hiii love your headcannons and stories!! Do you have a master list?

not yet!! I'm working through some of my other writings first, then getting to putting it all together in a master list

Domestic!Jason who cooks for you almost every night he can. Music plays on a speaker sat on the counter as he stirs at the fried rice he's making, softly humming to the tune. Domestic!Jason who dedicates at least thirty minutes a night to reading his books. It helps him wind down for the night, with you cuddled into his side, either sleeping or reading a book of your own, or whatever you do to help yourself wind down. Domestic!Jason who wakes up every morning to make a healthy smoothing for himself and breakfast of your choice. He wants you to start your day out right, with a full, health, well balanced meal to get you through the morning. Domestic!Jason who surprisingly keeps your shared apartment rather tidy. He dedicates a day to cleaning once a week, making sure no mess builds up. He doesn't want you living in filth. Domestic!Jason <3

KEEP AMERICA SAFE☆☆☆

JASON TODD didn't want a dog. He lived in an apartment with you, with one bedroom, a tiny kitchen and a living room that looked like the furniture decorated in it would fall apart at any moment.

But one day, he comes home to you, sleeping in your bed with a little bull mastiff puppy on his side of the bed. He stares at the dog for a few moments, before going to take off his Red Hood outfit, as though that would make the situation disappear. When he comes back, the dog was still there. Of course.

Gently, Jason shakes you awake, giving you a pointed look. "Got anything you want to share with me, babe?" He asks, eyes trailing down to the dog, still asleep on the bed. A sheepish smile crosses your face. "I can explain?" You say, though it comes out more like a question. "I was volunteering at the animal shelter and found him. He didn't like being with the other dogs in cage but they didn't have enough space to isolate him." "So you thought the best plan was to bring home a dog that can grow to be 150 pounds?" I scoffs lightly. "No, no! I'm fostering him. Just for a little bit," You say quickly. "I thought since he's still a puppy he would be adopted quickly, right? So we won't have to make space for when he gets that big." Jason lets out a soft sigh and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before speaking again. "You're too good," He murmurs softly. You smile up at him and return the kiss onto his cheek. After a few moments, Jason clears his throat and looks down at the puppy, still sprawled out onto his side of the bed. "So where am I going to sleep?" ... JASON TODD sucks at being a foster. He's terrible, horrible, even. If you were to look up 'How to not foster a dog', they would just show his face. It wasn't that he neglected the dog. He could never. He took him out on runs, fed him good food, washed him, played with him. Everything a dog owner could do. No, the reason Jason was so bad was because his first ever foster dog turned out to be a foster failure. Every time someone came by interested in adopting the puppy, Jason would be in your ear, whispering to you that it didn't seem like they knew what they were doing, or that the puppy wouldn't like living with them. Every. Single. Time.

It wasn't till the three month mark of fostering the pup, having moved to a more spacious apartment, that Jason popped the question.

"You know," He starts suddenly while the two of you were on the couch, eating Chinese take out with the dog resting on the floor nearby. "No one here seems to be right for Buster." Buster, his name for the dog. He's used it so much he actually started responding to it. "There's someone, I'm sure," You counter, taking a bite of your food. "I know there is," Jason counters. Just as you open your mouth to tell him that makes no sense, he cuts you off. "Us. We're right for Buster." "Think," He says, reaching out to grip your hand. "For three months, we've had him, we've moved with him. He has his spot in the bed, we've worked him into our schedule. He's happy. Why ruin that?" "So you want to adopt him?" You ask, making sure you understood just exactly what he was saying. It felt too good to be true. "Yeah, I do," He says with a small smile. As soon as he finishes speaking you practically lung at him, tackling him into a hug while whispering small 'thank you's. The action makes Buster jump up and want to join in on whatever is going on, leaping onto the couch and sniffing at the two of you, his massive head bumping you both. In that moment, Jason knew he made the right choice. This felt right. It felt good. It felt like home. You, him, and your giant dog.

Salad

i love reading a good jason todd fic but i HATE when i read and y/n says they don’t want jason to kill 🙃 i would literally hand him the match to burn down the city if he wanted to. i will support your killings babe. it’s the morally grey in me.

so when a man wants to motorboat some tiddies it’s quiet but when I say I wanna stick my face between jason todd’s big ole pecs and go brrrrr suddenly I’m “being unladylike” and “ruining brunch”

Here’re a bunch of marvel character designs

X-Men: The animated series vs X-Men '97 opening

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