#Birb lore!!

[puppetmaster13u]

So Anyway I Started Another Cryptid Batfam Au

Yeaah, they were human, and might've been the first vigilantes before the JL formed. Might've gotten caught by some mad scientist cultists. Might've gotten gene spliced a bit, but shhh. Don't worry about it :) They're fine. Absolutely Fine. This is Fine.

But anyway, they have wings now. And talons. And a lot of other things they have to adjust to and might straight up not have a civilian identity for a while- becomes more than a bit of social recluses while they figure this shit out.

So anyway, I haven't finished drawing or designing them, if I ever will, so have what each is based off of. There's a lot of robins. :) Also have how old everyone is at the start of the story. (Timelines are a fake thing that never make sense)

Bruce- Black Drongo (31 years old)

Kate- Scarlet Robin (31 years old)

Barbara- Red Backed Scrub Robin (16 years old)

Dick- Blue Fronted Robin (15 year old)

Cass- Hooded Robin (12 years old)

Jason- Red Capped Robin (12 years old)

Steph- Pink Robin (10 years old)

Tim- Collared Bush Robin (10 years old)

Duke- White Starred Robin (10 years old)

Damian- Olive Backed Forest Robin (8 years old)

Jarro- Rose Robin (4 year old equivalent)

Terry- Black Robin (4 years old)

Helena- Bagobo Robin (1 year old)

Matt- Norfolk Robin (1 year old)

[skywerse]

I designed finch's dad!!!!

[phenikas]

Reposting this one cause I was very dissatisfied with how the lighting looked. Original request from @/lore_selector on Instagram, @hyperion-birb asked for a fully body shot, so you can thank them ;)

[f1-birb]

I love how A lot of ex McLaren Drivers nasilały adopted Lando and they love him. Lewis, Jenson, Fernando or Mika.

~ Nando adopted him from Daytona 24 onwards. With Daytona he was so impressed with little baby 18yo Lando during the race that he went on to borderline wax poetry, and then Lando was the test/reserve for McLaren and did his apprenticeship in 2018, so when he wasn't racing in F2 he was learning the ins and outs, doing all sorts of jobs from sweeping the garage to making tea, and he learnt a lot from Fernando (probably insane to him since it was Lewis and Nando in 2007 that got him into F1 and McLaren) ~ a little bonus:

EDIT: thanks to an anon for the additional info, these two go further back than I was aware of! Lando was doing his internship at with McLaren as well as doing some test driver duties in 2017. 2018 was when they were in a team for Daytona 24 together and he became McLaren's reserve driver. And even before that, he's known Fernando since he won the WKC in an FA Kart

~ Jenson seemed to love Lando basically from the start, this interview springs to mind in particular, they're both Somerset Boys, and then he seems to have grown more and more endeared. Jenson has usually vouched for Lando for things, and the feeling is clearly mutual too from how at ease Lando is during interviews with JB

~ Lewis was actually a bit of a surprise, but seemed (to me at least) mildly amused by the rookies and Lando, I'm distinctly reminded of Silverstone 2019 and the iconic press conference, but Lewis' fondness for Lando in particular seemed to come after Sochi and then grew from there, and there's been a lot of sweet moments since. There's a few instances over radio, Lewis checked on Lando when he was sick in Barcelona last year and sitting on the floor under an umbrella during the drivers parade, stealing Lando's bucket hat, a few drivers parades this year where we saw the two of them talk to each other for most if not the whole thing

~ I haven't seen too much with Mika and Lando, but I know he's been pretty complimentary about him, and also turned heads when he made the bold claim (at the time) that McLaren will be the ones to challenge Red Bull and then lo and behold Austria and then the upgrades since and here we are

[theonewhosbritishunironically]

I'm kinda tired and I'll right now, but my brains just like... What if EnderKing had wings or something? Or used to? (Firstly, the design would be cool and I think it'd be a funny similarity he'd have with Phil.) And it'd mean that he'd know exactly how to hurt Phil as a bird himself. He'd know just how to push his buttons, and the whole thing would be another thing for him to be all like 'I am the only one who can help you'

[fate-defiant]

g'evening tutuheads here's a lil' something in honor of the holiday

[edeldoro]

I love how the broken, gilded cage Robin sits in appears to resemble a waterphone (and a phonograph within, by the look of it?). You may have heard its beautiful haunting voice in horror films and music in general. That the splash art attributes it to her, a Path of Harmony character, The Robin of Penacony, renowned singer across the stars, is so cool.

[ya-boi-haru]

I just counted up all the fable cmvs I want to do (regardless of, wip process or the ability to actually do them)

... guys I'm sitting on ...

7 freaking videos...

[zeroarmsgrani]

digimon huecember no. 07 — rafflesimon & pomumon

.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

[lennox0arts]

Okay, I saw this and could not resist-

I realized I forgot to tag them soooo

@sherbertquake56

you have bird ^^

[unknownsoldiers]

Lieutenant - 35ft Pharma - 29ft

Compared to some 'average'-ish height of a 20ft mech

[redwayfarers]

AFFRONT

Fandom: FFXIV Ship: Nika/Artoirel Characters: Nika Perseis (WoL), Artoirel de Fortemps, Lucretia Fiore, Mina Fiore Rating: Gen Word count: 1696 Spoilers: minor StB spoilers. part 2 - read on ao3 divider by @saradika

He’d been warned, of course, how difficult this would be. Nika is far from an easy man to get along with on the best of days, let alone in what appears to be the worst state he’s found himself in as of recent history, mentally and physically. He’d been warned, yet he’d insisted, because he couldn’t simply watch as they organised the transport to Ishgard and not offer to help. He couldn’t watch as they carted Nika, fragile and unconscious, away to the hands of Ishgardian chirurgeons, and away from his vigilant eye. 

So he bartered. He told his father it was securing Eorzea’s future if he stayed in Ishgard, by Nika’s side, overseeing his recovery. Maybe he even expected pride in his father's eye for the foresight. He found agreement, but little else. 

Artoirel knows it’s not becoming of him anymore. He knows, yet finds it necessary to justify his actions to his father. Securing Eorzea’s future seems to matter more than the heart of one’s son almost breaking at his lover almost dying. His father has even taken upon himself to bring Nika’s mothers from Limsa, as an additional pair of eyes. 

It’s taken Artoirel a moment to realise how much of a mercy this is. He doesn’t dare interpret it as a sign of care, not quite yet, but he’s grateful nevertheless. Said mothers did warn him about the difficulty of his choice, but he did see the relief in their eyes, knowing that their son has someone steadfast by his side.

He wonders if his own father would share the same relief. For Haurchefant, certainly. For Emmanellain, perhaps. But for Artoirel? The fact he has to wonder at all speaks much more than any answer could. 

But he has bigger things to worry about, such as the hurt in his chest at Nika’s shame-fueled anger that had nowhere to go but to Artoirel. He knows it’s not personal, he even understands the impulse, and yet, his eyes prickle with tears he can’t shed. Relief comes when Nika’s mother rushes in, looks between them and just signals for Artoirel to go. 

Ordinarily, he would’ve been insulted. As it stands, he takes the direction and leaves, though he stops to watch Nika stifle a scream in his mother’s neck. Artoirel hardly remembers what his mother’s hugs felt like. He cannot seem to recall a recent one from his father, either. 

If his insides were a battlefield, they would signal a lost battle. 

Artoirel turns away and walks briskly to his office. He contains any sniffling, and his eyes burn with the effort of holding back tears, but the few gazes he does notice linger. It makes shame burn bright - he’s their lord now - so he picks up the pace and closes the door loudly behind him. Only then does he crumple, halfway across the room to his desk, and the stain of tears follows him as he sits and hides his face in his palms. 

And he cries. He cries, and cries, and cries, cries even as his pride begs him to stop and reason demands he does. It all hits him like bricks, one at the time: Nika’s harsh words, barely audible through tears, that sickening feeling of emptiness and resentment when he thinks of his father, the sight of Nika crying in his mother’s arms and the absence of his own. He feels his hands shake and realizes he’s shaking from head to toe, and cries even harder, because he’s failing his duty. 

Halone save him, he’s failing his duty. He’s responsible for Nika now, and he should be there, in that fucking room, take the yelling with grace, and he should be grateful he’s alive at all to scream at him, not run away–

The door slides open and Artoirel’s blood runs cold. 

“I came to– oh, you’re crying,” a female voice says and he raises his eyes. She sounds genuinely empathetic, which makes him dig his nails into his palms. 

“Madam, I apologize you had to–” he starts, but he hates how his shaken voice sounds. The woman huffs. “If you could just wait for a moment–” 

“That kind of crying isn’t about to disappear in a moment,” she says quietly and Artoirel slumps in his chair. “It’s all good, though. Crying’s normal. Didn’t know you Ishgardians are so uppity about it.” 

He wipes his eyes and looks at her. She’s tall enough to be a Highlander, and her hair is dark and short. She’s dressed in an oversized, woolen coat, and in the dim light of the room, her eyes appear to be two smothering pools of darkness. He suddenly recalls where he knows her from. It’s one of Nika’s mothers. 

“Madam Perseis, I do not.. I do not ordinarily cry before guests,” he says by way of apology. 

“Ain’t a Perseis. Nor a madam.” Great. Now he feels incompetent, ashamed and stupid. “Name’s Lucretia Fiore. I hope my own son’s mentioned me once or twice.” 

“Once or twice,” Artoirel cautiously replies and sniffles. “Shamefully little. He’s never mentioned that your surname is Fiore.” 

Lucretia sighs. “Gods know how little he told you about anything else, then.” 

“I still don’t know what happened to his father, if it’s any consolation, and we have been courting for months now, and have been friends for longer.” 

Lucretia stares. “When he’s less likely to bite my head off, I will have a word with him about it.” She walks over and  uncrosses her hands from her chest. “You’re a lord or something, yeah? Is it okay if I skip the titles and just call you what your name is?” 

“A count,” he corrects and throws his head back against the chair. Not that he’s worthy of the title in this state, anyway. “But please, do not refer to me as such. It’s hardly earned.” 

“That’s how aristocracy works, I think.” 

“It is not a just system, necessarily. Artoirel is enough.” He shrugs. “It is my name.”  

“Good.” Lucretia points towards a nearby seat and he nods. “Just came to say sorry on Nika’s behalf and that he’ll come around. It’s not your fault he almost got himself killed. You didn’t deserve the anger he poured on you earlier.” 

“I am responsible for him now,” Artoirel replies. “For the time being, I should say. For his care. I have seen people.. Do unjust things in their rage, and there should be someone there to listen to that rage.” He pauses. “Not a.. superior. A caretaker.” 

“Very noble of you,” Lucretia says. “But what happens when caretakers get overwhelmed? Taking care of people is hard. Taking care of Nika is even harder. Give yourself a breather when you need it.” 

He simply sucks air in and massages his hands. His head feels full of lead, a heavy pull that drags down to his chest. There is no ‘breather’ when you are responsible. There is no ‘breather’ when you have a duty, towards one’s country, one’s family, and one’s lover. A part of him notes that Nika’s failed in honoring the one he has towards his family. 

But when has Nika ever cared for such things? He disapproves, of course, but Nika’s offense feels lesser than his own. In fact, he might as well have not had a single bad thought in his entire life. It’s a lie, of course. But Artoirel has no strength to grapple with moral qualms right now. 

“He will come around,” Lucretia repeats. “He’s like his mother, says shit he doesn’t mean, does shit he doesn’t mean. He also has her tendency of running away, but something tells me he won’t run away from this one. I won’t let him.” 

“He does resemble her,” Artoirel whispers. The image of them, side by side, comes into sharp focus; the same dark skin, black hair, the same full lips, the same prominent nose. Nika looks so alike to his mother that there is no question that they share blood. But she lacks the scar, and her eyes are the same brown and warm, whereas his are mismatched and sharp. 

There was no sharpness when he crumpled in her arms, though, only anguish. Artoirel recalls his own mother and wonders if his features keep anything from hers anymore or he’s entirely Edmont’s son. He’d been told that he had his mother’s face as a child. But since then he’s grown, and the fullness of his cheeks has been replaced by sharpness. 

But round though it may have been, his mother’s face could still be as cold as his father’s. Cold enough to whisper in his ear that he should reject Haurchefant, cold enough to convince him of it. Cold enough to leave an emptiness when she died. She was only ever truly happy when she played music. 

But both she and Haurchefant are dead. Her hatred does not matter anymore. Artoirel blinks tears away. Lucretia is watching him, gentle, and it makes him want to cry even more. 

“Do you need a hug?” she asks, and her voice is low and akin to a soft wave. She places a tentative hand on his arm. Artoirel doesn’t recall his parents’ hugs. 

His pride rebels, naturally. But this whole situation is ridiculous enough as is and his head feels as if it’s about to burst from the pressure of recent events. He thinks of Nika in the other room, his sharp words play in Artoirel’s head in a loop, but he cannot find it in him to be angry. He thinks of his father calling Aymeric his son, without a word in Artoirel’s direction, but he cannot find it in him to be angry about this, either. 

All he can do is endure and hope it goes away, like any duty-bound son of Ishgard would. 

“I do, actually,” he says at last, and Lucretia shuffles until she wraps her arms around him, and Artoirel melts against her and this time, he doesn’t bother to hide his tears. 

Because all he can do is endure, and maybe, enduring does not have to mean being strong at all times. 

What an odd notion. He’ll take it anyway. 

[f1-birb]

omg those pictures how LONG has lando known jon

they're at about a decade now, maybe even more actually

Jon grew up around motorsport, loves it, used to race until he couldn't any more, his older brother Scott is still a driver currently competing in the British GT Championship, and when he couldn't race himself he still knew he wanted to do something related to it

he started off doing a business and law degree and realised he didn't really enjoy that at all, so took what he could and moved to a sports degree instead and qualified as a PT, massage, etc and worked with the drivers he could while he was also working doing mechanicing in karting

it was through karting he was aware of Lando and how quick he was, and when he needed to do a work placement for his degree he wanted the great 'project' of working with Lando so he bit the bullet and approached Lando and his manager and the rest is history

here's a longer video explaining Jon's role, how he met Lando, how it all works, etc but here's just the bit cut to him talking about meeting Lando:

[myriad--starlings]

so heaven will be mine huh

[toournextadventure]

Seeing how Yoko is old n stuff, assuming she has been at Nevermore for decades… that means she would know Wednesdays parents… possibly had a small fling with Morticia… Just imagine her showing up to one of the Addams Family Parties and flirting with Morticia just to piss Wednesday off, and Birb thinks it’s hilarious until she is banished to the couch.. (where she would probably just cuddle Yoko and piss off Wednesday even more)

WAIT but I love this, this is canon now. Like, Yoko had brought it up to Birb ages ago like "Yeah, I had a fling with a goth chick back in the 90s. Don't really remember her name though," and Birb was just nodding like "I completely understand, you have wonderful taste"

Cut to when they're all in college and they all get together at the Addams house and Yoko sees Morticia and just points and goes "Holy shit it's her" and Birb is just 😮 and watches in absolute amazement as Yoko proceeds to flirt as hard as she possibly can

Later, when Yoko and Birb are banished to the couch in the graveyard by ALL the girlfriends, they just laugh about it

"So you really had a fling with Wednesday's mom?" "Apparently so" "That's dope as hell... don't come after my girlfriend" "Bitch, I don't want your homicidal girlfriend"

[vannyblutea]

FINAL ATTACK OF THE YEAR for @skyauroka

nori c: