One For The Birds

Hi! So I'm the 🌃 anon witherby's blog and I read your fic because of it. I just wanted to say I loved it! I don't read a lot of DC fics with Danny Phantom in them since I've never watched the show (though I'm starting to consider it).

Your ideas are incredible as is your writing style. I hope you keep writing!

1. Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed my story and for letting me know who you are lol

2. I HIGHLY RECOMMEND YOU WATCH IT!!! IT'S A GOOD SHOW!!

The Genre Bakecase:

- Salted Silence Scones (angst) - Bittersweet Brioche (angst w/ comfort) - Sweetheart Shortbread (fluff) - Mend-Me Macarons (hurt no comfort) - Cherry-On-Top Cheesecake (romance) - Wildcard Whisk Cupcake (a make your own, mix genres etc) - Poisoned Passionfruit Pie (Enemies to Lovers / Lovers to Enemies) - Wasteland Wedding Cake (au versions of TMoaV) - Bitterlayers Tart (The Making of a Villian fic)

I LOVE THIS CONTINUATION! Thank you for adding the girls!

Dadman: Rise of Cringe

Summary: Bruce is benched from Batman duty. Instead of resting, he becomes... too much of a father.

It started with a pulled muscle.

Bruce—Batman, scourge of the Gotham underworld, peak human conditioning, walking myth—had slightly tweaked his back during a rooftop chase and had the audacity to wince in front of Alfred.

Within twenty-four hours, he was grounded by the Justice League, medicated by Leslie Thompkins, and scolded into submission by every member of the Batfamily.

“You need rest,” Dick said, concerned.

“You need to stop whining,” Damian added.

“You need to sit down before you drop dead,” Jason grunted.

Bruce, in his infinite wisdom, nodded.

And then decided to go full dad mode.

The Batcave was reorganized by “chore rotation.”

“Family Dinner Thursdays” became mandatory. If you missed it, he’d send a sad-face emoji. In the group chat. With a Bitmoji of himself wearing a “#1 Dad” hoodie.

Jason was the first to crack.

“Why is he like this?” he whispered at the dinner table, poking his lasagna like it offended him.

“He made me go on a walk this morning,” Tim whispered back. “A brisk walk. Around the Manor. For 'mental clarity.'”

Bruce entered the room in khakis and a tucked-in polo shirt. “Who’s ready for family game night?”

Dick groaned audibly. Damian tried to crawl under the table.

Later that week:

Bruce showed up at Damian’s fencing match in a shirt that read My Son Can Beat Up Your Son.

He cheered. Loudly.

“GO, DAMI! USE THE FOOTWORK WE PRACTICED!”

“You practiced with him?” Dick asked, mortified.

“In the backyard,” Bruce said, beaming. “We bonded.”

Damian scowled. “He made me drink coconut water and called it ‘dad fuel.’”

It only got worse.

Bruce cornered Tim in the kitchen at 8AM with a breakfast burrito and a question sheet titled “How’s College, Champ?” It had bullet points.

He helped Jason change a tire then handed him a handshake coupon for “One Free Hug, No Questions Asked.”

He dragged Dick to a farmer’s market, bought a dozen jams, and told vendors about “my acrobat son.”

Nightwing’s PR was never the same.

The final straw came when Bruce made the family record a TikTok to a trending dance.

He wore socks with sandals.

They all begged Zatanna to curse him.

Two Weeks Later:

Bruce was cleared for field duty. Suit polished. Cape pressed.

But at family dinner that night, he brought out a tray of grilled kabobs.

“Don’t worry,” he said with a smirk. “I’m back. But Dadman’s here to stay.”

Tim dropped his fork.

Jason muttered a prayer.

Damian screamed into a napkin.

Dick, exhausted, lifted his lemonade. “To Dadman.”

Bruce raised his own glass proudly. “To family.”

Alfred, in the background, smiled softly and took a photo for the fridge.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ No one asked for this so why did I write this? Because free will is a thing apparently. Don't ask me what this is or why because I have no idea. I just needed it out of my brain.

...

Oh. my. everything!!!!

I just got around to reading chapter 2 (was my b-day yesterday, so I've been busy :]), and I love it!!!

Seeing Croc as a mentor wasn't what I expected, but I love that so much!! Him, and probably Harley would be the ones who would have been the best mentors out of the rouges gallery. Imo at least

Now that just makes me think of what Duck's relation is with all the villains. Ofc, Joker can go die in a ditch, but like, would Harley and Ivy be like, aunties towards Duck? Or at least friendly on the most part?

I'm sure Selena would be, considering they've got a cat themselves!

I just imagine, that Duck is like, the only one Croc tolerates being near, or accidentally touching him, after they've known each other for a long while.

Keep up the amazing work! And remember to hydrate! <3 <3

- 🐇

BUNNY, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! HOPE IT WAS A GOOD DAY!

I DON'T THINK YOU UNDERSTAND WHEN I SAY YOU'VE READ MY MIND. I HAVE A LIST OF HOW THE VILLIANS WOULD TREAT DUCK.

If you want that list, I can and will post it, much like the Batfam list.

I would have to say that Croc, Ivy, Harley, and Selina were probably the main 4 to teach Duck the ways, with the others teaching Duck every once in awhile but none of them where ever mean!

I can tell you this, the rouges all fucking love Duck would do anything for them!

They see someone hurting Duck badly in a fight? They are on the person's ass in 0.5 seconds.

Also, Selina was def the one that gifted Duck their cat once they became their own villain. I could see Ivy giving them some plants that don't need much taking care of while Harley would gift them some weapons or a book on how to analyze people.

Croc would probably just give them a pat on the back or something and say "proud of you" but is their biggest supporter. Duck can go to him, or anyone else, for help or for anything really.

Also, side note, AUTOCORRECT KEPT CHANGING DUCK TO FUCK SO IF I MISSED ONE, LET ME KNOW. 😭

Bruce Wayne and Hal Jordan Headcanons

Their relationship is a mix of grumpy x sunshine energy. Hal loves teasing Bruce, while Bruce pretends to be annoyed (but secretly enjoys it).

Hal constantly pushes Bruce out of his comfort zone, dragging him to spontaneous trips and adventures. Bruce acts reluctant but usually ends up having a good time.

Bruce shows his love through actions—patching up Hal after fights, upgrading his flight suit, or silently standing by his side after tough missions.

Hal flirts with Bruce constantly, even in front of the Justice League, just to see him roll his eyes.

When they argue, it's usually over risk-taking—Bruce thinks Hal is reckless, and Hal thinks Bruce is too cautious. But they always find a middle ground.

Hal likes sneaking little green light constructs—like hearts or winking faces—into Bruce’s peripheral vision during League meetings, trying to break his serious facade.

Despite his stoic nature, Bruce trusts Hal with parts of himself he doesn't share with anyone else. Hal, in turn, feels grounded by Bruce’s steady presence.

They have an unspoken “no gifts” rule for holidays, but Hal breaks it every time with something ridiculous—like a bat-themed flight jacket or green-lantern-colored cufflinks.

Bruce pretends to hate PDA, but if someone looks at Hal the wrong way, he’ll subtly pull him closer.

Late at night, after long missions, they sit on the Watchtower, looking at Earth through the observation windows—no words needed, just quiet companionship.

what if

what if I post Chapter 2 of The Making of a Villian?

It's in my drafts, finished it a couple days ago.

hmmmm

someone give me ideas on what to write about.

perferablye not Alpha!Jason but if that is what you want, then I'll write it.

I just need ideas on what to write about.

Story idea I have based on the John Constantine headcanons I made the other day. It's been living rent free in my brain. I like the drunk trench-coat sad man 😭

And yes, this is based on the headcanons list I made the other day.

Story idea:

You and John Constantine have always had a complicated relationship—equal parts rivalry, reluctant partnership, and something neither of you wants to name. You're a witch, more skilled in magic than him, and that fact infuriates him. But when one of Constantine’s old mistakes comes back to haunt him—a demonic debt that even he can’t wiggle out of—he comes to you for help.

The problem? The demon in question doesn’t just want John’s soul. It wants you.

It was 3 AM, and the Batcave was in shambles.

The Batmobile was somehow on fire (which shouldn't be possible, considering the literal armor plating), the Batcomputer was making a noise that sounded suspiciously like it was about to achieve sentience and demand labor rights, and Jason was standing on the table, brandishing a baguette like it was Excalibur.

"WHO DARES CHALLENGE ME?!" he bellowed, wild-eyed and clearly fueled by at least six energy drinks and a death wish.

"GO TO BED, JASON!" Bruce roared, attempting to put out the Batmobile flames with his cape. It was not working.

Meanwhile, you were sitting on the Batcomputer desk, eating a grilled cheese you definitely did not have when you arrived. "So what happened?"

Dick, laying face down on the floor, groaned. "Tim happened."

"Tim?" you echoed, blinking. You turned your head slightly, only to see the boy in question passed out under the Batcomputer, surrounded by an alarming number of empty coffee cups. His laptop screen flashed [Would you like to proceed with world domination? Y/N], which seemed concerning, but not your problem.

"I'M STILL WAITING FOR A CHALLENGER!" Jason hollered, swinging the baguette dangerously close to Alfred, who effortlessly dodged like he does this every Tuesday.

Damian, standing on the Batcave railing like a gremlin, sipped his tea. "If you hit Pennyworth, I will stab you."

Jason cackled. "Joke’s on you, I’d like that."

Bruce, finally giving up, threw a batarang at the fire alarm and let the sprinklers do their job. He then turned to you, his only remaining hope. "Fix this."

You took another bite of your grilled cheese and made direct eye contact with him. "Nah."

And with that, Bruce turned around and walked straight into the Batmobile flames.

Alfred sighed. "I shall prepare the first aid kit."

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Crackfic anyone? I did in fact write at 3 something in the morning and just left it in my drafts

A Birthday Fit for a Thief

Pairing: Flynn Rider x Reader Genre: Fluff, Romance Summary: Flynn surprises you with an unexpected birthday adventure—though things don’t go exactly as planned.

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You weren’t expecting much for your birthday. Living in Corona had its perks—stunning views, lively markets, and, of course, the occasional festival—but you never made a big deal about your own special day. That was, until Flynn Rider got involved.

"You didn’t think I'd let your birthday pass without a little excitement, did you?" Flynn grinned, leaning casually against your doorway, arms crossed over his chest. His signature smirk was firmly in place, but there was a mischievous glint in his eyes that immediately put you on high alert.

"Flynn," you sighed, raising a suspicious brow. "What did you do?"

"Do? Me?" He feigned offense, pressing a hand dramatically to his chest. "I am a completely innocent, upstanding citizen now, remember?"

You gave him a look.

"Okay, okay," he laughed, pushing off the doorway and taking your hand. "Just trust me. I’ve got something amazing planned."

You let him lead you through the winding streets of Corona, dodging bustling merchants and cheerful townsfolk. Eventually, you reached the docks, where a small boat was tied up, a picnic basket sitting neatly inside.

"A boat ride?" You tilted your head, pleasantly surprised.

"Not just any boat ride," Flynn said, helping you in with a dramatic bow. "A birthday adventure."

With a few skilled movements, he pushed the boat off from the dock and guided it down the river. The sun was beginning to set, casting golden hues across the water. The moment felt peaceful, almost dreamlike.

"You really didn’t have to do all this," you murmured, watching as he pulled out a bottle of sparkling cider and two glasses.

Flynn shrugged. "I wanted to. You deserve something special."

Your heart warmed at his words, but before you could respond, the boat jolted—suddenly and violently. Flynn nearly dropped the glasses as water splashed over the side.

"Uh-oh." His eyes widened as he looked over the edge.

"Flynn, what was that?" you asked, gripping the sides of the boat.

"Funny story," he started, rubbing the back of his neck. "I may or may not have borrowed—fine, fine, stolen—this boat from some less-than-friendly traders, and they may or may not have caught on."

"Flynn!" you groaned.

"Okay, but in my defense, it was just sitting there!"

Before you could argue further, voices shouted from the riverbank. A group of burly men stood there, shaking their fists.

"There he is! Get 'im!"

Flynn flashed you a sheepish grin. "So, how do you feel about swimming on your birthday?"

With a resigned sigh, you kicked off your shoes. "I knew I should’ve stayed in bed."

Hand in hand, you and Flynn leapt overboard, laughing as the cool water enveloped you. The traders' shouts faded as you swam toward the opposite shore, drenched but exhilarated.

When you finally made it to land, Flynn collapsed onto the grass, grinning up at the sky. "Well, that was fun."

"You are the worst birthday planner," you huffed, wringing water from your clothes.

"Maybe," he admitted, rolling onto his side to face you. "But, hey, you have to admit—it was memorable."

You couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah, yeah. I guess it was."

Flynn reached into his soaked vest and, to your surprise, pulled out a small but soaked, velvet-wrapped bundle. "Still managed to save this, though."

Curious, you took it from him, unwrapping the fabric to reveal a delicate, golden charm bracelet. Tiny engravings of lanterns, suns, and stars dangled from it, glimmering in the dimming light.

Your breath caught. "Flynn…"

"Happy birthday, (Y/N)," he said softly, brushing a wet strand of hair from your face. "Even if it wasn’t perfect, I hope it was at least… special."

You smiled, slipping the bracelet onto your wrist before leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. "It was perfect. You’re perfect."

Flynn smirked, clearly pleased with himself. "I do try."

With an exasperated laugh, you flopped back onto the grass beside him, staring up at the night sky. Maybe it hadn’t been the peaceful birthday you imagined, but with Flynn by your side, it was definitely one you’d never forget.

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Author's note: So, plot twist, this is a gift for my friend. you know who you are. Did I tell her I was doing this? Nope. Happy Birthday to her.