Sharing an apartment with JASON TODD was certainly an interesting experience. Like playing 'What's In That Box?', but the metaphorical box is every drawer in your home. You've found silencers where you store your cutlery, knives in your pantry, and a fully loaded gun next to the toilet (God only knows why he thought that was a good idea).

Jason claims it was for protection, your protection, but you'd hurt yourself more times with them than actually defending yourself. It's not your fault he put his combat knife right next to the soap in the kitchen. Eventually, enough was enough and you made him put everything in one of his various safe houses. And he did it, of course, because it was you. You went about your life without the fear of cutting yourself on a hidden knife or freaking out because of a random gun stored where you kept the toilet paper. It was nice. Until you realized that he didn't actually stop. He just got better at hiding them. How did you find this out? A plumber had come out to fix your sink and found a loaded pistol hidden in-between the piping. After very a lame excuse as to why exactly there was a loaded gun there (It's Gotham, he's probably seen worse, right?) You were about to confront Jason. Then you realize. He's not gonna stop. He wanted you safe. He needed that reassurance. He needs a backup if he isn't enough. And then a backup to that backup. And so on and so forth. He needed to protect you. "Jason?" "Yeah?" "If you're gonna hide your shit, can you be better at it? Oh, we also definitely need to find a new plumber."

sandwiched between dick grayson and mark grayson. that’s it, that’s the post.

rest in peace Jason Todd, you would've loved me

Taking anti-depressant pills?? Seeing a therapist??? Journaling???? No need babe, my fav writer just dropped another x reader fic.

flight 37 lore

Antony Starr as THE HOMELANDER in THE BOYS

I just read your Jason todd post and wanted to ask why most you hurt me like this?/jk

But no seriously it's so great and made my heart wrench.and I didn't cry it was just raining...from my eyes

Anyways

OMG TYSM 😭 I'll get around to writing something less gut wrenching I swear. Just gotta get it out of my system

Boxer!jason is very intimate. Hand holding. Small touches on your back. Brushing your cheeks with the back of his hand.

If you ask boxer!Jason to put lotion on you he’ll do it. He’ll make a big thing out of it. Have like oils and a candle on. Tell you to relax and let his big hands take the lead.

When he finally lets you into his world, boxer!jason asks if you can kiss his gloves for good luck. He lets you pick which hype song he uses for the night.

Boxer!jason probably won’t let you go to sleep without telling you he loves you. Don’t even start him in getting into petty arguments. He won’t let you go to bed angry or alone. You could be on opposite sides of the bed but you’ll be sharing a bed with him.

All in all boxer!jason is the most intimate guy you know. And he probably only gets more intimate the longer he’s in a relationship with you. (Which is forever because by the six month mark he’s sure you’re the one he’s meant to be with.)

Homelander suit patterns 🧵

This is what I managed to see of the pixels haha

people who don't wear glasses are so weird like you just wake up and your eyes are pussy fresh??

jason todd i want to ride you your motorcycle.

I drew cats from stardew valley :D

kofi | commissions | instagram

Jason todd is the only batboy allowed at girls night.

Dick is mortally offended by this

Everyday I wake up and think about how I could've treated Gambit better than Rouge

Jason Todd can kill a man with his bare hands, but with you, they're as delicate as possible, like you're a porcelain doll, able to crack at the slightest touch. His fingers hover over your skin, a light as a feather you would think you were imagining things. He's cautious, carful, thoughtful. Everything else in his life has broke. Even him. But not you, never you. You can't. You're untouched. Perfect, never to do wrong. He worshipped you like a goddess, like you created heaven and earth. And you did.

You created his earth. His world. You were his heaven. When he died, he swore he saw you. You were his everything, his reason, his purpose, his love, his hope. He was so in love it hurt. Every look shared between you, his mind swirled with possibilities. He couldn't live if something happened to you because of him. He couldn't live without his world. It was an odd place to be stuck in. Scared of staying, scared of leaving. He kept his distance. Touches were never long. Lips ghost against yours. It's like he's never fully there. Every night, the cold side that was suppose to be his haunted you. It's hard to love a ghost. It's like being in love with a figment of your imagination. You find yourself questioning if he's even real. Every time he comes home, he proves to you that he is. That brought upon its own set of questions, heart crying out for more of what it was deprived. Were you not enough reason to stay? Were you not enough? Was he yours like you were his?

You felt like the moon, forever revolving around the Earth, compelled to, even. Always at a safe distance, longing for more. That is, until one night. He comes home, smashing his helmet to the wall. The landlord won't like that, but a problem for another day. Without thinking he crashes into your arms, head buried into your chest. The Earth crashed into the moon. Hell will follow, you both knew that. But it didn't matter. You had him. He had you. that was enough.

he red on my hood till I crowbar