SKULLY!!!!

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.

Duck? Oh man...sounds like you're setting us up for some.........fowl play......

*I dodge the tomatoes being thrown at me*

👨🏼‍🍳

Whatever do you meeeaaannn

Nothing gonna happen, promise 😇

Your Name Was Hope

(Shigaraki Tomura x Reader | angst | second person POV)

It happens faster than he can process.

One second, you're standing between him and a hero’s blade — the next, you're bleeding out, crumpling forward.

His body moves before his mind can catch up. He lunges, catches you — but even in his panic, instinct takes over: he only uses four fingers to grab the back of your jacket, his pinky hovering awkwardly in the air. Anything to avoid destroying you. Anything to keep you here.

"Idiot," he chokes out, dragging you against him as he stumbles back, his back hitting on the wall behind him. As he slides down to the ground, places your head on his lap. He looks down at you, his eyes full of fear. His voice is cracked and raw, nothing like the Shigaraki the world fears. "Why... why the hell would you do that?"

You smile. Of all the things you could do — all the things you could say — you smile. Weak. Soft. Like you don't have a single regret.

"You’re not..." You cough, blood staining your teeth. "You're not a monster. Not to me."

His whole body shudders. You shouldn't say that. You shouldn't believe that.

His fingers tremble where they grip your jacket, so tight the fabric might tear — but still, carefully, carefully, he keeps his cursed touch at bay.

You reach up — shaky, struggling — and brush the back of your hand against his cheek. A featherlight touch. No threat of Decay. Only warmth.

"Tomura," you whisper.

The sound of it — his real name, spoken with love — cuts deeper than any wound. It shatters something inside him.

You slump fully against his chest, your breathing slowing, your hand falling away.

"No— no, no, no—" His voice is hoarse, frantic. He’s begging, even though he doesn't know who he's begging anymore. "Don't leave. Don't—"

But you’re already slipping away.

The battlefield goes quiet. And Tomura — villain, destroyer, monster — is left holding the only person who ever looked at him like he was worth saving.

Later, when the smoke clears, no one questions why Shigaraki walks off the battlefield with his fingers digging into a battered, bloodstained bracelet wrapped tightly around his wrist. A simple thing. Frayed, cheap — something you had always worn. It was yours. Now it’s his.

He never lets it decay. No matter how damaged he is, no matter how angry — he always makes sure he touches it with four fingers. Never five. Never enough to destroy it.

Because it’s the only thing left of you.

The only thing reminding him he was once loved. Even if he never deserved it.

AAAAA

Alpha Jason my beloved

It’s so good omgg

-🪼

I'll have you know that trying to figure out how to write Jason as an alpha actually killed me a little.

I refuse to read any omegaverse fics and yet, I just broke that rule for that fic.

Y'ALL SHOULD BE HAPPY cause there is little chance I will write another, unless it's a very good prompt. We'll see....

BUT I'M GLAD YOU LIKED IT.

Insomniac's Masterlist

This is where you can find every fic I've currently written for different fandoms!

This is still a work in progress but wanted to make it easier for myself and others to find the fics I've written thus far. Please be patient while I get it figured out. Thanks!

Edit: I tried to make it more organized, gave up. That will be a laters problem when I have more fics posted and it gets confusing.

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

DCxDP Fics:

Blood and Ectoplasm

Batfam Fics:

Operation: Sweet Tooth

Valentine's Day

3am Crackfic

Batbaby

Dadman: Rise of Cringe Pt.2

Bruce x Hal:

Headcanons

Caffine and Capes

John Constantine:

John x Witch!Reader

Alpha!Jason Todd:

Safe in His Scent

Wrapped in Red

Burning for You

More Than Enough

Dick Grayson (Nightwing):

Tilt-a-Heart

Duke Thomas:

Golden Hour

Superman:

A Quiet Retreat

Logan Howlette (Wolverine):

Not the Celebrating Type

Just This Once

Cabin Quiet, Cabin Warm

Oswald Cobblepot (Penguin):

One for the Birds

Flynn Rider:

A Birthday Fit for a Thief

MHA:

Your Name Was Hope (shigaraki x reader)

Burnt Bridges (dabi x reader)

Burnt Bridges

(Dabi x Villain!Reader)

The first time Dabi left, it wasn’t loud. It wasn’t dramatic. There were no explosive confrontations or sudden betrayals. It was just an absence that spread like a poison, slowly creeping through the air. You should have seen it coming, really. The signs were there, even if you didn’t want to acknowledge them. But you didn’t expect him to just leave.

He didn’t say goodbye. He didn’t give you any warning. He just... vanished.

You had been partners in crime, partners in everything. Destruction. Chaos. He was fire, and you were the wind that fueled it. But now, in the wake of his absence, you felt like an ember, flickering in the cold.

You’d come back from a mission, bruised and bloodied as usual, but the familiar warmth of his presence wasn’t there to greet you. His side of the room was empty, the bed unmade. No smirk, no flame, no Dabi.

You should have been used to it, but you weren’t. The hole he left was jagged, painful, and the silence rang louder than any explosion you had ever caused. The night he left, you tried to convince yourself it didn’t matter. That you didn’t need him. You had always been able to go it alone before.

But this wasn’t the same.

You spent days — no, weeks — trying to drown out the void he’d left. You threw yourself into missions, into villain work, into destruction. But each kill, each robbery, each confrontation felt hollow. Something was missing. Someone was missing.

And it wasn’t just anyone. It was him.

You hated the way you couldn’t get him out of your mind, the way you felt like a part of you had been ripped away. And the anger? It burned inside you like an open wound. He had left you without so much as a word. No explanation, no apology. He just left. It wasn’t like Dabi to be this cold, this distant. But maybe he’d always been that way, and you’d just never realized it.

-------------------------------Time Skip------------------------------------

You didn’t expect to see him again. Not after everything. Not after he left without a trace, without a single word.

But there he was, standing at the center of the chaos, his flames dancing like an inferno, scorching everything in his path. He didn’t even look at you at first. Not until the smoke cleared, and you saw him standing there — taller, colder, more controlled than you remembered.

He was a walking blaze, but the heat was different now. It wasn’t the wild, unpredictable fire that used to send shivers of excitement down your spine. It was something calculated. Detached.

And that’s when it hit you. He hadn’t just left. He had changed. His flames weren’t the same, but neither were you.

The battle raged on, but you didn’t care about the heroes. You didn’t care about the villains. Your eyes were fixed on him, and the anger inside you bubbled over.

“You just left,” you spat as you approached him, the words sharp and filled with venom. “Without a word, without a fucking reason. You just left.”

Dabi’s expression was unreadable. His eyes, once filled with fire and intensity, were now cold, like nothing could touch him. It was like he was a different person altogether.

“I don’t owe you anything,” he muttered, his voice like gravel.

“No,” you shot back, your fists clenching. “You don’t owe me anything, but that doesn’t mean I won’t make you owe me an explanation.”

You didn’t wait for him to respond, didn’t care if he wanted to fight or talk. You were done holding back. You were done pretending. His absence had carved deep scars inside you, and now you were going to burn everything down until he understood the weight of his silence.

-------------------------------Time Skip------------------------------------

The city was ablaze, but nothing compared to the fire inside you. You fought like an animal, driven by rage. Every punch you threw, every villain you took down, was a piece of the anger you couldn’t contain.

But the heat of the flames was different now. Even Dabi’s fiery presence was no longer enough to soothe the wound he’d left behind.

After the battle, you stood alone in the remnants of the wreckage. The sound of distant sirens was like a mocking reminder of everything you had lost. Everything he had taken. You didn’t know why you stayed here. Why you didn’t walk away.

Maybe it was the lingering hope that he’d finally talk to you. But after everything, you weren’t sure what you expected.

“Why the hell did you leave?” you demanded, your voice shaking with barely-contained fury.

Dabi didn’t respond right away. His eyes were cold, focused on the destruction around you. But then, finally, his gaze flicked to you. His lips curled into a thin, bitter smile.

“I didn’t think you’d care,” he said, his voice distant, almost disinterested.

The words hit you like a slap. You didn’t expect him to apologize. You didn’t expect him to beg for forgiveness. But this? This was worse. The indifference in his tone, the way he dismissed you as if you didn’t matter, as if you were just another part of his past he could burn away… It was more than you could handle.

“You think I didn’t care?” Your chest tightened, the anger threatening to swallow you whole. “You think I don’t care that you left me without even telling me? Without any warning, without any explanation?” Your voice rose, the fury in your words making the air around you crackle. “You’re a fucking coward, Dabi. A coward who ran when things got hard. You always leave when it gets too real. And I’m sick of it.”

He stepped forward, his gaze unwavering, the flames flickering at his side, but there was no emotion behind them. “I didn’t ask you to stay. You’re here because you chose to be.”

“And now I regret it,” you hissed, taking a step back, the fire in your eyes not matching the coldness in his. “You’re not the same, Dabi. You’re just a ghost. And I’m done chasing after you.”

For a moment, the world seemed to freeze. There was no sound, no movement, just the two of you — separated by everything that had come between you.

Then, without another word, you turned away, leaving him standing in the flames.

The Making of a Villian - Chapter 1

The WayneTech board meeting was scheduled for 9:00 a.m.

By 9:03, their encrypted systems were silently bleeding data into a private offshore server. No alarms. No alerts. Just a quiet, surgical extraction—clean, undetectable, and irreversible.

You watched from a dusty rooftop across the street, sipping coffee like any civilian on a break. Except your hands weren’t shaking, and your eyes never left the mirrored windows reflecting a city that forgot you.

It wasn’t about the files. Not really. You’d already read them—twice—before deleting the backups. What mattered was what came next: one carefully altered blueprint. A subtle change in the emergency lockdown protocols, buried deep in the code. Harmless… until the moment someone needed them most.

You didn’t need chaos. Not yet.

You needed doubt.

Down below, Bruce Wayne’s car pulled into the underground garage. Right on schedule. You watched as security greeted him with smiles and clipped nods.

They didn’t know.

No one ever did—until it was too late.

You slipped the burner phone back into your pocket and turned away from the skyline. One step. Then another. Quiet boots on concrete. No capes. No flashy suits. Just a face they’d stopped looking at long ago.

But you were done being invisible.

Your game had just begun.

It hadn’t always been like this. You remembered your first week training with them. You’d shown up early—excited, eager to learn. Tim had offered a nod. Dick had smiled. Barbara barely looked up from her console.

You thought they were just busy. That maybe, in time, you’d earn your place. That if you just proved yourself…

And you did. Over and over again.

Yet somehow, you were always the footnote. The cautionary tale. “Don’t be like them,” Bruce had once said to Damian during a sparring match. You’d laughed it off then. Told yourself he meant your form. Not you.

You knew better now.

You remembered a moment not long ago: standing in the Batcave, trying to offer insight into an unfolding hostage situation. You had mapped out a possible escape route—one they didn’t see. You weren’t loud. You didn’t shout over anyone. You just slid the schematic across the table. Bruce didn’t even glance at it. Tim talked over you. And when the building collapsed—when things went wrong—no one asked why.

Just a quiet, disappointed look. A cold shoulder. Another mark against your record.

You weren’t angry anymore. Not really.

Just focused.

You stepped onto the street and vanished into the crowd. No one looked twice.

Perfect.

They wanted a ghost. They’ll get one.

But not the kind they can exorcise. Not a whisper or a shadow. You’ll become something worse.

Something undeniable.

You passed a newsstand on your way to the subway. The headlines blared about another WayneTech breakthrough. Another miracle. Another story that never had your name in the footnotes, even though you remembered the late-night sessions, the endless trial runs they’d let you conduct just to see if the theories held.

And they had. But it hadn’t mattered.

You dipped underground, swiping a fake MetroCard as you passed the gate. A man bumped into you—apologized quickly. You nodded, saying nothing, and slipped the tracker into the fold of his coat pocket. It wasn’t personal. He was just the next piece. A courier. Unwitting. Useful.

Your network was small. Precise. Built on favors, blackmail, and anonymous generosity. They didn’t know you—and you liked it that way. Your face was forgettable, and you’d sharpened that into a weapon.

As the train sped through the tunnels, you stared at your reflection in the window. The person looking back wasn’t a villain yet.

But they were getting close.

You smiled—just a little.

“Soon,” you murmured.

This wasn’t about revenge.

It was about recognition. About truth. About making them see the cracks they’d built their empire on—starting with you.

And when it all came tumbling down, you’d be standing at the center, calm and untouchable, while they scrambled to remember where it all went wrong.

Right here.

Right now.

And by then, it would be far, far too late.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Finished both Chapter 0 and Chapter 1 around the same time and figured I'd post them both.

Let me know what you guys think of this and if I should turn it into a full on fic or just post bits and pieces every once in awhile.

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.

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)

...

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. 😭