Duck? Oh Man...sounds Like You're Setting Us Up For Some.........fowl Play......

Cabin Quiet, Cabin Warm

Logan Howlett X GN!Reaer (same concept as the first one, different setting. couldn't decide between the two and wrote both)

Your birthday started with silence.

Not the uncomfortable kind—but the warm, heavy quiet that only exists deep in the woods, tucked inside a log cabin miles away from civilization.

You blinked awake to the scent of pine and coffee. The old wool blanket draped over you smelled faintly of cedar, and morning light slanted through the frosted windows, casting soft gold across the room.

It took a moment to remember where you were.

Logan’s cabin.

He’d invited you a week ago, grumbling something vague about “needing space” and “you could tag along if you wanted.” You weren’t sure if it was a real invitation or just his way of being polite—but you said yes anyway.

Now, sitting up slowly on the worn leather couch, you saw a folded piece of paper waiting to be opened on the side table. On the front of the folded paper is your name and writtin inside it in Logan’s handwriting, scrawled and slightly messy:

Mornin'. Firewood’s stacked. Coffee’s hot. Go outside. Wear boots.

You stared at it, then glanced toward the door. Snow had dusted the world white overnight, but you could see faint footprints in the fresh powder.

With a curious tug of your jacket and some thick socks stuffed into boots, you followed the tracks out behind the cabin.

There, near the tree line, Logan stood beside a hand-built picnic table. On it was a rough wooden box with a red ribbon—slightly wrinkled, like he didn’t know how to tie it properly. Two mismatched mugs sat on either side of a tin plate stacked with pancakes.

You stared.

He didn’t look at you at first. Just took a slow sip from his mug, eyes on the trees.

“…Ain’t much,” he muttered. “But I figured you deserved a quiet birthday.”

Your chest tightened.

“This is…” You stepped closer, voice soft, “...more than enough.”

He finally glanced at you, his usual gruff expression softened just a touch. “I don’t do parties. Figured you might not like ‘em either.”

You shook your head. “No. This? This is perfect.”

You sat beside him, and he slid the box toward you. “Made that. Don’t laugh.”

You opened it carefully—and inside was a hand-carved wooden pendant shaped like a pinecone. Simple, smooth, and surprisingly detailed.

“I didn’t know you could carve.”

“I didn’t,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Learned for this.”

The air between you went still. But it wasn’t awkward.

It was full.

You reached across the table, covering his hand with yours. “Thank you, Logan.”

He looked at you like he didn’t quite know what to say. So instead, he just nodded and murmured, “Happy birthday, kid.”

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!!

do u still take requests ?

Yes! I do!

I just don't get a whole lot of them. But if you have any ideas for a fic, I'm more than happy to learn what the idea is!

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."

--------------------------------------------------------

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

It's an average day in Gotham, and you are the horrible Duck-master of Disaster

(I read your batfam x neglected!villain!reader, and they already give me untitled goose vibes. there to mostly cause chaos)

I already like it a lot!

I'm going to be honest, this confused me for a bit when I first read the message.

If you're implying that Neglected!Villain!Reader is giving chaotic and like to cuase trouble, then yes. Yes, they do.

I might give the reader a nickname or something so I don't have to keep refering to them as Neglected!Villain!Reader. I'M OPEN TO SUGGESTIONS!!!

I"m glad you like the fic! Let me know if there's a specific scenio you want me to write about for the fic, I'm open to ideas!

John Constantine x Witch!Reader

Endless Banter & Snark – Constantine would never admit it outright, but the fact that you're slightly better at magic drives him insane. He hides it behind constant sarcasm, throwing comments like, “Yeah, yeah, show-off, let’s see if you can also make a pint appear in my hand.” (You do. Just to shut him up.)

Reluctantly Impressed – He watches you cast a spell he’d struggle with and just lights a cigarette, muttering, “Bloody hell...” before pretending he knew how to do that all along.

Competitive as Hell – He keeps trying to outdo you, even in the most ridiculous ways. If you exorcise a demon in five minutes, he tries to do it in four. If you fix a broken ward, he’s suddenly acting like it was faulty in the first place just so he can redo it.

Protective in His Own Way – He won’t admit it, but he worries about you getting tangled in the same kind of magical disasters he does. He warns you about messing with certain forces, even though you’re arguably more capable than him. If something actually does hurt you? Hell hath no fury like a pissed-off Constantine.

Drunken Magic Debates – After a few drinks, you two get into long-winded arguments about magic theory. “That’s not how that bloody rune works—” “Oh? Then why did it just work when I used it?” He groans and orders another drink.

Demon Magnet Duo – Demons and other supernatural beings hate you both but also find you very interesting. Sometimes they even try to pit you against each other, which is hilarious because you just team up and make their existence miserable.

The One Who Fixes His Screw-Ups – He won’t say it, but having you around is incredibly useful because, occasionally, even he digs himself into magical trouble he can’t get out of. You casually fix things, pat him on the shoulder, and say, “You’re lucky I like you.”

Constantine Being a Mess, You Being Over It – He shows up at your door, bloody and half-cursed, expecting a place to crash. You sigh, let him in, and then spend the next hour undoing whatever hex he pissed off this time.

The One Who Can Actually Call Him Out – Constantine gets away with a lot of things because he’s so good at talking his way out. But not with you. You see right through his crap, and the first time you call him out, he just stands there blinking like, “…Shit.”

Unspoken Mutual Trust – He never really trusts people, but you? You’re different. He won’t say it, but he knows if things go really bad, you’ll be the one standing by him, fixing things together—even if it means pulling his reckless ass out of the fire again.

Wrapped in Red

Alpha!Jason x Omega!Reader

The apartment was quiet when Jason came in, boots scuffing softly against the floor. His body ached from the night’s patrol — busted ribs, a graze along his shoulder, and more bruises than he cared to count. But none of that mattered when his nose caught your scent, sweet and familiar, pulling him down from the simmering rage still burning under his skin.

You were curled up on the couch, wrapped in one of his hoodies that was way too big on you, the sleeves bunched over your hands. Your breathing was soft, steady, and his Alpha instincts eased at the sound. The sight of you — peaceful, vulnerable, safe — sent a wave of warmth through his chest.

His fingers twitched. He should go shower, clean himself up before crawling into bed. But instead, he found himself moving toward you, drawn in by the pull of You. His Omega.

Jason’s eyes drifted over the room, and something in him itched, restless. The nest wasn’t good enough. You weren’t surrounded by enough of him. The hoodie helped, but the couch was too open, too exposed.

Without really thinking, Jason started moving. He gathered the extra blankets from the bed, his leather jacket from the hook by the door, even the clean laundry he hadn’t put away yet. He didn’t care if it was messy — he wanted you wrapped in him. He needed you to feel safe, to smell him, to know you weren’t alone.

By the time he finished, the couch was buried in a mountain of Jason. Soft cotton, thick comforters, and his leather jacket draped over the top, all of it smelling like him — gunpowder, leather, and that faint, warm spice that was unmistakably Jason.

Satisfied, he carefully scooped you up, mindful not to wake you. You stirred just enough to nuzzle into his neck, your sleepy scent sweetening as you recognized him even half-conscious.

“Jay…” you mumbled, voice muffled against his skin.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice rough and low. “I’m here.”

He tucked you into the nest, pulling the blankets over you. You made a soft, content sound, fingers curling loosely into his hoodie. Jason exhaled slowly, his body finally starting to relax.

He didn’t mean to join you — he was dirty, battered, and running on fumes. But the second he sat down at the edge of the couch, your hand found his, tugging weakly.

“Stay,” you whispered, half asleep.

Jason sighed, the fight leaving him. “Yeah… alright.”

He slid in beside you, carefully easing you against his chest. His arms wrapped around you instinctively, protectively. You burrowed closer, his scent enveloping you completely, and Jason felt his heart stumble in his chest.

He wasn’t good at this — the soft stuff. He never thought he deserved it. But with you pressed against him, safe in a nest made of him, he didn’t feel so broken. For once, the world could burn, and he wouldn’t care. Not as long as you were here, wrapped up in him.

“Mine,” Jason murmured against your hair, voice barely above a whisper. He didn’t know if you heard him — maybe it didn’t matter.

Because it was true, whether you were awake to hear it or not.

I have recently come to the realization that I am going to be known for writng Alpha!Jason x Reader fanfics and I do not know how to feel about that lmao

(I don't even read omegaverse fanfics, HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?)

THE BAKERY IS OPEN FOR BUSINESS

HELLO! HELLO! COME ON IN!

Welcome to my little bakery. Most of what I'll 'bake' (write) will relate to whatever hyperfixation I have at the time.

I shall keep my irl name a secret but feel free to call me Insomniac or any nickname you can think off based of that!

I am not a writer but I wanted to get my random thought about stories out of my head and what better place than the internet!? (def won't regret this later)

Feel free to request any pastery (asks) and I'll see what I can make for you!

Lists of what I will and won't write will be made eventually.

Welcome and I hope you all stay awhile!

Masterlists:

The Genre Bakecase (start here)

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The Making of a Villian

I'm head baker but if you wish be a helper (an emoji-based anon) below are the emojis already taken:

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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.