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brucewaynehater101 · 7 days

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They are so big and so cute! And if Huggin and Munnin are well above the average size of ravens they could be nearly the size of Tim's torso. Certainly bigger than his head. Plus they are so, so smart. Some of the smartest birds in the world. Imagine Tim getting in kidnapped as a civilian and Huggin simply grabs the key for him while Munnin acts as a look out. Tim escapes without ever being seen.

Tim also has special "bird doors" in his Nest so the whole place is filled with his many birds. Sure not all of them live there because he set up dozens of safe places around the city that are basically just Reall Big Pigeon Roosts with bird feeders in them that all types of birds are allowed in. Also the bird doors are much to small for any human to fit through, much like dog and cat doors are, and they do have actual sliding metal doors on them that are opened and unlocked by proximity of the little cameras he put on some of his birds. Roughly 4 owls, 8 pigeons, 3 Bluejays, 2 hawks, 17 crows, 9 grackles, and 20 ravens have access to his Nest. Are those a lot of keys just flying around the city? Yes. But no one knows the birds are his, Tim is constantly trying to make smaller and smaller cameras for them so that they will never be spotted, and who the fuck is gunna point to a random bird and go "that bitch has the key to Red Robin's house." And be believed by anyone who would help them catch a fucking pigeon that's just minding their own buisness?business??

The only beings who notice the cameras are other birds and the strange sparkly spot on his birds chest? It only gives his birds more Rizz. There was a study about how Zebra Finches actually preferred to mate with those who had on red tracking tags over other colors so what if this is similar? This would also mean that every spring Tim has an exponentially larger amount of birds.

Also the funniest way for the family to find out. It's one of the very rare sunny days in summer where it's Actually Hot in Gothem so the family decides it's the perfect day to use the pool in the back yard of Wayne Manor. Everyone is having an amazing time and eventually Tim gets tired so he sits down on one of the reclining pool chairs for a rest and snack, which is his chocolate free trail mix. He has a large bowl of it and ends up falling asleep with it in his lap. Just as the siblings are giggling and deciding what prank to play, a crow lands next to Tim and sqwacks a few times. Tim mumbles in his sleep but doesn't move so the bird hops up onto Tim's chair and starts to eat out of his bowl. Since it doesn't get shooed away, soon others are joining it. The family watches in amazement as Tim gets *covered* in birds that are casually eating from his bowl. There's even a pair of hawks that are perched above his head. When the bowl is empty, one of the crows bites Tim on the nose, startling him awake and he glares at the feathery fiend and very gently taps it on the beak as he scolds, "Monroe, I told you to stop biting my nose. Wait- you guys ate all my trail mix!" He has forgotten that his siblings are there because it's usually the birds or siblings, never both.

Oh, and when they eventually ask why he hid the birds, Tim simply says, "last time anyone found out, Janet called an exterminator."

I love this so much. Him building little nests all over the city for them is adorable and great. It would be cool if he started that before his Robin years as he was out and about in Gotham. He just built small little safe places for the birds, and it rapidly expanded as Tim got more experience, more resources, and more birds to look after.

Your logic with the keys is fantastic! When the batfam finds out, I bet birds pop by Tim's place while whatever family member is just chilling. Like maybe they are watching a movie and said bat gets distracted by the coming and goings of various birds (the birds probably also mess a bit with Tim or his space as fond pestering before leaving again). Maybe a few are just staring at the family member without blinking or taking a nap.

I wonder if Damian would start to make excuses to go over to Tim's Nest as much as possible. He states he needs to "ensure Timothy is maintaining adequate nesting conditions for the various species of birds" or that he will "test the Nest's security" by dropping by unannounced and breaking in.

Perhaps some of the birds watch over his various family members for Tim? Especially Duke because nobody else works the day shift with him, and birds are more common during the day (and thus less suspicious).

#dc comics #tim drake #dc universe #thank you for the ask!!!!#dc au #damian wayne

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barblaz-arts · 3 months

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Detail I would like to mention.

We know how pigeons and doves are very similar, technically, more or less the same bird.

Now get this. Extermination angels have the wing colouration more closer to the one of a pigeon, who we usually cuss at for simply existing.

Meanwhile Vaggie has wing way closer to the colouration of a dove. Which symbolises peace, good and sometimes even holy spirit, which actually is one of three forms of a God.

Just some shit I noticed.

I've been thinking the same thing actually! In fact whenever I draw Vaggie's wings I always use pictures of dove wings as reference.

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vylad243 · 3 months

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Imagine:

The vees, at the extermination battle Vox jumps in and takes the blow Adam ment for Alastor, and Adam flys off, thinking he got them both (Vox put up a wire shield or something so Adam can't really see them) and Alastor is holding the one demon he's had feelings for since said demon dropped into hell, and now they're dying. Because they saved him. The way his heart is breaking and he's choking on Vox's name--then he notices that his radio voice is back. Vox weakly shoves his mic into his face. "F-fi-x-ed it t-th-e b-es-t I coul-d, Bambi, Go k-kil-ll th-em fuc-kers." Vox manages to glitch out, the huge gash in his back bleeding heavily. (The best he could, while bleeding out was to make it back to 100 percent and add an angelic switchblade to it.)

Poor Alastor now has to make a choice.

Oh no :( y'all love your angst lol

I'm sure Alastor can multitask smh. He can kill the giant pigeon and help Vox out.

In all seriousness, Alastor would probably warp Vox to Rosie and send his shadow with Vox go make sure Rosie doesn't eat him

#hazbin hotel #anonymous #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #radiostatic

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joyerisjoy · 11 days

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Might as well make Ava’s info sheet/post too.

So, about Ava:

-The name Ava has the meaning of “bird”, which is perfect for someone with wings really.

-Ava is aromantic and lesbian. He’s butch, and goes by she/him pronouns.

-He’s Peruvian, but is terrible at Spanish. He’ll slip in some Spanish in conversation to seem cool, but there’s no way he can actually carry a full-on conversation.

-Definitely a chronic smoker. Always smells like smoke no matter what.

-This may change, but right now my voice claim for her would be Carla Tortelli from Cheers lmao.

-He doesn’t care much about the morality of the Exterminations. He’s just there to get the job done so he can go back for a smoke.

-A fan of coffee-alcoholic drinks, especially Irish coffee.

-Mostly listens to metal/rock, punk and grunge.

-Literally the worst fucking sense of fashion you’ll ever see. Like:

—the one on the right is her sleepwear, but she’ll sometimes go out in it. (And yes, the shirt’s been washed. It just always looks like that.)

-Is Sarai’s only actual friend. They’ve known each other a long time, and consider each other to be like sisters.

-When she stifles her laugh, it totally sounds like an actual pigeon.

-Milan was her weed dealer and they used to get along pretty well. Note the WAS…

-Broke one of the horns on her helmet during an extermination. Thought it looked badass, so she refused to get it fixed.

Timpani (the cute blue-haired one) is @able-juice ‘s OC btw.

#hazbin hotel #hellaverse #hazbin hotel fanart #hellaverse fanart #hazbin hotel rp #hazbin hotel oc #hazbin hotel exorcists #lutualverse #exorcist-timpani #exorcist-ava #exorcist-milan

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toxinellebug · 6 months

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Shadybug’s Paris Headcanons

Paris is not the “City of Love”, it is the “City of Progress”.

Many of those old fashioned buildings from a bygone era have been torn down and replaced with buildings that are more practical than aesthetic or factories.

Plastic is fantastic, the Seine is super polluted (and there is a rumored crocodile living there so citizens are advised to stand clear) but after getting rid of some useless parks, Project Oxygen has already started to improve Parisian Air Quality.

There is no ice-rink.

Admission to the Louvre is ridiculously expensive, and several pieces of art and historical artifacts have been locked up in the archives because it was determined that they were detrimental to public welfare and could incite anarchy. (In reality, the Supreme has locked away anything that is related to previous holders of the Miraculous).

There is a strict curfew and Martial law upheld by the Enforcers under the decree of the Supreme.

As such, there is no need for elections or mayors.

Socialism is prohibited.

This means that Libraries are not free; you need to fill out paperwork and pay a membership fee to gain entrance, and pay a separate rental fee for each book you rent, and the late fees are horrific. The selection of books available is limited as any material deemed to promote dangerous ideas has been strictly banned under penalty of law.

Fire and rescue services are not paid by tax payers, they are paid for by the people who need saving, as such, nobody is willing to go into financial debt over a cat stuck in a tree.

But thanks to the Supreme, there are no more wars, no debates over politics or religion. The world can focus on technological progress. Banning dangerous items has greatly reduced all crime, and Enforcers carry out punishment swiftly and efficiently.

Disobedience is not tolerated, because disobedience leads to civil violence and disruption, which leads to anarchy.

But if you are obedient and work hard, it is possible to move up in the world.

Freedom is a small price to pay for World Peace.

No one knows where the Supreme’s headquarters are located expect for a few elite, and no one knows if the Supreme is one person or a group of people.

But the Supreme guides the world and has lead everyone to prosperity. The Supreme cannot be questioned.

The Supreme defeated the Nazis, the Japanese, and even the Soviets.

Any radical or terrorist groups are swiftly eliminated by the Supreme.

There is no such thing as miracles. Keep your head down, mind your own business, fall in line, and strive for your own success, do not be weighed down by others or allow yourself to fall victim to misleading liberal and socialist ideals and propaganda that will lead to civil unrest. The obedient are always rewarded for their efforts. The impoverished exist due to laziness or criminal intent and are to be avoided. Those who ask for help expect free handouts and wish to leech off the hard work of upstanding citizens; they must be shunned.

Nobody does anything without adequate compensation. Never trust a “free lunch”, it may be poisoned.

Pigeons are disease spreading vermin and every effort is being made to exterminate them.

The Supreme began to suspect that whomever stole from him is hiding out in Paris after certain impossible “miracles” begin to happen in the city.

But the Supreme can’t show weakness and allow those who have sworn loyalty to know that he was robbed. Can’t risk them getting greedy and trying to steal from him as well.

He needs someone naive and inexperienced, someone who can be easily tempted and manipulated into retrieving the stolen Miraculous and keeping their mouth shut about it.

Who better than emotionally unstable teens, angry at the world, and bitterly determined to keep their business secret from adults who could never understand their pain? Teens who have no wealth or power of their own to change their lives and achieve their desires. Teens who would be too prideful or too afraid to admit their mistakes when things go wrong? Teens too oblivious to how the world really works, and could not care less for the consequences of their actions, even if it means slowly destroying the city in order to lure out a man who is determined to play “Hero”.

And, should they prove useless, it would be easy to take their miraculous back and let their bodies deteriorate, along with any and all secrets of magic jewels.

After all, it is hardly newsworthy if some Baker’s daughter suddenly “dies from an incurable illness”, and the Tragedy of a teen model “disappearing”, either as a means to escape the pressures of fame or a desire to join their mother in the afterlife is both entertaining and distracting, the Media will eat it up like candy.

This is the World that Betterfly/Hesperia wishes to change.

#miraculous paris #miraculous world #miraculous fandom #shadybug #miraculous ladybug #toxinelle #griffe noire #claw noir #The Supreme #Kwamis #Gabriel Agreste #Adrien Agreste #marinette dupain cheng #Hesperia #Betterfly #mlb s5 #miraculous #miraculous paris special #miraculous world paris

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hazbinhazbinhazbinreblog · 3 months

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You know what would be fucking funny? Because I have seen videos on this and I think there are old AUs about this too

But

ANGEL ALASTOR or I guess Winner!Alastor. Or whatever.

This very angelic being, who still takes on some deer qualities like his canon self, but just in Heaven. How? Who the fuck knows. Maybe this version didn't do that bad of sins //shrugs.

But this version is holy of course. His color scheme is whites, golds and blues (or pinks, maybe pinks instead). He walks with poise and grace, humming softly. He is still a radio host, happily broadcasting music and more. SO HOW THE FUCK IS IN HE HELL, HUH?

Consider: Bordeom.

Just like Canon!Alastor, Angel!Alastor is bored, he needs entertainment. Or at least he says he does. Really the reality is, maybe for this AU/Idea, Emily caught word of the extermination much earlier on due to how weird Sera is acting and maybe even caught word of the hotel much earlier on or something. Maybe Lucifer had to have a meeting in Heaven and let it slip his daughter was planning to do a redemption hotel and Emily sent Alastor down to go check it out and maybe make sure everything goes well.

I can imagine the actual just pure shock that an ACTUAL ANGEL was down in Hell wishing to help the hotel. But also Charlie being over the moon since OMG Heaven wants to help out.

Besides that, visual wise. Besides the color scheme I mentioned earlier. Can weirdly see him maybe having a blindfold over his eyes? Like he can see perfectly find, he just actively blinds himself. Maybe as a metaphor for how blind Heaven is to the exterminations? Idk. Also can see him having super fluffy wings, like, you know the videos of pigeons loafing or floofing up? Think that but Alastor's wings. When pissed off, more eyes appear on his wings and there is clearly glowing pupils under his blindfold, but he rarely gets angry since he keeps a level head more.

And that is all I thought of hfsjdf

If people wanna add more to this, be my guest, I lowkey wanna see the chaos that comes from this idea hfjdsf

-⚔️ anon

Winner!Alastor going to visit hell from sheer absolute boredom is very entertaining to me

#ask #⚔️ anon #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel

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mousy-nona · 4 months

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All of God's Angels p. 2

I think you will like His newest creation, Gabriel mused. I’ve foreseen a challenge for you. An equal. A partner, tall and beautiful and terrible, and crowned in red. // Or Lucifer tries his damned best to ignore Gabriel's prophecy, then finds Alastor after Extermination Day.

All parts up on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53800450/chapters/136173307

Lucifer was Not Impressed by his supposed perfect match.

As he watched Alastor toss a few grunts into his mouth with a glee that Lucifer could only describe as satanic, he broke his resolution to never pray again for the second time in a row and sent a quick message up to Heaven.

Dear Father, he beseeched – nay, begged – Dear Father, for the love of all that is unholy, please let it be someone else.

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe it was another false alarm, like Lilith had been. Hell was full of red-faced bastards, and as much as he hated to admit it (and as Alastor had so smugly reminded him), most of them were taller than he was. Not Alastor tall, of course, but Gabriel had never specified ye verily, thy fated companion shall be approximately seven feet high, if thou art judging by the imperial system.

(Curse that stuffy excuse for a messenger pigeon! If he hadn’t been so annoyingly vague, Lucifer wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place!)

But there was something about the demon that made him think this time – this time would be the one that stuck.

Maybe it was the way the demon seemed to have an uncanny sixth sense for knowing exactly how to get under his skin. He’d picked on his height, which was a low (ha!) blow, but then he’d honed in on his one true weakness with a swift, savage efficiency even Lucifer had to admire. Within less than a minute, he’d focused all his witty one liners on his relationship with Charlie – or lack thereof.

Maybe it was the thrill that crept up his back as they fired insults at each other – “that’s why they call it the ‘Has-Been Hotel’!” “It was actually my idea!” – and Alastor didn’t once miss a beat. He returned each one of Lucifer’s barbs with a grace and silky condescension that made his own retorts look clumsy by comparison. He was excited in a way he hadn’t in years, filled with an electricity that could have been hate or delight or anything in between.

Most importantly, he felt alive . Awake and alert. And when he placed his hand on the apple topping his staff, he felt it vibrate the way it had that first morning, and his mouth filled with the crisp, clean sparkle of potential.

It almost tasted like static.

It was all too much for one day and Lucifer – the Prince of Darkness, the Morning Star, the Light Bringer – retreated. In front of a former human.

Time flowed differently for a being that had existed since before the creation of the world. A blink of an eye could last a decade, or it could last a heartbeat of a second. He’d forced himself to get better at keeping track after Charlie’s birth, knowing time didn’t misbehave for her like it did for him. Being a father meant not wanting to miss a single moment – a lesson he’d learned the hard way.

It was a mark of how badly Alastor had shaken him that he forgot all of his self-imposed rituals. He didn’t set the alarm at night. He didn’t mark off the days on the calendar. He didn’t even bother to darken and brighten the room to match the cycles of Hell. In the half-submerged gloom of his circus tent, surrounded on all sides by mountains of fire-breathing duckies, he could freak out in peace and quiet as the hours slid by like endless grains of sand.

That was why he didn’t realize what day it was until it was almost too late.

If it wasn’t for the half-dead angel that crashed through the main hall, he might have missed the whole thing altogether. For the first time in days, his mind was strong and clear as he stared at the cherubim twitching on his floor.

Extermination Day.

Charlie.

It was as if he’d mainlined a lightning bolt straight into his veins. He didn’t bother with a portal. He didn’t even bother to think. His six great wings unfurled and carried him towards the hotel faster than sound itself. And perhaps he hadn’t fallen out of favor after all, because he got there just in time to whisk Charlie out of harm’s way. Adam’s beady little eyes widened when he saw who it was.

Lucifer was so giddy with relief that he couldn’t resist a few jabs as he flew circles around the First Man. Adam fought to keep up, stuttering and spitting out profanities as he struggled to come up with a single clever comeback.

“You’ve really let yourself go since Eden,” Lucifer couldn’t help but remark, rather sadly. What a shame – even after a millennia, Adam still possessed the conversational skills of a rock. What the Hell were they teaching the humans up there? Less than a few minutes had passed, and he was already growing bored of this exchange. He found his attention drifting to a far more enjoyable battle of wits from a few days ago…

Speaking of which, where was Alastor?

He was distracted by Charlie, always Charlie, who transformed into a form he’d never seen before to stop Adam’s charge with one hand. An almighty rage that had lain dormant in him since the Fall reared its ugly head, and for a moment, all other thoughts were wiped from his mind.

He dares? This pathetic, empty excuse for a human being dares threaten my Charlie?

It was only later, after the battle, when there was time to talk and mourn for the fallen, that he heard Alastor hadn’t been seen since his battle with Adam.

Alastor…fallen to Adam? It made logical sense, of course – as powerful as Alastor was, he was only an Overlord, and a young one to boot. Adam had had the entirety of human history to strengthen his power, and the angels had afforded him special abilities due to his status as the first human to enter Heaven. But still his mind struggled to comprehend it. It was like trying to understand how a Neanderthal had beaten an elegant war machine.

A Neanderthal with a huge angelic blaster gun, he groused as he magicked a wall of timber into being. It was a good thing he hadn’t seen Alastor fall — he didn’t think he would have been able to stop himself from gutting Adam with his two bare hands if he had.

But at the same time, his limbs were suffused with a strange sense of relief. If Alastor had been taken out so easily, there was no way he was his fated companion. This was a good thing. A blessed turn of events. His equal match was still out there somewhere, and with any luck they would be free of unsightly defects like pointy teeth and cannibalistic tastes and a predilection for sadism. He was free!

(So why was his chest aching so much?)

Then Alastor deigned to show his face, his smile as sharp as ever, his suit impeccably pressed, and Lucifer felt his heart beat again. Charlie and the rest of the hotel (except for Husk – strange, that) pressed in to touch him, to hug him, to bask in his strange enigmatic presence. To the untrained eye, he looked as good as new, as if he’d risen from a restful nap instead of a grueling battle.

But Lucifer had spent the past few days agonizing over this demon. Going over every last detail in his mind until his features were firmly etched into his memory. And he knew, he knew something was wrong. There wasn’t any outward sign that gave it away – Alastor was even better at hiding pain than handing it out – but there was something in the careful way he slipped out of Charlie’s overenthusiastic embrace, the millisecond twitch of his shadow, the grin that was a shade too large that set Lucifer’s teeth on edge.

He’d ignored signs before. He’d tinkered on ducks and stupid useless things as Lilith had disappeared into the ether. He’d missed half of Charlie’s teenage years on projects that he couldn’t even remember. He wasn’t going to repeat the same mistakes again.

He ushered Charlie and Vaggie up to bed, insisting they take the master, brushing away their worried suggestions – “but we should help you get unpacked!” and “are you sure you’ll be able to find your room okay?”

He slipped Cherri a twenty to make herself scarce, and he made pointed suggestions to Husk and Angel Dust about where they could find some of the truly good booze back at his palace. His heart warmed a little as he watched Angel Dust slip a not-so-sneaky arm around Husk’s shoulders and bring him in close. Husk’s hard facade cracked a bit, his lips quirking up a bit as he pretended not to notice it.

He couldn’t find Niffty or figure out where the odd creature slept at nights (did she even have a room?), but he figured she knew Alastor well enough by this point to leave him alone.

Preparations complete, Lucifer ascended the staircase. At the top floor, instead of going left, towards his rooms, he took a deep breath and turned right. The hall got progressively darker as he closed in on the menacing radio tower. The shadows were deep here. They breathed and pulsed, as if he’d stepped into the maw of some giant beast. The air was humid, heavy with old mud and the ghostly aroma of a thousand dead bodies.

It felt like Alastor was all around him, pressing against his bare skin, invading his lungs. A thrill went down his back as he raised his hand and knocked, just once. It sounded muffled in the damp and the dark.

“Yes?” The radio static was so heavy he could hardly hear Alastor under it. He got as close to the door as possible.

“It’s me.” He didn’t say who it was. Alastor knew.

There was a pause. “And what does the King of Hell want with a lowly facility manager at this late hour?”

Again, the tone of his voice crackled and popped, as if it was going in and out of signal. It sounded…weaker this time. Suddenly gripped with concern, Lucifer wrapped his hand around the knob and –

“DON’T.”

The high frequency static ripped through the air like a sonic blast. He winced as a ringing in his ears momentarily knocked him off balance. Something wet dripped onto his shoulder. He swept his finger across it, surprised when it came up red. Alastor had burst his eardrums.

That nasty, annoying, hard headed–!

“Okay, no more Mr. Nice Demon,” he muttered under his breath. Louder, so Alastor could hear him, he announced, “I’m coming in!”

He threw the door open. Or tried to, at least. Neon green threads made it impossible to open it more than a crack. He could slice them open, of course, but he didn’t really want to strain Alastor any further.

“Are you serious?” He exclaimed, just a few seconds away from stomping his foot like a little kid. He wouldn’t let Alastor get the satisfaction of pushing him to such depths. “Something’s going on with you, don’t try to deny it. I can help. So let me in.”

“Why?” The static had abated a bit, enough so that Lucifer could hear Alastor’s true voice. It sounded tired, as if their little exchange had exhausted him.

Because I might have been waiting for you since Creation Day. Ha! That would scare him off for good. Besides, it wasn’t like he was sure Gabriel had been talking about Alastor. No reason irritating them both before he was sure of it.

“For Charlie,” he said simply. It was half-true. He might have been willing to help the irritating demon for his daughter’s sake even without this accursed prophecy. Maybe.

To his surprise, the glowing green threads fell away, and the door swung open. The room was darker even than the hallway. He couldn’t see a thing. He stepped inside, flinching when the static washed over him again, as sharp as a slap.

“Stop there.”

“How am I supposed to do anything from here?” He asked, frustrated at the unbending wall of darkness in front of him.

“Look. But do not touch.”

A swarm of fireflies blinked into being, and Lucifer raged.

#alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel lucifer #radioapple #alastor x lucifer #lucifer x alastor #touch aversion #duckiedeer #appleradio #radio demon #platonic romance

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vhstown · 8 months

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I'm begging someone to consider the hc of Disney Princess Hobie. Comes out of a rock gig to be greeted by 20 street cats, who all circle him and purr against his boots when he steps on the sidewalk. Hobie who tries swinging across buildings and has to narrowly dodge birds who keep trying to fly with him. Sits on a bench, just to be surrounded by pigeons, sitting on his shoulders and pecking at his wicks. Imagine a tall and lanky punk dude with an horde of rats trailing behind him. They sit outside a butcher shop and Hobie comes out with a few slices of ham for em. You could say 'spider sense connects with animals', or 'kind punk attracts animals', but it's rotting my brain. I need him to cradle a raccoon like a baby, and build little wooden houses for skunks since exterminators keep trying to gas them. Squirrels who hang around his boat just to pluck up the unripe strawberries he's potted around. He communicates with owls with autistic head tilts. Coos at them. Catches spiders and stink bugs to release them on a leaf outside. Does anybody else share this vision because I'm rabid.

you are GENIUS anon i literally have nothing to add i better see you make your own post about disney princess hobie and you better tag me so i can reblog it ‼️ (no pressure lol)

but yeah literally why has nobody thought of this bro got the whole woods behind him... imagine him sending his lil troop of animals against fisk or sumn 😭 very cute though im becoming a bit rabid too

#hobie brown #hobie brown headcanons #vee answers

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adventure-showdown · 7 months

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What is your favourite Doctor Who story?

ROUND 2 MASTERPOST

synopses and propaganda under the cut

The Cars that Ate London!

Synopsis

The advent of electric carriages on London's streets causes a stir – until they start careening out of control. Elsewhere, factory workers lose their senses, while a brand-new power plant suffers mysterious outages.

Genius industrialist Fabian Solak has a vision of the future – free from pollution, running on clean electricity. But Madame Vastra knows such ideas are ahead of their time...

Propaganda

We open with one Jenny Flint buying racing pigeons because Vastra keeps eating the- because the pigeons keep getting out. She also buys a swan for Vastra (which, if you know Brit lore, the Queen owns most of the swans for some reason XD, and this is therefore a big ""Fuck you"" from Vastra to the Queen), when suddenly an electric car without a driver attacks the market. At home in Paternoster Row Vastra checks if Jenny is okay and promptly suggests a 'lie down' together... 😂 The guy making the electric cars owns a factory that quite literally works its workers to death in assembly lines, or absorbs the people's brains. The Gang infiltrates said factory (Strax starts a small war after doing a gloriously funny Cockney impression), trip an alarm, and have to flee. Strax runs through a wall. They try to escape in their carriage, two electric cars chasing them. When the carriage crashes, Strax is prepared to take the cars on in hand to hand combat; he sees it as a tactical advantage for himself that the cars don't have arms. Or so he thinks: the electric cars are actually electric TRANSFORMERS. While Strax rallies the workers to seize the means of production (communist king) and Jenny is prepped to be absorbed (she kicks the lady trying to tie her up and frees herself), Vastra has a talk with Mr Solak that ends in her being electrocuted and temporarily disabled for being IBSANELY mouthy. Solak's transformers are automated enough that he doesn't require any more workers, and he plans to absorb the brains of everyone in London with his factory he's made mobile. Well, they manage to escape and get caught AGAIN (they're that skilled istg) they try to absorb Strax as well, and while Vastra talks to Solak and distracts him, Strax takes advantage of the high voltage they connected him to and uses the energy to recharge himself properly. A hilarious audio to kick off the fiest boxset, though not without its serious moments. The concept is insane tho and I love tha. (@jennyandvastraflint )

Out of Time

Synopsis

The Cathedral of Contemplation is an enigma, existing outside time. It turns through history, opening its doors across the universe to offer solace to those in need.

Occasionally, the Doctor drops in – when he's avoiding his destiny, it's an ideal place to get some perspective. Only this time he's already there from several lives earlier, so when dimension barriers break down, his past and present collide.

And when the Daleks invade and commandeer the Cathedral, two Doctors must unite to stop them – or face extermination twice over!

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

#round 2

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writerbeemedina · 9 months

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Endling

Today marks the 109th anniversary of the passenger pigeon’s extinction: September 1, 1914. So in honor of Martha, I thought I’d share this short story of what it’s like to be an endling from her perspective. (It won my college’s flash fiction contest!! ^^) It also features the last Carolina parakeets!! Enjoy, and remember an important species with me.

Photo by Robert Shufelt

When Cincinnati Zoo closed its doors for the night, the boys and I would lull ourselves to sleep with stories of our ancestors from the bits we’ve gathered from visitors. Passenger pigeon flocks were so superior, we owned the skies. There were so many of us, we held the very power in our wings to take away the sun from the ground creatures below. The three of us tried to conjure the image of that many passenger pigeons in our brains, but we – and a few others in our enclosure before us – were the only ones we had ever known.

Ever since the boys died, I’ve received more attention than all my years combined. Like picking apart nuts, I’ve plucked information from the restless chitter-chatter of the Featherless: Martha. New mate. Great prize. Last passenger pigeon.

“Oh, congratulations, darling. You’ve officially achieved endling-baby-maker-status,” screeched the female Carolina parakeet living in the cage across from mine one day.

“I beg your pardon?” I said to the bold, green-and-yellow bird.

Incas, her mate, hobbled over to her side of the perch. “Lady Jane, remember what we said about minding our own business?”

As though she hadn’t heard him, she continued, “Those naked beasts have been trying to get us to make babies for decades. So every egg we lay . . . splat! ” Lady Jane threw back her beak and cackled. “The look of hope dying on their faces never gets old.”

Despite the warm weather, a chill rippled through my body from beak to tail.

“What she means is, they’re the reason why we’re the only ones left of our kind. They slaughtered us and used our bodies to decorate their hats. Why should we give them what they want? If this is the end, we want them to never forget what they’ve done to us,” explained Incas.

I was left with quite a bit to think about after that. The very same species that kept my belly full, my cage comfortable, and my health maintained were responsible for exterminating the great passenger pigeon empire with their . . . guns and traps? Surely they weren’t all to blame — I will never forget this one little boy, Richard, who would visit me during the weekends in the summertime, feed me peanuts, and speak to me as if I were his equal.

Even if Featherless weren’t a factor, even if the end of my kind weren’t at stake, I’ve never much cared for chicks of my own. Would it be selfish of me if I remained chickless? Or should I do my duty to nature and try? But then again, would it do any good if I did?

Although, to be honest, I’m getting to be an old girl. Even if I could, I don’t think this frail, tired body would be suitable for laying eggs. We’ll see. But it’s a pretty big world out there. Surely, there must be some other passenger pigeons besides me . . .

Clipping from Kansas City Star (Kansas City, Missouri), 2 September 1914, page 10

#passenger pigeon #passenger pigeons #martha passenger pigeon #endling #recently extinct #extinct species #extinct birds #extinct animals #extinction #short story #short stories #flash fiction friday #flash fiction #flash fic #xenofiction flash fiction #xenofiction short stories

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thepigeonspecialistphx · 7 months

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toyybox · 1 day

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Spiderwebs #37: Volta

Masterlist

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

The next hotel didn’t have a free breakfast, nor did it have a chandelier. It was evidently cheaper than the other two, but it was passable. They were spending most of their time outside, in any case, so the only things they really needed were the beds.

Heather was standing by the newspapers. Jackie was standing by the corner-store’s window, watching people gather at a bus stop across the road. It was a bright and cheery January day. The sky was clear. Someone was feeding pigeons on the street, scattering seeds at a flock. This was a new city. Olympia. A majestic name, though he found it similar to Bellevue and Seattle and Redmond. Even if it was slightly colder.

“Excuse me, can I take a look—“

Someone was trying to reach the chips aisle. Jackie stepped aside. “Sorry.”

“Hello. Enjoying the view?”

“Oh, it’s you.” Heather was standing beside him, looking smug. “View’s alright.”

“Take it in now, because we’re not staying for long.” She handed him the newspaper in her hand. “First article, third page.”

It was The Olympian. How creative. He folded the thin pages over until he arrived at the third one, where he was greeted by a very interesting sight, indeed.

“Missing Seattle exterminator’s car found near Deschutes river,” he read aloud. “Matthew was an exterminator?”

“Yes, he kept going on about nests. Keep reading.”

His gaze flicked a few lines down. It wasn’t a long article, only two paragraphs. “They think he was mauled by a bear?”

“It’s because they haven’t found the body yet,” she said with a concerning amount of pride. “The police have basically given up.”

The second paragraph was just a list of bear safety reminders. “I don’t understand why Matthew got his own article.”

“What? He went missing. That warrants an article.”

“I went missing—“

“Shh,“ she cut him off, glancing at the stranger picking through flavours of chips. “Keep it down, alright?”

He rolled his eyes, but his next words came in an urgent whisper. “It’s just that—what’s so special about Matthew, huh? I didn’t get an article. Where’s my name on the back of a milk carton? Why do they kick up a fuss about him going off the map, but not me?”

“Hey, I think you’re special.” Heather was in a good mood today, he noticed. “Besides, Matthew was an exterminator. There aren’t many good ones in Washington anymore. They all charge ridiculous fees, too.”

Also, Matthew had a wife and three kids, according to the article. They were probably expecting some sort of report. But that was neither here nor there. Dear old Mattie was sleeping with the fishes now, which was something Jackie had managed to one-up him on. “I’m surprised you came all the way out here to hide the car.”

She waited for the stranger beside them to pass before replying. “I’m thorough. Didn’t want it traced back to Seattle.”

“Is that why we came here? Returning to the scene of the crime?” He leaned forward. “Feeling guilty, are we? Seeing Matt in your dreams?”

“Yes, asking me if I have cockroaches in my attic.” She plucked the newspaper from his hands. “Olympia has great parks, too. But that’s irrelevant. Do you realize what this means?”

He shook his head.

“We can go home now,” she replied in a sunny voice. “The cops aren’t after me. We don’t have to hide out in hotels anymore.”

“Oh.” Going home. Away from the blue sky, the city, the raspy winter air and the gray crusts of snow. Back into the basement. A concrete box. A locked door. Waiting a lot, and sleeping to pass the time. Home sweet home. “That’s great.”

“Isn’t it?” Heather didn’t realize what she was saying, what she was telling him. Because she wasn’t the one who had to trade their freedom for a single room. To her, home meant she had all she ever needed. His perspective was resigned to the back of her mind, only relevant when she needed a list of symptoms or a number on a scale. She was ignorant, and therefore happy. She was thrilled.

“How long are we staying here?” he asked.

“Just the night.”

He bit the inside of his cheek. It wouldn’t do to get worked up. Trying to explain his discomfort would either get a dismissive wave of the hand or, worst case, an angry look. “Great.”

“Yes, the drive back home might take a few hours.” She didn’t notice a thing. “Traffic, you know. I’d like to get started early.”

They walked around and talked for a while. Jackie tried not to dwell on it. He thought he could be happy like this. Heather was good to him. Maybe he felt a bit restless sometimes, but he always had a companion and a roof over his head.

The problem wasn’t Heather. He loved Heather. He enjoyed her company. That was a given. The problem was Jackie. He was still a lab rat. He was still an object of study.

No, that wasn’t it either. He would be content helping her in scientific research. What did a few drugs matter, when given such a blissful life? The problem was the house—yes, the house, how didn’t he see it before? Too many bad memories there. Too much bad blood. It stained him in its shadow and creaked as it shifted, like the crackling of thunder after lightning, old concrete and wood on the verge of splitting apart, an old hag of a house. In reality, it was probably quite new, but it felt ancient to him. A haunted house of sorts. Impossibly weathered and crawling with spite.

Being locked in the basement was painful. For the lack of a better term. Agonizing. It was helpless inertia. It was anger with nowhere to go. So the feeling clawed and gnawed and ate him up, like a stomach empty of food, acid bubbling at the back of his throat. He wasted away. He went into decay. A corpse. A carcass. Immortality had little use when the hours turned into days which turned months which turned into years, unbearable and all the same.

It was that memory that haunted him. He thought he could be okay if he was still allowed to leave, from time to time, but that was unrealistic. Heather barely let him touch the windows—out of safety concerns, of course, not any kind of senseless cruelty. Still, he didn’t want to go back to that. He didn’t want to go back.

Just a child crying I don’t want to go home, throwing a fit over what couldn't be helped. This was ridiculous. He was getting anxious over nothing. So he forced the thought to die off. He was not home yet, at least. He was on a bench in a park in Olympia, with Heather, and everything was going to be okay.

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

She smiled, a little nervously. Her eyebrows were the tiniest bit tense. “Christ above. What are you looking at?”

He was startled out of his trance—he sat up, lifted his head off his hand, stopped gnawing at the inside of his lip. “Oh, sorry, were you saying something?”

“Yes, I was just talking about the weather.” She scrutinized him, while he tried to look as content as possible. “Are you feeling okay?”

He nodded with all the energy he could muster. “I’m feeling great, why?”

“It’s just… you’ve been glaring at nothing for five minutes, at least. Is something wrong?”

“No.”

“Jackie,” she said softly, leaning in a bit. “Be honest. I can tell that you’re upset.”

“I’m fine. Leave me alone.”

She gave him a wounded look.

He sighed, rubbed at his face. “Sorry. I think I’m hungry.”

She looked less wounded. This was a problem she could fix. It was an issue of biology, her specialty. “You should have said so. I saw a restaurant near the hotel.”

“Cool.” Being able to order food from a restaurant, going to parks, watching the passersby with their cute little dogs and their webbed umbrellas. He tried to ignore the dread, but this was all making him feel worse.

He remembered what Heather said, about her death. Being free to go. It wouldn’t last forever. He would be free one day. He hated her for it. Making him love her, then making him grieve, dangling the promise of freedom after completely gutting him. Bait on a hook of immeasurable loss. He hated her, he wanted her dead, he wanted to never talk to her again, and he wanted her to hold him and tell him that everything would turn out okay. He imagined stabbing her until she finally shut up. He wanted to cry into her shoulder. He loved her so much; he knew he wasn't safe; he thought the tension would break him before the drugs ever could.

This wouldn’t last forever, he knew that, but it was happening now. How could he live forty or fifty years locked away? He was not a god. He could not exist without any attachment or desire. He was a mortal in the wrong body. An entire lifetime would pass him by, restless and spiteful, while he rotted underground. Maybe that was a brief volta to the divine, but he was only a man.

He loved Heather on condition, he thought. When she was kind, when she let him pretend to live a normal life. Because this was really all pretend. Playing house. It would fall apart the second he decided to contradict her. After so long alone, hearing her voice was all he ever wanted, but that happiness was starting to fade. His insistent thoughts of love and kindness grew lethargic, a little less enthusiastic.

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

He thought of telling her. The day came to a close. He curled up in bed, underneath the blankets, staring at the ceiling.

She wouldn’t care. That would hurt more than anything, somehow. Jackie just wanted to be taken seriously. Or she’d tell him that it was a necessary precaution, that they could keep living in hotels, and end the conversation there. If she panicked, he might not be able to bargain with her any further. Telling her would only make it worse.

So, what? What was he suggesting? Escape? He would play the Houdini again. It wasn't impossible. He didn't want to risk calling the police, not when he was always near her every hour of the day. Someone as careful as Heather would notice. And there was not a chance he was attempting murder again. But he could walk out. Just… walk out the door. Disappear.

And go where, exactly? Go live on the street? Find money, how—beg? Steal? He had no money to start with, no driver’s license, not even a health card. More importantly, would he really abandon Heather like that? Their trust was already shaky. That would break her heart in two, if he just up and left. She would never let him outside again. The cost of failure was high, and if she decided to punish him for disobedience, it would most certainly be painful.

The only other alternative was going back home. He’d go back to that cage, waiting, sleeping, eating sometimes, waiting for the drugs to wear off, asking to follow her upstairs just to exist in another room. The door was wide open if he wanted it. He could leave at that very moment. It would be so easy to leave. If he was unhappy after that, then it would be his own fault, his own choice to stay and keep his head down.

But Heather!

What about Heather? She’d get over it. Oh, she’d mourn over the loss of her friend—and also her key to immortality—but there were plenty of other fish in the sea. If she wanted someone else to torment, then she only needed to walk down the street and point her gun. He would miss her, too, but he was used to being alone. It was nothing new.

But… Heather.

She was standing in front of the bed, furrowed brows and tight, straight mouth. “Do you feel sick?”

“I can’t get sick, remember?”

“Yes, but you could have…” She hesitated with the words. “Are you cold?”

“I’m fine, Heather. I’m completely okay. I’m just tired.”

He continued staring at the ceiling. She left the topic alone and began packing her things.

It was something he wasn’t used to. To be cared for. Something as simple as a question made him nervous. It was an unfamiliar concept. Jackie couldn’t remember his mother at all. Jackie’s father was a subject better left alone. His sisters were either dead or missing. His friends from work probably forgot he existed. His neighbors probably didn’t know he existed in the first place. Heather was the only person in the entire world who gave a damn about him. To lose that would be difficult. Loneliness was always difficult after the warmth of company. But what good was company when it came at the cost of his humanity, his identity, his self?

Exactly. It was a question of humanity. He was not her equal partner, if they were being blunt about it. If Heather wanted to flay him alive, he really did not have a say in the matter. His personhood and choice was stolen, and now it belonged to someone else. Kindness be damned. Love be damned. Those didn’t change the facts of the situation. It wasn’t like his input mattered to her. He had to be nice and sweet and charming regardless of anything she did, or risk losing a few comforts.

He loved Heather, but love had nothing to do with this, so… that was it, then. His decision was already made. Escape attempt number… two. Or three. Jackie couldn’t remember. But the numbers were for scientists. This was nothing more than sleight-of-hand.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Taglist:

@theelvishcowgirl @lthrboy @whumpy-wyrms

@yassifiedinformation @creppersfunpalooza

@vidawhump

#whump writing #whump #my writing #Spiderwebs toyybox #it is not enough to love you and it is not enough to want you destroyed #or whatever 🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️

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lettherebemonsters · 1 month

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She wasn't supposed to be here. Sera explicitly warned her to stay out, but how could she understand? Sera never cared about Adam, she never loved Adam the way he deserved to be loved! Someone needed to avenge him, and if it was going to be her, then...

Opening the portal to Hell, Lute dropped in, sporting a new silver arm to replace the one she lost, her sword held tight, her mask fixed in a furious scowl. At least a dozen Sinners were killed before anyone realized the threat, and they were fleeing her, crying out in fear, but she didn't care. Her blood was rushing in her ears, her sword drenched in blood.

The next Soul she came upon, she had him flat on his back in a second, her sword raised, ready to strike, only to pause when she heard him shout; her eyes widened. "A-Adam?!"

Adam had thought he had experienced the worst days of his life. From Lilith siding with Lucifer, to Eve eating the fruit that doomed her and humanity to a nightmarish reality.

He had faced so much pain, loss and hardship.....but the worst day was one moment feeling his world fade around him. Lute's tears as she screamed his name, the only thing he could do was give her a small smile goodbye....

And then....he woke up. In the Embassy, alone and cold, the stab through his spine and heart a dull ache. At first he hadn't known where he was or why....he thought it was a bad dream! That he'd wake up the morning of the Extermination to see Lute by his side, her white hair a cute mess as she snored her cute little pigeon coo snores.

Instead....he wasn't home. Lute wasn't there. And in the mirror, he saw what he had become. His mask was gone, his face visible. A pair of horns on his head reminiscent of Lilith's as his eyes glowed like embers. His skin a sickly grey. His gorgeous wings, his pride and joy.....they had disintegrated right before his eyes, leaving him a crippled angel in a pit of monsters.

Thankfully nobody had seen his face below, and his Exorcist clothing had been so ruined that they looked like rags. He was nobody now....a nameless nobody. If anyone knew who he was, he'd have been tortured horrifically.....or worse.

And that had been what Adam had become. Weeks stretching into months as he wallowed in despair. Alone, cold, hungry, barely surviving. Each day he grieved his life up in the sky, watching heaven twinkling through Hell's suffocating clouds....a jewel just out of reach.

Somehow he survived, albeit just through sheer spite. He has found a guitar, started playing music and managed to make meager money through his music. That's what he had been doing when the skies opened up from Heaven. He had just finished a show at Club Kaiju when he heard screaming. People running, blood everywhere...

And now, a sword ready to strike his head off....and Adam knew who it was. He knew from the moment he saw the mask, the helmet....when he heard her voice. Tears in his eyes as he looked up at the only person he truly allowed himself to trust after Eden.....to love.

He forced himself to smile, even as tears streamed down his face.

" Hey there Dangertits...."

#heartscfvalor #call me dickmaster! (adam)#;A;#Man this was long lol

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