#ginger Jason makes an appearance

[ambrosethedarling]

Take a silly little doodle of the Gotham by Gaslight boys Cus I recently rewatched the movie and got unhealthy attached this time

#I’m actually so starved for them #I need more IMMEDIATELY #they’re literally so small #the littlest guys ever #tiny family #of tiny boys #ambrose art #ginger Jason makes an appearance #jason todd #dick grayson #tim drake #dc comics #gotham by gaslight #batman comics

[fic-over-cannon]

a little something to celebrate 100 followers (and finishing my finals!)

Jason’s thigh shifts under your cheek. The fabric of his jeans is warmed by your combined body heat, worn soft in the way a best loved pair always is. It’s been a long day, a long week actually, but its over now. You’ve made it through though and there’s nothing but a glorious evening free ahead of you now. You’re lying on your side, eyes closed, head pillowed by Jason’s delicious thighs. He was sitting on the couch when you came home, thighs splayed wide open and absorbed in a book. He’d looked so comfy sitting there, it was all you could do to control your descent onto the couch. You’d flopped down, boneless the instant your body made contact with his. Jason’s thighs were just as comfortable as they looked, warm and firm with just the right amount of give. He looks down at you, fond.

“You gettin’ comfy down there sweetheart?” It’s wry, and probably accompanied by a smile, if you could be bothered to look up and open your eyes to see it.

“Mmmhmmm.”

You nuzzle your face further into his thigh, let the smell of detergent and Jason wash away the day. He reaches for something over you, pulls down a soft fleece blanket to cover you with. He drapes it over you, let’s you adjust it the way you like it. He pets over your hair once, twice, then buries his hand it to cradle your skull. There’s a rustle of pages and you know he’s gone back to his book.

You drift there, warm and comforted by Jason’s steady presence. There’s nothing but the sound of your combined breathing punctuated by the occasional turn of a page. You’re not sure how long you stay there, but by the time you open your eyes again the quality of the light has changed. The living room is only lit by the low warm light of several lamps, the sun completely gone down. For the past few minutes Jason’s gone back to petting your hair, finished with his book.

“You back with me yet?”

Instead of answering, you try and bury your face even further into his leg. His thigh just so firm and biteable that you give into the urge and gently clamp down.

“Hey! Okay, we’re both getting up now. You can either wait here on the couch or sit in the kitchen with me but I need to start making dinner.”

He tries to shake you free but you’re not ready yet. It’s not until he bends over to kiss you on the temple that you magnanimously let him go. Turn up to look at him appraisingly.

“Kitchen but I get to be your taste tester and I get to bring the blanket.”

He laughs then, bright and loud. Sweeps you up, blanket and all, and bridal carries you to the kitchen. Sets you down on one of the bar chairs across the counter so you can watch him, and then starts to pull out pans. Gets the black tea and spice chest out of the cupboard and starts digging for the mortar and pestle under the kitchen sink. Chops and peels a ginger root, adds it to the pot with the tea and spices before covering it all with water to boil. He cleans up as he goes, pulling out the ingredients for pasta as the water boils. You rest your head in your hands to watch him work. A few spoonfuls of sugar and a cup of milk go into the pot now. His hands are steady and mesmerizing as they use a ladle to aerate the boiling milk. The kitchen smells amazing, warmed spices and tea filling the air. A steaming mug appears in front of you, as if by magic.

“New spice blend. Let me know what you think.”

Jason winks before spinning back to the stove.The chai is rich and sweet on your tongue, warming you up from the inside out. It’s probably your favourite version yet, but then you say that about every new iteration he lets you try out.

Jason’s multitasking in a way your tired brain can’t quite catch up to. Pasta’s boiling in one pot, chicken seasoned and shallow frying in a pan, and his knife’s flying to dice garlic and cherry tomatoes. He darts forward with a bit of chicken on a fork, gets you to blow on it before carefully putting it between your teeth. It’s plump and juicy, fat adding salt and the basic seasoning doing the rest to make it delicious.

“It’s good. Taste tester approved. The chai and the chicken.”

“Glad to know my cooking meets your high standards.”

He grins like quick silver, hands never stopping their motions. There’s a pesto sauce cooking off with the chicken and its fat, garlic frying up with it. A dash of cream and the colour goes a soft green. The chai’s almost gone now, a satisfying weight in your belly that only makes you hungrier. There’s pasta on another fork waving in front of your face. Annoyed, you snap it up with your teeth.

“It’s cooked.”

A cloud of steam and the pasta’s drained, tossed into the chicken and sauce. Two bowls appear on the counter filled with chicken and pasta, topped with cherry tomatoes and grated Parmesan. You’re not even sure when he had time to grate cheese. It looks so good, your mouth is already watering.

You’re warm and relaxed, still bundled in a blanket, the dregs of chai still in the mug wrapped in your hands. There’s food on the table, good food made with care. There’s a beautiful man leaning across the counter from you, in the apartment that you’ve made a home together. It’s been a long day, but you’re home with the man you love and none of that matters anymore.

#thank you everyone! #here’s something a little self indulgent to celebrate #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd x gender neutral reader #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd imagine #jason todd headcanon #red hood x you #red hood x reader #jason todd fic #tooth rotting fluff #snack fic #sunnie writes 🌻

[arunneronthird]

so let me tell u a bit about jason todd, yall probably know this but let me tell the story anyway

as we all know, jason has black hair with a white stripe, or does he?

when he was created in the 80s, he was basically the perfect grayson replacement, good kid with a tragic past and a circus bg that wanted to do good and was sweet and had a beautiful relationship with batman and selina. he was also ginger

(these first images are from batman 1940)

in this timeline, jason died his hair black on his own to resemble robin

he was also the sweetest kid in existence btw

anyway someone decided that fuck that noise and remade jasons story entirely not soon after, this time hes a delinquent with good-for-nothing parents, with black hair and some interestingly violent tendencies

"jason todd was the sweet robin" my ass, anyway he became a gremlin of a robin who no one liked and then he died, v tragic (im only half joking, the writers despised him)

then he came back years later! yay! and when he came back, he looked like this

black hair, right? no white stripe yet, that one is harder to explain

so morrison, new batman writer, brings jason todd again as a ruthless antihero, and this jason is... ginger again? so basically even though he kept the delinquent jason story, he gave a wink to the first sweet boy jason

plus, this ginger jason has the white stripe! as explained here

basically, the explanation morrison gives is hes been dying his hair black all this time cause bruce needed him to look like grayson cause robin was a symbol, which honestly is kinda insane and i live for it

the problem comes further down the line, the timeline becomes a bit blurry cause flashpoint happened, n52 happened, we were all disappointed, let's move on

his next appearance is in red hood and the outlaws (i think, this timeline is insane) and he goes back to this

from this point on, i genuinely think the white hair stripe is a stylistic choice cause it makes an appearance whenever it pleases, he usually just has black hair like this

this is nightwing 2016, but it's also black in robin 2021 and robin war

he famously has the white stripe in the wayne family adventures (the canon status of that series being whatever you want it to be), it's also there in robins 2021 but uh, what was that, and gotham knights, seen here!

in conclusion: no one actually knows what color jason's hair actually is, my preferred idea is that he dyes it but does a terrible job, but honestly make canon whatever you want it to be, clearly the artists already do and i support them

#why did i make this post u ask? no fucking clue i just felt like infodumping #do not take this as ''ur hc is wrong'' i LOVE jason todd hcs and clearly theres no clear canon so that means free real state #batman #jason todd #red hood #dc comics #shoutout to the nightwing comic for being the only one to draw jason looking like a normal 20 year old person #also this may be incomplete so do add anything u want #ladies. gentlemen. you have eaten well. #read the comics

[wardenparker]

Preview: Down the Rabbit Hole

Jack Daniels x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When Jack accidentally shoots a civilian on a mission he takes on not only the guilt of the man’s death, but inherits his soulmate as well. To you, it’s a dream job with more perks than you can imagine - but for Jack it’s a nightmarish complication. Even more so when he starts to develop feelings.  

✨To be added to the tag list for this story, just like or comment on this post! ✨

“Jason Howe, 36, born in Northwood, New Hampshire on April 4th.”

Jack winces and curls his hand into a fist as he stands in front of the conference room table. Not having been invited to sit, nor to have the glass of ‘67 Statesman Reserve that Champ has sitting in a glass at his elbow. A drink that Jack desperately needs. “Champ, there was a gun.” Jack defends, although he knows it’s a weak excuse. Statesmen take out the bad guys, not hurt the innocent. And Jack’s killed a bystander who had nothing to do with anything.

"You've been off since Cambodia, Jack." And although Champ knows exactly why, it can't be considered an excuse. He looks back down at the file on the conference table and frowns, then keeps reading. "Two siblings. Parents both living. Soulmate so far unknown." The older man looks up, locking his eyes on Jack. "We're tracking her down."

“Why?” Jack demands, frowning at the mere idea. Statesman had never tracked down a soulmate of anyone before, why start now? “We don’t know who it is, or if they care.” He scoffs. “Better to let sleepin’ dogs lie.”

“I don’t blame you for not noticing.” Champ sighs and shakes his head before finally motioning for Jack to sit. The man is his best senior agent, his quickest set of reflexes, and his closest friend. Frankly, Champ is worried about the upheaval in Jack’s life lately. It’s affecting his perception on a base level, not to mention his work. “You didn’t come out of that fire fight unscathed, and your adrenaline was too damn high for the pain to get through to you.” Running one hand down his face, Champ huffs slightly as he sips from his own whiskey glass but still doesn’t offer Jack any. “The back of your right arm. Just above your elbow. You have a new mark, Jack.”

“Bullshit.” Jack spits, furious at the implication of what Champ is saying. “My soulmate is dead.” He reminds the older man, as if he wasn’t well aware. Hell, Champ was the one who had recruited Jack to Statesman, so he was well aquatinted with his backstory. Until this moment, he would have called the man a friend. Maybe his best friend, even though Tequila likes to claim that’s his title. “Been dead and gone for years. So there ain’t no marks on my body.”

“I don’t mean to say anything against her memory.” Champ holds up one hand in a defensive posture. With the other, he gestures to the large mirror on the conference room wall. “Roll up your sleeve and take a look for yourself. Ginger noted the appearance of scars from minor cuts and bruises and a small tattoo on your arm. None of these marks were found on the civilian that was killed or any of the other dead men that Gamma Team cleaned from the scene. Following protocols, we’re now tracking down any and all soulmates and searching databases for your exact set of new marks.” He knows it isn’t good news. It isn’t good for the agency and it isn’t good for Jack. But, despite it being a long shot, it is now more likely than not that someone out there shares these marks with him. And that makes her both a liability and a potential target. Whoever she is.

Fuck.” Jack hisses bitterly, his shoulders jerking as he shuffles out of his sports coat and tosses it down so he can start rolling up his sleeve. “Can’t Ginger remove it?” He demands, not wanting marks on his body. He hasn’t had any since the day Abigail died and he doesn’t want some other woman’s scars or tattoos on his skin either. He doesn’t have a soulmate and he doesn’t want one.

“Soulmate scars don’t work like that.” He knows Jack knows it, but he also understands the younger man’s distress as he tears his sleeve back to inspect his skin. “As far as Ginger’s nanites are concerned, that’s just your skin. No imperfections about it.”

#Down the Rabbit-Hole #Pedro Pascal #Jack Daniels #Agent Whiskey #Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels #Jack Daniels x reader #Agent Whiskey x reader #second soulmate #Soulmate Sunday

[kevinvoncrastenburg]

Uberhood Pics (56) - Broke, Dustin & Cleveland

Dustin Broke decided to move from Pleasantview to Belladonna Cove. He now lives in that trailer park where Jessica Peterson and her son live as well. One day he met Ginger Newson and I thought "Hey they would make a cute couple." But WRONG... he has no chemistry with her and tbh he doesn't seem to have any chemistry with anyone. He's very picky but I will find someone for him. I'm always open to suggestions tho. :$

While playing Dustin I saw that Jessica Peterson was fighting with Jared Starchild, one of the premades from University. Jared also lives in that trailer park I mentioned before. Anyway Preston, Jessica's son, saw the fight and started crying. Jessica then went over to comfort her child and tbh I fall in love with this game every single time. The amount of detail and the love that was put into this game .. *chef's kiss*

Over at the Cleveland's Marissa was starting to lose it with her husband Jason. In my game Jason Cleveland is a closeted gay man. In my narrative they were married for appearance and Marissa kinda didn't want to let him go. He came out to her and only her once, but quite frankly, she didn't care. In her world he promised her something and she made sure he sticks to it. Jason was trapped and started to despise his wife. He wants to be happy but is too afraid to come out to the world yet. Anyway they kept those things private and even their son, Justin, didn't know what's up. They attended events together and to the world they were a happy couple. In private they didn't even talk to each other anymore.

This is how they spent their life for many years. Marissa turned very bitter and eventually started an affair with Malcolm Landgraab.

One day Marissa lost her cool and all her anger, that she kept inside for so long, came out.

Marissa had enough of this marriage and, to be fair, needed a reason to get out to be with Malcolm Landgraab. She really just held on to this marriage to punish Jason and to make sure he's not happy as long as she's not happy. Now that she thinks she can be happy with Malcolm Landgraab, she doesn't need to punish Jason anymore. This was the end of Marissa & Jason Cleveland.

Their son Justin also had a few things to say and sticked to his father. Justin had enough of Marissa's antics and never understood why she was so cold towards him or his father. Maybe one day Jason will tell Justin the truth.

Me playing the high society of Belladonna Cove:

#sims 2 #ts2 #the sims 2 #sims 2 uberhood #uberhood #marissa cleveland #justin cleveland #jason cleveland #belladonna cove #kevinvoncrastenburg

[ficreadergirl]

Dangerous Inquiries (ch.18)

"Roy? Ginger Roy?" he asked confused.

"Yep! What about him?" you questioned.

"Nothing!" he quickly responded.

"Really?" you asked disbelievingly. He avoided your gaze, avoiding to look at you. What was wrong? "Is something wrong?" you asked.

He sighed, shaking his head. "It's nothing. Nothing important. Forget it."

"No. Tell me." you persisted.

"No, really, Y/n. There's nothing you need to know. It's just... I just think you two might get along." he said hesitantly. You raised an eyebrow.

"Get along? You know him?" you questioned.

He paused for a brief moment before responding. "Yes. We used to work together." he explained.

"Used to?" you frowned.

"Yes. We lost touch recently though. Just forget about it." he replied, refusing to meet your gaze. You studied him for a few seconds before speaking again.

"Okay then..." you simply replied. You weren't sure what else to say.

"I have to leave now. Have a nice date I guess." he said awkwardly before walking off.

You let out a sigh. What did he mean by 'lost contact'? Did he really lose contact with him or was he lying to you. You shook your head. Whatever it was didn't matter right now. All that mattered was him coming back soon.

You started to get ready to meet with Roy. After about twenty minutes you arrived at the cafe. As soon as you stepped foot inside, you instantly spotted Roy. He was sitting at a table by the window. You headed toward him.

Once you sat down he immediately stood up to approach you.

"Hey, Y/N. How are you doing?" he asked politely.

"I'm good. Thanks." you responded smiling happily.

"So, about the date..." he trailed off, looking straight ahead. You noticed how nervous he actually looked.

"Yes... uhh... look. That wasn't my idea. This date I mean." you admitted embarrassed.

"Guys want to see us together I guess." he muttered. "So... should we split or order something and eat?" he asked. You glanced at him and chuckled lightly.

"Let's order something."

You both ordered some foods. Soon the waiter came back, bringing food for you guys. You two exchanged glances before grabbing your food. "Thanks for the meal." Roy said. You smiled gratefully at the waiter. Once he left you both started eating. Neither of you spoke much until you decided to broke the silence.

"So... you were working with Jason Todd?" you asked him curiously. He looked at you for a second before answering.

"Yeah." he answered simply.

"What happened?" you wondered.

"Nothing." he replied. Your eyebrow furrowed. He sounded defensive. He obviously disliked talking about it. You tried to figure it out, but you honestly couldn't. Maybe it was too personal.

You were silent for another minute. "You still work with Dick?" you asked curious.

"Yes. What happened?" he asked. He glanced at you, waiting patiently for your answer.

"Well... I'll be working with him after next day." you explained.

"What exactly you can do?" he questioned, sounding extremely interested.

"Well... law stuff mostly." you explained. He looked at you confused.

"Law stuff?" he questioned.

"Oh yeah. I'll graduate from law school tomorrow." you informed him. He remained quiet for a moment. His eyebrows rose slightly as his eyes widened slightly.

"Law?" he finally blurted out.

"Yeah. That's what you're surprised by?" you asked him raising your eyebrow.

"I uhm... I'm not surprised. I thought you were talking about-" he trailed off, clearly unsure whether to continue his sentence.

"About what?" you urged him on wanting to know. He continued staring at you blankly but still seemed reluctant to answer.

"Nevermind." he murmured.

Your eyes narrowed as a small frown appeared on your lips. Something seemed very fishy. He didn't seem as happy as before and he was clearly trying to avoid making eye contact with you. What the heck was he hiding? You stared at him, trying to figure him out. It was almost impossible since his face was hidden behind a mask. But you felt he was hiding something.

"Alright. If you don't wanna talk about it..." you trailed off. You figured maybe you shouldn't push him. You could scare him. Now Jason wasn't in town and in country you needed all sources you have.

"Do you always give people that look?" he asked breaking the tense silence.

"Excuse me?"

"The one where you're trying to figure out everything about everyone. The one where you just stare at them for a while without saying a word."

You blushed slightly at his statement.

"Sorry. I didn't mean anything by it." he apologized.

"It's fine. You're right. I should stop it. I'm sorry." you apologized.

"Why are you sorry? Don't apologize. It's natural act for a Gotham citizen." he responded. You let out a chuckle. He was right.

"You are right. It's a curse for Gotham people." you said amused. He chuckled.

You two finished lunch silently, neither of you uttering a single word. When the lunchtime was over, you thanked the waiter. You walked outside, and waited at the entrance for Roy. He arrived not long after.

"I'll drive you home or?" he offered. You smiled.

"Thanks but I can go by myself. Uhm..." you hesitated before speaking again.

"What's wrong?" he questioned.

"For tomorrow... graduation day. Did Kory tell you anything?" you asked him softly.

"She told me I should be your company for tomorrow." he replied.

"You don't have to if you don't want. It's really fine." you assured him hastily.

"I don't mind a little dancing." he said with a smile, causing a smile to form on your face as well.

"Great! I'll send you location of-" you began to explain, but he stopped you.

"I know where you live Y/n. I'll pick up you at 2. Is that okay or you need more time?" he requested. You hesitated for a while. You hadn't expected him to pick you up.

"No. It's o-" you started to say, before suddenly being cut off.

"I'll be there by 2. Now you want to go home or anywhere tell me and I'll drive. Okay?" he interrupted.

"Okay." you agreed.

You were at home after 20mins drive. You directly went into the bathroom for shower. After shower you got dressed and headed downstairs. As soon as you entered the kitchen you saw a gift box on the counter. It was wrapped neatly with a red bow on top of it. You furrowed your brows. Red? It wasn't Red Hood right? It had to be someone else. You cautiously reached out to open it. Once you tore the ribbon away it revealed an eyepatch. Your heart skipped a beat as you realized who it belonged to. It was white haired woman. Shit! You froze unable to move a single muscle. Why would she send you that? Did Red Hood realize you're after him? What if they hurt Dick, Kory and Jason? Suddenly your vision became blurry. Your breathing picked up speed. You tried to calm yourself down. It took you awhile to realize you were trembling. You forced yourself to take deep breaths. You slowly lowered your hand and placed it against the countertop. Your heart rate slowly returned to normal.

After taking several deep breaths and calming yourself down you took your phone to call Jason. Before you even managed to dial him his response came through.

"Hi Y/n." he greeted.

"Are you okay?" you asked nervously.

He paused for a couple of seconds.

"Yeah I'm fine." he replied. "What's up?"

"It's just... I got a present from that woman. Uhm... she sent me an eyepatch." you replied nervously. He stayed silent for a couple of seconds and then responded.

"Listen carefully. Pack your stuff and go to Dick or Kory. Don't stay there anymore."

"Wait, wha-"

"I'm serious. Go now." Jason repeated. You didn't understand what was going on so you listened anyways. After hanging up you quickly packed your things and texted Kory if you could stay at her house for some time. Kory agreed. Shortly after you finished packing and texting her, you grabbed your bag and headed to her apartment.

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#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #red hood x reader #red hood x y/n #red hood x you

[starzfield]

Bad encounter

“Alright guys, we’re done for the day !”

Various sighs of relief and happy chatter could soon be heard in the kitchen, as everyone worked on cleaning and tidying the kitchen before leaving. Stretching his arms above his head, Jason heard his spine pop, and satisfaction mixed with tiredness settled in his bones.

His co-workers knew better than speaking to him past a goodbye, and he was pretty content with that. This restaurant’s job was one of his favorites that far, giving hard work but also rewarding. It felt good.

More slowly than the others, the ginger man took his time to leave, giving an answering bye or nod when people would throw one his way. They were all okay to work with, and that was all Jason cared about. He wasn’t here to make bonds, wan’t one to make bonds.

He was fine with his lonely life. Getting close to someone would be only trouble anyway, having to hide his demonic nature, putting them in danger in case someone from Hell found him…

Really, Jason was better alone. Nothing more than a night with a stranger sometimes, when the itch was too strong to ignore, and he started snapping at all his coworkers - his usual clue it was time to release steam.

One night, never more. Not even trading names. And not going to his home.

And yet, despite the lonely, sad ring it had, Jason wouldn’t trade this life for his old one, not even for all the power of Hell.

The door opened to the outside, and the cold air immediately hit his face sharply, contrasting heavily with the heated atmosphere of the kitchen. He was the last to leave, except for the manager who would close everything after himself.

The chillness of the night felt good after a shift of cooking, and he didn’t even speed up to get home. Of course a shower was waiting for him there, being a demon not sparing him entirely from the effect of heat and hard work.

Winter was his favorite season. He handled the actual, deep cold badly, but today felt good. Maybe there would be snow, if he was lucky.

Distracted by his thoughts of white, endless softness, Jason didn’t pay attention to his surroundings. It shouldn’t matter, he knew the way by heart, having done it numerous times already.

However this time something was different. And that difference was about to bite him in the ass. Hard.

“Good evening, Sir.” His whole body froze on the spot. Not an inch was moving, he wasn’t even breathing.

Under one of the streetlight, an ominous shape was looking at him, a smile on their lips that let appear a glimpse of not so human teeth.

Despite being right under the light, it was like the body was made of darkness, refusing to let luminosity touch it.

A demon. A high demon. And worse than anything, a demon who knew who he was.

Breathing again, Jason tried to quickly think of his options. He’d have to fight, obviously. But would he win ? The ginger was tired from a day, hell, a week of work. And his fighting skills were rusty at best. This didn’t look good.

He couldn’t even hope this guy would stop in worry of being noticed by people around, or if a human passed by. He’d kill the poor soul without care, Jason just knew.

The grin in front of him widened, as if able to witness his thoughts. Frowning, Jason dropped his bag on the ground.

Here goes nothing.

#demoncook-jason #glimpse #open starter but DM me first please

[singeratlarge]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY to the 1969 film ALICE’S RESTAURANT, Adam Arkin, Ginger Baker, The Beatles 1967 “All You Need is Love” single, Coco Chanel, Bill Clinton, songwriter Roger Cook, the daguerreotype (1839), Darius Danesh, John Deacon, Dave Douglas (Reliant K), Eddie Durham, Philo Farnsworth, Rob Fenstermacher, Jonathan Frakes (great to have met you), Ian Gillan, Fumio Hayasaka, Susan Jacks, L.Q. Jones, Margie Joseph, The Knack’s 1979 “My Sharrona” single, Billy J. Kramer, Deana Martin (great to have gigged with you), Diana Muldaur, Luis Muñoz, Spud Murphy, one of my heroes Johnny Nash, Ogden Nash, National Aviation Day (1939), Debra Paget, the 1944 liberation of Paris, Christina Perri, Beat Raaflaub, Eddy Raven, Gene Roddenberry, John Stamos, Jason Starkey, my excellent boss Nate Stevens, Clay Walker, Lee Ann Womack, and singer-songwriter and gospel music provocateur Edwin Hawkins. He challenged prevailing notions about sacred vs. secular and broadened the field for gospel music, bridging it with funk, pop, rock, and soul. Despite challenges to his early career and ministry, he earned many awards and made many well-received records, yet still kept his eyes on God. He’s best known for his recording of “Oh Happy Day, “ an extension of an 18th century hymn. Edwin updated it in 1967 and his worship group played it repeatedly at the Ephesian Church of God in Christ in Berkeley CA. In 1969 Hawkins took the church group and made a small budget recording of it on a custom label, with Dorothy Combs Morrison on co-lead vocals. Their modest production is lo-fi by today’s standards but—lo and behold—the track became a surprise international hit, reaching #4 in the USA, #2 in the UK, Canada, and Ireland, and #1 in France, Germany, and The Netherlands. 

Edwin’s version won a Grammy in 1970, has appeared in upwards to 20 movie soundtracks ,and has been covered countless times. It was also included on the RIAA Songs of the Century. George Harrison stated the song was a primary inspiration for “My Sweet Lord.” Here’s our modest take on it, and HB EH—thank you for making a joyful noise.

#happyday #EdwinHawkins #UnitedMethodist #choir #PhillipDoddridge #Acts235 #EphesianChurchofGodinChrist #Berkeley #California #DorothyCombsMorrison #GeorgeHarrison #MySweetLord #Grammy #singersongwriter #JohnnyJBlair #SingeratLarge #SanFrancisco #piano

#johnny j blair #singer songwriter #music #singer at large #san francisco #Edwin Hawkins #gospel #happy #Phillip Doddridge #Dorothy Combs Morrison #George Harrison #My Sweet Lord #Grammy #piano #Youtube

[navree]

okay, so, from one Jason Todd fan to another, i gotta ask ... black hair, black hair with white streak, or ginger Jason?

I'm a black hair with the white streak girlie, I like the idea that there's a hint of otherworldliness to Jason's appearance to represent some of the more mystical elements of his resurrection (if you remove Superboy Prime punching reality then it really does just come out of nowhere and that's cool). I'm not opposed to him not having it, but I'm always gonna at least have him have naturally dark hair, if only because the concept of Jason literally changing his appearance to be more like Dick Grayson really skeeves me out and raises some serious questions about Bruce's parenting abilities (which aren't necessarily unwarranted but I like the idea of Bruce having been relatively normal and at his healthiest and happiest while being Jason's dad during the first go around, because it makes everything afterwards so much more delicious).

#personal #answered #anonymous #also that one art of ginger jason (you know the one) is terrifying it's a literal jumpscare #and i personally headcanon jason as being biracial from his father's side with willis having dark hair #and i know my punnett squares so i know that jason would have inherited willis's dark hair genes over sheila's blond genes

[the-firebird69]

And we had told people when our son was mutated and he was mutated in the womb and civil occasions and people are looking it up most of them know there were four occasions and our son doesn't know exactly what for but he was in that house through the entire pregnancy that Dolores Akerley.. there are several occasions that affected her prior to and she was irradiated and people have discounted that and she was about 5'9 and he remembers of being bigger but she's always been fairly tall 5 foot 7 but she was bigger when he was little and shot up a little bit during the pregnancy and she has been used to that yes and she was approaching 6 ft but there are three incidents before the pregnancy in the conception. And it was a d she was about 5'9 the whole time and was exposed and he's got one of her boxes and he remembers it it's the mean jewelry box expanded because of blood and it's made Ent wood. And this is gods of Egypt the movie. And Jason is formed a rebellion and his is marching right in and people part and they don't do anything and his troops aren't doing anything and it's an example of what they do wrong all over the place and just let people walk around.

And the movie has them appear to be big but we're told they are and they're only about 10 ft which is fairly good size and you can't tell yet but they go near the regular phone and they're big and they think they can beat anybody including our son but the time when this happens but very big by comparison and they still think they can do it and that's really compared to Joe it looks like only a foot and a half shorter because you're both big and they show this superpower and really the suits come down and they jump into them and EXO suits like iron Man with wings and it is intense the fight's real and it's been between Trump and Jason across the pillars won't father humongous and they use an idea her son had for the cooking machine to make reflectors you can focus and it blinds the enemy. A lot of people make big ones after that and they're useful or severe detriment depending. But he was she was exposed three times prior to and one time in a minor way and four times while he was in the womb and she's eating a certain diet and had chemicals in her and was exposed to certain things.

What are the major things that she was exposed to were gases and yeah from stow Massachusetts from the mountains that they're in.. is underneath them and it's not right on gas but it was something similar and it's not it wasn't radioactive the house was and a constant half to one rad and they had to constantly recover thinking it was a lab and they built the new house because of it it was a good idea but they figured it out and she was exposed three times once at the test in the movie The hulk another time they're riding along the road in New Mexico and one went off as another test and they were close to the bomb and drove very fast to escape the radiation cloud and they're in part of it for a little bit and he was hoping that the baby would be okay. He said I'm really really big and it started documenting what she was eating and drinking and stuff and he was taking tests and yes at the Rockefeller center in florida. That's where the information is. And she ate a lot of different foods they had a hard time figuring it out she went out to eat a lot of Chinese food and sometimes they try to poison people sometimes they make a mistake with the recipe and it was tough I mean there was a ginger and different types and different types of scallions from different areas and they got it all confused most of the time. And someone said just have to know what it was but really everyone says that. And bja and Trump have been fighting over it and it's needed because the clothes are over there and they knew about it a little and Mack knew more about it he got very interested and started going over there and they went after him a little and now they're going after him a lot and a lot of people are interested and it is a different day so that's what's happening and we are tracking what's going on and there are some people that are not nice but they will have a problem after they read this

Thor Freya

[sucuretcannelle]

I don't know what to call this...you get no title

TW: Ai's life. You know.

"Why are you here?"

"I wanted to ask if you had a lighter, the power went out, and Pip said he's hungry."

The goddess sat on the steps right outside the mansion, slightly hunched over. Despite being aware of the mortal's presence, she didn't straighten her posture at all. She just let smoke leave her mouth as she pushed her dirty ashtray away from her, not bothering to look back at the man for even a moment. The man didn't waste a moment before sitting next to her.

"You're staying?"

The red-head pulled out his phone before responding to her, "I think I can trust Char to make a peanut butter & jelly sandwich...I hope."

"I don't trust her with the anything fire related— tell Regina to toast the bread while Firecracker gets the rest of the ingredients. There's matches in the drawer next to the stove, tell her to light a fire that way," the end of her sentence was mumbled before she moved the blunt back to her mouth.

"Yeah, I'll do that."

The Sin offered him a cigarette, and he willingly took it into his free hand.

The ginger laughed under his breath, "And about that lighter again?"

She jokingly grumbled as a flame appeared at the end of her blunt. She moved the blunt away from her mouth, lightly touching the end of the cigarette with the flame.

"Who said I have a lighter?"

The man chortled, "Of course you don't."

"I rarely ever have what I need, that's all."

He reached over to pat her head, and her ears dropped as to not get in the way of his arm, "You're too high to be saying that shit."

"You say that like a blunt'll do anything to make me high. I'm a fucking god—"

"So is the redness in your eyes just allergies?"

A wave of sarcasm washed over her voice, "Yeah, the magnolias are starting to sprout."

She felt a light tap on her arm when he punched her, but she laughed it off.

"As weak as ever, it seems."

"Said by Ai, the goddess of damn-near-everything."

"Jace..."

Jason shifted so he was facing away from her and leaned on her shoulder. Aibreanne flinched, but the contact didn't really seem to bother her besides that reaction.

"What? Am I wrong?"

She huffs, clearly amused.

"Definitely. As long as I can still get stronger, then I'm not worthy of that type of praise, even if it was a bit sarcastic."

There was a moment of comfortable silence between the two, despite one of them being so tense.

"How does it feel?"

Aibreanne let out a "hm?" at his question. She glanced at him for a moment with curiosity before looking at the blunt that she moved away from her mouth not long before, letting smoke pour out of her mouth once more.

"Success. How does it feel?"

"It's a pain."

"Really?"

"Of course. Sure, I'm successful, but I'm Wrath."

"I mean, I don't really see anyone else complaining about it, I wasn't expecting it."

"They're used to it."

She paused to let him think about it.

"I've been working in Hiraeth for less than a year but really, I am the strongest. I am successful. There's a price that comes with it. I can't bring myself to be too upset with it, I asked to be strong, and that's what came with it. The rest of them have been here for billions of years, they probably feel a similar way, even if they don't talk about it."

"That's fair."

"You're used to that feeling, aren't you?"

He chuckles, "You can't throw that at me that quickly."

"You asked me first."

"You're high, why are you making so much sense?"

"How would I know? I'm high."

"And now you're not making sense at all."

"What if I'm not high?"

"Now I think I'm high."

"I'm just messing with you. I can't really ease you into that topic, can I?"

"Nope."

"Well too bad. Your job sucks for you too, doesn't it?"

"Nah, saying that it sucks would be me being overdramatic."

"But you don't like it that much, do you?"

"Who really likes to work?"

Aibreanne takes another puff from her blunt, "Looks like you're better at avoiding questions than your job itself."

"Okay, no, I don't really like it, but mom doesn't work anymore and I still have to pay off the house and the rent for my apartment, and I need the money."

"Our situations have similarities, don't you see?"

Her shoulder moved slightly, she didn't have to look at him to tell that he was shaking his head, confused.

"You're a little dense."

Ai could hear his smile through his voice, "You didn't have to give up on me so soon."

"I haven't, but I'm telling the truth."

Jason leans forward to extinguish the fire from his cigarette in the ashtray. His expression was unreadable; oddly blank.

"Leaving already?"

"Working the night shift, I have to get ready."

"Isn't it too early?"

He stood there for a moment.

"What time is it?"

"Goodness, are we sure I'm the high one? It's 6 o'clock. Stay with me for a while longer," she said; Her voice had the quality of silk, soft and smooth.

He gave in only after looking at her for a moment, sitting back down. This time he sat next to her, leaving some space between the two. She noticed, but she didn't say a word.

"I have a question. Promise not to get mad at me."

"I don't make promises."

He seemed amused by that answer, "Really?"

"Have you ever seen me promise anyone anything? I know your memory's incredible."

The silence between the two meant "No."

"Right. Now ask me the question."

"When you lived with your parents—"

Aibreanne leaned back until her back until her lower back touched the dull concrete steps behind her. It took everything in her body not to stop him at that moment.

"—just, tell me. What happened?"

"You'd be sitting here for hours if I told you everything that went wrong. And I don't even remember some of the worse parts, my mind just blanks when I try to remember them."

Neither of them looked at each other after she said that. The goddess looked at the sky, and the mortal looked at the ground below.

"There wasn't one big event that changed everything for me for the worse. Everything was for the worse. Every small event, family moment, everything. The only times I was really happy was when I came over to your house or when Eliana visited."

"You snuck out? You always said your parents said you could come over..."

"I lie sometimes, Jace. In fact, I lie a lot. But that wasn't really a lie. My mom let me out, and I still don't know why she did that, but she only did that on rare occasions."

He repeated her words, "'Let you out.' So they were just...strict, right?"

"Strict? Goodness Jace, listen to what you're saying compared to what you've witnessed. Tell me, how did I look when I was at your house compared to when I was at school."

Sighing before he spoke, "At school...I never saw some as put together as you were. You lit up rooms before you even talked..." There was a pause before he continued speaking, and his words softened, "You looked like a goddess before you even became one."

She glanced at him, and they made eye contact for a split second, "You wear your heart on your sleeve. That, or maybe I accidentally stole the coat that it laid under."

"You can see right through me, I knew there was something going on in your head behind that beautiful face of yours."

She didn't flirt back with him, instead, she drowned him in a wave of pity. He didn't seem all too wounded by the way he spoke. Still, their conversation continued.

"Whenever you came over you looked..."

"Pale? Sickly? Malnourished? Terrible?"

"You didn't have to put words in my mouth, you just looked unwell."

"Right. I wasn't allowed to do much of anything after I got home. Even something as simple as walking outside of my room without being told to do anything would be a luxury for me. You've been in my room before. There's not much of anything in there. Do you remember what you saw there?"

"I remember questioning why there wasn't a bed...needles on the table...and it just smelled a bit odd."

"Well, I never slept in my room. I slept in the closet. I didn't do drugs by choice back then, so I think there's only a few things the needles could be used for. And the smell was most likely dead skin, mixed with the smell of cinnamon of course."

"That makes— You slept in the closet. I heard that right, right?"

"Yes. They wanted to use every room, and they thought having a bed in there would be a waste of space. The room looked nice though, didn't it? Besides the needles, I forgot to move them before you came in. I'm pretty sure I almost died when they found out I left them there."

"I'm assuming that's not an exaggeration."

"You're assuming correctly. I don't remember exactly what happened that time though."

"Forgetting something that big is a trauma response, did you know that?"

She stopped to think about that, "No, but now I do."

After she said that, he finally looked back at her, analyzing her stature. She noticed, and immediately spoke up.

"Why are you asking me about these things now?"

"You're always busy, and you never really looked ready to talk about it."

She was quick to speak, "I still don't think I'm ready to talk about it yet."

"That's fine."

Aibreanne dropped her blunt and crushed it under her foot.

"You should leave. It's 7:30."

"Right."

Jason got up and mumbled a "bye" before walking back into the mansion, shutting the door behind him. The goddess took a moment to collect herself before closing her eyes, putting all her bodyweight on the step behind her. She crossed her arms and sat there for a while, letting her mind wander once more.

#rye's lore

[poopy1111]

In the Gym Toilets

Mark was 12 minutes into his 30-minute treadmill session at the gym when a familiar feeling in his gut hit. He usually needed to use the restroom after a workout, but this time, he realized he might not be able to make it to the end.

He let out a small fart to relieve some pressure, but realized that would not be enough. He turned off the treadmill and made his way into the locker room restroom.

As usual, all three stalls were occupied. He heard a sloppy, smelly shit exit the guy in the middle stall (must be the protein shakes!), some tough grunts emerging from the third, and several loud farts booming from the first. Mark shuffled uncomfortably, shifting weight from one foot to the other to distract himself from the excruciating need to evacuate his bowels.

After 3 minutes, no one had emerged. The noises had died down with the exception of an occasional grunt or sloppy release. Mark couldn't stand it anymore and asked, "Anyone almost finished? It's an emergency!"

The gentleman in the third stall, who sounded like he might be a little older, replied, "Sorry, it might be a while," before letting out another loud grunt.

Mark heard the man in the first stall begin unrolling toilet paper. After a few wipes, a bearded ginger man in his mid-30s emerged from the stall. He was well-toned and had some nice chest hair peaking out from his tank top.

Mark thanked him as he bolted into the stall. "No problem, dude," he heard the ginger man reply as he latched the door shut. He urgently pulled his red gym shorts and black briefs down to his ankles, unleashing a wave of diarrhea as soon as he sat down.

He sighed in relief as he continued releasing wave after wave of sloppy shit. There was no way he could have made it to the end of his workout.

After 10 minutes, Mark was confident that he was finished shitting for now. The older man had finished grunting out his tough shit and left the bathroom, but the sloppy shitter was still the middle stall.

Mark began unrolling toilet paper and quickly learned that there was only enough for his one wipe.

He folded what little one-ply toilet paper was left and began cleaning up. The paper was covered in messy shit. "Damn it!" Mark said.

"Excuse me," Mark said, knocking on the wall of the stall. "I just ran out of toilet paper. Do you have any extra?"

"Of course, man! How much do you need?" said the voice in the middle stall.

"As much as you can spare. It was a messy one!" Mark said.

"Absolutely - I know the feeling," the man in the middle stall said with a chuckle. "My stall has an extra roll, so you can have that."

The man in the middle stall passed a roll of toilet paper under the stall. Mark caught a glimpse of his orange boxer-briefs around his ankles. They began unrolling toilet paper and wiping their asses at the same time.

After about 5 minutes of vigorous wiping and frustrated sighs from both men, they flushed and emerged from their stalls at the same time.

The guy in the middle stall appeared to be in his mid-20s with brown hair and a backwards baseball hat on. His muscles were toned and his black t-shirt and shorts clung tightly to his body.

"I thought I was never going to get clean," said the guy from the middle stall. "I've spent more time shitting than working out!"

"I know the feeling," Mark laughed, as they washed their hands and headed back into the gym.

Mark got back onto the same treadmill, and to his surprise, the man from the middle stall ended up next to him. "I'm Mark, by the way," he said with a smile.

"I'm Jason. Nice to meet you. Glad we got to share that experience together."

#toilet story #mens room

[superhero--imagines]

A/N: My commissions are still open for a letter from your comfort character, info is here! Also feel free to drop in some requests!

Dick:

- Late night convenience store runs after you spend too long binge watching your favorite shows

- It’s too hot to go outside, or at least that’s what you both say, choosing to stay home and maybe getting a little drunk off of fruity drinks you and Dick spontaneously make with whatever you have in the kitchen

- Which results in the munchies, but no take out place is open at three in the morning, so you stumble to the bodega around the corner, grabbing whatever you’re craving

- “Should I get this?” You ask holding up a package you’re on the fence out

- Dick is literally pushing about twenty bags into his cart

- “Yes, get everything”

- It’s too bad neither of you has a single ounce of impulse control.

Jason:

- You go to the beach or a water park, maybe a lake.

- Spending the day by the water somewhere where it’s a little cooler

- Piña colada’s and snow cones

- And kissing so your blue tongue and his red one become purple

- Matching swimsuits and bright blue waves

- Reading under and umbrella, and eventually packing up when the sun starts to get to you, and the sand feels like it’s everywhere, and the feel good serotonin has run out

- “This is better” you say when you’re home, reading on your respective arm chairs in your air conditioned apartment

- “Way better” Jason confirms

Tim:

- Amusement parks and summer festivals

- Over priced food, that isn’t all that good

- “I kind of want to get another one though” he says

- “Okay good, because I want another too” you grin

- Goofy pictures with mascots, and staying to see the fireworks

- Falling asleep on his shoulder in the Ferris wheel

- Midnight drive back home where you stop at a gas station for snacks

Damian:

- Damian does the road trip thing

- Making it a mission to try a slush or at every gas station to see which has the best one

- Titus comes with obvi

- You take an suv and use the back as like a makeshift bedroom

- You stop at all the cheesy attractions

- And all the big ones

- “Woah”

- You’re speechless as you both stand at the railing at the Grand Canyon, you literally can’t get out any words

- “I know” Damian says, equally choked up

- Even Titus is in awe

Bonus:

Bruce:

- Late night galas and charity balls

- Black tuxedos, and shiny cuff links

- Elegant colorful gowns, and matching ties

- Champagne flutes for you, and ginger ale in his to keep up appearances

- Eating fast food in the car afterwards

- “Why do they never have food at those things?” You ask, eating a French fry

- “They do, it’s just not very good” Bruce laughs, taking a sip when you offer your soda to him

#batman imagiens #batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne headcanon #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson imagines #nightwing x reader #jason todd heacanon #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagines #tim drake x reader #tim drak imagine #the red hood imagine #Red Robin imagine #Damian wayne imagine #Robin imagine #Damian Wayne headcanon #superhero—imagines

[causeiwanttoandican]

Harry, Meghan and me: my truth as a royal reporter

I've covered elections and extremism, but nothing compares to the vitriol I've received since I started writing about the Sussexes

By Camilla Tominey, Associate Editor27 March 2021 • 6:00am

It is probably worth mentioning from the outset that I never, ever, planned to become a royal reporter. I mean, who does? It’s one of those ridiculous jobs most people fall into completely by accident.

I certainly wasn’t coveting the position when I first found out how bonkers the beat could be after covering Charles and Camilla’s wedding in 2005. Desperate for ‘a line’ on what went on at the reception, journalists were reduced to flagging down passing cars in Windsor High Street and interrogating the likes of Stephen Fry about whether they’d had the salmon or the chicken.

Watergate, this wasn’t.

Yet when my former editor called me into his office shortly afterwards and offered me the royal job ‘because you’re called Camilla and you dress nicely’, who was I to refuse?

Having planned to get married myself that summer, and start a family soon afterwards, I looked to the likes of Jennie Bond and Penny Junor and figured it would be a good patch for a working mother as well as being one I could grow old with. Unlike show business, when celebrities are ‘in’ one minute and ‘out’ the next, the royals would stay the same, making it easier to build – and keep – contacts.

So if you’d told me that 16 years later, I would find myself at the centre of a media storm over a royal interview with Oprah Winfrey, I’d have probably laughed in your face. First of all, only royals like Fergie do interviews with Oprah. And since when did journalists become the story?

Yet as I have experienced since the arrival of Meghan Markle on the royal scene in 2016 – a move that roughly coincided with Twitter doubling its 140-character limitation to 280 – royal reporters like me now find themselves in the line of fire like never before.

We are used to the likes of Kate Adie coming under attack in the Middle East, but now it is the correspondents who write up events like Trooping the Colour and the Royal Windsor Horse Show having to take cover from the keyboard warriors supposedly defending the Duke and Duchess of Sussex’s ‘truth’.

Accusations of racism have long been levelled against anyone who has dared to write less than undiluted praise of Harry and Meghan. But even I have been taken aback by the vitriol on social media in the wake of the couple’s televised two-hour talk-a-thon, in which they branded both the Royal family and the British press racist while complaining about their ‘almost unsurvivable’ multimillionaire lives at the hands of the evil monarchy. And all while the rest of the UK were losing their loved ones and livelihoods in a global pandemic.

Having covered Brexit, general elections and stories about Islamic extremism, I’ve grown used to being sprayed with viral vomit on a fairly regular basis, but when you’ve got complete strangers trolling your best friend’s Instagram feed by association? That’s Britney Spears levels of toxic.

Having a hind thicker than a rhino’s, it wasn’t the repeated references to my being ‘a total c—’ that particularly bothered me, nor even the suggestion that I should have my three children put up for adoption. At one point someone even said it would be a good idea for me to drink myself to death like my mother, about whose chronic alcoholism I have written extensively.

No, what really got me was the appalling spelling and grammar. I mean, if you’re going to hurl insults, at least have the decency to get my name right.

Yet in order to understand just how it has come to pass that so-called #SussexSquaders think nothing of branding all royal correspondents ‘white supremacists’ regardless of who they write for, or sending hate mail to our email addresses, offices – and in some cases, even our homes – it’s worth briefly going to back to when I first broke the story that Prince Harry was dating an American actor in the Sunday Express on 31 October 2016. Headlined: ‘Royal world exclusive: Harry’s secret romance with TV star’, the splash revealed how the popular prince was ‘secretly dating a stunning US actress, model and human rights campaigner’.

Despite my now apparently being on a par with the Ku Klux Klan for failing to acknowledge Meghan as the next messiah, it was actually not until the fifteenth paragraph of that original article that the ‘confident and intelligent’ Northwestern University graduate was described as ‘the daughter of an African-American mother and a father of Dutch and Irish descent’.

Call me superficial, but I was genuinely far more interested in the fact that Harry ‘I-come-with-baggage’ Wales was dating a former ‘briefcase girl’ from the US version of Deal or No Deal than the colour of her skin. A ginger prince punching well above his weight? This was the stuff of tabloid dreams. Little did I know then that covering the trials and tribulations of these two lovebirds would turn into such a nightmare.

The online hostility began bubbling up about eight days after that first story, when Harry’s then communications secretary Jason Knauf issued an ‘unprecedented’ statement accusing the media of ‘crossing a line’.

‘His girlfriend, Meghan Markle, has been subject to a wave of abuse and harassment’, it read, referencing a ‘smear on the front page of a national newspaper; the racial undertones of comment pieces; and the outright sexism and racism of social media trolls and web article comments’. Meghan’s mother, Doria Ragland, had apparently been besieged by photographers, while bribes had been offered to Meghan’s ex-boyfriend along with ‘the bombardment of nearly every friend, coworker, and loved one in her life’.

Suffice to say, I did feel a bit guilty. Although I hadn’t written anything remotely racist or sexist, I had started the ball rolling for headlines like the MailOnline’s ‘(Almost) straight outta Compton’ (referencing a song by hip-hop group NWA about gang violence and Meghan’s upbringing in the nearby LA district of Crenshaw), along with her ‘exotic’ DNA (which I subsequently called out, including on This Morning in the wake of ‘Megxit’ in January last year).

Omid Scobie, co-author of Finding Freedom, a highly favourable account of the Sussexes’ departure from the Royal family, written with their cooperation last summer, would later insist that the couple knew the story of their relationship was coming out and were well prepared for it.

I can tell you categorically that they weren’t, since I did not even put a call into Kensington Palace before we went to press for fear of it being leaked. (I did later discuss this with Harry, when I covered his trip to the Caribbean in November 2016, and to be fair he was pretty philosophical, agreeing it would have come out sooner or later. But that was before the former Army Captain decided to well and truly shoot the messenger, latterly telling journalists covering the newly-weds’ tax-payer-funded October 2018 tour of Australia and the south Pacific: ‘Thanks for coming, even though you weren’t invited.’)

The royal press pack is the group of dedicated writers who cover all the official engagements and tours on a rota system, in exchange for not bothering the royals as they go about their private business. It was a shame this ragtag bunch, of which I am an associate member, was never personally introduced to Meghan when the couple got engaged in November 2017.

I still have fond memories of a then Kate Middleton, upon her engagement to Prince William in November 2010, showing me her huge sapphire and diamond ring following a press conference at St James’s Palace with the words, ‘It was William’s mother’s so it is very special.’

I replied that she might want to consider buying ‘one of those expanding accordion style file holders’ to organise all her wedding paperwork. (Reader, I had given birth to my second child less than four months earlier and was still lactating.)

Not meeting Meghan did not stop royal commentators like me writing reams about her being ‘a breath of fresh air’ and telling practically every TV show I appeared on that she was the ‘best thing to have happened to the Royal Family in years’.

As the world followed the joyous news of the Windsors’ resident strip billiards star having finally found ‘the one’, the couple enjoyed overwhelmingly positive press culminating in their fairy-tale wedding in May 2018, which we headlined ‘So in love’ above a picture of the bride and groom kissing. I tweeted the wedding front page, along with the original story breaking the news of their relationship with the words, ‘Job done’. Yet, as Meghan would later point out in a glossy Santa Barbara garden, that was by far the end of the story.

According to the Duchess’s testimony before a global audience of millions, the seeds for their royal departure were actually sown by an article I wrote in November 2018 suggesting she made Kate cry during a bridesmaid’s dress fitting for Princess Charlotte.

Claiming the ‘reverse happened’, the former Suits star railed, ‘A few days before the wedding she was upset about something, pertaining to, yes, the issue was correct, about flower-girl dresses, and it made me cry, and it really hurt my feelings.’

She then went on to criticise the palace for failing to correct the story – suggesting that royal aides had hung her out to dry to protect the Duchess of Cambridge.

All of which left me in a bit of a sticky situation. As I told Phillip Schofield on This Morning the following day, ‘I don’t write things I don’t believe to be true and that haven’t been really well sourced.’

Having seemingly been completely bowled over by Meghan’s version of events, Schofe then went for the jugular: ‘I have to say, though, that’s all addressed in that interview, isn’t it, because she [Meghan] couldn’t understand why nobody stood up for her?’

Yet someone had stood up for her, on that very same This Morning sofa: me.

As I told Phil and Holly on 14 January 2019, as more reports of ‘Duchess Difficult’ started to emerge, ‘I think she [Meghan] is doing really well, she looks amazing, she speaks well. She has played a blinder.’

So you’ll forgive me if I can’t quite understand why Meghan didn’t feel the need to correct this supposedly glaring error once she had her own dedicated head of communications from March 2019 – or indeed when she ‘collaborated’ with Scobie, who concluded in his bestselling hagiography that ‘no one cried’?

Moreover, how did the Duchess know a postnatal Kate wasn’t ‘left in tears’? And if she doesn’t know, what hope has the average troll observing events through the prism of their own deep-rooted insecurities?

It appears the actual truth ceases to matter once sides have been taken in the unedifying Team Meghan versus Team Kate battle that has divided the internet.

Make no mistake, there are abject morons at both extremes spewing the sort of bile that, ironically, makes most of the media coverage of Harry and Meghan look like a 1970s edition of Jackie magazine.

It perhaps didn’t help my case that the day before the interview was aired in the US, I had written a lengthy piece carefully weighing up the evidence behind allegations of ‘outrageous bullying’ that had been levelled against Meghan during what proved to be a miserable 20 months in the Royal family for all concerned.

The messages – to my Twitter feed, my email, my website and official Facebook page – ranged from the threatening, to the typical tropes about media ‘scum’ and the downright bizarre. Some accused me of being in cahoots with Carole Middleton, with whom I have never interacted, unless you count a last-minute Party Pieces purchase in a desperate moment of poor parental planning.

Another frequent barb was questioning why the press wasn’t writing about that ‘pedo’ [sic] Prince Andrew instead – seemingly oblivious to the fact that no one would know about the Duke of York’s links to Jeffrey Epstein if it wasn’t for the acres of coverage devoted to the story by us royal hacks over recent years.

It didn’t matter that I had repeatedly torn the Queen’s second, and, some say, favourite son to pieces for everything from his propensity to take his golf clubs on foreign tours to that disastrous Newsnight interview.

Contrary to the ‘invisible contract’ Harry claims the palace has with the press, royal coverage works roughly like this: good royal deeds = good publicity. Bad royal deeds = bad publicity. We effectively act as a critical friend, working on behalf of a public that rightly expects the royals to take the work – but not themselves – seriously.

So when a royal couple preaches about climate change before taking four private jets in 11 days, it is par for the course for a royal scribe to point out the inconsistency of that message. None of it is ever personal, as evidenced by the fact that practically every member of the monarchy has come in for flak over the years.

If Oprah wasn’t willing to point out the discrepancies in Harry and Meghan’s testimony, surely it is beholden on royal reporters to question how the Duchess had managed to undertake four foreign holidays in the six months after her wedding, in addition to official tours to Italy, Canada, and Amsterdam, as well as embarking on a lengthy honeymoon, if she had ‘turned over’ her passport?

While no one would wish to undermine the extent of her mental health problems, could it really be true that she only left the house twice in four months when she managed to cram in 73 days’ worth of engagements, according to the Court Circular, in the 17 months between her wedding and the couple’s departure to Canada?

And what of the ‘racist’ headlines flashed up during the interview purporting to be from the British press, when more than a third were actually taken from independent blogs and the foreign media? The UK media abides by the Independent Press Standards Organisation’s Code of Conduct ‘to avoid prejudicial or pejorative reference to an individual’s race’, as well as by rigorous defamation laws. And rightly so – the British press doesn’t always get it right. But social media is the Wild West by comparison, publishing vile slurs on a daily basis with impunity.

Some therefore find it strange that such a litigious couple would claim to have been ‘silenced’ when they have made so many complaints, including resorting to legal action, over stories they claim not to have even read. There is something similarly contradictory about a couple accusing the tabloids of lacking self-reflection while refusing to take any blame at all – for anything.

In any normal world, informed writing on such matters would be classed as fair comment, but not, seemingly, on Twitter where those completely lacking any objectivity whatsoever are only too willing to virtue signal and manoeuvre.

As the trolling reached fever pitch in the aftermath of the interview, veteran royal reporter Robert Jobson of the Evening Standard called me. ‘Don’t respond to these freaks,’ he advised. ‘It’s getting nasty out there. Watch your back!’

Yet despite my general sense of bewilderment at the menacing Megbots, I can’t say it didn’t appal me to discover a close friend had received online abuse, purely by dint of being my mate. After discussing the lengths the troll must have gone to to track her down, she asked me, ‘Do you ever worry someone might do something awful to you?’ Er, not until now, no.

Of course it’s upsetting, even for a cynical old-timer like me. Worse still are people who actually know me casting aspersions on my profession on social media. Often these are the same charlatans who would think nothing of sidling up to me for the latest gossip on the Royal family, while publicly pretending that reading any such coverage is completely beneath them.

Most pernicious of all though – not least after Piers Morgan’s departure from Good Morning Britain following a complaint to ITV and Ofcom from the Duchess – is the corrosive effect this whole hullabaloo is having on freedom of speech. When you’ve got a former actor effectively editing a British breakfast show from an £11 million Montecito mansion, what next?

I cannot help but think we are in danger of setting race relations back 30 years if people are seriously suggesting that any criticism of Meghan is racially motivated. It’s the hypocrisy that gets me. When Priti Patel was accused of bullying, the very same people who willingly hung the Home Secretary out to dry are now the ones defending Meghan against such claims, saying they have been levelled at her simply because she is ‘a strong woman of colour’.

Of course journalists should take responsibility for everything they report and be held to account for it – but Harry and Meghan do not have a monopoly on the truth simply because the close friend and neighbour who interviewed them in return for £7 million from CBS took what they said as gospel.

If she isn’t willing to probe the disparity between Meghan saying someone questioned the colour of Archie’s skin when she was pregnant, and Harry suggesting it happened before they were even married, then someone must. There’s a name for such scrutiny. It’s called journalism.

The public reserves the right to make up its own mind – with the help of the watchful eye of a free and fair press. But that press can never be free or fair if journalists do not feel they can report without fear or favour. I’m lucky that a lot of the criticism I face is more than balanced out by hugely supportive members of the public and online community who either agree – or respect the right to disagree. Along with the hate mail, I have had many thoughtful and eloquent missives, including those that good naturedly challenge what I have written in the paper or said on TV, which have genuinely given me pause for thought.

I am more than happy to enter into constructive discourse with these correspondents, who are frankly sometimes the only people who keep me on Twitter. I mean, let’s face it, I wouldn’t be anywhere near the bloody thing if this wasn’t my day job.

With the National Union of Journalists this month declaring that harassment and abuse had ‘become normalised’ within the industry, never have members of Britain’s press needed more courage. As Winston Churchill famously said, ‘You have enemies? Good. That means you’ve stood up for something, sometime in your life.’

Who would have thought that the preservation of the fundamental freedoms that we hold so dear should partially rest on the shoulders of those who follow around a 94-year-old woman and her family for a living?

If I’d known then what I know now, would I still have written the bridesmaid’s dress story?

Yes – doubtlessly reflecting sisterly sobs all round. But after two decades in this business, I am clear-eyed enough to know this for certain: whatever I had written, it would still have ended in tears.

[butwhyduh]

since i am here do u have "headcanon" appearances for the boys? when a character exists over such a long period of time and has a variety of designs, usually the fandom-wide portrayal of that character is more just a combination of what sticks rather than being faithful to one design, like how most of us ignore that jason is a ginger and tim usually has longer hair. does this question make sense? i kinda just find this stuff interesting and wanted to hear your take..

This is how i picture them in stories.

Dick Grayson: slight wavy black hair, bright blue eyes slightly taller than average like 5’11. Skin tone like a dark Caucasian coloring. Muscular with amazing shoulders and of course ass. Brenton Thwaites actually does a good job in looks as far as build. Hands calluses. Soft fuller lips. Wears his hair a little long on top to where it’s slightly floppy. Generally wears basic clothing. T shirts blue jeans sweatpants. Lots of blue, black, grey. One exception is in fancy dress where he’ll go a little fancier with like a blue suit or bow tie. Would wear a colorful pocket square to certain events. His suit is the nightwing suit black and blue with finger stripes. Annoyingly Beautiful. Age: 28-30

Jason todd: black hair, dark blue eyes, thick wavy black hair that he keeps short on the side and just a little curl on top. Thick eyelashes and eyebrows. Very tall (6’3) and muscular in build like Jason Momoa. Full thighs and great abs. Scars more visible than dick. Skin tone a little lighter. Naturally pouty look on his face that he hides in a scowl. Dresses in mainly plain clothes too but heavier fabric. Leather, denim, wool. Lots of black and brown. Occasional red. Red hood suit is the black shirt, leather jacket, tactile pants and boots. Wears black and red in a sharp cut suit. Dresses up surprisingly well and would rival dick if he wasn’t so damn scary. Age: 23-25

Tim drake: pale blue eyes, stick straight long black hair. Touches his shoulder. Very pale skin with every bruise visible. Perma-under eye circles. Delicate features. Long lashes and blushes easily. Shorter (5’7-8) but surprisingly muscular. Completely ripped arms. Built like tom Holland in Spider-Man. Wears the most chaotic clothing of all time when casual. Oversized hoodies, skinny jeans, Hawaiian shirts, converse. Wears a suit most of the time that’s black or grey. Boring and simple because it’s everyday. Wishes he could wear cartoon character or dnd ties but doesn’t. Red Robin suit that’s black and red with the yellow x thing and wing cape and a domino mask instead of the awful condom cowl with his hair in a bun. Could certainly be called pretty. Age:19-22

Damian Wayne: not Bruce junior. He has bright green eyes, thick straight black hair that he wears long on top and short on sides. Might spike it up. Tan skin and bright green eyes like his mother. Muscular for a kid. Like the kids in karate or gymnastics. Like 5’5 tall. Slightly shorter than Tim and will surpass him in a few years. Wears casual t shirts and skinny jeans but obviously expensive. Very particular about his outfit for events but isn’t afraid of color and has worn a thwab to events before. Robin with the bright colors but a longer tunic than the other robins. Bright green boots. Could be a heartbreaker when he gets older but won’t. Handsome kid. Age:15-17.

#batboys headcanons #dick grayson headcanon #nightwing headcanon #jason todd headcanon #red hood headcanon #tim drake headcanon #red robin headcanon #damian wayne headcanon #robin headcanon

[boldlyanxious]

Tenuous Trust

Jasonette July prompts 6: trust

References to Birds of Prey

Mentions of torture and murder

Canon-typical and not graphic

Possibly still disturbing

This is absolutely not what I was writing when I started. The idea was very different but it is what happened so it's what I offer

Not a typical meet cute Monday

My masterlist

Red Hood rushed down the hall away from the confrontation in the lobby. He had planned to sneak in and disrupt the meeting but that was no longer necessary. Things were going bad all on their own. Sionis was trying to find new contacts to deal with but recent interruptions in his business made an already turbulent arrangement turn volatile. Hood kept on down the hall looking for any other things he could tamper with in case they resolved their differences without guns.

He saw a woman step out of one of the former offices before the warehouse had been abandoned. He wasn’t sure who she was but she had been seen with Sionis or Zsasz a few times, but she usually never left their side so she would likely have information about their operation. He moved over to her quickly and pushed her back into the room, possibly more roughly than was necessary but for this it was likely better if she was a bit on edge.

She looked startled at him pushing her around but her eyes dropped down when she realized who he was. She said nothing. She waited for instructions, flinching a little when he reached out for her again.

“You are coming with me. Do you have anything of yours here that you need?”

She shook her head instead of responding, still looking down.

“Quickly out that window and hold on tight.”

She didn’t move. Well, she did but it was to back away and look around for an escape route. He grabbed her by the arm and pushed her a little to get her walking. Shouts were starting to echo down the hall. He expected bullets would be heard next.

“You are going to have to trust me. You have no reason to, but it is your only option.”

He pushed her until she had to either climb out the window or pull out of his grip. The decision became easier for her when the first gun fired followed immediately by several others. She climbed out the window and he followed. She was holding on to the side, looking very nervous about the possibility of a 3 story fall but he pulled her to him when he cleared the window.

Red Hood swung away from the building and landed on a low roof. He pulled her behind him, holding her hand to force her to keep up. They crossed several other roofs and he never saw anyone else nearby so he circled back around and found a vehicle to use. She was hesitating again when it came time for her to get in the car. She didn’t want to go back but she was not very thrilled about going with him.

“I meant what I said. You have to trust me. You have no other choice.”

She stared at him for one more moment before climbing into the car and putting on a seatbelt. They were silent as they drove through Gotham. He could feel the nervousness rolling off her but there was very little he could do about it. He did the one thing he could think of to ease her mind when he pulled off the road and into the drive thru at a Bat burger. It was a little thing. He was hungry. She probably was too, and it was an easy way for her to be more certain he wasn’t planning to just kill her.

He took her to his personal safehouse rather than the base. He didn’t want her spooked by the militia or all the guns and activity. Very few actually knew where the safehouse was. He didn't trust many to know where he slept, but he had a feeling that she could be trusted with the information.

He set the food at the table inside and the scene felt very domestic as they sat across from each other at his small table. It was better light in here so he was able to get a good look at her as she finished her food. She ate slowly and made no sudden movements. Her entire persona was meek, but it felt forced. He finished before her and pushed his back against the chair back as he stretched himself out. He stood and threw his paper wrappers in the trash and pulled out 2 beers from the fridge, offering one to her.

“So who are you?” he asked. “You don’t really seem like a career criminal.”

“I'm not, or I wasn't."

"Very vague explanation."

"I had dreams and plans before. I had a business and had just gotten an incredible contract. I went out with friends to celebrate.”

Red Hood kept watching and waited for her to finish but that seemed to be all of the story he was going to get out of her without more questions.

“How did that lead you to working for Sionis?”

“My friends and I didn’t know the area well. I had just moved here. But we found club Roman listed and that is where we went.”

“That is a well known cover for his business.”

“That is more clear to me now, but I didn’t know it at the time. It was purported to have a great singer and a dance show. That part was true.”

“Gonna need more of how you got involved with Sionis, Sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that,” she said vehemently.

He was taken aback and raised his hands in a surrender motion. She appeared to be working on calming her breathing, eyes wide in terror. But she took a deep breath and continued.

“My friends and I all piled into an uber to get home. We checked the driver and everything was correct. He was very polite and dropped them off first. My place was only a little further away but I never made it home. He was working for Sionis and brought me to see him. He told me I worked for him now. He wanted my new contract as a way to do his business and work against the other company.”

“How long ago was this?”

“I signed the Wayne contract in March.”

“And you have been working for him since?”

“I guess so. I don’t really think of it that way though.”

“You don't think of it that way? Is there a more eloquent way to say you are working for a mob boss?”

"You know a lot about his organization. You are familiar with Mr Zsasz?" Hood nodded without interrupting her. "He is covered in scars. It's very off putting before you know the reason. Then it is horrifying. He kills people, and for each person he kills he makes a mark."

"So you did what they said or he would kill you?"

"I tried to resist or escape at first. But Mr Zsasz had driven my friends home. He didn't only threaten me." She took a shaky breath. "Nor was I the only person they tried to convince to work with Black Mask. There was another man, he was brought in with his wife and daughter. They made me watch--"

Hood followed her out of the room when she suddenly stopped talking and bolted out of the room. He stood by the bathroom door for several minutes until she finished and then ran the water for several minutes cleaning herself up. When she came back out he offered a water. He said he didn't have ginger ale or crackers but he could make toast. She shook her head but took the water from him. Then she continued telling her story.

"The threats were always there. Usually they would just smack me around a bit if I didn't want to do something or possibly if they were bored. They would threaten my friends or tell me they had given up trying to find me." She wiped away tears. "If I gave in too quickly after a beating Mr Zsasz would show me his scars. He has a spot picked out for me. Once told me he wanted me to fight them because he wanted to fill my spot. He dragged me up by my hair and made me kiss it."

"He did what?" Red Hood could barely contain his anger. The whole story was making him irrationally angry.

"It wasn't about me, or anything like that. He wasn't interested in anything but torment and he was very good at that. He did it for the bit if blood that transferred from my bloody lip to the spot. He says he couldn't wait for his own blood to show in my spot." Her voice dropped to a whisper as she added. "He always called me Sweetheart because I didn't like it and he refused to use my name. Everyone did. I wasn't even a person to them."

"What is your name?"

"Marinette," she said quietly.

"Marinette, you are safe now. I'm not going to hurt you."

"Last time I tried to escape he said there was nowhere to run. He would find me no matter what and make his mark."

He paused for a moment, thinking. He knew the best option but he didn't really want to use it. But it was the best option for Marinette.

"I can't protect you." Her face fell at that. "What I mean is I'm dismantling the entire organization. I can't keep you safe but I know of people who can. Do you trust me?"

"You said I have to trust you."

"But you would actually have to rely on the trust for this. You would have to trust that you will be safe with the people I take you to."

"It doesn't seem like there is another option."

"Getting you out of town with a new identity could work. But you may always be on the run. This life you have would never be yours again."

"Okay. I will trust you."

They left after that. He took her across many rooftops and around town. He seemed to be waiting for something but Marinette didn't know what until someone else landed. It was Batman, a known enemy of Red Hood and Black Mask. Marinette really hoped there wasn't going to be a fight.

"Took you long enough, old man."

"It was clear you were trying to draw me out. I wasn't going to jump into a trap."

"You are known for holding back, whether the situation calls for it or not. I'm proposing a temporary truce."

"How temporary is this truce?"

"One hour."

"That is very temporary. You clearly need me out of your plans right now. That sounds like the worst time for me to agree to a truce."

"I'm not making any moves. I need help or she does." He stood aside so Batman could see Marinette. "She was taken by Black Mask after securing a contract with Wayne Enterprises. Your connection to Bruce Wayne and Wayne Enterprises is well known."

He watched Bruce under the mask. His Batman mask slipped off his facial features while the cowl stayed firm. He knew Bruce was looking at his helmet and seeing Jason. He thought he was finally reaching the boy and Red Hood had no interest in correcting the misconception now. He would still complete his plan.

Black Mask had just become a higher priority and surprisingly he wanted to keep Marinette safe. He also had plans for Zsasz. He wanted to take him out personally. He shocked himself by reaching up to Marinette's chin and tilting it. She looked up at him as if he could tell their eyes were meeting even thought he had his helmet on. His thumb brushed against her jaw briefly before he dropped his hand.

"Keep her safe," he said without looking back at Batman. He couldn't stand to see Bruce looking at Jason again right now. He flipped off the roof and away before anyone else says anything but he crept back to a higher vantage point to watch as Batman took Marinette with him. She would be fine now.

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#jasonette july 2021 #maribat #jasonette #jasonette july #meet cute monday #boldlyanxious