#timber jack

[shyjusticewarrior]

Love that Tim's endlessly forgiving towards his parents, but when it's Bernard's parents then he's like "aren't you tired of being nice? Don't you wanna go apeshit?"

[theofficialuriel]

thinking about how Bernard was the og Abusive-Jack-Drake headcanoner, but he was the one with the comically neglectful and emotionally abusive parents that fanon says Tim had

[dazii-kons]

Bernard’s parents are literally everything Tim fans try to make Janet and jack and I can’t stress enough because of it

[arandomao3user]

"you Can't jUst shIp WHoEvEr yOu waNT!!!" WATCH ME, I WAS IN THEATER FANDOMS THE MAJORITY OF MY TEEN YEARS!!!

CASSANDRA CAIN x STEPHANIE BROWN x DARLA AQUISTA

JACK DRAKE x BRUCE WAYNE

TIM DRAKE x BERNARD DOWD

BARBARA GORDON x KORIAND'R

WATCH ME!!!!!!!

—

[nicomoon69]

while I think that if I were to cook up an actual riordanverse x dc AU I’d have Tim as a son of Bellona I also think he could be a son of Hades (bc Bernard is a son of Apollo through and through and I live for Solangelo and Timber parallels)

I just imagine Janet and Jack having a fling with a rich guy when they’re away at an archeological dig site in Greece and then Janet becomes pregnant and they have Tim. neither of them think too much of it, don’t consider that it may have been the mysterious rich guy but business is booming and their digs are great (though it’s a lot of skeletons for some reason…)

[aliteralchicken]

Jack being so mad at Tim dating Bernard of all people (he’s a treasure!) that he forgets he’s homophobic will always be the funniest headcannon to me

[jackgoodfellow]

"Something terrible has happened!"

- actual voiced dialogue from Astarion after he accidentally drank my character to death XD

Meanwhile, Timber is revived from death like, "Let me drink your blood, he said!!! It'll be fine, he said!!!! -- Oh I'll SHOW you FINE, YOU UN-SUBTLE MOTHERFUCKER." (I killed him. He got better though.)

[surr3al1sm]

I made this meme for Grace & Ari and decided to insert some more coaches into it. It got a little out of hand though.

The original (the rest are below the cut):

These two are my other favourite duo maps so truly, if you pick the other coaches hit me up

Rest of the duo map’s I made (you can always request swaps or more coaches btw!)

I made this one completely for myself ngl, but I feel like other Wanderrose shippers will enjoy it

I did make more but apparently tumblr has a 10 image limit so I’m probably just going to wait till I have enough for a second post or if they get requested

[captain-orphic-al]

I charged my tablet, now HAVE BUFF PUPPET OC.

He’s a tall buff boy too, being as tall as Howdy and Barnaby. Though he is shorter than Poppy.

[shyjusticewarrior]

Timber happened because Jack Drake was bad at stocks

[mossygirl333]

Hiiii! Could I get a strawberry daiquiri, sippin cream, and upside down cake with price and soap please? Thank you!🤍

An: GUESS WHOS BACK?!?! THIS GUY!!! My eating disorder was kicking my ass but I'm back lol

Bakery Order: Strawberry Daiquiri- Bimbo Reader + Sippin' Cream - threesome + Upside-down cake- “don’t play coy, you know exactly what you’re doing.”

Tw/Cw: light degradation, praise, fingering, male masturbation, threesome, slight hairpulling

SMUT UNDER THE CUT!!

It all started with Price bringing his little young birdie in for work. She was a little dumb but it made her endearing. She needed some work and thought being a secretary would be easy.

There was just a tiny issue with that...

Her coworker knew that she was taken, by his employer no less. But Soap couldn't leave her alone. The way she stood there in a tiny pink pencil skirt and fat glossy lips, those round curious eyes that followed him around the office. That sweet little clueless lilt in her voice.

Price was possessive, that was no doubt. Always lingering in the shadows, parading her around with a smile. She was all woman and all his. But he knew, he always knew when it came to Johnny.

So he spilt. All his thoughts about Johns fiance. The staring, the jacking off, the fantasies and daydreams, even the pictures that he took of you when you weren't looking. You were just so pretty, he couldn't resist you.

But the thing is, Price took it surprisingly well. With a belly laugh and a slap on the back he told his friend that she would love a second and to come over for dinner.

You may have been dumb but you knew how to run a kitchen, and then it was set in stone.

You stood happily in the bathroom, twirling in the little miniskirt John bought you, the bottom of your lacy panties peeking out when you bent over in front of the mirror.

You wriggle your ass a little before looking up and meeting Soaps eye. "Oh! I didn't notice you were here sir." You giggle and stand up fully. "Look at what honey bought me!" You gently swish your hips, letting the smooth fabric brush against the fat of your thighs and ass. "is it cute?"

Soap stared, practically drooling like a dog. "It- it looks great on you Bonnie." He murmurs, rubbing his flushed cheeks. "Twirl again."

You laugh and twirl, his hands falling on your hips and squeezing as he kisses your neck. Your lips fall onto his nose, leaving sticky lip gloss on the tip. He smirks and lifts you up a little, pushing you up against the counter, causing you to squeak a little. "You wanna show Cap'n' baby?"

You giggle and nod, glancing over at the door frame where Price stood. "Hi Honey..." You whisper, hiding your flushed face.

"Hey sweet girl." His rough timber was a little chiding. "What was she doing now Johnny?"

"Wriggling her ass in the mirror." He gently slaps it, causing you to giggle again.

"it looks good in the skirt!..." You softly protest before being gently shushes. Your eyes cast downward to the tile bathroom counter, tracing it with your fingers.

"Can I play with her a little? She was teasing me.." Johnny softly whines, nudging his nose against your ear while looking up at Price.

You don't see what John does but Soap trails his hand down your ass, pulling aside the cloth of your underwear and swiping down your slit. A whine leaves your lips as your thighs part for room. Two digits find your hole and slides in, a soft squelch of slick echoing in the empty bathroom.

Price lifts up your chin, forcing you to look up at him as Soap sucks the skin on your neck, bruises beginning to blossom on it. Your thighs shaking a little as a tear runs down it.

"Shes so wet." Johnny whispers against your skin, his fingers leaving your pussy for just a second before messing with your sticky clit. Rubbing the poor thing raw.

Your eyes roll back a little, vision blurred by the tears starting to form. "J-Johnny, t- too much!-" You squirm and John pulls you forward, forcing you to meet his gaze again.

"It's okay...you can take it baby..." He smirks, patting your cheek. "Just be still for him."

You try not to squirm but it's hard, chest heaving. Soft electric shocks beginning to build up, settling deep in your belly before it snaps in a soft sigh. Thighs nearly giving out beneath you.

Price catches you, gently settling you down on the floor. Soap stands there awkwardly, watching you with dilated eyes. "Can I fuck her please?" He balls up his fists.

"You had your fun." John murmurs, taking off his belt. "Let me finish her off."

You meet Johnny's eyes, watching him sit down on the edge of the tub but John forces you to meet his eyes. "Let him watch us."

He gently spreads your legs, pushing down your panties and ripping open the front of his jeans. He tugs down his boxers, his cock springing out. He wasn't the prettiest but he was the thickest, his tip leaking drops of precum.

His tip nudges up against your pussy, slipping in with some ease. It usually took a bit but Soap loosened you up. Maybe that was Johns plan the whole time. But you couldn't really think about that, his thick thighs pressed up against your ass as he bottomed out.

You can barely hear Johnny curse, his voice coming out rough as he jerks off. When did he start doing that? "She's so dumb, isnt she?"

"Our sweet dumb girl." John murmurs, kissing up her neck. "Aren't you baby?"

"mhm!" John wasn't soft during sex but he was different from Johnny. Older. He didn't go fast and rough, forcing you into any position he wanted. Like an excited puppy. No, he was more structured than that. Liked pushing you into positions that were easy on his knees, slow deep thrusts that knocked the air from your lungs, dizzying.

Johns fingers dig into your hair, tugging gently as he stretched you out on his girth. Your pussy fluttering around him, sucking him in eagerly as slick squirts out around him.

He softly laughs, thrusting deeper, his tip slamming against your cervix. Drawing out moans and whines from your throat. The warmth in your belly started up again, the room filling up with both of the mens huffing. Your eyes roll back and look up at Johnny, his face flushed and eyes locked onto you. His hand working quickly on his cock, whimpering into his sweatshirt.

You get lost in it, fading in and out of reality and your pleasure filled space. Before you hitch, all of you, a rush of heat rolling down your body and pausing as you feel Johns cum on your belly. When did he pull out? You don't remember, you felt like jello.

Johnny panted, shoving his cock back into his underwear before helping John pick you up. "There we go..." Price softly murmurs. "Let's get you into the bath.."

(I completely forgot how to write bro, its been so long T0T)

[theherothesavior]

Joel Miller x AFAB reader

Warnings: alcohol, slapping (not from Joel), light angst, my shitty writing, not proofread.

Author’s Note: This is the first thing I’ve ever really posted in here for a character so please be kind. Feedback is always appreciated.

Word Count: ~3k

………………….…………………………………………………………

Three months in Jackson means nothing when your brain is still out there. Out where the ghosts of the past linger as pale memories of a life you never even got the chance to live. No graduating high school, no getting to enjoy college, hell, not even a normal relationship with someone where the worst thing that could happen would most likely have been a shitty break-up and not watching them get eaten by a faceless fungus monster. Every day in Jackson is a reminder of what you’ve lost, or rather, what was taken from you. This illusion of a normal community makes you sick as you walk down to the bar, the only real thing in this fake town that is worth being here.

Passing through the Tipsy Bison to one of the stools against the bar is the highlight of each night at this point. Jack, the surly bartender who’s a spitting image of Willie Nelson, pours you your regular and you thank him, tipping your head back to down it before nodding for another. Around the fourth drink, the familiar smell of campfire and saddle leather settles next to you.

“Rough day?” He grumbles softly, Jack giving him his usual drink as well.

“Not in the mood, Joel.” You huff back, completely uninterested in speaking with your housemate at this moment. He scoffs next to you and your jaw clenches in aggravation. “What?” You ask through clenched teeth.

“Nothin’... just wonderin’ what’s up your ass lately.” He whispers, head turning to face you. “You’ve been like this since we got back here and decided to stay.” You avoid looking at him, continuing to sip your drink, making him sigh and move forward. “Listen, darlin’... I don’t really care if you talk to me or not, but you’re upsetting Ellie. She thinks you’re pissed at her.”

“I’m not,” You answer simply.

“Yeah, I know that but she doesn’t… she even said you came home drunk the other night and said some stuff about wanting to go back out there.” His voice is eerily soft, making you finally look at him. Remorse bubbles up your throat, wishing you could take those words back from her. You swallow it down.

“It’s not because of her. She shouldn’t worry about it.” You finish your drink, a little tipsy at this point, but wave to Jack for another. The next one comes and goes in the blink of an eye, and the next…and the one after that. When you call for your eighth drink, thoroughly drunk at this point, Joel stops you from downing it.

“You’re done, darlin’. Let’s go home.” His tone, still as soft as earlier and it makes my chest ache, the usual rough timber of his voice, lowering to a volume only you can hear. You push the warm feeling of him away, wanting to drown it in the warmth of liquor instead.

“No. Leave me alone.” You say, reaching for the drink. He quickly downs it, keeping one arm on your waist as you lean too far off the stool, practically falling in his lap. “Asshole.” Your voice raises and he immediately rises, towering over you.

“Enough.” His voice, dangerously low as he glares down at you.

“I’m not a child, Joel.” You bite back, but the words slur from your tongue, falling between you two like fluff. “Then stop actin’ like one.” He says sternly, the commanding look on his face shooting straight down your body. Your knees grow weak and you can’t tell if it’s from him or the copious amount of alcohol from this evening.

“Don’t talk to me like that…” your voice barely above a whisper, no real power behind it. You push his hands off your hips and stumble out of the building, boots crunching as they meet the snow. The cold air whips across your cheek as you tilt your head back to face the sky, eyes closed, letting the snowflakes land in your lashes. For a moment, everything’s normal. The world didn’t end. You’re just standing drunk in the snow, enjoying the beauty of life, feeling as weightless and soft as the snow melting against your cheeks.

That doesn’t last long.

“Awe… are you drunk again?” A grating voice pulls you from your thoughts, from your moment of peace. You turn carefully and open your hazy eyes to see Mallory. The terrible woman who lives next door to you, Ellie, and Joel. The same irritating woman who is constantly trying to live in Joel’s pants. Her condescending smirk lingers on her face as you manage to answer, obviously drunk.

“Maybe. But at least I don’t look like you.” It makes no sense, but you’re too gone to care. She scoffs out a laugh. “Yeah, too bad for you, sweetie, ‘cause Joel seems to actually notice me.” You can’t help the giggle that crosses your lips before immediately answering, “Joel thinks you look like a 40-year-old busted Barbie doll.” Your voice, slurred, but the insult doesn’t go unheard by Mallory. “Said…. He said… he thinks all the plastic in your body is what keeps anything from biting you. S’how you survived this long.” You giggle more to yourself but Mallory moves quickly, way too fast for your drunken reflexes, slapping you across the face. You hold your cheek, the cold weather making the sting worse.

“What the hell!?” You exclaim.

“Stupid whore! You don’t get to speak to me that way! You think that just because you have Joel wrapped around your finger and shoved so deep down your throat, you can walk around this town like you can’t be touched. Well… you’ve never been more wrong. He’ll see. He’ll see just what a liar you really are.” With that final threat, she shoves you hard, causing you to fall on your back in the snow. Your drunken mind struggles to catch up to what just happened and how you’re suddenly parallel with the night sky, a searing pain traveling up your spine.

“Shit..shit..shit…” You roll on your back, the cold seeping through your coat reminding you of the large gash you’ve been hiding for a few days now. Mallory laughs at you, bitterly, as you writhe on the ground, unable to get up in your drunken state. Her laughter gets drowned out by the familiar sound of Joel’s voice coming closer.”

“Hey! What the fuck is going on here?” He comes stomping over, glaring at Mallory as she plasters a look of faux concern on her face.

“I don’t know, I think she fell because she’s drunk again. I was coming to help her up and take her home to you.” Her fake sweetness makes your teeth hurt just hearing it as Joel kneels next to you.

“Come on, darlin’.” One arm slips under your shoulders while his other hand holds yours helping you to your feet. “Easy.” He whispers in your ear, his hand sliding down your back making you hiss and recoil in pain, stumbling back at the quick motion and almost falling down. “What? What’s wrong?” His eyes soften as he searches your face, his chest tight with worry as he watches you draw away from him. You mumble something incoherently, and he can’t understand what you’re trying to say. Mallory attempts to say something to him, her words falling on deaf ears as he slowly and carefully brings you back home. “Come on, up to the bathroom.” His voice, sweet but stern in your ear as he helps you upstairs, guiding you to sit on the lid of the toilet.

“I’m gonna take this off, okay?” He tugs at your coat’s zipper with a soft nod, like he’s speaking to a toddler, waiting for you to nod back before actually taking it off. The chunky sound of your coat unzipping, mixed with your drunken breathing is the only sound in the room. Once it’s off, Joel puts your coat to the side before turning back to you. “Okay, I need you to turn around and straddle the seat for me.” His hands tenderly move to your elbows, helping to shift positions so he can get a full view of your back. You sit back down and giggle.

“What’s so funny?” He asks, a slight grin on his face.

“Straddle,” you giggle more. “It’s a funny word.” Joel huffs out a laugh behind you, shaking his head. “Alright, Giggles, I’m gonna lift your shirt to check your back now.”

“You’re not even going to buy me dinner before you undress me, Miller?” You joke and once again he grins when you can’t see, shaking his head. He doesn’t answer while he grabs the hem of your shirt and starts to carefully roll it up your back with his warm hands. Always so warm, even though it’s below 20 degrees out. His whole aura, the color of a diminishing fire. Not as bright as it once was, but still has the potential to burn bright again. Not in the same way, never in the same way, but warm nonetheless.

His hands move your shirt up and you hear his breath catch in his throat. “…sweet girl.” His words, laced with stress and pity as his fingers delicately stroke your bare skin. You shudder from his gentle touch and the cool air hitting your exposed flesh. “When the hell is this from? This doesn’t look new.” He asks, confused.

“S’not… from those raiders a couple of days ago.” You mumble, even in your drunken state you know he’s going to be pissed.

“2 weeks?!” He exclaims, stressed. “You had this for two weeks and it looks barely healed. Have you even been taking care of it? Or are you giving up on that too?” His hand moves and you hiss as your shirt grazes the irritated wound, making you just pull the shirt over your head leaving your top half completely bare.

“What do you mean given up on that too, Joel? What else have I given up on?” You manage to string the sentence together with enough sobriety to get your irritation across.

“Nothing… it means nothing.” His voice, withdrawn as he grabs the first aid kit from under the sink before turning the conversation back toward my back. “Why’d you hide this for two weeks? It looks like it’s a day away from infection.” He mumbles angrily finding an alcohol wipe from the box and running it over the wound making you grip the top of the toilet tank in pain. “Why didn’t you say anything about this?” He asks, a bit of frustration in his voice. You sigh in relief as he stops using the alcohol on your cut flesh, “...because I knew you’d freak out about it. You’d get all Joel about it and make me feel like shit.”

You answer quietly, each pass of bandage and cleaning solution on your skin, sobering you up slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He asks, offended, his hands pausing against your spine.

“It means. Joel, that you tend to overreact over little things.”

“Little things?!” His voice raises, “This is a huge thing!” He yells, making you turn around on the top of the toilet seat to face him. “It’s a big cut, so what? It was fine until Mallory slapped me and shoved me onto the ground! You should be angry at her, not me.” You seethe, the alcohol making your bite not as strong as you want. “I’m angry at the both of you! Mallory is a bitter woman who is obsessed with the idea of me liking her, and I’ll deal with how she treats you tomorrow, but you,” he pauses, lowering his voice as he tries to calm himself down. Though his volume is quieter, his breathing is still heavy as he steadies himself to answer. “...you are a fuckin’ idiot for not telling me about something like that.”

You scoff, “I’m an idiot? You’re an asshole.” You stand up, “You already made me feel like shit about that altercation with those raiders. If I told you about the cut on top of that, you would have started a fight about me not going on patrols anymore.”

He laughs mirthlessly, “Damn right I would have. I didn’t want you going out there when we were out there!” The stress is evident in his voice as he steps closer.

“Okay, I’m drunk, so that makes zero sense.” You answer confused, unable to process his words at the moment. “You just like having control over what I do. You treat me like a child, like I don’t know what’s going on ever and that you’re the only one who gets a say in my life.” Your words are less slurred that earlier, but you’re still nowhere near sober enough to be having this conversation. “You act like you care, but you really don’t. You just want me around because you’re too scared to have your life change in anyway you can’t control. You see me as a burden to take care of, you think I can’t take care of myself and you don’t want me.” Half the things you’re saying aren’t true, you know he’s aware of your ability to protect yourself, but in this moment you just want to yell at him. You just want to make him feel something for you other than the indifference you believe he feels. Something. Anything that means he cares in the way you want him to, the way you’re too scared to admit to even yourself, let alone him.

His jaw clenches, suddenly aware of the state you’re in as you stand in front of him. His eyes drift to your completely exposes top half, lingering on your breasts for a moment before moving back up to your eyes, schooling his features. “Darlin’... if you believe all that, then you really are an idiot.” He says flatly, internally trying to calm the inner turmoil brewing within him. He wants to tell you everything. He wants to admit why he worries, why he’s so protective, why he gets aggravated when you don’t listen to him wanting to keep you safe. “Put your shirt on and go to bed. We’ll talk about this in the morning.” His voice leaves no room for argument, but you try anyway.

“There you go again! Telling me what to do, when I don’t want you to.” You turn, grabbing your shirt and pulling it over your head. “There’s only one reason I’d let you tell me what to do, but you don’t want that.” You mumble to yoursel, bitterly, not expecting him to hear all of what you said. When you turn, he’s stalking toward you, backing you up against the wall, his hand reaching to your waist to stop you right before your wounded spine hits the hard surface. He looks down, inches from your face, eyes almost black.

“You don’t tell me what I want. You don’t know what I do or don’t want.” His voice, at a dangerous level, his breath hot on your neck as he moves to whisper in your ear. “Now, you’re gonna be a good girl, go to bed, and we’ll talk about all of this in the morning.” You gasp at his firmness but you still go to protest. He leaves you no room for argument. “No. No arguments. All I want to hear is ‘Yes, Joel.’ and then go to bed.” He drops his gaze, looking at you to make sure you’re understanding him while waiting for your reply.

“Yes, Joel…” You answer with a small voice. He nods and moves to the side to let you pass by and exit the bathroom. You move slowly to your bedroom, still drunk and even more confused as you drop to your bed with a heavy sigh. As soon as your head hits your pillow, you’re out.

The stabbing pain in your head reminds you of the overconsumption of liquor you had the night beforehand. With your face smushed against your pillow, your fingers tighten around the sheets as the room spins around you. With a groan, your attempt to sit up is over powered by the drastic shift of your insides, a tidal wave of nausea filling up your stomach, weighing you down like a flood filling a once empty pool. As you manage to shift onto your back, the memories of last night play in your mind. Each moment more vivid than the last as they project themselves onto the ceiling above you.

“Fuck…” You mumble to yourself, the heels of your palms pushing against your eyes like a reset button you so desperately need to work, but knowing it won’t. After another five minutes of staring at the ceiling, you manage to sit up, closing your eyes until you gain your equilibrium once again. With an awkward stretch, a sharp pain shoots across your back, making you yelp like a wounded puppy, and ignore the nausea as you shoot out of bed and rush to the mirror attached to the back of your door. You twist your torso with a hiss, attempting to lift your shirt at the same time to see what’s causing the burning sensation on your back.

When you manage to lift the well-worn fabric, you’re met with a giant piece of gauze on your skin, stretching over your spine. With the sight, more of the night comes rushing back to you. You let your head fall back, eyes closed in regret and frustration before looking back into the mirror. Something on the nightstand catches your attention, a scrap of paper. Crossing the room, your chest tightens when you read the words.

We need to talk -Joel.

Next Chapter

[aliteralchicken]

i think the only option for Jacks reaction for Tim and Bernard dating during highschool is to be homophobic because it does make a lot of sense for his character (cough and who spent most time writing him cough) but I do think there’s two ways to getting slightly around it so it’s not so hard on Tim

Jack is far for happy but is trying very hard to both show he’s a better dad than Bruce and prove to Dana that he can be supportive of Tim, if he can accept this then it’s going to be a lot easier on both of them because they’re finally having a father son relationship now that Tim’s not out as robin and Jack is finally paying attention for more than five minutes

Jack is so distracted by Tim dating the most annoying guy he knows he doesn’t realize that Tim’s dating the most annoying guy he knows until it’s too late to get mad about it, accidental ally, doesn’t hit him until he suggests Tim dates one of his other guy friends instead

[creepa-b0t-inc]

Also making a collection of secret bosses. Why? Because I felt like it.

Let me know who I'm missing, and if possible, getting sprites would be nice so I can add them to the chart!

I'll try to add credits here, let me know what I should add/fix

Jevil/Spamton by Toby Fox

Snow-E by Lemonemy

Gospell design by Scratch Lunin

Blookette by Evil Nya Nya [@SmoochaGhost2 on twitter]

Sunsette & Cressette by Snokie

Wicker/Varminter/Gatsby/Jack/Helios/Nova (But Cooler) by Astromity

Will-fye by Spoon-Breaker

Collage/Stanley P. Scribbleton/Greas-E/Buzzkill/Dr. Pox by IndieMedley

Rublaad by imaginary-regret-608

Banner/Vangel/Haxter by Shaz0s

Halojack/Beltrowel/Gauze by Huecycles

Flowery/Descora & Belle/Atlas by Anne/Bepceleste

Host by Ne0nwithazero

Brandal/Screepto/Fakeris by LocalH00ligan

Radiola by Modtro64

Timber/Starlet/Screamo/Camellia/Wilter/Hycrisik/Mantle Keeper/Hex by R. V. Pine

Sleek by Axniety

Nova by Marnielovesyou

Skuntle Bingoid by ImpactWinter

Tenna by tvlandofficial

RErunner/Lustrelocks/Astrochew by HogRidah

Jukdyne/Dooblod/Terry Crow by RoxRox

Gygar by Rocco

Mederial by PomPom

Nonbinary Secret Boss by Furkrum (I thought it was funny)

Stern by JustTheMoonz

Rachel by R. T. Oak

The Neighbor/Mizpelt/Eve/Gilmore/Kass Sheere/Antoinette/Rock-E/Herifix/Honeur Able/Bellamy/Teel da Eel/Subject_17 by Creepa-Bot Inc.

Dirk/Serif by Emihead

Memme by DELTARUNE Chapters

Glonk by 4chan

Emeraldo by Parkerino69

Micheal Sperour/Shuebert/Min-E by l1zardart1stre

Woostern/BONSLICK THE WICKED/Sonatta/Shikari/Quiddo/Left-E by Mercair

Petaly by Jas

Deadeye by CondorCrest

Vee Sal by Sandshrewdoodle

Verre Trempe by Checherex

Rosey the Rose/Nightmar-E/Orbead by GoYourOwnWay196

Mad Hatter by Scare

Cabelle/Blanca-chan/Hero by Booripley

??? Robot by Deltaconduit

Memodia by Sunhatgirl

Veehenchezz/Olliever by Bonkers B Bonkers

Yogbert by danimodder

Floe/Clawhauz/Vessel by MrkySpices

Ike by TheC0MICguy

Mike by Pep

Mike by Vulpes Borealis

Lucidia by The​Yoter​Man

Immortal Hydrangea/Lillian/Bonibon by Wandering Makers

Sockswald by TheWinterer

Solis by Marineflames

Dillon by jjaym15

Brianna Friz by TheMilkMan

Slush-E by 4444pi

Chancellor by Marmarbles

Minerva by Sylladexter

Seraphim/Laughing Vapor by Weaponizedalibi

Gerden by Right-brain-left-brain

Trinky by Marbles!!

Helel by ZET

Getty Wellson/Davilone by Yinky Tunes

Peris by PetahPetah

Graves by hazard100

Patient Zero by Nermike

Roulette by Dollyglot

Inka by Pixelator

Spree Blitz by Ornstein

Creengle Snap by Kael Salesman

Cehll by A Lego.

Meucci/Roundhouse/Rosaline/Candrell/Coda by Wilkus Milkus

Wormwood by Freedom Co.

Lux Aeterna/Hearty by Spamemailguy

Rumi/Sergoyle by Frosty

Wanky Jo/Nyyrk by Change_it

Hymnis/Knockpad by Bog

S. Lacker by TzarLicken

Tapes by Broom

Horse by ExistingKirb

Pup-C by Scare

Ornamiel/Chrysette/Bandit Aster/Kaerel/Moquiere/Baker & Ratty by Isastuff

Howdy by S.A.

The Great Bazow by Lettuce_turtle

Moonslammer by Vindicator

Monitoon/Mixel by Toosday

Senstar by Mr. Luwigi

Foe by Bryleethebig

Goldie by DeltaVelvet

Satinelle by Octobox

Remild by Espeon

Rainie by Left-Brain-Right-Brain

Rael by Direct to Darkness

Roti by Followerex

Candy/Pastrot by ColorWorld

Dr. Etal by Uevos

Edd-E & Snatchy/Princheque by Rejona

Harlamour by Rosaic

Fleur/Ice-E by Red

Railey/Vantablack by Glitch-the-artist

The Hopless by Cyphis6

Tee-V by Filipnofishstickfailure

Alvaos/Soupa by Bryan the Celestial

Lumia/Curly Bracket by Kate Bun

[yamy-brett]

Happy 91st Birthday, Jeremy. You are sorely missed.

From JEREMY BRETT PLAYING A PART by Maureen Whittaker. Quotes by Jeremy Brett.

"It all started for me on 3rd November 1933. I began life with everything a child could wish for. We had a huge, glorious, country house on the outskirts of Berkswell, near Coventry, with tennis courts, squash courts, horses and dogs and a wonderful, terraced garden created by my artistic mother, Elizabeth. The family was spoiled rotten, for we had three live-in staff, plus four other people who came in to help. We always seemed to be entertaining a houseful of fascinating people; the door was always open.”

The Grange, where Peter William Jeremy, was born, is a beautiful house with sweet smelling flowering wisteria on the front elevation and nestled in a magical vista of gardens, landscaped by Elizabeth, known as “Bunny”, who was the centre of this loving family.

The Huggins family was a significant part of the delightful Berkswell village in Warwickshire. William and Elizabeth had decided to move to the rambling, attractive Berkswell Grange in 1929 to accommodate a growing family. The three boys, John, Michael and Patrick, needed somewhere to play and to ride, so a large, impressive house was chosen in nearby Truggist Lane. The house featured seventeenth century timber framing, and nineteenth century additions, including a tiled roof.

Due to its grandeur and welcoming hostess, the Grange was the centre of village events, of Christmas parties, of afternoon teas and of music and entertainment.

William and Elizabeth were both keen archers, so it is no surprise that Jeremy took this seriously and belonged to the Woodmen of Arden, a notable club for the sport. “The whole family were taxophilites. Actually, my mother was a brilliant archer, won many awards. She had a special lightweight bow, and when I was growing up, I used her hand-me-downs. Looking back, I must have been about four or five when my father gave me my first lesson. The outfit is really glamorous – Lincoln green cut-away tailcoat, buff waistcoat with gold buttons, shite slacks, shite shoes and a New Zealand style hat that turns up at the side…”

Archery Week was hosted by the Huggins family at the beginning of August each year and to accompany the competitions on the extensive grounds at the Grange, they featured special balls for about 30 or 40 people for dinner, followed by dancing in the ballroom. “The dancing finished so late that breakfast was often served to the guests before they left for home the following day.”

“Naturally, I’d been practising like mad for the occasion. Firing at 100 yards I nervously let the arrow go. It wobbled in the air and my astonishment landed smack in the middle of the target. I was made Master Forester on my first day – a title which carries with it sitting at the High Table. Socially, archery can be pretty heaving going. That day the lunch ran to 12 toasts and I remember staggering out afterwards full of venison and summer pudding, cheeks pink from the port and nose still twitching from my first pinch of snuff…”

He told one interviewer that he had “a marvellous youth with every kind of animal under the sun, from ferrets to rabbits to mice to horses, to monkeys even. It was like a paradise, and a gorgeous home.”

Jeremy had a very special relationship with all animals. He welcomed dogs as earnestly as he welcomed his friends and often on his knees to greet them, face to face. His own dog, Mr. Binks, was a Jack Russell terrier that he affectionately called his “hound of heaven”.

Elizabeth’s reputation was always one of kindness to others, especially towards the homeless in the community. Gypsies and vagrants were frequent visitors expecting to be fed, have a wash or receive fresh clothing, and Williams shirts or trousers, could often be seen on these visitors leaving the Grange. Mrs. Huggins would go out and find Gypsies, taking them back to the Grange – the Colonel would come home from work to find a “Gypsy encampment with great cauldron in the walled courtyard, and clothes being dried in the saddle-room.”

During the Coventry bombing on 14th November 1940, in which more than four thousand homes were destroyed, including the 14th century cathedral, Jeremy’s mother, alerted by the sirens, the noise of exploding bombs and the sight of leaping flames across the open countryside, left her family to drive to the nearby town to what she could to help those who were caught up in the devastation. “The whole city was ringed with leaping flames, bathed in brilliant moonlight and a few searchlights were sweeping the smoke-filled sky.” Consequently, one family was taken into the Grange and 42 members of the extended family lived there until alternative accommodations could be found. There was no question in her mind about the decision; it was simply her first and characteristic response to suffering. “She was a dazzling woman, half Irish and fully Quaker, and ran our home, a large country house deep in the Black Country outside Coventry, in a sort of Flower Power way, always filling it with people that she’d picked up. I remember her bringing home a whole family called Weston during the war, and all of them stayed in our stables.”

Elizabeth Huggins had an enormous effect on the growing Jeremy and some would say that he was very like her in his response to others. “My mother had this extraordinary way of making us flower, and she had open doors and windows in her soul – that’s the only way I can put it. Everybody came to my mother. She was like a light of great warmth.”

What an amazing beginning to a brilliant gentleman.

This is just the very beginning of JEREMY BRETT PLAYING A PART by Maureen Whittaker.

[captain-orphic-al]

I made another, oopsie.