#ed too tall jones

[blastofsports]

Tom Laundry and Ed Too tall Jones.

[thenewdemocratus]

Duke Wilson: Ed Too Tall Jones Highlights

Source:Duke Wilson with a look at the great Dallas Cowboys DE Ed Too Tall Jones. Source:The New Democrat “One of the biggest players in NFL history. Standing at 6’9″, Jones was a versatile defender who could run the passer and stuff the run. He retired early in 1979, but returned after a year of boxing where he entered his prime. He was 1x First Team All Pro, 2x Second Team All Pro, and had 106…

[cherrythepuppet]

A Dear In Headlights

Boxes. Thats what Jonsey saw in front of Franks house while on his walk to Howdy Place, He also saw Penny there and she wasn't destroying Frank's garden but instead helping move boxes inside "She seems like such a little doll! I bet Dandy will like her" Penny exclaimed

"I hope she'll be able to adjust well… I still have to enroll her into Deirdre's school" Frank sighed "I can probably help ya with that" Penny shrugged

Penny picked up a box then used her head to open the front door and she put a box inside "Say, Where is the little miss?" She asked

"Hm? Oh She wanted to explore the neighborhood" Frank repliedJonsey watched the two interact thinking it seemed a bit… Strange to see them talking and not yelling at each other

After a moment of watching He decided to continue on his way ignoring the two, He opened the door to Howdy´s place but didn't see Howdy at the counter but He saw the tall caterpillar standing in one of the aisles

"Mr Pillar! Im back" Jonsey called out

"One monet Jones!" Howdy said as he grabbed something off the top shelf then bent down "Here ya go" Howdy mumbled "Thank you!" A high-pitched voice told him

Jonsey perked up and looked over but couldn't see much so he moved over to the second Asile and peeked through the shelves, Yet even then he could hardly see anything just a small girl with a mop of orange-red hair

Jonsey frowned then one of the boxes of cereal was taken off the shelf, Jonsey blinked and saw the face of a girl with orange eyes and freckles

The girl froze and stared at him before she slowly put the cereal back and acted like nothing happened

"I think I've got everything, May I check out now?" She asked "Of course. Follow me" Howdy replied while he walked over to the counter and the girl checked out then left

Jonsey looked at the girl and at Howdy

"Jonsey! Howd the delivery go?" Howdy asked "Good" Jonsey paused "Who was that?" He added "Who? The girl?" Howdy muttered as Jonsey nodded

"Oh uh- well i believe that she´s Ed´s neice and she´s gonna live at Franks" Howdy explained "Saw Penn helpin´ with the unpacking over at Frank´s too, Strange sight ta se those two get along" Howdy chuckled

Well That explains the boxes "And im pretty sure the girls name is Bella and that shes around your age" Howdy added

"So now ya dont have to spend all your time with Me but dont forget about me!" He told Jonsey"I wouldnt!" Jonsey squeaked as Howdy patted him on the head…

Happy late birthday @trashcanplant!! Im sorry i was late with the writing (Very late- its been almost two months i feel awful-) And im sorry its short too, It was difficult writing kids

[mercurygray]

Dispatches from the groupchat: Marines in the ETO 😏 aka Ack Ack and Eddie in Normandy. Juno xx

This is just a little bit of light nonsense.

"Lieutenant Jones, you're going to get us into trouble."

It was Friday, and the bar was busy, and Eddie Jones was smiling at something - or someone, more likely - across the room, sipping his beer like he wanted someone to notice. That would have been well and good in London, but they weren't in London, now, and about as far off their home turf as it was possible to get.

Eddie looked innocent. "What did I do?"

Andy snorted. "Not what you did - more what you're thinking about doing."

"And what's that when it's at home, Skipper?"

"Asking one of those girls to dance."

Eddie scoffed. "It's a free country, isn't it? And you were thinking it too, I know you were. That tall dark-haired lieutenant looks like she's about your size."

Andy could only sigh - the lieutenant in question was very pretty, with the distinct air of a girl he probably could have danced with at Bowdoin about her, but he wasn't really in the mood. He could, however, spot at a glance the girl Eddie was thinking about - eight months on their training course had taught him a lot about his second in command's likes and dislikes. "Don't tell me - the sergeant with the brassy hair who keeps looking this way."

"Man's got eyes, doesn't he?" Eddie said with a shrug, smiling a little wider when the aformentioned sergeant met his eye again, gaze mischievous over the top of her beer. "We're all fighting the same war."

"But not with the same service," Andy observed. "They're Army - paratroopers, even. And I don't much feel like getting jumped by their friends." The rest of the bar was packed with soldiers, including a large number wearing jumpwings and the same shoulder patches as the girls. This was supposed to be a quiet weekend away from school, and he didn't really want to spend it finding out if Devil Dogs could beat Screaming Eagles in a fight.

"Aw, I think we could take 'em, Skip," Eddie said with a grin, "Retreat, hell, we just got here."

It was just like Ed to quote that at him, especially when there were girls involved. But Andy never got to talk him down - the girls, it seemed, cared as little for retreating as Eddie did.

"Are you just going to keep staring or ask us to dance, sailor?" the shorter of the two asked with a look that would have taken all but the most seasoned salt by surprise. "I never thought the Marines were one for being shy."

"Was just waiting for the right moment," Eddie replied, all easy charm and loose smiles. He'd explained it, once, at the bar on a Friday after one of the other operatives on their course asked him how it was that women just seemed drawn to him. Hell, isn't anything special. Just smiles and waiting. It was true, though - more women stopped for more chats with Hillbilly than anyone Andy had ever known - and he'd played three sports in college.

"And do those curls of yours come with a name? My mother told me never to dance with men I hadn't been introduced to."

It was a good thing Eddie liked his women forthright - other guys wouldn't have tried that on. "Jones, miss. Edward Jones, at your service. And this here's -"

"Andrew Haldane."

"Billie Mitchell," the brazen bronze announced. "Not to be confused with the Air Corps. And this Molly."

"Mahoney," her friend added, shaking Andy's hand after he'd offered it.

"Well, Lieutenant Jones?" The one called Billie held out her hand, and Eddie was only too glad to take it. Andy did the same for her friend after half a moment, feeling like a heel that he hadn't been quicker on the draw. Girls noticed things like that, and he had a feeling this pair didn't miss much.

The radio was broadcasting some sort of Command Performance concert, Glen Miller or Harry James running through a high-energy dance number, a soloist warbling about doing the jive. "I'd apologize for Billie but I'm not sure it's necessary," Molly offered, once they were on the floor and had picked up the beat. "Your friend doesn't seem to mind."

"Eddie's never one to pass up a pretty girl -and truth be told, he was heading in the same direction."

"And you, Captain?" He tried not to look guilty as charged. "If you were hoping to get in with Lieutenant Warren, I'm sorry to burst your bubble. She's not likely to take a shine to Marines - they nearly sent her on a warbond tour with one."

"So that's the famous Amazon." Now that she'd said it he could place the face, seen on a dozen different recruiting posters and nearly every major magazine. She looked a little different, away from the spotlight. Pretty, certainly, but nothing worth stopping the war over. "Can't say I had any special designs on anyone - God's truth," he added, when she looked ready to call him a liar. "I'm just here to keep Eddie out of trouble."

"Good luck with that," Molly said with a smile, glancing over at the two of them, Billie tucked up neatly into Eddie's tall, spare frame, closer than two bodies who'd just met ought to be. "Trouble is Billie's middle name."

[child-of-atlas]

Aspen Trees and Raindrops

My fear is my fiction; my fiction is my fear.

My fictions have consumed me, in every waking moment between every demand of daily life. I have given my heart, soul, and mind to the phantom shadow of a man that I haven’t yet verified truly exists.

These fictions play in a shadowy theatre of the mind when I’m lost for inspiration, or when I find myself stranded in the quagmire of my somnolent once-romance, or when I allow myself to wax hopeful for a different future waiting for me at a different time, in a different place, with a different man. These dramas are shadow plays of a deep-seated wish that there may be a future of mine where my image of this man of my imagination exists, and for now, the phantom shadow takes his shape, and his alone.

Perhaps the seamless shift from real to fiction is how much of my image of him is grounded in how I know him to be: captivating, brilliant, lovely, genuine, achingly handsome, addictive wit, and the occasional flash of something darker beneath the surface that only makes me want to dive deeper. (The guilt that eats at me to write this while attached to another is still not enough to keep me from acknowledging the basic truth, yet even with my issues, I would be crushed if my nonfiction partner so much as hints at the attractiveness of another woman. I, hypocrite.)

In spite of myself (my age, my shreds of dignity, my general composure), I find I am no different with him than the introductory co-ed girls in their sighs and smiles for Dr. Jones; in the moments we speak, I cling to his accolades, leap for his texts, and revel in his voice whenever the opportunity arises. On instinct rather than thought, I lose a heartbeat or two when a tall and muscled man with salt-and-pepper hair walks by before reason reminds me that this is not even possible.

As it turns out, all of these fictions in which I’ve painted us are predicated on my own simple crush, spiraled out of control, such is my nature; and somehow, the additional thousand miles between us and more frequent lulls have somehow made it more difficult to navigate.

In the face of my (admitted, self-aware, and non-actionable) lunacy, I wither to think that what I perceive is mutual is, in fact, another fiction. And I’m haunted by the idiocy of my own youth underpinning my ability to wrap myself up in a tidy, simple bow and give myself over now—his memories of myself as a younger, unformed, disastrous hyena, circling his classroom and most reasonable boundaries; God help me, I can hardly write anything at all if I think too much about it.

However. I have at least some concrete evidence, or so I believe (though I’m sure Beethoven felt the same für Elise, painfully enough). “I forgot how pretty you are,” said only once, lives rent-free in my mind, with his smile and unmatchable voice. At least once, I’ve seen his eyes wander low to just the right angle on a well-cut dress, and I can’t help but wonder if there were other instances that I wasn’t lucky enough to catch. And, some months later, he didn’t flinch when I nearly put my hands on his across the table the last we spoke (though thankfully, for both our sakes, I caught myself well in time to avoid any sort of impropriety).

Is this coquet bouquet enough to flower these detailed fictions, or inspire them to run behind my eyes whenever a moment permits? Not necessarily; in fact, probably not at all. (Or perhaps I truly am more masculine than I give myself credit for; perhaps this is how the other half of the population operates.) Yet, couldn’t there be chemistry? I would be hard-pressed to believe there wasn’t a spark of something between us. Foolishly, I wonder if there are more obvious notes I can’t recall or missed altogether, and mourn their lost place in my mind if ever they existed at all. (Unless, of course, I am more a Ludwig than a proper observer, in which case, I may just recuse myself from society altogether if nothing else for the shame of being wrong.) I could foster the idea that his allusion to a shared trip to London while I’m “in between boyfriends” was just fun wordplay for him—maybe he did want me to squirm, just a little, just in his subtle undercurrent of the dark side—and yet I visit that set in the theatre of my mind too often, in wee hours where I should be finding sleep instead of more restless fantasy. And while my mind should veer toward all the beautiful history he could lead me to so that I may soak in the beauty and excitement of another land during my first trip across the pond—the sights to see, the music to find, every savory bite of our meals—I imagine instead a shared room, a shared bed, interlaced, frenzied and refined, instinctive and fated, gorgeous and raw; I wrap myself around this idea a million times over and decorate it with his voice, his cologne, the color of his eyes, and down to the bottom of the dream pool I would sink just to experience this once.

Yet below this fiction lies another: a serpent sliding through my carefully manicured visions, hissing their untruth beneath the surface tension of my reflective pool from which I watch these fictions unfold.

In each reverie, I inhabit the body I’ve been subtly tasked with finding from my nonfictional partner: I am strong and lean, flexible and pliable, uniformly pale and without a blemish. I can handle any position, can ride without needing to catch a single breath; I am beautiful from all angles, soundless while asleep, eat perfectly, tipsy but never drunk, dainty and witty, coordinated and clever. In my dreams, I am my own enemy: perfect.

Perhaps my wishful placement of him atop me is less problematic than my glamorized, unattainable mirage of myself I place below him; a bar I still strive to reach for a story that may never unfold.

And more chilling for me yet is my staunch, nonfictional reflection shows more than just a physical issue with my prospective pursuit: in my estimation, I am too full of holes, too unformed, and missing too many pieces to sit at his table. Seven years ago, I had the luxury of youth, arrogance, and stupidity to scapegoat; now, approaching thirty, I have so very little to point to but my own shortcomings for why I am not yet fully autonomous, not nearly so successful, so inexperienced in the finer nuances of intimacy (not for a lack of willingness, I fell the impulsive need to add), so poorly-read and worse-traveled; so painfully unworldly, save those many intangible worlds engraved in staff lines. In a body unmarked by time, perhaps these transgressions aren’t so dire; but the creases around my eyes, the stretch marks that only he would be able to see if all panned out well, the cruelty of my craft on my hands: these marks are not just my faults, but give indelible, irrefutable evidence for every fault I have beneath my skin.

Somewhere in my Grecian blood flows a drop of Daedalus’; like his son, I fly too high and too close to sun after sun out of nothing but arrogance. Who am I to approach this man as I am now? Even more importantly, who am I to approach him as he is now, happy and successful and reaping the rewards of a long-fought and harder-earned career? Have I not learned a more painful lesson in the past with dual-edged blade of a May/December partnership? I tell myself that a lack of commitment, a more liberal and whimsical approach to this union, the emphasis on the physical joys and aiding his conquest of each inch my terrain more than the promises of tomorrows and exclusivity, may chip away at my unchangeable decades of experiential debt, but I have no proof. And I should not have confidence in seeking a man whose time spent where we met covers most of my lifetime. When he stepped into this institution, I was two; when we met, I was twenty; and when I assumed the same title as his first, I had only lived a quarter of a century. Realistically, I was not half his age, but half of a whole human being in comparison.

And yet.

Yet still I visit my hand-painted drapes and backdrops through my day, in various stages of unwind and undress, pining for a ghost of a future that will likely never be, where my body is the visage of a Grecian statue wrapped around the idea I keep of him. I have accepted this as fiction, and fear only how ardently I dreamwalk in the waking shadows of an otherwise plain day.

The fact remains that optimism is just another shade of lunacy. Under this light, life is beautiful and long and full of turns that no one could anticipate. So if I afford myself any hare-brained notion that this could transpire, perhaps, one day, we find each other in the right light and in the right wavelength. Perhaps he holds his own fiction in which I appear, radiant and free, unencumbered with whatever ails his nonfiction partner; and maybe, my fictions and my fears melt away in the face of the right embrace.

Perhaps, one day, I find myself on a plane to the land of aspen trees, and step out to a prelude of raindrops.

[denimrosevint]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Vintage Topps Football Cards Jets Cowboys - Lot of 7.

[brookstonalmanac]

Birthdays 2.23

Beer Birthdays

Gottlieb Brekle (1821)

J.J. Phair (1971)

Five Favorite Birthdays

Majel Barrett; actor (1939)

Johannes Gutenberg; printer (1398)

George Frederic Handel; composer (1685)

Doug Moench; comic book writer (1948)

Dana Scully; FBI Agent character from TV show X-Files

Famous Birthdays

Fred Biletnikoff; Oakland Raiders WR (1943)

Emily Blunt; actor (1983)

Kristin Davis; actor (1965)

Michael Dell; computer maker (1965)

W.E.B. du Bois; sociologist, writer (1868)

Dakota Fanning; actor (1994)

Victor Fleming; film director (1883)

Peter Fonda; actor (1939)

Casimir Funk; biochemist, vitamin pioneer (1884)

Jade Emperor; Chinese folk character

Karl Jaspers; philosopher (1883)

Ed "Too Tall" Jones; Dallas Cowboys DE (1951)

Howard Jones; pop singer (1955)

Jean-Baptiste Le Moyne; explorer, politician (1680)

Kelly MacDonald; actor (1976)

Christopher Marlowe; English playwright (1564)

Samuel Pepys; English diarist (1633)

Cesar Ritz; Swiss hotelier (1850)

Mayer Amschel Rothschild; banker (1744)

Norman Taurog; film director (1899)

Paul Tibbets; Air Force pilot, flew "Enola Gay" (1915)

Veronica Webb; model (1965)

Emma Willard; educator (1787)

Johnny Winter; rock guitarist (1944)

[lboogie1906]

Edward Lee Jones (born February 23, 1951) known as Ed “Too Tall” Jones, is a former football player who was a defensive end for 15 seasons (1974–78, 1980–89) for the Dallas Cowboys. In 1979, he left football to attempt a career in professional boxing.

He was born in Jackson, Tennessee. He attended Merry High School, where he played baseball and basketball. He played only three football games because his high school did not support the sport until his senior year.

His basketball skills earned him All-America honors and scholarship offers from several Division I (NCAA) programs. He had offers from Major League Baseball teams to play first base in their farm systems.

He fought a Golden Gloves boxing match, recording a knockout of his opponent in less than a minute. He stopped shortly after that when his basketball coach read an article about the fight and made him choose between basketball and boxing.

He accepted a scholarship from Tennessee State University to play basketball, but left the team after two seasons, to concentrate on playing football. He became a two-time All-American defensive lineman, playing on a team that lost only two games, en route to winning the HBCU football national championships in 1971 and 1973.

He ranks third in school history in sacks in a season with 12 and fifth in career sacks with 38. In 1999, he was voted to the 50th Anniversary Senior Bowl All-Time Team. In 2013, he was inducted into the Black College Football Hall of Fame.

He was a guest referee at the World Wrestling Federation’s WrestleMania 2 pay-per-view His acting credits on television include appearing as himself on Diff’rent Strokes and Married With Children. He starred in a GEICO commercial that initially aired in late 2009. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence

[blogofblogofblogs]

1988 KENNER STARTING LINEUP - Ed (Too Tall) Jones trading card

[insidethestardc]

1974: A season of disappointment and departures The Dallas Cowboys extended their consecutive winning season streak to nine straight in 1974. And that’s about all that was good about the year. Well, that and two of their draft picks that spring.... #DallasCowboys

[tootallthemodel]

1. How tall are you?

2. Are you related to retired NFL star Ed "Too Tall" Jones?

I’m 6’4 and no lol

[billdefer]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Dallas Cowboys Ed “Too Tall” Jones Bobblehead.

[suspiciousbehaviorproductions]

William "The Refrigerator" Perry, WrestleMania 2 (1986)

[chloe-skywalker]

Northside Serpent - Fangs Forgarty

Fangs x Fem!reader (eventually)

Jughead x Toni x Reader (friends)

Warnings: bullying?

Word count: 1,154

Summary: Being a Northsider who is very quiet but when the bulldogs and Cheryl are being mean to the Southsiders she speaks up.

Authors Note: That summary is the idea I came up with but it turned into something with that as the underline plot but also something. So I can’t say it's really a good description and I can’t say it's a bad one.

Masterlist

Riverdale Masterlist

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“Hey, Juggie.” Y/n waved towards her beanie wearing friend as he showed up in the school parking lot with his friends.

“Y/n/n, long time no see.” Jughead smiled as he approached the Y/h/c-ed girl along with Toni, Fangs, and Sweet Pea.

“Jug I saw you two days ago.” she laughed, hugging him once he got close enough.

“We haven’t gone to school with each other in a while.” Jug nod's his head at her statement.

“True.” Y/n smiled

“Why are you outside?” Fangs asked the pretty girl who obviously knows Jughead.

“There’s a welcoming party for you all.” Y/n smirks shaking her head as she answered the handsome young serpent.

“Huh?” Jug looked at her confused and suspicious.

“Only a few put it together and yes, it’s who your thinking Jug. But be warned the Bulldogs and Cheryl are very against this.” she explained, shrugging in the process.

“Well before we go in mind introducing us to your friend here Jones? Toni?” Sweet Pea crossed his arms, not missing how Toni had also greeted the girl with a hug.

“Well, if either of you ever paid attention to anything other than pole at the Wrym you would’ve met her already.” Toni stated giving them an annoyed look that screamed ‘I told you so’.

“We’ve known each other since we were in diapers, she’s not just a friend she’s like my sister.” Jug explained to his followed Serpent boys. Jughead could tell Sweet Pea was still wary and Fangs seemed to not be able to take his eyes off her.

“She use to hang at the Wrym all the time.’ Toni added.

“Having known Jughead here all my life FP’s like a father to me.” Y/n smiled at the two boys standing in front of her.

“Like?” Jug scoffed tilting his head in her direction.

Y/n was family, there was no question. There was also no question that she was the honorary adopted daughter of FP.

“Oh haha. Fine, he is practically my dad. He helped my mom raise me and has been there for me my whole life.” Y/n answered.

“So are you a Serpent?” Sweet Pea asked with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Yes.” Y/n nodded as she answered his question holding her head high. She could understand his skepticism from his point of view.

“Y/n is the Serpent Princess.” Toni smirks nudging her friend, teasing her with her nickname.

“A title my dad gave her and I believe it’s fitting.” Jug stated.

“I’m gonna be the polite one between me and Pea and ask your name.” Fangs smiled

“It's Y/n. Y/n Y/l/n.” Y/n smiled reaching out to shake his hand. “An you?”

“Fangs Forgarty.” he smirked slightly but it ended up just turning back into a smile.

“Nice to meet you Fangs.” Y/n nodded

Once they let go of each other's hands Fangs elbowed Sweet Pea. “ow” Sweet Pea glared at Fangs.

Toni raised her eyebrows at the tall boy. “Introduce yourself instead of integrating the girl.”

“Sweet Pea, nice to meet you Serpent Princess.” he introduced himself after giving the pink haired girl an eye roll.

Y/n laughed at the exchange before shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you too.”

“Now that we're all acquainted, why don’t we all head into school now?” Jug asked, always the lover of education.

With that said they all grabbed their stuff and headed in. After the greeting by Archie, Veronica, Betty, and etc etc … Toni turned to Y/n with a look before asking. “This is Northside hospitality?”

“Welcome to the Northside.” Jughead snarked

“You know Y/l/n I thought once we were rid of Jones here, you would finally understand where you belong.” Cheryl spoke as she approached the group of young Serpents.

“Oh? And where would that be Cheryl?” y/n asked with her voice full of sarcasm as she crossed her arms turning to fully face the red headed Bombshell.

“By my side and the Bulldogs of course, silly. Not with these street rats.” Cheryl smiled her fake Blossom smile. Y/n would know the difference.

“Listen here Bombshell. These street rats as you call them are way better friends than your bulldogs would ever be. As for you Cheryl Blossom. You and I were good friends once upon a time until you decided to become a snot-nosed Bitch.” Y/n spoke pissed off stepping into Cheryl's personal space. Looking the HBIC right in the eyes. Y/n honestly missed having Cheryl as a friend. But then Cheryl she became someone who wasn’t the Cheryl Y/n grew up being friends with. If Cheryl ever came back then they could be friends again. “So leave us alone. I’m where I should be. Are you?”

With that said everyone started to head off to where they needed to be for the first period. After Toni and Y/n left off to their first classes the boys stood in the hallways for a minute. Sweet Pea and Fangs were ready to intervene when it came to Y/n and Cheryl’s talk. But Jughead and Toni had convinced them to back down. Y/n could fight her own fights, they know that for a fact. But they still stood ready as back up if the Bulldogs so much as moved a finger.

“I think I’m in love.” Fangs stated as they watched the girls disappear.

“She’s a Serpent so I’m cool with it.” Sweet Pea stated with a shrug at his friend's words. Truth be told he’s just glad it’s not a Northsider.

Jughead cast a glare at Fangs before saying. “She’s like a sister to me. If you hurt her Fangs I’ll bury you somewhere no one will ever find the body.”

Fangs gulped looking Jug in the eyes promising. “If I can get her to actually say yes then I promise I’ll never hurt her. At least I won’t try to.”

Sweet Pea suddenly got a thought in his head and he smirked. “Jones, you said she’s like a daughter to your dad right?”

“Yup.” Jughead nodded, casting a confused look to the tall dark haired boy. And then it hit him.

Sweet Pea clapped Fangs on the back as he let out an amused laugh. “Good luck Forgarty.”

Fangs turned his head to look at Jughead hoping he could explain since it seemed like he understood what Sweet Pea meant. “Huh?”

“Sweet Pea’s hinting to the fact that you’ll be dating the honorary daughter of Fp Jones, leader of the Serpents.” Jughead explained, and it was true if Fnags could get Y/n to say yes then he would be seeing the confusion leave Fang's face and was replaced by worry and a hint of fear. Jug patted him on the shoulder before continuing. “Don’t worry Fangs. She’s worth it.”

Tag: @gruffle1

[brookstonalmanac]

Birthdays 2.23

Beer Birthdays

Gottlieb Brekle (1821)

J.J. Phair (1971)

Five Favorite Birthdays

Majel Barrett; actor (1939)

Johannes Gutenberg; printer (1398)

George Frederic Handel; composer (1685)

Doug Moench; comic book writer (1948)

Dana Scully; FBI Agent character from TV show X-Files

Famous Birthdays

Fred Biletnikoff; Oakland Raiders WR (1943)

Emily Blunt; actor (1983)

Kristin Davis; actor (1965)

Michael Dell; computer maker (1965)

W.E.B. du Bois; sociologist, writer (1868)

Dakota Fanning; actor (1994)

Victor Fleming; film director (1883)

Peter Fonda; actor (1939)

Casimir Funk; biochemist, vitamin pioneer (1884)

Jade Emperor; Chinese folk character

Karl Jaspers; philosopher (1883)

Ed "Too Tall" Jones; Dallas Cowboys DE (1951)

Howard Jones; pop singer (1955)

Jean-Baptiste Le Moyne; explorer, politician (1680)

Kelly MacDonald; actor (1976)

Christopher Marlowe; English playwright (1564)

Samuel Pepys; English diarist (1633)

Cesar Ritz; Swiss hotelier (1850)

Mayer Amschel Rothschild; banker (1744)

Norman Taurog; film director (1899)

Paul Tibbets; Air Force pilot, flew "Enola Gay" (1915)

Veronica Webb; model (1965)

Emma Willard; educator (1787)

Johnny Winter; rock guitarist (1944)

[mysticmlynn3]

Pet Headcanons || Gotham Rogues

Just something for fun. :)

Jonathan Crane | Scarecrow

A black cat named Ichabod.

Ichabod came after Jonathan became Scarecrow. While working on new concoctions, a stray cat set paws inside the abandoned barn Jon resides in, it's never left the barn since so Jonathan lets it be. Jonathan soon grew a soft spot for Ichabod, and if anything happened to Ichabod he will dose everyone in the room with fear toxin and then dose himself.

Edward Nygma | The Riddler

A grey rat named Einstein.

Before 'The Riddler' and 'Enigma', Edward had a pet rat in his GCPD days, he took great care of Einstein for a long while. When Edward started his crime career, he knew he wouldn't be able to care for Einstein much longer, so he gave him to his trusted friend, Barbara Gordan. Einstein's still in great health, and Edward misses him.

Jervis Tetch | Mad Hatter

Two mices named Jaq and Gus.

Yes he named his mices after the mices from the Disney movie 'Cinderella', he thought it seemed fitting 😕. He's had plenty of mices before, but just as experiments, but Jaq and Gus were...special. He's working on a device that can make the mices "speak", just like in the Disney movie! This was out of Jervis's tired thoughts.

Harleen Quinzel | Harley Quinn

Two spotted hyenas

We all know Bud and Lou, but that's not going to stop me from rambling about them! Harley got them as a gift from Joker one birthday, (it was when they "dated" and Joker at the last minute stole hyenas from the local zoo.) and she was ecstatic!! It took a long while for the rogues to be comfortable with Harley's unusual pets, I mean who has hyenas as domesticated pets. But Harley takes great care of her Bud and Lou, much better than the zoo did.

Pamela Isley | Poison Ivy

A giant green snake.

That's right, she has a whole freaking snake in her greenhouse!! Sure she has her plants, but a snake, C'mon it's kinda cool. No one knows the origins of the snake, but some suspect she stole it from the zoo, I mean where else are you going to find a snake around Gotham?? She calls the snake her "Precious", and sometimes she feeds Precious humans if they're not any use to her experiments.

Selina Kyle | Catwoman

A black cat.

Mostly based off BTAS where Selina does have a cat named 'Isis'. She's had the cat for a long while, and she deeply cares about Isis more than anyone, kinda like Jonathan. I feel like Jonathan and Selina would bond more if they rambled about their black feline friends together, share wonderful memories and show off what their cats can do, and of course share a few laughs.

Jack Napier | The Joker

A goldfish.

It may not seem much, but it's easier to manage than hyenas or snakes, whatever the others have as strange pets. Sometimes he vents to the fish about his master plans and how Batman has been a real pain in the ass these past days, foiling his plans and sending him back to Arkham! He really thought they had something, can you believe it, Guppy??

Harvey Dent | Two Face

A golden retriever.

Before Two Face, Sunshine was his furry friend. He used to take her out for walks, play with her, and give her belly scratches on the floor. Duela and Gilda loved Sunshine, even Bruce Wayne! But after Two Face, he had to abandon Sunshine to Duela and Gilda. Sometimes Gilda wakes up to Sunshine laying at the front door, crying for Harvey, she really missed him. :(

Oswald Cobblepot | Penguin

Penguins...of course.

You can't call yourself 'The Penguin' if you don't have a dozen penguins roaming around your bar and harassing your fellow colleagues. He doesn't bother naming them, as they all look the same, and penguins don't need names like dogs do. The penguins love to harass The Dork Squad, pecking at Jon's mask, Ed's suit, and Jervis's hat, and Oswald laughs in hysterics when they all start cursing at the penguins to stop.

Eduardo Dorrance | Bane

A smol black chihuahua.

I'm a slut for tall threatening buff people with small ass pets that they're soft for, and one of them is Bane! As one who has a chihuahua as a pet, they are pretty fucking nasty, but Band loves his "Princess" regardless. Bane gives Princess smooches on the head, and in exchange Princess returns kisses, never failing to make Bane melt.

Waylon Jones | Killer Croc

A grey tabby kitten.

Like Bane, Waylon has a soft spot for small pets. One day at the sewers, a cardboard box was floating in the waters, and only Waylon paid attention to it when he heard meowing coming from the box. He quickly got the box from the waters, and that's when he met 'Skull Crusher'. She curls up into Waylon's arms when she wants sleep, and Waylon just goes 

If anything happened to Skull Crusher, he will eat everyone in this room and then kill himself, or eat himself, or find another person to eat.

Unfortunately for Victor, he doesn't have any pets of his own considering his living situation, but Oswald's penguins like him, and he likes them too.