#it's a chicken for sure

[spellshite]

Debating where to put my rooster. Maybe this cube shelf? Idk. (pls ignore the layer of dust, I will clean when I decide the placement)

[theshadowrealmitself]

I like to think that Vulcans who come to understand that Humans just can’t try to process emotions the same way as them, it’s just healthiest to let it out in harmless ways, decide that venting and stuff should be taken just as seriously as Vulcan’s meditation time, and will encourage the Humans around them to complain about what’s upsetting them

People who are used to aloof Vulcans who avoid Humans at all cost running into one comforting a Human

“-and then they said my cheesecake was subpar, and they didn’t even bring a dish!!!”

“The purpose of this event was that every participant brings a food item of sorts, correct?”

“Yeah!!”

“And they did not follow this rule while insulting dishes that were brought?”

“Mostly just my dish but yeah >:(“

“How illogical”

“That’s what I’m saying!!!”

[rainbow-nerdss]

Buck bringing Tommy to a 118 barbecue and the team all doing the older sibling thing of telling embarrassing stories about buck and buck is sulking but secretly having the best time bc his team is his family and Tommy has his arm around buck the whole time so who cares really, that Tommy is hearing the story of that time he couldn't stand on the ice rink for the fourth time?

And then Bobby gets this smile on his face, and Buck wonders what he's going to bring up, what embarrassing story he's going to have to sit through next

Except Bobby doesn't start telling a buck story.

Bobby asks Tommy if he's seen any chickens lately, and Tommy is burying his face in the hand that isn't on Buck's waist, and oh

This isn't an embarrassing buck story, it's an embarrassing Tommy story.

And buck listens with glee to the whole thing, as Tommy feebly argues that the chicken was armed, and had genuinely proven itself dangerous before giving in and muffling an embarrassed little laugh into Buck's shoulder

And yeah, buck thinks, he could get used to this

[racingliners]

In a very important home life update: we got a high vis vest for one of our chickens

They apparently have a great unintended use of stopping hens from getting bullied, so we got one to try it out since the above hen gets excessively picked on by the others (we don't really know why).

Shout put to the wonderful @gingervivilou who told me about it!!

[justabeewithapen]

A very eepy boy

[bigfatbreak]

dad villain au: did emilie just. not consider at all that adrien was literally dying at the time. wow

she's in the habit of deciding when Adrien's suffering is acceptable, and if it is, she'll just fix it later.

[sualne]

kiss kiss fall in parts, idk

[norhmitch8]

Tried drawing with a mouse on my school computer never again

[intotheelliwoods]

At some point Poptart finds out that One is trans during One's post-redemption phase

(he doesnt know how periods work)

(he is trying to be supportive)

One belongs to @dianagj-art

[seabeck]

Hens can get away with murder, roosters have to be perfect gentleman

[chickenchirps27]

hello denizens of tumblr i come with humble offerings

they wish to romance you

[cubbihue]

I just want to see Cosmo, wanda, Timmy, Prei

And the god kids, if you want to

In a cuddle pile.

Cuddle pile!!! Once, Peri brought home a stray Furby. It brought the entire house into chaos as the Furby went feral on them. It took sacrificing Cosmo to it for the Furby to calm down.

It spat him out eventually, but the house was a wreck afterwords. Wanda refused to let Timmy or Peri keep it as a pet, thinking (rightly) that they're not ready for one. Cupid took the Furby off their hands afterwords.

Bitties Series: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]

[lazy-ahh]

ALMOST, BUT NEVER QUITE (pt. 2)

pairing mark grayson x gender neutral reader

a hundred almosts. a hundred times mark grayson nearly tells you—with his hands brushing yours a second too long, with his voice cracking when he says your name, with the way he looks at you like you’re the only thing that makes sense in his chaotic, superhero life. but ‘almost’ doesn’t change anything. not until one quiet night, when the air between you crackles with everything unsaid, and the line between friendship and more feels thinner than ever. (or: mark and reader are disasters in love, dancing around the truth until neither can pretend anymore.)

the thing about mark grayson is that he’s almost brave.

almost.

like that time you were both sprawled on your bedroom floor, textbooks abandoned in favor of trading stupid jokes, his pinky brushing yours like it was an accident. he’d opened his mouth, the words i think i love you sitting right there, ready to spill—but then you laughed at something dumb he said, your nose scrunching up in that way that makes his chest feel too tight, and suddenly the moment was gone. he swallowed the confession down like it never happened.

almost.

or that night after a mission gone wrong, when he stumbled through your window at 3 am, suit torn, ribs aching, hands still trembling from adrenaline. you didn’t even flinch—just pulled him close, your fingers threading through his hair like you could stitch him back together with touch alone. he’d sagged against you, forehead pressed to your shoulder, breathing you in like an anchor, and for one reckless second, he thought this is it. i’m gonna tell them. but then your hands—steady, always so steady—dabbed at his split lip with a bandage, your touch feather-light, and all that came out was a hoarse "thanks," rough around the edges.

almost.

or that afternoon in the movie theater, when the flickering screen painted your face in shifting blues and golds, and he realized he hadn’t absorbed a single plot point because he was too busy counting the way your eyelashes caught the light. his fingers had twitched toward yours, his pulse a frantic drumbeat—just take their hand, you coward—but then you offered him the last piece of popcorn, your fingertips brushing his, and he chickened out. again.

almost.

or that party at eve’s, when you were both buzzed on cheap wine, your head lolling against his shoulder, his arm slung around your waist like it was the most natural thing in the world. the words burned in his throat—i’d kiss you right now if i wasn’t terrified of losing this—but then william wolf-whistled from across the room, and mark jerked away like he’d been caught doing something criminal.

almost.

or that lazy sunday on his couch, when you dozed off halfway through some dumb cartoon, your legs tangled with his, your breathing slow and even. he’d traced the curve of your cheekbone with his gaze, his chest so full it ached—you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me—but then you sighed in your sleep, nuzzling closer, and he swallowed the words down.

almost.

he almost tells you a hundred times.

a hundred almosts.

a hundred moments where his heart screams yes but his fear whispers not yet—when his fingers linger on your waist after lifting you away from danger, when he catches your eye across a crowded room and his smile goes soft in a way that’s just for you, when he wakes from nightmares with your name on his lips and has to bite his tongue to keep from calling you at 3am just to hear you breathe.

and the worst part? you were just as bad.

you almost told him during that late-night study session when he dozed off against your shoulder, the warm weight of him pressed along your side. in the dim glow of your desk lamp, you could see the way his adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed, the way his parted lips shaped silent words like he was still trying to argue some superhero theory in his dreams. you'd held your breath, leaning closer—just kiss him. just a tiny one on his forehead. his nose. his cheeks. anywhere. just say it—but then he nuzzled unconsciously into the curve of your neck, his sleepy exhale tickling your skin, and you panicked, shoving a pillow between you like a coward's shield.

you almost told him when he brought you your favorite coffee and snack after a rough day, the sleeve scribbled with a dumb doodle of himself as invincible (complete with a poorly drawn cape, an inside joke amongst the two of you). you’d opened your mouth—you’re the reason i smile even on bad days—but then he ruffled your hair, grinning like an idiot, and you choked on the words.

you almost told him when he bandaged your scraped knee after you tripped during one of his patrols, his calloused hands cradling your calf like something precious. the confession i’d fall a thousand times if it meant you’d catch me burned behind your teeth—but then he pressed the band-aid down with exaggerated care, muttering "there, good as new, ya klutz," and you kicked his shoulder instead, face flaming.

you almost told him when he fell asleep on your couch after a marathon gaming session, his controller still clutched in loose fingers. in the blue glow of the paused screen, you watched the way his lashes fanned over the dark circles under his eyes—always pushing himself too hard, always trying to save everyone. your thumb hovered over his cheekbone, aching to trace the bruise from last night's fight, to whisper let me take care of you too. but then he sighed in his sleep, turning his face into your palm like a sunflower chasing light, and you snatched your hand back like you'd been burned.

you almost told him a hundred times too.

(≧∇≦)ﾉ☆

and then—

one night, when the sky was bruised with twilight and the air between you was thick with something unspoken, you turned to him and said, soft as a whisper:

"you know, vincible, if you keep looking at me like that, i might start thinking you like me."

mark’s breath caught. his pulse roared in his ears. this is it, he thought. this is the moment.

but then—

he grinned, shaky and nervous, and deflected. "pssh. you wish."

you rolled your eyes, but your voice was quieter when you replied, "yeah. maybe i do."

the words hung between you, fragile and heavy all at once.

mark’s smile faltered. did they just—?

you immediately backtracked, shoving his shoulder. "i mean—shut up. you’re insufferable."

he laughed, but it came out uneven. "you love it."

"unfortunately," you muttered, and the way your voice cracked on the word love made his stomach flip.

for a second, neither of you spoke. the silence stretched, taut and electric, until mark couldn’t take it anymore.

"hey," he started, voice softer now. "if i—if i did like you. hypothetically. would that... would that be weird?"

your breath hitched. "hypothetically?"

"yeah." his fingers fidgeted with the hem of his sleeve. "just. y’know. asking."

you swallowed. "no. not weird."

"good," he whispered. "that’s... good."

another silence. longer this time.

then—

"mark?"

"yeah?"

you hesitated, your fingers curling into the fabric of your sleeves. "if i liked you. hypothetically. would that be weird?"

his lips parted. once again, mark grayson was speechless.

"no," he finally said, voice rough. "not weird at all."

the corner of your mouth twitched. "good."

"yeah," he breathed. "good."

and maybe—just maybe—that was enough for now.

(no almost this time. but not quite finally, either.)

okay so. this one’s short—like, really short (1.1k words whoops)—but sometimes less is more, right? …right? but hey. if i happen to write a part three—hypothetically—it’ll be longer. messier. maybe even (finally) give these two dumbasses the confession they deserve. or… y’know. drag the pining out even more. maybe make them more comfortable with being more... flirtatious or direct but indirect with their feelings? who can say. (it’s me. i can say. and let’s be real, we all know i’m writing it. so sorry to everyone who looked forward to this, all the budget went to the other one-shots i'm working on right now.)

[piowasthere]

Kitchen: 1 Moon: 0 Dazzle: +1 Dino Chicken Nugget

SOTW entry had to rush the shading real bad bc i remembered this was a thing i wanted to do just 10h before time's up and ig that was nearly not enough sob.

i sat on this for like 6-7h nonstop; i'm pretty sure i dehydrated a portion of my body a bit

[homeofhousechickens]

These longtail bantams are peak chicken. I want them so bad.

Microferma Rustica is their breeder

[dootznbootz]

I've been seeing some shit on how certain folks apparently think it's like, surprising that Penelope just accepted Odysseus and all the stuff he's done without question and/or disappointment in Would You Fall in Love With Me Again when like... Not only against Odyssey!Penelope but ALSO Epic's. We may have only gotten 2 songs it's still a concept album. THERE'S STILL TIME! of the real Penelope in Epic but like, even then we can see that she's equally as wild