Pluckedchicken - The Chicken Man

hmmm. Tumblr mobile update looking pretty ugly

God bless Deadpool.

Love and Nature

Osdea, the god of love, fell hopelessly in love with the god of nature, Ezella. Osdea tried everything she could to have the indifferent god acknowledge her, but Ezella never gave her the time of day. Osdea tried helping the flora and fauna, hoping to appeal to the god of nature through kindness. She tried befriending the different nature spirits, attempting to learn anything about Ezella. She tried just being in the same area as Ezella often, so maybe they'd take an interest in her, like she had in them.

Finally, when Osdea had given up hope in all else, she brought Ezella a small bouquet of flowers, ones she had seen them care for, and tried talking to the god. Ezella curtly turned Osdea down, but Osdea saw this as progress, for she had finally gotten Ezella to acknowledge her! And so Osdea brought another bouquet of flowers the next day, with the same result. She continued bringing flowers every day, each time with the same result.

On the fourth day, Ezella, growing steadily losing what little patience they had left from the frequent irritations said, "Every day you cut and bring me flowers that I have grown. Every day I turn you down, but that still does not seem to dissuade you. Your young naivety seems to know no bounds, so let me put this as plainly as possible. For as long as you continue bothering me and cutting the flowers I have grown and calling it a gift, I will never return your affections."

Osdea, stunned, watched as the god of nature swiftly turned and walked away, her eyes never lingering from their back, not even when her face grew warm or when the world in front of her clouded too an unrecognizable blur of colours. Only when Ezella was long out of sight was Osdea able to move, collapsing to her knees, and crushing the flowers.

She didn't even remember dropping them.

Hastily, she tried straightening the broken stems and rightening the misplaced petals, but the tears and her shaking hands only worsened the damage until her lap was covered in flower petals and leaves. She held the broken and baren flower stems to her chest, head in her lap and arms wrapped around her trembling body.

Gradually, slowly, her tears sprouted new flowers, wrapping first around the edges of her feet, then her dress and legs, her torso, her arms, her neck, her hair, her head. Oh so gradually, the suffocating pain in her chest took on a new shape; a shape that made more sense. Oh so slowly, her tears did dry, and the flowers clinging to her form began to bloom.

The forest nymphs were the first to find her. The rising sun painted her skin a brilliant golden colour through the shadows of towering trees and their vibrant green leaves. The delicate white of fresh blooms sparsely covering her form seemed to sing at their first sight of light. The god's chest rose and fell slowly as she laid sprawled across the forest floor, as if asleep. The nymphs, simply relieved that the poor god was no longer weeping, left her to sleep.

Osdea was not asleep. How could she sleep with the ceaseless, creeping pain inside her chest?

As the nymphs left, tears escaped and trickled down their familiar path over her skin and in between the delicate flowers.

The nymphs returned at sundown, the god's chest still steadily rising and falling, eyes closed to the world. The white flowers from before now more thoroughly covering her, and new flowers blooming at the edges of her face, there was very little of the god that was left untouched now. Small pin-pricks of blood scattered across her body where the flowers weaved their way through her skin.

Still, the nymphs left Osdea to her slumber. Still, Osdea was not asleep. She was paralyzed, as if the flowers had taken root in her muscles, rendering them completely useless. If nothing else, the whites and greens of the flowers and their stems, set against the dimming light of the falling sun brought some small glimmer of happiness to the sorrowful god.

'Perhaps,' thought the god 'this is the true nature of life; holding onto the smallest glimmer of hope and joy, no matter the cost.' Tears welled along her eyes once again, now hidden beneath a thin layer of foliage.

The petite white flowers weaving and sprouting through her skin were not what troubled Osdea. What troubled her was the feeling of small, sharp barbs being dragged through the inner linings of her being. Treacherously slowly, the talons clawed their way up her chest and into her throat. Every tentative rise and fall of her chest, every movement, no matter how small, pressed the stabbing blades in further.

Osdea learned what she could and could not do quite quicky. Movement was strictly forbidden. The god was still allowed to breathe, but gradually even that privileged had been restricted until her breaths were slow and shallow and her head grew light. She was not allowed to speak. Even if she wanted to, she wouldn't be able to croak out even a single word. But she was fine with that. She had no one to listen to her words anyways.

The stars above shone so brightly. Somehow, they seemed brighter than usual, almost as if they wept for the god, their small lights ever so slightly growing before trembling and shrinking again. The stars and their weeping slowly began to fade away as dawn drew near, and clouds covered the sky like a heavy blanket. Osdea could feel the plants blanketing her body still in anticipation. The world around her seemed to hold it's breath as she swam in and out of consciousness. She could still breathe. She didn't know why she was struggling. Her head felt so heavy.

The clouds were painted a brilliant ruby red, painting the forest in hues of pink. Osdea had never seen a sky quite like that, and she knew she never would again. A faint smile spread across her lips. This much she was still allowed.

She couldn't breathe.

The world fluttered in and out of existence, as if a butterfly were sat on her nose.

She was okay.

The sun began to crest its head over the horizon, vibrant scarlet to match the clouds above. The birds did not sing, nor did the deer begin to stir. The nymphs would not visit this morning.

She would be okay.

In and out, the world faded and re-ignited repeatedly. Dark crimson shadows fell over the forest. White flowers were painted pink.

It would be okay.

The world of reds and dark shadows swam in front of Osdea's eyes. From the darkness, her eyes landed on one figure, slowly approaching. The darkness encroached and consumed her vision. She pried her eyelids open, even if only once more. She would not let herself be robbed of her sight. Not yet.

She was out of time. She was not okay. She didn't want to die.

Light returned to the god. A soft face filled with love and sorrow stared down at her. For a moment, Osdea forgot about the tearing thorns in her chest, about the flowers covering her body, about the air missing from her lungs. For a moment, Osdea felt like she was dancing through the forest again, wanting nothing more than for Ezella to turn their attention to her.

Osdea watched as Ezella's lips moved, but no sound ever reached her ears. Why couldn't she hear the god? Why couldn't she hear the one person who's voice had rung through her head for days now?

Osdea opened her mouth, but the words she wanted to say were torn apart by the thorns within before they ever knew the breath of life. The scene before her clouded to a blur of reds again with only Ezella remaining in focus.

Ezella leaned down, filling Osdea's vision. Soft lips found her forehead, as if the flowers had parted specially for them. A drop of water rolled down her temple. It was warm. It was cold.

The clouds faded from her vision, and the thorns in her lungs disappeared. The god of love no longer felt the pinpricks of flowers weaving through her skin.

The god of nature rose with the rising sun, and began their daily care for the earth and its creatures.

The sun rose on the second morning. Where had previously laid Osdea, the god of love, now laid a beautiful flower bed, alive with dusty blues and pure whites. Sat in the center of the bed was a bush of roses, petals and thorns dyed the same blood-red colour.

via indiarosecrawford

Frog Paints a Water Lily Pond 🪷🎨🐸

𝑓ₒᵣ ⲕᵢ𝑛𝑔 ₐ𝑛𝑑 𝑐ₒ𝑡𝑡ₐ𝑔ₑ

ἔστιν ἄρα (therefore it is), 2025

(inspired by @two-bees-poetry - still fascinated by the poem lady macbeth grants you an interview, it's my favourite <3)

Marie-Helene Bertino

I got my powers when I was 26, which is pretty average. These powers don't materialize until your brain is as developed as it going to get (which thank God for that. Imagine what it would be like with a bunch of kids running around with super powers!) Some people get dreams that inform them about their powers in some way, some people just know how to use their powers without any instructions. Other people, the ones I feel sorry for, get no instructions nor mysterious knowledge, and have to go with more of a Fuck Around and Find Out method, which doesn't always work.

Because of when the powers choose to materialize themselves, many people choose to hold off on picking their career until their powers materialize. I, however, did not.

My thinking was that these powers were supposed to match who you are or your personality or something along those lines. If that's the case, my powers should fit with my career of choice, no matter what it is. In a way, I suppose it does. Though sometimes, I still wonder if I should have gone into something in humanities.

I had just finished medical school and was on track to become a neurologist. I received my powers, introduced through a liquored up dream after a night of celebrating with my friends. In the dream, I was tied to a set of train tracks, alone, with a lone train car at the end, ready to run me over with the flip of a switch. Then, I was one of five people tied to a set of train tracks, with a line train car ready to run us all over, or run only one person over at the flip of a switch. Then, I was the one at the switch, trying to decide whether to kill the one, or kill the five after being in their places. I couldn't decide. I woke up in a cold sweat with the chilling words "is one life worth the cost of many? You cannot stop this train car" echoing in my head.

After that, I quickly changed my special interest from a neurologist to an emergency medical specialist, with many questions from those around me that I couldn't answer. I went through residency without incident.

I've now been a doctor for 6 years in EMS, still without incident. Every single person I've helped has lived, even those that maybe shouldn't have. Some of my coworkers seem to think I'm some sort of medical god, breathing life back into the dead and dying. Others just assume it's because of my powers, not that anyone knows what it is.

The only problem is, it's not because of my powers that everyone lives. I still haven't activated my powers. My powers won't be activated until I let one person die. I have no idea why everyone lives, and I wish there was just one person who wouldn't. Then I would at least be able to proceed with confidence that everyone will live, rather than this haunting uncertainty of when that one will show up. I've considered pulling the plug on a comatose patient who doesn't show signs of waking up. I've considered being just a little too hasty with a patient on the brink of death. But just like in the dream, I was never able to knowingly sacrifice someone.

Out of all the superpowers out there, you consider yours the most sadistic; you can save any number of innocent people from death in the face of danger, but to gain that ability, you must kill an innocent person. Named after the infamous moral thought experiment, you are… Trolley Man.

Also I love that when the stream got banned the whole chat was spamming

CAPTAIN???

Captain!!!!

Captain??!!!!

CAPTAIN!!!

The Gods and Their Legends: Fate

Fate is an ancient god, older than time and space. It is said that Fate was created by mortals to bring order to a chaotic world. Fate lives, slumbering far out of the reaches of any mortal, creating everything that has and will ever be. Everything fated to come into existence is helpless to Fate and the path they have drawn out, including each of the gods and their creations.

Or that's what legend says anyways.