we belong together

[impliedillogic]

𝙉𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙜𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

ANIVIE જ⁀➴ ♡ she/her. 20s. Gotham Inhabitant.

ㅤᥫ᭡.Taking Requests.ᐟᥫ᭡.

⋆˚꩜｡M.LIST⋆˚꩜｡ ⋆˚꩜｡RULES⋆˚꩜｡ ⋆˚꩜｡ RECENT⋆˚꩜｡

© impliedillogic. do not modify, repost, translate, plagiarize, or claim my work as your own without permission.

[impliedillogic]

The good things in life seemed to be averse to Dick Grayson.

c/w: Illusions to birth and birthing complications

At least that's what echo in his head as his sit next to you at home watching your baby on the computer. Your little one had wires attached to every possible inch of exposed skin. And the tubes made both of your stomachs turn, but you couldn't turn away. Because your child were too beautiful. Too frail. Because what if you looked away and then the life in them was gone.

This wasn't supposed to be like this. Jason and his partner never went through this but Dick...He couldn't help feel responsible for it all. For your condition, for the state of the baby. What did he do to deserve such misfortune as this?

[impliedillogic]

News somehow broke that you and Dick are in a relationship. And it's not good (Dick Grayson x Fem!Reader)

W/C: 1.5k

a/n: Been watching some sitcoms and wanted to write a sitcom-esque piece. (whatever that means)

You shouldn’t have read it. You should have listened to all the advice and kept off the internet. But you just had to be curious.

You scroll past several comments about the oddity of your relationship with Dick. And to the commenters credit it was strange. You and Dick had met shortly after his stint with Bludhaven PD while you were performing as Nightwing at a kids’ birthday party. Not a crowning moment but money repaired all lost dignity, plus Dick was a good bonus too.

 You wipe your sweaty hands as you scroll past a particularly offensive cluster of commenters.

@inthatmode Can’t believe he settled for a homewrecker.

         @talkaboutbruno We all know she’s after his money.

        @losemeloveme Hopefully she can buy a new face!

        @carsongroove She’s going to need more than that to be worthwhile

        @majestymajor I think people like her should di–

You slam your phone onto the couch. The words swirl around your head making you dizzy. Your body slinks off of the couch. You lay face down on the floor trying to reorient yourself. Then the front door clicks.

Dick doesn’t even stumble as he sees your body, stiff and straight, laying in the middle of the living room. Instead, he shrugs off his jacket, kicks off his shoes and ambles over to you. He lets out a huff as he lowers himself beside you (years of death-defying stunts will do that to you).  Then lays down at your side.

“Hey.”

“Hi” Your voice, muffled by the floorboard, causes Dick to chuckle.

“You gonna come up for air?”

“Why’d you settle for me?” You turn your face enough to look at him. He cocks his head to the said and you swear you see puppy ears flop on his head.

“You read those articles, didn’t you?”

“They’re everywhere and — “You murmur.

“They’re wrong.”

“But –” “Babe.” “Dick. Just answer. Did you settle for me?”

“No.”

“Okay. Well, did you break up with Barbara because of me.”

“Me and Babs broke up because we didn’t want the same things. You know this.”

“I know but… it’s weird right. You break up and then we get together. And maybe I overstepped while you guys were together. Or sent you a signal. And oh my god, I never wanted to be a homewrecker”

“First off, I am not something that can be stolen. Secondly, stop letting the comments get into your head. Need I remind you we waited months before even having our first date which Babs set up. Just stop caring about what those people think. They’re miserable.”

“You don’t know what it’s like.” You plop your head back down. Your forehead stinging from the force. You probably look idiotic. A laugh bubbles up inside of you. But this wasn’t funny. You are public enemy one in both Gotham and Bludhaven. You don’t even think Joker got this much hate, and that clown kills people. The laugh finally breaks through. Your body shakes are your snicker turns into a full cackle. At some point you rolled over onto your back, tears pricking your eyes. And you just let them fall. You were more hated than a murderous clown. A. Murderous. Clown.

“Being ultra visible is hard.” Dick rubs the back of his neck.

Your laughter finally calms down and all you left with are tears streaked cheeks. “That’s not the problem.” You rasp “At least it’s not the whole problem. Being attached to you is like flagging down a homing missile. Everything I do is calculated, written about, debated over. I can’t even do the things I used to love like mindlessly scrolling on the internet because I might bump into a comment or accidentally like something that suggests I hate Barbara. And somehow, it’s all my fault. What about you? Why is none of it ever directed at you.”

“It’s not fair.” Dick agrees as he sits up, his face neutral. Your thankful that Dick didn’t take that offensively. You could have worded it differently, but you wanted to come from an honest place. Dick was a celebrity; unwarranted comments were bound to come. But the vitriol people were spitting your way felt disproportionate. You’re sure if they could find you, they’d come and brand you or maybe burn you at the steak.

“It’s not. Right now, you’re Fiyero, Barbara’s Glinda, and I’m the wicked witch.” You gesture wildly with your hands. Which Dick captures in his own.

“You re-watched Wicked?” He strokes your hands, two small circles before doing a figure eight and repeating.

“I was bored”

“Well then you must know that Fiyero is really in love with Elphaba.”

“But the public wants her dead.” You shake off Dick's hands and show him the threats you had gotten in the comments on the post.

“I’ll protect you”

“You won’t always be there, Dickie. And what about my family? They’re getting my hate run-off. You won’t be able to save them if something happened”

Dick felt heat prick his skin. It was true. Though he’ll never admit it out loud. He couldn’t keep you tucked into his back pocket. And that made him feel worthless. What was all his training for if it couldn’t keep the people, he loved safe. His gaze drifts somewhere beyond you.

“Dickie…” Now it’s your turn to stroke his hand

“Sorry, this is about you.”

“It’s technically about us both.”  Your voice comes out hoarse. “Maybe we were in over our heads.”

“You … regret this?”

“I…we should’ve taken more time to think.” You’d rather swan dive into a pool of sharks with meat wrapped around you than see the look in Dick eyes. Perhaps not everything should come from an honest place.

Dick squeezes your hand afraid you’ll vanish in that moment. “What can I do?”

“Let’s just leave it be for today, Dick” You shake lose his hands. You wanted to offer him more comfort. Tell him it would be alright but would it. Every second that passed the comments got louder and louder. Would they ever stop? What if someone takes it on themselves to “fix” your wrongs? Unlike Dick, you were still a regular citizen. You have a 9-5. You take transit. You go to community events. Dick could hide away from the public hate, turn off his screen and pretend they don’t exist that they don’t matter. But you didn’t have the luxury.

“Please.”

“Let’s just get some sleep.”  You kiss his cheek. And walk to your bedroom.

Dick side of the bed was cold. Of course it was. Last night’s conversation didn’t really give let’s work this out energy. You cringe. You had the right to be angry. But it wasn’t Dick’s fault that people were hostile. It’s not like he wrote the article. But as much as your heart panged at the thought of a crest-fallen Dick laying out on the couch. You couldn’t shake the truth. You and Dick were fundamentally different. You should have rejected him, saved everyone trouble. But you never knew when to leave things alone.

The bed creaks as you shift to sit up. The sun was filtering through the curtains showing early morning dance of the dust that you should most definitely clean up. But at least it was pretty.

A loud ping startles you. You reach for your phone number and see 10 text notifications from your friend. You freak. Someone died. Of course, this would happen, what does the universe have against you. You fumble with your phone and unlock it.

You click your tongue as you switch from messages to Instagram and go straight to Dick’s page. You sit up straighter as you see his newest post.

An ache forms in your cheeks and that’s when you realize how large you were smiling. Damn cute boyfriend. Cute missing boyfriend. You need to go find him. You fling your legs off the bed and head towards the living room. Sure enough, there he was stretched out in all his glory on the coach. You shuffle over to him. Throw yourself on to him and squeeze him tight. His usual scent embraces you back before Dick does.

“Thank you” You whisper.

“No need. I don’t even think I made things better.” He whispers back.

“Maybe not. But I’m glad you showed up and stood up.” You rest your chin on his chest. “And just so you know. I don’t regret this. I’m scared of it, but I’ll never regret it. Ever. And I really hate that I even alluded to it.”

“Yeah, that sucked. But I also get it. I guess I kind of forgot what dating in the spotlight can feel like.”

“And I perhaps overestimated my confidence. It’ll be more work, but I want to keep trying if you do”

He smiles. “Of course.”

The last of his words ushers in a silence that nestles over the two of you. And that silence stays there along with all your fears. Your desires. Your dreams. Every part of your two existences cohabitates that space so well that nothing feels overpowering. And the first time since last night you can relax.

a/n: Not overly proud of this one, but it was a fun exercise. Plus, I loved making the images! Sorry about being MIA life has been CRAZY (in a goodish way). I got into the university I wanted! Broke my computer TWICE. And now I’m preparing for really big things in life.

[impliedillogic]

Dick Grayson who remembers every single details of something that happened years ago, but forgets stuff from yesterday...

Dick's memory is impeccable, but peculiar. His memory is like a closet filled to the brim, nothing is ever forgotten just...misplaced.

He remembers what you wore the first time you meet, all the facts about that one series you like. But can't remember what he ate yesterday.

[impliedillogic]

Bruce x Reader

“Is now a good time?” Bruce’s voice struggled to escape past his chapped lips. He slumped into the doorframe. 

 “Not really.” You adjust your computer screen away from him. How much did he see? 

“Why?” His voice was so faint that you could barely even hear him. You spared him another glance, and your heart lurched. He’s exhausted; he should be asleep, not trying to do whatever this is. 

How could you possibly explain this to him? It's not like things like this come with a manual. You felt dirty, no, filthy. 

“I’d rather not say.” You squirmed a bit under Bruce’s stare. His eyes, you used to love, but now they are cloudy and stung like daggers.

“Is something wrong? Did I do something?” In that moment, Bruce looked familiar. Like the lover you had known—the one you used to hold close, whose body would intertwine to shield away from death's eager grasp.  You felt a smile graze your face, but as soon as it happened, it hit you. You were doing this to your Bruce. No, no, this wasn’t your Bruce. He could barely remember your name. Your Bruce was gone. But if that was so, why hasn’t the bile at the back of your throat gone away? 

“No, I am just busy with work.” You swallowed harshly. You prayed he would leave. Your hand trembled in her lap. 

“Okay.” Bruce pushed off the doorframe, but it took more effort than it should have. He looked at you one more time before leaving, hoping to get some rest. 

Three more months.Just three more months and then it's all over.

a/n: I've been busy (all good things) and working on a bigger project. So I don't have much to post. I decided I wanted to post something in between so this is a writing exercise I did a while back reimagined.

[impliedillogic]

Girl Dad Jason this, and Girl Dad Jason that. But can we talk about the absolute bullets this man would be sweating if he had a boy?

c/w: patriarchy, mentions of domestic abuse (please let me know if I missed anything, be kind to yourself and know it okay not to read everything you see.)

w/c: 1.5k (Sorry, this is a long one.)

Having a child, regardless of gender, is terrifying in and of itself. 

Here is this little person, completely reliant on you, not just for food and shelter, but for love and education. To learn what it is to be human. (Jason’s not even sure he’s able to answer that question since he’s essentially a walking corpse, but I digress.)

When you decided to have children, and the baby was a girl. Jason was the most attentive, sweet father. 

You never had to fight him to be an active parent (in fact, you’d probably have to fight to get time with your sweet baby girl).

As she grows, you and Jason work hard to instill in her the confidence that she is enough. To speak up for herself and her needs. To explore, to be free, to be loved.  

The whole adventure was heartening. Jason knew that you both were instilling a sense of wholeness in your daughter that would hopefully act as a shield as she grew.

Now, when you become pregnant again with a boy, Jason panics. That type where his soul disconnects from his body, and he’s watching everything unfold from the clouds. 

There were moments when he sat next to you, watching your daughter on the playground, thinking about the chaos this “boy” would bring to your world. This dread that he will be a terror, inflicting pain on people who look like you or his daughter. Honestly, he wished the baby had never come.

But all of his loathing was just a cover-up for the truth. He was never taught how to love men, let alone boys. 

Jason is proudly anti-patriarchal (We all nod in agreement). But so much of it stemmed from the stories he saw and heard from women or fem-presenting people. 

He understood how the system allotted him “power” and status. And did what he could to right those injustices. He never wanted to be the reason that women couldn’t flourish. 

But he did so little, actually, to unpack the pain the system had caused him.

See, the patriarchy is a system that truly benefits no one. It’s a political system built on endless acquisition. For the machine to run, it needs pawns. Those who will do its bidding, without much thought. It needs soldiers.

The patriarchy told Jason, like all other little boys, to fear every aspect of himself. That having been born with a penis, he was a vile creature. Not soft, not whole, not deserving of love, he was wrong. And the only way to fix that wrongness was to embrace it, to devour the life out of everything, and to keep his emotions out of the equation. To conquer.

By doing this, he’d achieve great status in the system (Though that is a reality for only a few, I’m looking at you, Bruce.) Oh, and can’t forget that the system also guarantees that the valiant soldier, Soul Conqueror, will have his pick of women who are willing to serve. (*Eye roll* This is one of the main reasons men see women and women’s liberation as enemies. There is no "benefit" for their trauma.)

The patriarchy had birthed him to die, emotionally and physically, so that he could be used for its gain.

And when he did actually die, he was presented with the highest honor the patriarchy could offer: the status of good soldier.

And Jason doesn’t beat this when he’s resurrected. He embodies the lesson of death as a retribution to those who “deserve it.” 

No matter my personal opinion on that, it's hard not to see how Jason does and doesn’t dispel the system that he despises. Patriarchy needs death, and Jason is more than happy to provide.

He doesn’t come back to educate men on alternative ways of conduct to prevent crime before it happens. He doesn’t preach about love.  

He’s much more interested in punishment, in pain, all under the thin veil of justice. (By no means does this mean that Jason is evil or “bad”. Just showing how a system that needs hate and contempt, rather than love and forgiveness, to function forms our views on justice.)

When Jason got into a committed relationship with you, he learned the work that it took to be loving. To love was to express care, affection, responsibility, respect, commitment, and trust. Without the presence of one, love could not be obtained. And it took a lot of work, but you both got there. 

And he was able to extend that love to his daughter and to the women(fem-presenting individuals) in his life. 

But he just couldn’t seem to extend this same love to men. Sure, he cares for and even shows affection for some, like his brothers and Bruce. But could he respect them, commit to them? Could he trust them?

No. How could he? Jason didn’t truly trust himself. He felt like, at any moment, he could switch and disappoint you. He didn’t want to, but wasn’t it his nature? That’s the man the system had made him to be, right?

When his son is born, it’s all the more difficult. All that parenting information he used with his daughter was harder with his son. 

He had to be far more aware of himself than he had been before. He had to remind himself to remain gentle with his son. To believe in the softness of man. 

When his son was around 2 and was squabbling with his sister over a new toy, he hit her. Jason had to take the toy and take a moment for himself. He had been so angry, heat engulfing his skin. He had wanted to yell, to scare his son into never doing it again. Because if he didn't stop his son now, he'd only get worse. But what goal would that actually accomplish?

His scaring his son would only prove to the little boy that there is something in him that is meant to be scared of. To identify that emotions are bad. It would show his daughter that men can use their anger to silence. To avoid making men angry. 

Is that really what he wanted?

He took a few more moments for himself before pulling the two children aside. 

He felt their unease; he knew they noticed his sour mood. What was he supposed to do, push aside his feelings, pretend all was okay? Not say anything? 

He knelt on the ground, bringing himself to eye level with both children. And spoke honestly, peeling away the anger to get to the core of why he felt and acted the way he did.

He told his children about the disappointment he felt when he saw the two fight over the new toy. He expressed how scared it made him that his son hit his sister. He expressed that he took a moment for himself, not because he didn’t want to be around his children, but because he needed a moment to think about his feelings. And assured them that his feelings didn’t stop him from loving them.

Of course, most of what he said flew over their heads. But it wasn’t about understanding everything he said; it was about the fact that he took the time to explain and share his emotions. 

That his kids saw dad get angry, take a moment for himself, and talk. It provided them with a model of conduct. 

Jason then engaged in dialogue with his kids. Asking them why fighting over a toy might not be the best option. 

Then they discussed what they could do instead of fighting, such as taking turns or playing with another toy. And Jason made sure that they both knew that violence wasn’t an acceptable response to anger. 

That if they were ever angry, which they were allowed to be, they could take a moment for themselves. That they could speak out about what’s making them unhappy.

And that if someone loved them that their anger should never make them violent to them. They spent about 10 minutes roleplaying how to resolve disagreements before the kids went on to play on their own. 

This type of parenting was exhausting. Because for the first time in a while, Jason had to be vulnerable. To own every part of the decisions that he made and their effects on those around him.

It was all for the better though.

His kids were happy children who got into a lot of disagreements, but were able to solve them with their words. They were whole because they never had to hide the parts of themselves that Jason had to. 

Little by little, Jason began to believe in the growth not only of his son but also of other men. He knew that change was possible. 

Because of his kids, Jason began to adopt a heavy commitment to the no-kill rule. How could he instill in them the faith that growth and change are possible while stopping someone else's? No matter how awful.

Jason relationships with the men in his life became a lot more satisfying.

This doesn’t mean he stops being Red Hood, yet (actions have consequences). But this does start his journey into political involvement, involved with improving laws and sentencing and the system of incarceration. Working with Bruce to create programs to support survivors of domestic abuse. As well as programs that are committed to teaching men that they can be whole. That they don't have to embrace a system that wants them to die. That they could choose life. And programs that celebrate all growth. 

a/n: sorry if this is all over. Just been thinking about the ways in which I've been promoting death over life.

[ariiireads]

YES. THANK YOU. YOUVE CAPTURED THE ESSENCE OF HIS HEART AND SOUL I SHALL GIVE YOU MY ETERNAL GRATITUDE

[impliedillogic]

YOU ARE TOO SWEET!!! THANK YOU 𓆩♡𓆪

[impliedillogic]

Girl Dad Jason this, and Girl Dad Jason that. But can we talk about the absolute bullets this man would be sweating if he had a boy?

c/w: patriarchy, mentions of domestic abuse (please let me know if I missed anything, be kind to yourself and know it's okay to not read everything you see.)

w/c: 1.5k (Sorry, this is a long one.)

Having a child, regardless of gender, is terrifying in and of itself. 

Here is this little person, completely reliant on you, not just for food and shelter, but for love and education. To learn what it is to be human. (Jason’s not even sure he’s able to answer that question since he’s essentially a walking corpse, but I digress.)

When you decided to have children, and the baby was a girl. Jason was the most attentive, sweet father. 

You never had to fight him to be an active parent (in fact, you’d probably have to fight to get time with your sweet baby girl).

As she grows, you and Jason work hard to instill in her the confidence that she is enough. To speak up for herself and her needs. To explore, to be free, to be loved.  

The whole adventure was heartening. Jason knew that you both were instilling a sense of wholeness in your daughter that would hopefully act as a shield as she grew.

Now, when you become pregnant again with a boy, Jason panics. That type where his soul disconnects from his body, and he’s watching everything unfold from the clouds. 

There were moments when he sat next to you, watching your daughter on the playground, thinking about the chaos this “boy” would bring to your world. This dread that he will be a terror, inflicting pain on people who look like you or his daughter. Honestly, he wished the baby had never come.

But all of his loathing was just a cover-up for the truth. He was never taught how to love men, let alone boys. 

Jason is proudly anti-patriarchal (We all nod in agreement). But so much of it stemmed from the stories he saw and heard from women or fem-presenting people. 

He understood how the system allotted him “power” and status. And did what he could to right those injustices. He never wanted to be the reason that women couldn’t flourish. 

But he did so little, actually, to unpack the pain the system had caused him.

See, the patriarchy is a system that truly benefits no one. It’s a political system built on endless acquisition. For the machine to run, it needs pawns. Those who will do its bidding, without much thought. It needs soldiers.

The patriarchy told Jason, like all other little boys, to fear every aspect of himself. That having been born with a penis, he was a vile creature. Not soft, not whole, not deserving of love, he was wrong. And the only way to fix that wrongness was to embrace it, to devour the life out of everything, and to keep his emotions out of the equation. To conquer.

By doing this, he’d achieve great status in the system (Though that is a reality for only a few, I’m looking at you, Bruce.) Oh, and can’t forget that the system also guarantees that the valiant soldier, Soul Conqueror, will have his pick of women who are willing to serve. (*Eye roll* This is one of the main reasons men see women and women’s liberation as enemies. There is no "benefit" for their trauma.)

The patriarchy had birthed him to die, emotionally and physically, so that he could be used for its gain.

And when he did actually die, he was presented with the highest honor the patriarchy could offer: the status of good soldier.

And Jason doesn’t beat this when he’s resurrected. He embodies the lesson of death as a retribution to those who “deserve it.” 

No matter my personal opinion on that, it's hard not to see how Jason does and doesn’t dispel the system that he despises. Patriarchy needs death, and Jason is more than happy to provide.

He doesn’t come back to educate men on alternative ways of conduct to prevent crime before it happens. He doesn’t preach about love.  

He’s much more interested in punishment, in pain, all under the thin veil of justice. (By no means does this mean that Jason is evil or “bad”. Just showing how a system that needs hate and contempt, rather than love and forgiveness, to function forms our views on justice.)

When Jason got into a committed relationship with you, he learned the work that it took to be loving. To love was to express care, affection, responsibility, respect, commitment, and trust. Without the presence of one, love could not be obtained. And it took a lot of work, but you both got there. 

And he was able to extend that love to his daughter and to the women(fem-presenting individuals) in his life. 

But he just couldn’t seem to extend this same love to men. Sure, he cares for and even shows affection for some, like his brothers and Bruce. But could he respect them, commit to them? Could he trust them?

No. How could he? Jason didn’t truly trust himself. He felt like, at any moment, he could switch and disappoint you. He didn’t want to, but wasn’t it his nature? That’s the man the system had made him to be, right?

When his son is born, it’s all the more difficult. All that parenting information he used with his daughter was harder with his son. 

He had to be far more aware of himself than he had been before. He had to remind himself to remain gentle with his son. To believe in the softness of man. 

When his son was around 2 and was squabbling with his sister over a new toy, he hit her. Jason had to take the toy and take a moment for himself. He had been so angry, heat engulfing his skin. He had wanted to yell, to scare his son into never doing it again. Because if he didn't stop his son now, he'd only get worse. But what goal would that actually accomplish?

His scaring his son would only prove to the little boy that there is something in him that is meant to be scared of. To identify that emotions are bad. It would show his daughter that men can use their anger to silence. To avoid making men angry. 

Is that really what he wanted?

He took a few more moments for himself before pulling the two children aside. 

He felt their unease; he knew they noticed his sour mood. What was he supposed to do, push aside his feelings, pretend all was okay? Not say anything? 

He knelt on the ground, bringing himself to eye level with both children. And spoke honestly, peeling away the anger to get to the core of why he felt and acted the way he did.

He told his children about the disappointment he felt when he saw the two fight over the new toy. He expressed how scared it made him that his son hit his sister. He expressed that he took a moment for himself, not because he didn’t want to be around his children, but because he needed a moment to think about his feelings. And assured them that his feelings didn’t stop him from loving them.

Of course, most of what he said flew over their heads. But it wasn’t about understanding everything he said; it was about the fact that he took the time to explain and share his emotions. 

That his kids saw dad get angry, take a moment for himself, and talk. It provided them with a model of conduct. 

Jason then engaged in dialogue with his kids. Asking them why fighting over a toy might not be the best option. 

Then they discussed what they could do instead of fighting, such as taking turns or playing with another toy. And Jason made sure that they both knew that violence wasn’t an acceptable response to anger. 

That if they were ever angry, which they were allowed to be, they could take a moment for themselves. That they could speak out about what’s making them unhappy.

And that if someone loved them that their anger should never make them violent to them. They spent about 10 minutes roleplaying how to resolve disagreements before the kids went on to play on their own. 

This type of parenting was exhausting. Because for the first time in a while, Jason had to be vulnerable. To own every part of the decisions that he made and their effects on those around him.

It was all for the better though.

His kids were happy children who got into a lot of disagreements, but were able to solve them with their words. They were whole because they never had to hide the parts of themselves that Jason had to. 

Little by little, Jason began to believe in the growth not only of his son but also of other men. He knew that change was possible. 

Because of his kids, Jason began to adopt a heavy commitment to the no-kill rule. How could he instill in them the faith that growth and change are possible while stopping someone else's? No matter how awful.

Jason relationships with the men in his life became a lot more satisfying.

This doesn’t mean he stops being Red Hood, yet (actions have consequences). But this does start his journey into political involvement, involved with improving laws and sentencing and the system of incarceration. Working with Bruce to create programs to support survivors of domestic abuse. As well as programs that are committed to teaching men that they can be whole. That they don't have to embrace a system that wants them to die. That they could choose life. And programs that celebrate all growth. 

a/n: sorry if this is all over. Just been thinking about the ways in which I've been promoting death over life.

[impliedillogic]

Quick question do we vibe with hcs and fics that are also a commentary on real world issues.

Like I got a hcs (rant) about Jason Todd having a son and undoing some internalized lessons of the patriarchy.

Is that something you would read yes or no?

Is that something you would read?

Yes

No

Voting ended onFeb 28

[impliedillogic]

Prompt: A person goes on their first date after a bad breakup. aka posting course work

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

They are confident this will turn out well.

You strolled into the restaurant, your heels clicking loudly, your own little fanfare. You were quickly escorted to the reserved table. The room was a buzz around you; this was the hotspot of the night, and you were here. You bit back a smile; you were here. 

A few nights ago, you were sobbing because some person online, much younger than you, had the life of your dreams, and now you were in the most acclaimed restaurant in Gotham, waiting for the most gorgeous person. 

You sat up a little straighter, soaking up all that there was to offer. You pull out your phone to check her appearance. You made a mental note to give your friends her flowers because she did a hell of a job on your appearance. You looked like an alternate version of yourself, and you loved it. You put down her phone. That’s when she sees him.

They are convinced this is pointless. 

Jason rushed to the bathroom. He made a beeline for the sink, splashing himself. The water pricked his searing skin, but it was welcomed. He needed the distraction. He didn’t want to be here; he should be focused on doing something productive. He needed to find whoever had been reviving the underbelly of Gotham, not stuck in a place where he wasn't quite sure if it was a nightclub or a restaurant. 

Especially not waiting for a date. You were late. Maybe you decided it was better just to ghost him. He wouldn’t blame you. He’d do the same thing. He gazes at himself in the mirror, and he scowls. He looks undead. More so than normal. He sighs as he ruffles, with his hair trying to make it look bouncy, alive. 

“This is useless,” He sighs, standing up straight. He couldn’t stay here forever. Jason fusses with his hair one last time before walking out of the bathroom and to his seat. That’s when he sees you.

[impliedillogic]

Going to meet Clark Kent's Parents for the First Time

Smallville was a far cry from Metropolis; here, the air sparkled, danced between crevices, freed from weighty smog. Had this been any other visit, you would have indulged in the crisp jig, lying in the grass. But you're busy rehearsing lines.

Your eyes were screwed shut as you fought to remember the sentence you had just come up with. It was a fantastic line, witty, charming, if only you could–

“Penny for your thoughts.” 

You glare at Clark, your lower lip jutting out slightly. As soon as he spoke, the words fled from your head, startled by the interruption. Damn it

“Don’t look at me like that.” He chuckles, his eyes flicking to you and then back to the road. 

“You made me lose my place.”

“Your place?” Clark’s eyes flick to your eyes, brows lowered. It takes only a second before he is giggling. Your face burns, and you lightly shove Clark’s shoulder, a risky move, but you knew he’d barely budge.

“My parents will love you, my darling.” His words were stately, as if they were a well-known fact, plucked from a textbook. But he didn’t know; he couldn’t. 

“I just want to be well-spoken.” You shift in your seat. “Do you think I should have worn something different?”

“You look gorgeous.”

“To you I do, but does this scream disingenuous? Your parents probably wouldn’t like a fraud.”

“Thankfully, you aren’t one.”

You huff, sinking deeper into the chair. You retreat back into your head, hoping the line will return. The hum of the car lessens the growing silence.

“I could tell them, we can’t make it.” Clark’s voice is soft, but his words are sharp enough to break your heart. You know how important this meeting was to Clark, to you. You wanted to meet them; you wanted them swept away with you, to call you family. Even if your brain didn’t want to envision it. “No, no. I’m good. I’ll be good.” You reach out, and he takes your hand, fingers interlaced as the Kent residence comes into view. 

a/n: Not been really motivated to write anything recently. So, I'm just posting drafts.

[impliedillogic]

Hey so part 2 of Bruce Wayne, who can’t quite tell the difference between platonic and romantic love where reader starts distancing herself from Bruce and he’s spiraling when 😋💗

a/n: Thank you so much for the request!! Part 2 to this

Bruce Wayne, who notices the shift the moment he walks into his study. It was neat, exactly the way he had left it. No books resting on the windowsill or papers sprawled across the floor, organized by connecting phrases.

Bruce Wayne, who tries to spark a conversation with you over comms. Only for you to remind him of the task at hand.

Bruce Wayne, who wonders if you have figured it out. If you know that he loves you more than a friend should.

Bruce Wayne, who comes to the conclusion that you must know, and that you are nicely trying to turn him down.

Bruce Wayne, who tries to remind you that you are a friend. Co-worker. That you needn’t worry about his affections.

Bruce Wayne, who is to scared to lose you, that he’ll take your icy exterior as long as you’re still around.

Bruce Wayne, whose insides twist when you ask to talk.

[impliedillogic]

A story of you meeting Bruce through Harvey Dent.

(Bruce Wayne x reader)

You two are mildly antagonistic, but still really good friends.

At least you thought until Bruce disappeared, without a trace, after high school graduation.

You move on with life, going to college, then getting a job at the local diner to make ends meet while figuring out what direction you want to go in life.

One day, you're getting your apartment ready for your weekly hangout with friends. Harvey’s supposed to come over and help you set up. You gave him a key, because 1. he’s your best friend and 2. You knew you’d be too wrapped up in getting things together.

Now imagine your surprise when you walk into your living room and see not just Harvey, but an older (so much more handsome) Bruce standing beside him. Harvey is smiling like he just won the lottery. 🗣️ 🗣️ 🗣️

a/n: the moment I can actually commit to this idea it's over for y'all lol

[impliedillogic]

Thinking about Tim Drake as a bedroom DJ.

He got into it by accident after discovering the technique that his favorite "slowed + reverb" songs were derived from.

Even though he is a hobbyist, he has the most advanced setup. On occasion, he busts it out for a gathering of your friends, and everyone is literally in shock.

Because one who would have thought Tim would be into djing, and two, why is he so good? (His crowd reading skills are impeccable!)

a/n: I know nothing about Tim Drake, but this popped into my head so I hope this feel accurate.

[impliedillogic]

(Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader)

w/c: 1.0k

c/w: societal pressures (?)

a/n: This is part two of this thought that I had. Sorry if this isn’t what people expected. This is lowkey a self-indulgent piece. I believe this is considered hurt/comfort (?)

“What!?” You cough violently, tea dribbling down your face. Perhaps not all the water from your impromptu water fight with the boys has dried. You thought you heard—

“How much do you think would be a fair wage?” Bruce repeated as he handed you a napkin. Nope, you had heard correctly. You place your cup on the table and take the napkin, mouth slightly agape.

“You aren’t going to ask more questions?” Wiping your face. You had assumed your discussion would be more lively. You had prepared several statements for the volley, and now all had been stopped dead.

Bruce tilts his head, his eyebrows knit. “Why?”

You pause, placing the napkin in your lap. “Because I just asked you to pay for me to stay at home, and you said that.” Your gesture made Bruce chuckle.

“You asked me to pay for your labor. Alfred received payment for caring for me, as a child; why shouldn’t you?”

You looked akin to an animatronic, mouth opening and closing, eyes wide. “But, I’m their Mom.”

“Are you trying to talk me out of this?” Bruce leans forward with his elbows on his knees.

“No, no. I just don't understand why you aren’t outraged. Or encouraging me to continue working o-or something…”

“I could make a scene if you want, but what’s the use in that? You’ve done a fantastic job in your career, but you said you are displeased with it. And you want to move on.” You stare at Bruce, chest squeezing around your heart. This was the best possible outcome.

You should be celebrating, tossing your arms around your husband for being so open and supportive. But instead, you stay rooted in your seat. The fabric of the chair makes your skin crawl. You chide yourself, eyes closing shut, desperately keeping back tears.

Bruce observed you, your discomfort mirrored in his posture, as he sits up straight and rigid. It pained him to see you like this. Had he said something?

He waited, trying to find the words before forgoing perfection.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to brush you aside. I just don’t seem to be understanding the…nuances here. But I want to. Please talk to me.”

You chew the inside of your cheek, the tone in Bruce’s voice making it harder to conceal your tears.

“It’s just for so long I have been hearing about all the things I should and shouldn’t be.” Your eyes remain closed.

“I was raised to think only of marriage and then children, to set myself aside. To be provided for. I wasn’t taught to want different. And then I went to school and learned about a life beyond just those two things. That I could want and have a career. And I was ecstatic. I no longer needed a provider; I was independent. But the work was so soulless, and I kept doing it because I knew people were watching me, using me to measure the success of all those who looked like me. Like I had asked to be an icon, if I become a stay-at-home mom, those people will think to themselves that it is all their lives can amount to. But if I don’t, then I lie to them and say that this success is fulfilling.”

You open your eyes and fight the urge to close them again. Bruce looked like a child who was told magic wasn’t real. You thought about concealing your sentiments. Softening the edge, but who would that benefit? So you continue.

“In honesty, I wanted this big fight to satisfy this beastly desire in me. I thought if I could win and convince you this was right, that I’d convince myself. And when you just accepted it, a part of me,” You voice breaks. “A part of me felt like it was because you always knew I’d be here. Like all the other parts of my life were just a phase. And this is where I should be.”

Your tears fall freely now, rhymatically beating against your lap. Voices rise in your head, critics, attacking you from all sides. Your breath becomes shallow and rapid.

Bruce is by your side in an instant. He kneels before like he was prepared to pray at the altar that was you. Grabbing both of your hands, he held them close to his mouth, peppering them with ghostly kisses.

You stay like that for a few minutes until everything within you falls silent.

“I never assumed that this is the way it should be. Ever. We are partners, equals.” Bruce drops your hands and stands up. He gestures to your chair, and you muster enough energy to scoot over.

Your bodies practically become one. You scoot a little closer, so you fit comfortably on his lap.

“Honestly, I have also been evaluating how our marriage might have influenced you to choose this. I am not completely oblivious to the differences in our upbringing. I was worried you felt you had to do this. But know that I am beyond satisfied in this marriage. I don’t need you to banish the woman I love for conformity's sake.”His voice is barely above a whisper as he traces circles on your hip, and you sink further into him.

“If you wish to have another career, go for it. If you wish to stay here, then let me pay you. I want you to have agency even if the rest of the world makes it hard to do so.”

“This is something I really want to do.” You croak, voice tired.

“Then, okay. I will have our lawyers draft up a contract. Just for the formality of it all. And we will go from there.”

All falls silent again.

“I wish this felt good.” You rest your head on Bruce’s chest.

“Tough decisions rarely do.” You hum as your eyelid closes, the early panic now transformed into drowsiness, and you are in no position to fight.

“Thank you for listening.” You mumbled

“Thank you for talking to me.” Bruce kisses the top of your head. “I love you.”

You drift off to sleep, your brain still swirling. But, knowing that you'll never have to carry this feeling alone.

a/n: I have so much to say about this topic. None of which I can seem to put eloquently. Nonetheless, thank you so much for reading! (comments are always appreciated)

tags: @miriamnox

[luvlypresley]

first kiss with jason todd

jason doesn’t tell you where you’re going.

“that’s not concerning at all,” you say as he leads you up a narrow stairwell.

“if i was gonna kidnap you, i wouldn’t warn you,” he mutters.

“great. that’s reassuring.”

he snorts, but there’s a tiny smile pulling at his mouth.

when he pushes open the rooftop door, cool evening air greets you. the city stretches out around you, lights blinking on as the sky deepens into indigo.

and there, set up near the ledge, is a small projector screen. a couple of mismatched folding chairs. blankets. a paper bag that definitely smells like takeout.

you blink.

“…you did all this?”

jason shrugs like it’s nothing, but his ears are red. “it’s not a big deal.”

it is, though.

there are string lights taped along the low wall. a portable speaker humming softly. he even picked a movie you once mentioned loving in passing.

“you remembered,” you say quietly.

he avoids your eyes. “you talk a lot.”

you step closer. “you listen a lot.”

he looks at you like he’s trying to decide if you’re teasing him.

you’re not.

you sit side by side on the blankets instead of the chairs. closer that way. knees touching. shoulders brushing every time one of you shifts.

the movie starts, but neither of you are really watching.

you’re aware of him in every small way.

the warmth of his arm near yours. the way his thigh presses against yours when he stretches his legs out. the quiet rhythm of his breathing when he laughs softly at a scene.

halfway through, a breeze kicks up. you shiver.

jason notices immediately.

without a word, he reaches for the extra blanket and drapes it over your shoulders. his hand lingers for a second at the back of your neck.

“cold?” he asks.

“little bit.”

he hesitates.

then, slowly, like he’s giving you time to stop him, he slides his arm around your shoulders.

you don’t.

in fact, you lean into him.

that tiny shift makes him go still for a second before relaxing.

“better?” he murmurs.

“yeah.”

your head rests lightly against his shoulder.

the movie fades into background noise. the city hums around you.

his hand, the one around your shoulder, slowly traces absentminded circles against your upper arm.

you tilt your face up slightly to look at him.

he’s already looking at you.

not at the screen. at you.

the string lights reflect softly in his eyes.

“you’re not watching the movie,” you whisper.

“neither are you.”

“true.”

you both pause, to just stare at eachother.

“you good?” he asks softly.

you nod. “yeah.”

his gaze drops to your mouth.

he doesn’t hide it this time.

“you’re thinking really loud,” you murmur.

he exhales slowly. “i don’t wanna assume.”

“you don’t have to.”

that’s it.

that’s the permission.

jason lifts his free hand, brushing his knuckles lightly along your jaw before cupping your cheek. he moves slower than he probably moves in anything else in his life.

deliberate. careful.

“tell me if you want me to stop,” he says quietly.

his thumb grazes your cheek once.

then he leans in.

the first touch of his lips is gentle. almost tentative. like he’s memorizing the feeling.

you melt into it immediately, hand coming up to grip lightly at the front of his shirt.

that soft sound he makes? you feel it more than you hear it.

the kiss deepens gradually. not rushed. just building. his arm around you pulls you closer, your body fitting against his under the blanket.

it’s warm. slow. a little breathless.

when he tilts his head slightly and kisses you again, more sure this time, it feels like he’s finally letting himself have something he’s been holding back.

your fingers slide into his hair.

he exhales sharply against your mouth at that, grip tightening just slightly at your waist.

when you finally pull back, it’s only because you need air.

your foreheads rest together.

the movie is still playing behind you, completely forgotten.

“…okay,” he breathes.

you smile softly. “okay?”

he huffs a quiet laugh. “yeah. that was—” he shakes his head faintly. “yeah.”

you press one quick, soft kiss to his lips again, just because you can now.

this time, he smiles into it.

the city lights flicker below. the string lights glow warm around you.

and jason doesn’t let go of you for the rest of the night.

so i finally wrote something for this series 😭 pls send in ideas tho im lowk ass at brainstorming

©luvlypresley2026 - do not translate or copy in any way. ˗ˏˋ ✉ - @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger, @malewifefckr, @batmilani, @justanormalpersin, @pinkprincess-bunny, @batslilwhore, @j-blackout8, @foivetimesacharm, @vanillakirstein, @ablondehoe, @soggywhore, @maxcalore3

[impliedillogic]

This is art, your honor!!

[wings-of-paradis]

i love the concept of batmom!reader who the wayne family refers to as mom, but primarily refer to bruce as bruce and nothing else

[impliedillogic]

Jason Todd struggled to read! (jason todd x reader(?))

Jason wasn’t blazing through Victorian literature as a child; nothing could be futher from the truth. Reading felt like a car traveling through a muddy road at night. Slowly, cautiously, he'd read his little fingers sputtering across the page, before bam stuck again.

He tried to practice often, wanting to be as fast a reader as he could, his tongue tripping over itself, embarrassing him during popcorn reading. Worst yet, the words never soaked in enough to deepen his comprehension.

But its elusiveness did little to deter him. He loved reading.

After school, he would spend time in the library. His tongue sticking out, his face scrunched like a crumpled newspaper. A sign that the volunteers took as a cry for help. They would walk over to little Jason and read to him.

They even taught him some tricks. Day by day, he got better, writing notes in the margin of his books to keep himself engaged. Reciting his favorite lines and summarizing every chapter. In the end, he became a faster and more engaged reader than his peers.

But that feeling of pride didn't sink in till now as he's crouching beside the bed of his little girl, dramatically reading Little Red Riding Hood. He barely needs to skim the book as he disappears into his role. His daughter's eyes twinkling like the stars they wished on every night. Sleep no closer than it had been before. But neither Jason nor your daughter seemed to care. And neither did you, as you recorded it all from the doorway. Forever grateful for the boy who struggled to read.