Jason Todd has Big Dick Energy just putting that out there 

Tell me I’m wrong

You’re wrong it’s huge

26-year-old Jamarion Robinson’s grandmother Beverly Nixon said her grandson was bipolar and schizophrenic. Still got shot 76 (!!!) times. Would a white person get the same treatment?

The witness said he saw more than a dozen patrol cars at the complex where US Marshals killed Robinson on August 5, 2016. Why were there no behavioral specialist? Surely one of them would know how to interact with a bipolar schizophrenic better than the police.

I’m absolutely disgusted.

Here’s Jamarion’s mother’s GoFundMe in case anyone is willing to help.

#JusticeForJamarion   #BlackLivesMatter

Oh god ..

this is how much they’ve raised as of June 26th, 2020.

$48,589 out of $100,000 raised as of September 28th, 2020

$52,212 as of January 19th 2021

This is still relevant. If you can’t offer financial support please do your part and share so it can get to people who can.

#JusticeForJamarian

#BlackLivesMatter

-cottagecore inspired makeups, pinterest

So I’m really close to my next follower milestone at 2k, something like 13 followers away close, and I am wracking my brain on what to do in celebration…any suggestions?

So now it’s like 7 followers away and I still have no idea what to do

can we get this amazing creator to 2k

Making friends with people from other countries is so crazy. I sent my group chat a Big Bird gif.

And this one girl says, “why isn’t he blue?”

I’m like, the fuck you mean??

So today I learned that in the Dutch version of Sesame Street, they do, in fact, have a blue Big Bird.

I was baffled by this so I went on Muppets Wiki and guess what.

In Mexico, Big Bird is green and his name is Abelardo.

Turkish Big Bird (aka Minik Kus) is apparently fucking orange.

This looks like a fuckin alternate universe or smth. I can’t.

I need to be able to have more tags lol

when i tell you i gagged at how funny this is- I GAGGEDDD

y/n: come on, you’re amazing, you have nothing to be insecure about

Jason: that’s way too emotionally supportive

Leave a message (Part 2)

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Part 1: https://oh-no-here-we-go.tumblr.com/post/641364652893306880/leave-a-message

A/n: I know Jason was younger when he died, but for the sake of fanfics, they’re eighteen. Jason died, and six months later, he’s alive, then, I gave him another six months for training and his debut as red hood. 

For those who asked for part two : @akira-morgenstern @shadowolf993 @witchymermaid12 @jasontoddsbae @zeet-karmoodi @cartwheelandfaceplant @somebodytooo @hunterscoffee @introvertedrhi @jaybirdsbitch

If I didn’t tag you, I didn’t see! 

Summary: Everybody copes differently. When Jason died, the reader continued to call his number for months on end, leaving messages about her day even though he never answered.

Until he did.

Tw: Stalking

—-

“I love you too, doll. Forever and always.”

You paused. Your lips curved around words that never came, your voice lost to shock. You weren’t sure how to react.

On one hand, you wanted to believe that it was Jason behind the phone. It was Jason’s voice. It had the same rumble husking the edges of his words, the same purr of a low murmur, and the same softness that was reserved just for you.

But Jason had died a year ago.

You hung up. 

Whoever thought it would be to funny to prank a grieving woman on the anniversary of her boyfriend’s death was psychotic. You rubbed your face, your nails drawing red lines into your cheeks. 

“Fucking hell,” you muttered. “Sadist.”

It had been everything you wanted to hear, but a fraction of what your heart longed to feel. You wanted more than his voice. You wanted to sink into his embrace. You wanted to tease a laugh from his steady composure, and draw a smile from his face when it was pinched with anger. You’d gotten used to the fact that he was never coming back, but he hadn’t really left you, either. You hadn’t prepared to hear something back from one of the many voicemails that left you in tearful silence. 

You wiped your eyes. 

“Asshole.”

It was probably Dick trying to help, since Bruce still paid Jason’s phone bill. You didn’t know where he’d gotten the recording of those words, or how he’d stitched together the sentence with whatever editing skills he kept up his sleeve of secret talents. It was cruel and invasive.

If it was Dick behind it, then he would’ve listened to you talk. He would’ve listened to everything. How many voicemails did he hear?

You shook you head free of the bitter accusation. You didn’t know if it was Dick or not, but even if it was or wasn’t, you knew you’d be avoiding him while you could. 

You spent the rest of your afternoon crying over the ghost of Jason’s words, and the whisper of a thought wondering what it’d be like if it’d been you and not him. 

—-

You stared at your phone. 

Whoever had answered your call the day before was probably waiting for another, and you weren’t ready to risk the possibility of somebody other than Jason hearing you recount your day without stopping for a response. 

You’d never felt self-conscious about leaving him a message, but now you were wondering what it looked like to everybody but you. You knew you were somewhat a train-wreck. A shell of who you used to be. It had never bothered you like it should’ve- after all, they’d never understand. You’d shut down the topic quick enough, and you’d never had to think about it. 

But now you did.

Insecurity crawled over your skin. Leaving voicemails had been your only hope to cope, and now that was taken away, too. You stared at your phone, picking at your nails. 

You wanted to leave a message. Needed to. 

But for the first time in a year, you didn’t. 

—-

When Jason’s number flashed over your screen, you thought you were hallucinating. You’d stared at his name, wondering if you should pick up. Your phone buzzed against the kitchen island, and it never stopped until you shoved your phone into the back of your fridge, determined not to look at it. It wasn’t the smartest idea, but it was the only idea you had. The prank was going too far, and it had already exceeded your boundaries the second you heard Jason’s voice the last time you’d left a message.

Breaking out of a habit like that felt close to recovering from a drug addiction. You hadn’t realised how dependent you’d been on calling him until you’d found yourself hyperventilating at the fact that you couldn’t anymore. The voicemails were meant just for him and nobody else. Those voicemails were thick with the kind of feelings you’d never share, not even with your closest friend. 

And now somebody had heard it. Somebody with the voice of Jason. Somebody you wanted to scream at for making it hurt all over again. 

When you’d eventually gathered the confidence to collect your phone from the fridge, it was still ringing. The caller was persistent, and he or she hadn’t stopped. Their determination hadn’t wavered, even with the long stretches of time that you went ignoring your phone and hiding it so you’d resist answering. You were going to work without it and slowly, ever so slowly, isolating yourself from the world. 

All because of a number you were too scared to confront. 

You knew if it were anybody else, if it were a scam that kept hunting you down until you had no choice or route of escape to pursue, you’d put them in their place and scare them into the eighteenth circle of hell. 

But this wasn’t just a number. And even if it was a scam, it still owned Jason’s name like a trophy to wave in a loser’s face. A loser being you. 

Two weeks later, you’d had enough. You steeled yourself in place and steadied your voice to hide the angry tears. This was going too far, and despite wanting your boyfriend back more than anything you’d ever wanted in your life, you weren’t going to feign obliviousness to a voice that sounded too much like Jason to be anybody else. 

“Look,” you snapped, snatching your phone from the fridge. “I don’t know what you want. I don’t know what you know, and that trick you played the other day might’ve been funny to you but not to anybody else. I lost my boyfriend and I haven’t been doing too well, and you pretending to be him, having his voice and using it especially to say something like that is nothing but pure…” You scrambled for a word. “Bullshit.”

You ended the call before the person on the other side could say whatever they wanted to say. 

They didn’t try ringing you for another week.

—-

You changed your number, and the calling stopped. But something else replaced it.

Something worse.

You felt like you were being watched, and you knew it wasn’t just a feeling when you saw a glimpse of a show swooping over the city skyscrapers. It wasn’t paranoia, like you blamed it on at the start. When you saw that shadow more than once, ducking out of sight when you turned to stare, you knew you were being followed.

And you knew they wouldn’t stop.

You weren’t a detective, by any means, but it didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. The streets of Gotham were generally populated by immoral imbeciles. Getting catcalled and followed wasn’t something you hadn’t experienced before.

But never had somebody attempt to surveil you, if you’d even dare to call it that. They were doing such a shit job you almost wanted to play their game a little longer and entertain the possibility that you hadn’t noticed, but you were beginning to feel unsafe. 

Your secret admirer had never followed you home. They’d meet you halfway on your usual path to work, and follow you back to the point where they’d started. But now, visiting the grocery store a month after it’d begun, your stalker hadn’t given up pursuing you. They’d never talked to you and did their best to stay out of your sight. They hadn’t even done anything to give you the impression that they were plotting something unspeakably sinister, but then again- they were still stalking you.

And that was becoming an issue. 

You started to stay over at CJ’s every second night, but you’d still see their warped silhouette crouched on the edge of a roof a few houses down. 

“What’re you looking at?” CJ asked. You spared your stalker one last glance and smiled the best you could. 

“Nothing.”

“No, seriously.”

“It’s nothing,” you insisted. “Movie night?”

“Hell yeah.”

You felt his presence against the window behind the couch, but when CJ didn’t, you pretended not to, too. 

—-

The calling started again.

You wished you could tell Jason. He’d have your stalker’s head on a silver platter in a heart beat, and even if he didn’t he’d make you feel safe. You knew ideally, you didn’t really need him to protect you. But it would’ve felt nice not to do everything on your own. 

The apartment still looked like it belonged to a couple and not one, grieving girlfriend who still cooked for two. 

When the phone went unanswered, you’d blow a breath out, hoping it wouldn’t start again. They never left a voicemail or a message, and even if they did, you knew you wouldn’t look. The phone would ring again and again without fail, and it didn’t matter how many numbers you blocked or how many you changed. 

It’d continue to ring, and you were starting to realise you had no choice but to answer if you wanted a way out. 

Your phone sat at your feet another day, buzzing with that same ridiculous ringtone he’d chosen for himself. You fidgeted, wondering what to do.

You knew that by now, you should’ve gone to the police. But with the number of heroes increasing, and normal police forces doing the opposite, what was left of the law enforcement units were a few, donut-loving men who were too old too work but too bored to retire. 

The phone stopped ringing. 

You sagged against the side of your bed when it didn’t start again, straightening when a notification passed the top of your screen.

You have one voice message from Jason Todd. 

You held your breath, your finger quivering over your phone. You weren’t sure if it was the best idea to answer it, but if it meant peaceful grieving free from strangers assuming the identity of your dead boyfriend, then you’d do anything to stop it. 

You drew your legs to your chest and hooked your chin over your knees, closing your eyes. Beads of tears wet your lashes and crawled down your cheeks. 

“Hey, doll. It’s me, Jason. I know it doesn’t make sense. It’s doesn’t make any fucking sense to me, actually. But it’s me. I swear it’s me. I’m not a fucking scam. You need to believe me, doll. I can’t keep secrets from you. I’m not dead… Anymore. Shit. I don’t know. But it’s been a year, and I’ve been listening to your voice messages. You left one everyday. That’s some real dedication, Y/n. And loyalty. I didn’t get much of that. I’m not… I’m not actually supposed to be talking to you, but I still love you, Y/n. I never stopped. And you didn’t either, so… We need to talk. Fuck. I need to go. Just… Just answer, please?”

Silence. 

You muffled a sob against your fist. Your next breath was thin and shallow, and your body jolted with your next hiccup.

That was his voice. 

“Oh, Jason…” You shook you head. “I wish you were here.”

It may be his voice. It may be exactly how he would’ve said it, but it wasn’t real. You knew it wasn’t real.

It couldn’t be. 

You dug your fist into your heart until it marked the skin with a bruise. A bruise that would never match the pain of loss, and the reminder of it in his voice. 

—-

The voicemails continued. 

“Y/n, please. I just need you to say yes, and I’ll explain everything. I promise.”

You’d never heard him to sound so desperate, so broken. It wasn’t that Jason could never be more than a wall of pretty face and charming bad boy persona, but it was that Jason had always favoured his independence to a fault. He liked to do things on his own, and even when he was suffering, he would never get down on his knees and beg the person responsible. 

“Doll, I need to tell you how fucking sorry I am. I fucked up. Sort of. Not really. But I didn’t mean to leave you on your own like that. I would’ve thought that you’d moved on, you know. Find somebody-”

It’s always going to be you, Jay.

“- And just… I don’t know. You were just… You were the only person who didn’t think I was dead. Fucking hell, Y/n. I’m not good at this. You know that. But I need to tell you a lot of things, and, and… Fuck it. I love you, Y/n. Answer soon, got it, doll?”

I love you too. 

You didn’t really know what to think, at this point. A part of you wanted to meet with him, and accept the truth for what it was. Despite all of the weird kinds of shit that went down in Gotham, you weren’t a believer of the paranormal. You saw Jason’s mangled body in that casket. You saw the dirt swallow it, and the flowers to follow his goodbye. 

Jason was dead. 

But the more voicemails that you got, the more you had to question. The voicemails became a habit, and you listened to them everyday. They never ranged farther from a big secret that he wanted to tell to your face, and a string of sorries that didn’t mean anything but pretty words that would never make up a year of his absence. You’d thought he was dead. You’d believed he was dead, and you’d clung to the ends of what his memory had left behind. 

“I can’t tell you on phone, Y/n. It’s not that easy, as much as I want it to be.”

If he told you over the phone, you wouldn’t believe him anyway. There was nothing that could be more unbelievable than Jason being alive after a year of mourning his death and cuddling up to his picture frame.

Ugh. 

You were starting to realise how ridiculous you were, but unlike how you’d stopped leaving voicemails, you could never stop doing the things you’d engraved into your routine. That was…

That was too much.

Jason’s voice was too much. 

A knock on your door. 

You frowned, halfway through making dinner an hour after you’d returned from work. It was too late for visitors, and CJ hadn’t called to warn you of a spontaneous appearance in your apartment when her mood warmed up to the thought. 

Nobody really liked coming to your apartment, anyway. That was fine. You didn’t want them over, either. They stunk your place with death, and as long as nobody was there to remind you that Jason wasn’t there to read the book he’d never finished and drink his nighttime tea, you’d never have to feel like his seat was empty when you ate across it. 

The knocking started again.

You wondered if it was ‘Jason’, giving up on calling you and instead taking it into his own hands. 

Swallowing, you gripped your kitchen knife. It was wet with tomato juice but just as threatening if you didn’t say. 

You turned the doorknob and inched it open. 

“Hello?” You called. 

A dark-haired boy stared back at you. He couldn’t be more than seventeen, but the dark circles that ringed his eyes made him look older than he was. 

“Are you… uh…” He blushed. “Are you Y/n L/n?”

You dipped your head into a tentative nod.

“Yes, that’s me. You are…?”

“Tim,” the boy supplied. When he realised that wasn’t helpful, he straightened. “Tim Drake-Wayne. Do you, uh, do you remember me?”

You squinted. It’d been a while since you’d spent time with the Wayne’s, and you’d only met them twice. Once, when Jason was alive to introduce you, and another after his funeral. 

Even though you stayed at the manor here and there, you were always gone before you had a chance to get to know any of them. The whole family was busy. It didn’t leave room for anything outside their schedules.

Tim. Tim Drake. Timothy?

It had only been a year, but he’d changed so much. He’d matured into the kind of man that belonged to the Waynes. 

“Oh,” you realised. “Hello.”

Tim fidgeted. “Hello.”

A pregnant pause. 

You opened the door and held out a hand.

“Would you like to come in?”

“U-uh, no. Um…” Tim looked back at the hall like he was checking for reassurance. You followed his gaze, and he moved into your view before you could see. You didn’t miss the flash of a shadow outside the window at the end of the hall.

“Tim,” you drawled. “Why are you here?”

It wasn’t that you weren’t happy to see him. You were. You’d never clicked, but it had never been this awkward. Tim swallowed and pulled at his collar nervously, like he was risking everything if he messed up.

You tried not to lift a judging eyebrow and encouraged him with a smile.

“Can I help you?” You asked instead. He nodded.

“Have you been getting calls from…” Tim’s lips thinned into a thoughtful line. “You’ve received calls from Jason.” 

You stared at Tim, wondering where this was going. 

“Yes,” you confirmed. “Can I ask why?”

Tim shook his head, deflecting your attempt to understand. “You should… You should answer him.”

You blinked. “You can’t be serious.”

“I can’t say anything else.”

“But-” You gripped the doorway, your chest seizing with confused panic. “He’s… He’s… He’s gone. I saw his body in that casket. i saw, I saw-”

Get a hold of yourself, you thought. Poor Tim didn’t know what to do.

“I’ll think about it,” you finished. Tim nodded, unsure, and left your doorway with nervous, jerky footsteps. You wondered why he was so jittery, and if he was trying to hint at something you were too oblivious to understand.

Was he trying reverse psychology? Was he trying to tell you not to talk to him?

You didn’t know.

All you knew was that you couldn’t run anymore, and you’d get nowhere if you tried. 

You picked up your phone. A voice message was already waiting for you to open, and you did.

“Talk to me, Y/n. I’m on the roof.”

—-

What the fuck am I doing?

You honestly didn’t know. There was nobody but yourself to kick some sense into you, but your opinions were muddled and you didn’t know wrong from right. You wanted to see Jason again. You wanted that more than anything, but you were terrified of being tricked.

You were terrified that if it was all a nasty, well-planned prank, it’d be like he died all over again and you’d have nothing to save yourself with. You were already hanging by a thread. With every unanswered question, it splintered and broke. You’d catch yourself on a ledge and rebuild your thread, but it wouldn’t be long until there was nothing left to grab onto. 

You were bordering on the brink of insanity, and there was nothing you could do.

You wrapped a coat around your body and tucked his scarf around your neck. You’d attempted knitting once, just to see if you could explore another hobby. It didn’t really work out, but at least Jason got a scarf out of it. He wore it every winter with a proud smile. 

Your fear burst into a bonfire of terror when the elevator stopped at the roof. You almost didn’t step out, but you knew if you didn’t, you’d risk never having the answers you needed.

You’d risk never seeing his face again. 

A voice message would never be the same as listening to his voice when he whispered into your ear. A picture would never be the same as watching his face contort into a happy smile.

Your fingers curled around the doorknob, and you pulled your coat tighter over your shoulders with your other hand. You regretted leaving your apartment without some kind of weapon. This was the roof, after all. If this wasn’t Jason, and some weirdo who roped Tim into doing his bidding, he could easily push you off the edge for the fun of it.

Because ‘fun’ meant toying with people’s emotions, even if their emotions were sensitive with a thick lining of grief. 

It was too late to tell yourself to go back. You were already up there, and you could hear the roar of the city wind hammering against the door. Was it a warning not to go?

You had to.

You gritted your teeth and turned the knob, forcing yourself out with your eyes clenched shut. You were afraid of what you’d see if you opened them.

You were afraid of what you wouldn’t if you did.

“Open your eyes, doll.”

His voice. Jason’s voice.

You weren’t sure if it was only you hearing it, and the world playing tricks on you for whatever hellish excuse.

“I can’t,” you whispered. “I can’t do this.”

“Please,” he begged. You did. 

You weren’t sure what you were looking at, but it wasn’t Jason you saw. You stumbled back against the door, blinding fumbling for the handle. What was the Red Hood doing on your roof, with the voice of Jason? You’d seen him on the news, but you knew nothing about him apart from the fact that he wasn’t a hero or a villain. He was just Batman’s nuisance, but somehow a feat of his own.

“Wait,” the man started, and you flinched. “Wait, please. Y/n. Shit.”

“Who are you?” You demanded. “Who-”

He tore his mask from his face, clenching it in a fist. There.

There was the face of the man you loved, even when he’d been stolen by the hands of death. Or so it seemed.

Tears blurred you vision, and you rushed to wipe them away. You didn’t know whether to run to him, or run away. Jason’s jaw had sharpened and his skin had thinned around his cheeks. He wore a series of new scars you didn’t remember him having, and a streak of grey that definitely wasn’t there before.

“What-w-w-” You shook your head. “How?”

Jason attempted a step forward and held out his hand for you to take.

You stared at it, and then at the face of the man that you’d missed so much. He was looking at you so intently, his eyes glossy with tears that never fell. 

Shock. Disbelief. Desperation.

And so much love. 

You took his hand and propelled yourself into his arms. 

And there we have it! Part 2. I’ll be writing Part 3, but I think it’s safe to finish here. We’ll see. Just so you know, my requests are open for all the batboys. I hope you like it!

I NEED MORE OMG this is pure joy angst sadness i need this in jasons pov i want to read how he listens to the voice messages how hurt he is like- omggggg i love this to muchchchchchhhc ahhahahhahhah I love it this soooo sooo ughghhhh wait what about tim omg what does tim have to say wait omg jason prob like cyber bullied tim for a year for taking his place omggggg I CAN’T JUST AHHHHHH

Leave a Message

Pairing: Jason Todd x fem!reader

Summary: Everybody copes differently. When Jason died, the reader continued to call his number for months on end, leaving messages about her day even though he never answered.

Until he did.

Tw: Grief and a bit of self-harm. 

A/N: The reader doesn’t know about him being the red hood, or his vigilante life working under batman before he became it. Please enjoy!

Keep reading

I Need more angst

dressing for yourself be like that sometimes

such is the way of jason todds everywhere

Which is why he will be staying dead @reidsnor @eazlby love and light to y’all tho ❤️

Literally i wont let it happen.

I will shoot as soon as I see his silly little cat ears

I’ve got a bad feeling abt who y’all buried

Posting these around town I will get him one day 😤😤😤

@symeona​​’s blessed au is the only way to defeat your cursed au at this point

Crime rate is def at 100% atm

Rum Tum Todder is on the loose

wtf

new meme format go ham

I mean…. what else would I do with it?

honestly meeeee

Masterlist

Series:

And When Everything Blows Over, I’ll Be Here (Jason Todd)

“We’re two kids fighting against the world. You do need me.”

“I don’t need you! I don’t need anyone!”

Trust was always something hard for Y/N to understand. Trust was a word she hated, something so vile is made her sick. He wanted to be the one she could lean on, but she wanted nothing to do with him even if they were two kids against the world. Trust will always be something she would never put into someone.

Chapter One

Chapter two

One Shots:

Lost (Jason Todd)

❝Y/N, if you can hear this find me at the security room.❞

Word count: 617

Warnings: none

I Promise (Requested)

❝When you left, I thought I shouldn’t care, that with us being friends, you wouldn’t take a part of me.❞

Warnings: Mentions of heartbreak, blood, a bit of angst.

Word count: 1959

Sweetheart (Requested)

❝Would it be Jason or Red Hood?❞

Warnings: FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF! With a side of ass kickin.

Word count: 1077

Drabbles

Self Defense

❝Now, why would you go and do that?❞

❝Self-defense.❞

Warnings: mentions of brutality, not too happy father Bruce, blood.

Word count: 567

i’ve read these to many times

Self-Defense (Jason Todd Drabble)

Masterlist

With a small huff, you sat down. Where? In a jail cell. The jail cell that would have not only Jason yelling at you but also Bruce and everyone else. Though you could easily say it wasn’t your fault. Self-defense landed you here. Or it was nearly the fact that a girl had spoken a little too much about your boyfriend that your eye twitched and a fist flew her way a little too hard she fell back on the first blow and easily ate up 4 more punches before someone threw you off of her.

Self-defense my ass.

You groaned head finding its way to rest on the brick wall that laid behind you. A cop, Officer Cash, walked up to your cell with a frown. He had known you, but not personally. He knew your other life better than he knew your real one. Your heart sank knowing Bruce would take away your patrol for about a month with this little slip-up.

“Now, why would you go and do that?” His question wasn’t meant to attack you, rather he was confused. He knew you as “Bruce’s little girl.” Not someone who beat the shit out of a girl who talked too much about your boyfriend.

“Self-defense.” That line had him chuckle, his head shaking as he knew that was certainly not correct. You had gone after her with intent to hurt, not protect yourself.

“I called your father. He’ll be coming to pick you up soon.”

Soon wasn’t enough to plan out how you’d apologize. Soon wasn’t enough to prepare yourself for the lecture from Jason. Soon was now. Because the moment Cash turned away the doors were open to show a very angry Jason Todd. He looked tired and you wondered if Bruce woke him up to pick you up.

Jason looked around quickly eyes landing on your cell. With a small frown on your face, you watched as he stormed over brows knitted together in anger.

Cash didn’t say anything as he unlocked your cell opening up for you to leave. But right now you’d rather have stayed in there and not near your very angry boyfriend. Jason noticed your lack of moving and scoffed gesturing you to fucking move it. You knew there was no arguing with the 6ft man so you stood making your way towards him.

“Let’s go.” He grabbed your hand within his and led you out of the precinct. You noticed the lack of his motorcycle, rather having one of the cars. You quickly got into the passenger seat Jason taking the driver seat. “Let me see your hand.”

Of course you didn’t argue with him. You showed him your bloodied fist watching as he inspected it carefully then shaking his head eyes glaring at you for merely a moment before a smile. A fucking smile.

“That’s my girl.” You almost coughed on your spit at the words.

“You’re not mad at me?” Your confusion almost had him laughing, instead, you got a soft chuckle.

“Of course not, babe. I’d beat the hell outta anyone that decided to talk about you.” His grin was something else. “Now when we get back to the manor though just know Bruce is pissed off. So I have to act mad too or we’ll both get it.”

“That’s so not fair!” You cried.

“Life isn’t fair sometimes sweetheart.”

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With 3 birds over, I’ll be resetting my taglist back to zero (except for those known mutuals and friends) for future one shots and a new series I’m still plotting. Mostly because tumblr is a bitch and it won’t let me tag all of you, and also so those who aren’t interested much in my future posts won’t have to be bothered. 

Like, Reblog, or Reply to this post and you will be added to the MAIN TAGLIST which involves all my fics (Mostly Jason Todd x Reader, Occassional Dick x Reader and Tim x Reader, future series) If you want to be in a taglist for just a specific kind of post (A series, just one of the boys), please specify in the replies below.

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