I'm Still Standing

The League felt like they had a strong sense of Phantom’s power. After all, they wouldn’t have asked him to join the team, otherwise. He’s strong, he can fly, and due to his supernatural nature, he’s amazing on recon and stealth missions. He’s also incredibly reliable, and smarter than most people give him credit for. He’s a natural hero, a more snarky Captain Marvel, some news outlets have been saying. Always saving people with just the right words to say, with a humble smile on his face.

Phantom, with all of his power, seemed untouchable in every definition of the word.

And then they got invaded by Darkseid.

It wasn’t the first time Darkseid had invaded Earth, but it was the first time bringing armies so large, the first time he’s attacked all over the world to spread the League thin. It is single handedly the worst alien invasion Earth has ever had.

Batman, bleeding out on the sidewalk, Wonder Woman knocked unconscious and restrained by a nearly egregious amount of henchmen, Superman, weak from the kryptonite Darkseid had shot him with. Thankfully it had missed all the important bits, but with that bullet inside of him, Superman was also down for the count, as well as dozens of other League members.

If it hadn’t been for Phantom, they would have lost.

Phantom, who’s never been seen without a smile on his face until now. Phantom, who’s never had so much as a scratch on him, until now. Phantom, who has only ever been known to be kind and compassionate, even to his villains, until now.

Usually there’s this sort of warm, comforting feeling that radiates from Phantom. It feels like a nice breeze on a warm summer’s day, a nice cup of hot cocoa, your favorite song. It’s a feeling of safety, as if everything will be alright just because he’s there.

Here, though, something else, something much stronger, is radiating from him. It practically rolls off of him in huge waves, making those conscious around him more aggravated, more on edge.

Phantom pulls himself off of the ground. His suit is torn, and his green blood splattered on himself and the ground. He spits a glob of it out, along with a tooth.

“Still, you stand,” Darkseid says, as if tired. “Do you not tire in the face of your own demise?”

“As long as I’m still standing, you won’t ever win,” Phantom says. His voice is low and threatening, reverberating eerily off of the broken infrastructure that surrounds them. It sends a chill down everybody’s spines, though if Darkseid is affected, he doesn’t show it.

“Your comrades have fallen, your militaries have failed, and you have no other help arriving. Pray tell how one singular human will be able to take me down!”

Phantom doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he walks forward so that his friends are behind him, and braces himself. Darkseid, unable to contain his own hubris, lets Phantom come closer.

Phantom takes in a deep breath, as if he’s about to speak.

Instead he wails.

Any remaining glass shatters, raining down upon them as green sound waves push back the offending forces.

And it’s loud, of course. The ears of Darkseid’s minions are bleeding, and many of them are either dying because it’s too much for them to bear, or they’re killing themselves to give themselves some modicum of relief. But it’s also more than that, more than noise.

It’s mourning.

The first feeling that overwhelms everyone is anger. Phantom’s anger at Darkseid, at the destruction, at the fact that he just can’t catch a fucking break and it’s not fair. The second, is the sadness. It weighs down upon their shoulders, suffocating them like smog. It invades every part of their being-their lungs, their joints, their very hearts-and it presses and presses and presses until there’s very nearly nothing left.

Phantom still pushes on. He is nothing if not persistent, driven to fight, driven to protect his people, his team, his friends, his family. No mortal being could ever hope to have a lung capacity like this, but Phantom is no normal mortal, and Darkseid is finally starting to come to terms with that.

The last wave of overwhelming emotion is more of an idea than it is an actual feeling. It’s not a threat, per se, but a promise. A promise to do everything in his power to destroy Darkseid and his forces permanently and with prejudice. A promise that no matter how hard Darkseid fights, he will not win.

A promise that, if knocked down, Phantom will stand back up, and he will not lose.

Eventually, after what feels like eternity, the wail dies down. There isn’t a single member of Darkseid’s army that’s still on their feet or in the air. Phantom collapses down to one knee, and bright, white rings flicker around his person for just a moment, before he wills them away and stands back up.

It’s less walking towards Darkseid, and more stalking. They are not on equal footing. Phantom is the predator in every sense of the word, his anger and grief still radiating off of his body in ways that Darkseid is unable to comprehend.

“Do you yield?” Phantom asks. His eyes are blazing green, burning into Darkseid’s very soul. It is a sort of animalistic, primal instinct deep within him that tells him, run, run as fast as you can. Darkseid’s hubris, however, remains unmatched.

Even as he stares Death in the eye.

“I do not,” Darkseid says. He tries to get to his feet, but his body won’t listen, still weighed down by the effects of Phantom’s wail.

“Then as Phantom, King of the Dead, I hereby condemn you for the rest of your afterlife.”

“Don’t count your eggs yet, boy,” Darkseid spits. “I’m still alive.”

“No,” Phantom says, in a tone adjacent to someone who’s giving their condolences, “You’re not.”

Phantom gestures beside them, and Darkseid spares a glance and sees…Himself.

His corpse is splayed on the ground, blood spurting out of his ears, nose, and eyes. He stares lifelessly up at the sky. The blood is still leaking down the sides of his face.

“You’re dead now, Darkseid, and therefore under my jurisdiction. Due to your extensive list of crimes you will not receive a hearing, just your eternal damnation for the sins you’ve committed.”

Phantom waves his hand, and green chains and manacles appear on Darkseid’s wrists and ankles before he’s dusted out of existence, sent to his eternal punishment in another dimension.

As soon as he’s gone, Phantom collapses to his knees.

He’s not sure how long he’s there, sitting in the blood of those he’s killed, before Wonder Woman comes over. She’s covered in gashes and bruises and blood that isn’t hers, but she still stands tall and proud. A battle won is a reason for celebration, after all.

He glances behind her, sees Superman taking Batman into his arms and flying off.

Diana doesn’t ask him questions about how he’s feeling. A victory is a victory, sure, but not without its price.

Instead, she holds out her hand. Danny grasps it, and allows her to help him to his feet.

“As long as you can stand, you can win,” Diana says. “I think I’ll have to use that for my next big speech.”

“By all means,” Phantom tells her. “Just be sure to credit me.”

“Deal.”

Another snipit of a long since unwritten chapter/idea from my fic

Dash held the raised roof tightly as he looked down, legs ready to push off towards a free fall. He closed his eyes and took a few breaths before moving forward.

Just as he was about to let go, a voice called behind him, “You know, most suicide survivors say they regret trying the moment they let go.” This caused Dash to catch himself before he lost grip. The voice was familiar enough for him to turn around and face his unwanted observer.

A set of blue eyes stared back at him as Dash spoke a bit shakily, “W-what?”

“Mind if I join you?” The closer his observer got closer, the quicker Dash realized who he was talking to. He knows it is. He's a few inches taller than he was in there senior year at about 5'9”, a bit more toned, and white hair growing on the back of his head, but it was obvious.

Dash just huffed at Danny and turned away, to which he interpreted as a yes. There was a brief moment of silence between them when Danny swung his legs over, the silence only breaking when Dash sighed, “I injured my back and got cut from the team.”

“Bone or muscle injury?” Danny asked.

Dash glared at Danny, wondering why he cared, but all he was greeted with was caring blue eyes. Dash looked away as he continued, “It doesn’t matter. It’s not too serious at the moment, and it doesn’t bother me too much, but from what the doc was saying. If I continue playing, I-” Dash stopped and tightened the wall around his fingers.

Danny was patient however, moving a bit closer and waiting calmly and quietly for Dash to continue.

After a bit, Dash swallowed and continued, “If I continue playing, it may cause permanent and serious damage.”

“And so you were cut from the team?” Danny asked curiously, “You could have been a coach’s assistant or something.”

“Yes, well,” Dash huffed, “I thought of that too. Apparently, seniority overrules talent here. Who knew.”

Danny huffed and stifled a laugh. Dash huffed too. He didn’t mean to make it funny, but it did seem a bit ridiculous in retrospect. He is only in his second year, and most of his team, -former team-, were just as or more talented than he was.

After another brief moment of silence, this one a bit calmer than the last, Danny asked, “So… what now?”

“I…” Dash looked down the building wall to the concrete below. It seemed a lot further down now than it was when he first arrived on top of the building. “I don’t know. My scholarship is all but over, a-and I can’t play football again.” Dash held back a sob. His voice broke as he said, “You were right the last time we saw each other. I…I did peak in high school, I just didn’t realize it.” Dash closed his eyes, sighed, and turned to look at Danny. He began to apologize, “I’m sorry I bullied you in high school. I never realized how much you were going through, with your parents, with…everything. It must have…I’m sorry.”

Danny’s calm eyes turned to concern, then to regret. This time, he turned away. “We all say and do things we regret.” Dash watched as he rubbed the palm of his left hand and practically glared at it. With a sigh, Danny continued, “I know how you feel, though. Your purpose…going away and not seeing a reason for living.”

“The ghosts stopped attacking,” Dash stated the obvious. “Why…?” Dash looked at Danny in confusion, “why are you telling me this?”

“I don’t know,” Danny said honestly, “Maybe I needed a rant. Maybe it was because you’re sitting on a rooftop about ready to jump over being cut from the team. It’s all to say, you aren't alone, and there is more to you than just football.”

Dash shrugged nervously, “I mean, is life so much better?”

“Probably not,” Danny said with a shrug, “but where's the fun in being dead?”

Dash grumbled and rolled his eyes.

BE SAFE EVEN THO TYPHOONS HAPPEN REGULARLY THERE (I think)

PLEASE PROMISE ME THAT YOULL BE OKAY I BEG OF YOU-

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leloudlizbirb

2 years ago

i can excuse taxidermied animal heads leaking blood from their eyes and jaws but i draw the line at a twelve year old saying poopface

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leloudlizbirb

11 months ago

Ivy, of course, had no clue Harley was doing this until she came home one day to find a boy sleeping with Harley's hyenas. Harley excitedly gave her story, and Ivy, though obviously not too pleased with the situation, knew she couldn't just kick out a homeless teen. And besides, the kid was adorable, if not a bit insane.

As much as I love Danny and the BatFam,

I need more Posion Ivy, and Harley Quinn accidentally became moms too this werid maybe-human?Kid,that they found rummaging in their bins one night or sm.

(Writing that last part put the image of Harley taking the trash out one night and Danny's just perched on the dumpster, his eyes glowing, looking like a startled opossum,he lightly hisses, grabs his half eaten grill cheese and disappears into the shadows)

Obviously, after that, Harley tries to lure him in like he's some street cat.

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leloudlizbirb

7 months ago

I love this.

DPxDC Prompt where Danny, Sam, and Tucker know more about Bruce Wayne's life than they'd ever like to, thanks to Sam being forced to attend several Wayne galas, and overhearing entirely too much gossip from her parents. They know that Bruce Wayne has adopted three sons, all of which have black hair and blue eyes.

When things start to get worse in Amity, they sometimes joke that Danny should be the next Bruce Wayne adoptee. Danny laughs along with the jokes, adding fuel to the fire. One way or another, there's eventually a bet.

It's a stupid thing, sticking his neck out in Gotham to try and get Bruce Wayne to notice and adopt him (when he already has parents…), but Danny's here for the chaos. He's not sure what he'll do if he succeeds, except for maybe fake his death and run like hell.

Only… somewhere along the line, Danny starts to… actually feel welcome and safe.

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leloudlizbirb

6 months ago

Same

Tim froze. "Huh?"

"I mean, you're definitely cute. But I don't feel comfortable with strangers? And I don't want there to be any misunderstandings."

Danny Nightingale looked flustered, nervous, and far too pretty with his cheeks flushing red under the glow of the nearby lamp fixtures. Tim wondered when his brain would finally come back online. Right now it was far too interested in putting everything else on the backburner.

On one hand, he had been trying to get information out of Danny on his connection to Vlad Masters- a connection that had seemed more tenuous with each passing minute of the evening. On the other, Tim could admit it had sounded a bit like he was inviting Danny for something more.

And if he was honest with himself, it was only mostly unintentional.

"It's not even you, I just get attached really easily and don't want something casual. Sorry."

Tim hadn't even realized boundary setting could be so attractive.

"No. Yeah, that's- fine." Smooth. The Drake-Wayne charm at its finest. Tim could hear Jason snickering on the comms.

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