’t.

Five shook his head.

“Five, you don’t need to worry. This place is safe. You can take all the time you need. If you feel well enough, maybe you can get cleaned up, maybe eat a little something?”

“I’m fine.”

Fear struck Klaus him even harder, his eyes widening. “No, you are not.”

“Yes, I am.” Five sat up and flung the blankets off, immediately regretting it. The cold air sliced into him, making him shake even harder. He tried climbing off the mattress, only to have his legs give out. Klaus was quick to react, catching him before he toppled into the nightstand.

“Five, you look like shit,” he murmured, flinching a little as it looked like Five might deck him if he could.

“Thanks, everyone keeps pointing that out. I get it. You don’t need to keep reminding me,” Five said in between labored breaths as he lowered his guard and sat back down.

“I can tell you are hell bent on something, Five, but you will be lucky to make it out of this room right now,” Klaus argued, as he smiled.

Five let out a frustrated growl, wiping his face, his fingers looking like he was trying to dig his eyes out as he looked back up at Klaus in defeat. “Help me then.”

“I will. Just lay back down, I’m going to get you something to eat. Just stay here, ok?”

“Ok,” Five replied, pushing back into the mountain of blankets. Klaus looked so relieved. “I’ll be right back.”

He scurried out of the room. Even swaddled tightly, Five could hardly repress his trembling body from full-on convulsing.

He was having a fever. That partly explained why he felt like shit. He knew that but why didn’t he know the rest until Klaus told him?

All at once, he remembered his dream, or better yet, his nightmare based on a very real memory.

He shut his eyes and tried to forget.

He couldn't. He never would.

“Why was this happening to me?” he whispered, his voice cracking.

Five did his best to force them not to, but a stream of more warm tears ran down his face anyway.

His fingers slid under his shirt, over his clammy skin. He searched once again for the torn flesh from my phantom bullet holes but found nothing.

It hurt like a bitch anyway.

Klaus startled him when he came back in, rushing over to set a tray filled with all sorts of things on the nightstand. After that, Five kept his head buried in the blankets as he discreetly swiped away the beads of sweat dampening his forehead, desperate not to show even more evidence of his breakdown.

“There should be something on here that you will like. The buffet here is the best.” Klaus said encouragingly as he tried to bring a cup of juice with a straw to Five’s lips.

“I can do it, I'm not a helpless child,” Five said, blindly taking it from him.

As Five peeked at him through a hole in the blankets, Klaus looked slightly hurt, but he quickly tried to hide it, instead, going about the room, picking up dirty clothes that looked like they belonged to both him and Diego and seeing it all laying there, Five had no idea why.

Had they both stayed with me?

Had everyone come in here?

“I’m going to go out and give you some space. If you need anything, just call.” Klaus smiled, then turned to go but quickly spun back. “Oh, I put some fresh clothes I rummaged up over there. They should work in case you want them,” he offered, pointing to the nearly baren room’s only dresser. “There’s a bathroom down the hall that you can shower up in. It’s a shared sort of situation in there.” He laughed. “Very classy old-school here at the Obsidian.”

“Thank you, Klaus. I am fine. Despite what you see, I can take care of myself,” Five assured, attempting to sound like his self-assured normal, all so he didn’t look so damn pathetic, but then as he tried to sit up again, his vision spun, and he ended up slouching on the pillows instead.

Klaus wasn’t buying it. He quickly came back over, taking the cup from his brother’s hand before it spilled. “I’m staying,” he said, as he parked himself in the torn dressing chair that he already had pulled up next to the side of Five’s bed.

After that, Five hazily remembered talking with Klaus while he helped him eat. Then he knew that he must have dozed off again, because when he awoke, the room was dark, and he was alone.

His burning fever had let up. He felt considerably better than before. He rolled over towards the faint light coming from a lamp on the dresser. Through the curtains, he could make out the faintest lights sparkling in the cityscape.

He’d slept the entire day. The clock on the old nightstand said nine-thirty.

Five heaved the mountain of blankets back, pulling his legs around to the side of the bed. His empty tray was still where Klaus had left it. He had stayed long after Five finished every last bit of food, and Klaus pretended to be resting after that as he tried to sprawl out in his tiny chair, but Five knew he was just staying to make sure he was ok. He was so scared to take his eyes off of him that he didn’t even get up on the top bunk.

Thankfully he didn’t, Five thought. If he had, the whole thing may have come crashing down on him.

“What a shithole,” Five breathed.

Five wasn’t going to admit it, but Klaus at least found somewhere for them to go when he’d had no helpful suggestions. And knowing Klaus was there with him when he was so out of it was probably half the reason he was able to let go and rest again, otherwise, with the little energy the food had given him, he probably would have laid there not letting his guard down as he ruminated on the endless supply of nightmares, he feared were waiting for him.

Further surveying the room, Five noticed there was not much to it, and he remembered Klaus saying the bathroom was down the hall. Trying out his legs, he was happy to find out they weren’t nearly as weak as before.

He made his way across the room, and sure as he promised, Klaus had laid out what appeared to be some very fitting old guy clothes, weird multipocketed fishing style jacket, and plaid fedora included. Holding them up, the pants and shirts looked like they would fit him, and at the moment, Five didn’t care whose clothes Klaus had stolen for him.

Nothing in him wanted to join them, but knowing at some point he had to, and that he needed to clean up, Five sighed. Breathing in, he realized that he smelled horrendous.

He stole a quick look in the dressing mirror and got confirmation; yup, he still looked like shit smeared with shit.

Once inside the large community bathroom that was thankfully yet oddly empty, behind the dressing curtain of one of the showers, Five worked off his soiled clothes, throwing them in a heap.

He couldn’t remember the last time had time for a proper shower. It hadn’t been in this scrawny pubescent body, that was for sure. He had been wearing most of the same clothes he had on when in the 60’s, still tarnished from when he’d gotten tricked into taking out the board of directors.

Sickened all over again as vision of their terrified faces slitting open under the blade of his ax, it dawned on Five that not all the blood and grime on him was from the fight at Sissy’s farm.

He was disgusting and his clothes needed to be burned.

In a daze, Five reached in the shower and after several attempts, he managed to get the water hot enough. After that, he stepped inside the spray and completely zoned out.

He didn’t know how long he’d been in there. Well after the shampoo and suds were gone, he stood there, letting the hot water cascade down his face, as if he could somehow wash away his sins and the events of the last two weeks.

Once again, his ignorance had put all of them one step closer to fucking everything up.

Five felt so empty, so worthless.

His dizzying array of questions and self-loathing were cut short when he closed his eyes. In the darkness that surrounded him, the steam of the shower that had felt so soothing on second, suddenly seemed to be smothering him.

He couldn’t breathe!

All he could see was the smoke and ash, feeling the scorching heat against his back and the crumbling cement under his hands as he tore through the ruins trying to unbury his family.

It was too late…

They were already gone but Five didn't care. He wanted them back so fucking badly.

He wanted to be back with them. But he wasn’t. Not really. They were right.

His eyes flew back open, panic arresting all his senses. The limited space of the tub closed in all around him. His chest heaved as he tried to take in air, and his abdomen throbbed even though the wounds that his mind told him were covering it weren’t even there. The pain sent him crumpling to the ground as he tore the shower curtain open and stumbled out. He barely managed to fasten a towel around himself before he fell to the floor, failing to stifle a loud sob.

Someone called out, their voice echoing through the silence of the large bathing area outside the dressing curtain, but Five couldn’t speak. He couldn’t even move. He curled over and began sinking to the floor when he heard something pop.

Bullets popping off in a barrage of gunfire filled his ears as his eyes darted around the small shower stall.

“Fuck, fuck, Fuck, FUCK!” he panted, hyperventilating.

Five’s breathing was nothing more than insufficient gasps as shoes like bullets clipped quickly in his direction.

Please stop, just make it stop!

His low line blurred vision had him seeing a pair of knees, and feet, but he quickly recognized the unlaced combat boots, and that gave him some hope of escaping his waking nightmare.

Klaus suddenly pushed the curtain out of his way and helped Five up so he could sit on the edge of the dressing stool, then he knelt in front of Five, his eyes running over his almost completely exposed body. “Just breathe, Five. What happened?” he asked, his voice sounding so scared that it only scared Five even more.

Forcing himself to look up at his brother, the air was still too suffocating in there for Five to think. He tried to say as much but found himself instead stumbling out of the shower. The immediate drop in temperature between the small mildew filled coffin trying trap him and the grand vaulted ceiling of the bath area was a blessing, but it still wasn’t enough.

Five staggered over to the doors leading out in a desperate attempt to escape, and on his tail, Klaus caught him just as he blinked.

“Five, what are you doing?” Klaus cried out, clinging to Five’s damp arm as they both fell out of his portal onto the roof, but not answering, like a wild animal, Five wrestled out of his hold and bolted.

Almost fully naked and totally out of his mind, Five didn’t make it farther than the edge of the building, stopping at the sight of the six-floor drop. It hit him like a slap in the face.

Wheezing he pulled in breath after breath of the cool night air. The wind was strong, whipping Five’s dark wet hair in his face. The feel of it chilled his entire body even more. The sounds of the horns honking in the traffic were like voices yelling at him, slowly helping to ground him in the now.

It was letting go, the pain…all of it. All the death, but every time Five so much as blinked his eyes, all he could see was concrete, rot, and ash and blood.

The painful toll of reliving this was becoming more and more evident each day. Five knew his mind was slipping away from him, but he didn’t know what to do to stop it. The visions were happening more and more often. His family wasn’t wrong.

He wasn’t okay.

From behind, Klaus carefully reached out, but Five suddenly cowered. Out of instinct, he raised his small arms, readying for a fight.

Looking from his balled-up fists, then back at his brother, Five was even more disgusted with himself.

He sobbed, dignity be damned, letting his body slowly sink to the black tar slicked roof under his bare feet.

A warm embrace suddenly cradled around him despite his sopping wet frame. “You’re okay. You’re not alone. It’s ok…” Klaus soothed.

He was right. The moment his brother’s arms held him, the pain in Five’s chest let up some, and so did the visions. But no matter how good it felt to have someone caring enough to touch him like that, Five couldn’t stop shaking his head. He couldn’t stop sobbing.

“You’re okay. Just breath, keep breathing, man. Slow and steady…”

Five choked in the air as he tried to pull it in slower, forcing myself to calm down and come back all the way.

He squeezed his eyes shut and flashes of cement and ash and broken bodies flew before his eyes, wooden planks smeared with Diego’s blood as Lila she looked at the Handler, seconds away from her heartbroken eyes becoming as blank as the rest. All of it was making an almost blind panic seize Five all over again.

“Everyone’s gone,” he sobbed. “I fucked up…I got you all killed. I got you all killed again!” His whole body shook, and Klaus wrapped himself around him tighter.

"How-" Klaus started but Five interrupted.

"I turned it back."

"What?"

"Time!" Five shouted as his small body rocked and Klaus rocked with him. "I turned it back to stop it from happening," Five whispered, burying his face against his arms.

"You had to save us again? God, Five... I am so sorry," Klaus breathed, his chin resting in the wet matt of hair on the back of his brother's head.

Five said nothing.

“Look,” Klaus said, “Open your eyes. I’m here, we are all here. It’s ok. Just keep breathing, it will stop. You’re having a panic attack. Just keep breathing slowly. Everything is going to be ok.” His voice came in waves and he kept repeating it, working it into Five’s mind the guiding light of love he needed more than anything and had for so long.

Five opened his eyes, seeing his long white toes lined up next to his brother’s big boots as their legs stretched out in front of them. Slowly Five turned his head to face Klaus just a little. “Thank you,” he quietly breathed, squeezing his hand tight, scared of letting it go when normally he was scared of being touched at all.

“You’re safe. I’ve got you this time. We all do,” Klaus whispered. “Just keep breathing… Stay with us, Five.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Okay, there it is. For those that have read my first series, some of this might have seemed familiar. As I said, I have written so many things with Five breaking down and his family being there for him in ways they never were on the show, so I borrowed a little of the dream and his shower break down from things that happened in part three of that story, but hopefully this season 3 adaptation I changed it into worked for you.

I know I sure could have seen this version happening to Five, especially since right before landing in the Sparrows house when he had the shit beat out of him by Lila, frying pan to the head and all, right before a chimney crushed him and then he was shot by the Handler and had to reverse time. He never even told his family he did that as far as how the show went down. So... yeah. Five deserved more and thank you for asking for it.

Link to my Tumblr story and art posts

Link to my Master List

Link to visit me on A03

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mosticonicbirdcallbracket · 2 years ago

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bracket reveal & tournament update

folks, we have our bracket!

SO, here’s how it’s going to work:

tumblr has an upload limit for audio files. i want to include audio files so that everyone can participate regardless of how much they already know about bird calls. SO

we’re going to do a rolling release of each match-up for round one. new matches will drop every day 12 pm est, around 6 each day. polls will be 1 week long in order to keep up with releases.

below the cut, i will list each match-up. links will be added to the polls as they post.

thanks again for your submissions & the overall interest in this bracket! i hope we have fun!

MOURNING DOVE vs. WHITE CROWNED SPARROW

COMMON LOON vs. BLACK CAPPED CHICKADEE

ROOSTER vs. SONG SPARROW

FERAL PIGEON vs. NIGHTINGALE

BARN OWL vs. WOOD THRUSH

AMERICAN GOLDFINCH vs. GREAT KISKADEE

WILD TURKEY vs. COMMON GRACKLE

KOOKABURRA vs. ALLEN’S HUMMINGBIRD

AMERICAN CROW vs. BROWN HEADED COWBIRD

GREAT BLUE HERON vs. AMERICAN WOODCOCK

BARRED OWL vs. EASTERN WHIP-POOR-WILL

COMMON RAVEN vs. GRAY CATBIRD

CANADA GOOSE vs. WHITE BELLBIRD

BLUE JAY vs. BLACK PHOEBE

MALLARD DUCK vs. COMMON CUCKOO

RED WINGED BLACKBIRD vs. RUDDY DUCK

#birds #ornithology #bird calls

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sarifinasnightmare · 2 months ago

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Birds of a Feather

Author: Sarifinasnightmare

Rating: E for everybody!

Warning: None applied.

Summary: Young Sam had been blessed with bird speech. One stormy day it comes in handy when he receives a guest.

Notes: This is for @samsseptember. Sorry for the lateness, but I've been so busy and now I'm sick, but I wanted to support Sam Wilson.

_______________________----

One day Darlene left the window open to baby Sam’s nursery and found a barn owl perched on his crib. From her vantage point she could see her baby cooing up at the creature, smiling at it so she knew he wasn’t in any danger. The owl’s white heart-shaped face seemed to study Sam with great interest as if pondering his existence. Coming to a decision, the owl tossed its head before flapping its wings, blowing a current of air towards Sam. He crowed in surprise, kicking his legs and extending his arms as if receiving something. Darlene took a step forward and that was warning enough for the owl, who screeched at her before taking off through the window. Picking her baby up, she quickly examined him and found nothing amiss, then went to shut the window. She later talked about the incident to some friends at the hair salon. One of the oldest of the customers piped up.

“Them vodun think an owl brings the blessing of wealth, but the natives say they bring foresight.”

“Foresight?”

“Um-hm, you can sense things before they come, but maybe not. Owls are funny creatures. You got him baptized right?”

No one really paid attention to her words. Barn owls made their homes wherever they could cram themselves in, so it might’ve been a coincidence and soon the incident was forgotten.

_________________________---

Sam liked birds, or to be more specific, birds liked Sam.

Darlene and Paul had albums filled with pictures of him with a bird perched on his head at every age. He also had a habit of finding every injured bird on the property. The first time Darlene told him to throw it away little Sam burst into tears and begged her to help him save it. Unable to handle his big, sad brown eyes she eventually relented and soon took it to the vet to learn how to nurse the pathetic thing back to health.

Over time, Sam learned how to take care of them, and he’d have a shoe box or two containing a sparrow or a purple martin or woodpecker. Darlene and Paul could hear him talk to the little creatures, have full on conversations with them, but they just shrugged their shoulders and assumed he had an active imagination.

One day when he was thirteen during a particular bad winter storm, he had foolishly opened the window because he heard a sound and a peregrine falcon nearly bowled him over, flew itself straight into his room and perched on the old wooden chair by his desk.

Ten-year-old Sarah ran to check on him and yelped when she saw the bedraggled raptor flapping its wings wildly-there was something stuck on it.

“No, no! Stop screaming, the both of you!” He ordered them. Sarah immediately stopped and surprisingly so did the bird. Approaching the creature, he tenderly extended his hands out and coaxed his wings down. “You’re inside now. The storm can’t get you.” He reassured it, stroking the feathers, noticing the sticky fly paper that was enmeshed in them. “You’re confused about where you are, aren’t you? Storm blew you off course.”

The falcon blinked and lowered its head, exhausted.

“How’d you do that?” Sarah asked in awe. “You always know how to calm them down.”

Sam sighed like an old man. From the moment he could talk he’d explained to anyone who would listen that he knew what to do with the birds because they talked back. Birds came to him because they knew from other birds that the little human in the blue house by the lake could understand them. However, his family did not believe he was being literal and just thought he had a knack for birds. It was frustrating but it was probably for the best. The Wilsons have been known to run a joke into the ground, like the time his Uncle Winton who drank himself blind on his anniversary and crapped his pants. He still received the occasional brown pants for Christmas or birthday. Therefore, Sam stopped telling people that he could hear the birds and just let it be known as his special little talent.

“I just do. He’s in pain. Think you could run down and get the cardboard box in the kitchen?”

His sister eagerly ran down to get it and together they made a nest for the falcon while the storm raged outside. Sticky paper was a new problem, and the falcon complained that it would’ve dodged it had it not been for the winds that tossed it in his direction. The substance was thick and viscous, yanking his wings painfully. First thing he did was cut what he could off, making sure to be careful around the feathers.

“We need vegetable oil to get the residue off.” He mused.

Paul, hearing the commotion, went upstairs and found his children fussing over a raptor in the bathtub, carefully pouring drops of oil over the creature and gently peeling bits of tape off it.

“What in the world? What the hell is that?” He asked.

The raptor answered for himself, screeching in indignation before Sam interrupted. “It’s a falcon with sticky tape on it. I’m getting it off.”

Paul had seen his son rescue dozens of birds, and it always amazed him how good he was with them. This bird, however, had sharp claws and seemed the biting type. “Is he safe, son?”

Sam shrugged. “He’s grouchy but he’s letting us clean him up. He’ll leave after he’s dried and the storm passes. Do you think you could give me a little plate of raw beef?”

“Let’s see if your mother feels generous.” Paul replied, deciding his son had everything under control.

Darlene had been busy cooking and talking to friends, but didn’t bat an eye at the shenanigans going on. She just cut a few slices of frozen venison from her husband’s last hunting trip and passed it on to feed their temporary houseguest.

Sam allowed it to defrost as they washed and blotted the falcon, then used a pair of scissors to feed him the sliced meat. Sarah watched with great fascination.

“Ew, why does it have to be raw?” She asked.

“Because birds eat their food raw, it’s normal for them.” Sam explained. “Their bodies can’t handle all the spices and seasoning we put in our food. It would make them sick.”

“A life without spices sounds awful.” She mused aloud.

“Birds don’t have many taste buds so they wouldn’t taste much unless it was very strong.” He explained.

“They can’t taste stuff!” She gasped. “That sucks!”

The falcon gave her an offended look and screeched at her.

Sarah was startled. “Sorry!”

After feeding the raptor, their mother called them down for an early dinner, wanting to eat while the lights were still on, and the food was hot. Good thing too, because no sooner were the dishes in the sink, the lights flickered and shuddered before blinking out. Sam had to wash by flashlight, but did his best before tramping up to his room. His sister had had her fill of the falcon and decided to sequester herself in her room, not much liking the thunder and lightning.

Making sure she was snug tight, he prepared himself for bed still using his trusty flashlight. Settling himself on his bed he peered at the falcon resting peacefully in his box.

The bird blinked at him. Your sister is loud.

Sam shrugged. “Sorry, she’s ten. She only has one volume.”

Fledglings are loud too until they grow up and learn to be quiet and listen.

“Not everyone listens.” Sam interjected. “Adults don’t listen to us kids or to anyone sometimes.”

Humans are smart, but arrogant and fragile, very easy to break. Being a flyer is better. We live, we eat, we hunt, we breed. If we must fight, we fight, but if we die, we die. Understandable. That is life.

“But you didn’t want to die.”

Only because I knew you were near. Had I been alone, I would’ve accepted my fate.

“Well I’m glad you’re not dead. Birds like you make the world pretty.”

The falcon cocked its head. Pretty?

“Nice to look at? When you look at something or someone and it makes you happy then it’s pretty.”

No such word for pretty amongst flyers.

Sam frowned. “How do you pick a mate then?”

If she is healthy and biddable, she could be a mate.

“What about a tree? Don’t you want a pretty tree to build a nest?”

A tree must be strong, it doesn't need to be pretty.

“Oh well, when I see you guys fly up in the sky and do all those aerial maneuvers, I think that’s really pretty.”

I enjoy moving through the air. Do you find that pretty?

The boy nodded.

The bird cocked his head the other side and fluffed his chest feathers. I am pretty. He mused, tasting the word.

Sam bunched his pillow underneath him and stared out into the dying storm outside. “I wish I could fly, but fly like you do, without fear.”

I’ve seen humans in those solid things fly much higher than me.

“I guess that’s flying, but to really fly, with the air in your face, swooping and diving. That would be so cool.”

Flapping his wings a little, the falcon replied. To do that you need to follow your intuition. All us flyers learn to listen to the wind, heed the change and act accordingly. It takes great skill to do what we do.

Sam reached out and caressed a wing. “Maybe I’ll join the Air Force and learn to fly.”

Then let me give you a gift should you reach the skies. Come close to me, friend.

The boy didn’t hesitate and soon he lowered his head until their faces touched. A warmth pressed against his forehead that made him feel good, then the bird withdrew.

Should you get your wings, friend, then fly like my kin.

“Thank you.” He replied kindly.

The storm softened enough to lull them both to sleep and by the next day they awoke to some mild flooding, but the electricity came back.

Sam and Sarah carefully carried the falcon to their private dock, wearing their rain boots to wade through the muddy water. Paul kept a careful eye on his children as Sam carefully lifted the bird from the box.

“Have a nice life and thanks for the visit.” He murmured to his feathered friend.

The falcon allowed Sarah one gentle stroke over its back before flapping his wings and swiftly catching air, taking off into the bright morning sky.

They stared at it until the raptor was just a little speck in the distance.

“Hey sis, I’m thinking of joining the Air Force. What you think?” He mused aloud.

Sarah paused. “You want to fly, dontcha?”

He smiled. “Yeah, why not?”

“I want to fly too!” She threw out her arms and started to run, jumping onto the watery path and back to their daddy’s side.

He patiently followed behind her.

___________________----

Several decades later.

Sam was taking a well-deserved break from being Captain America. Currently, he had his magnificent wings stretched out in the garage giving them some much needed detailing.

Sarah strolled in and admired the grace, beauty and power of them. “Hey Uncle Sam, got a minute?”

“Sure, what’s up?” He asked, glancing up briefly from his cleaning.

“I know you’re on vacation, but the neighbors called asking if you still took care of sick birds. Got one that’s all tied in fishing lines.”

He straightened up. “Sure of course. Tell them to bring it in.”

She grinned. “Always ready to save the day.”

“Absolutely.” It was the least he could do. After all, they gave him great blessings. Only right to return the favor.

#samtember2024 #sam wilson #sam wilson event #fan event #marvel #captain america #tfatws #marvel mcu #marvel comics #the falcon and the winter soldier #anthony mackie #ca:bnw #ca:cw #ca:ws #falcon and the winter soldier

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