#Darkness Settles In

[gettin-edgy-all-the-time]

"your heaven doesnt want me and your hell wont let me in"

this line has been stuck in my head for hours now. i could (and will) analyze it like a piece of poetry its so good. based on the other lyrics in the song it could mean that the narrator at least feels that they are such a terrible person that they are not only rejected by heaven but also feared / outcast by hell. however i also came up with a second interpretation that this line is the narrator's comment on humanity: too impure for heaven because they are still alive but not allowed into hell because they still have a chance at redemption due to the fact they are still alive. essentially you could interpret the line as the narrator being the ultimate outsider because of their humanity / alive-ness

NB: these are my personal interpretations, to be taken with a grain of salt. after a quick google search the song seems to be inspired by Five Finger Death Punch's front man's struggle with alcoholism. if anyone has additional info on the song feel free to share

[batsyheere]

I sometimes just imagine the first time Phantom is introduced to the league as like, a fellow big league hero. As someone who works with Justice League Dark and took down the Ecto Acts with his own team and allies to be included under the meta acts like aliens. He knows Constantine and Zatanna and is a pretty common name in the magical community now even if usually as his human form "just Danny".

And suddenly he is surrounded by these "big time heroes" and aliens and champions and most would assume he'd be overwhelmed or in awe. Maybe nervous, or weirdly fixated on being in space.

But here's the kicker- Danny is dead. Technically part of the category ecto-entity, ghost, and thus belonging to the Infinite Realms. He has met a vast variety of characters who are far more chaotic and legendary than these people who have so much interpersonal drama it looks like one of the soap operas Tucker refuses to admit he watches. Wonder Woman? Danny has lunch with Pandora and visits the Greek sections of the realms when he needs to research old prophecies. Superman? Kryptonite is like rock candy and the dead of Krypton are either very sweet or very condescending and Danny has seen both in the Boy Scout. The less said about the Green Lanterns the better. The Flash family are entertaining but also headache inducing because Danny has heard the complaints about the timeline. Half a dozen other heroes and vigilantes have their own dramas that Danny could pick apart at the source for the many issues that started said drama, and that's not even beginning on the issues with Batman and the weird galley of children he has who are sometimes even worse than the dark knight himself.

Meanwhile the League find themselves growing more concerned and horrified the more Phantom manages to reference his adventures and rather stressful start as a vigilante. Constantine hasn't been more entertained in years.

[hellenhighwater]

It's cold enough tonight that for the first time since April, Arson and Larceny are back in the house. I'm enjoying all their little settling-in noises as they get their nest in order.

Meanwhile, I've opened the aviary proper up for Malice and Vice to access through the catio, and they're out there horking down grass in the dark like a couple of vampiric cows. Nobody tell them they're obligate carnivores.

[itseghost]

some essek portrait doodles :] still figuring him out but i do love 2 draw him

[mooreaux]

More than what my father made me…

Winter Rose thoughts. The bhaalspawn who wished to be good.

[jordanshenessy]

some sketches of jean <3

[mattodore]

bleached his hair with box dye and would’ve went bald if he weren’t blessed with unfair genes

[mimsilverarts]

After episode 9, I just had to sketch her, plus a bonus Quinlan who was probably just chilling, waiting for his wife to return from work. Probably wanted to cuddle in bed a little longer

[eldrtchmn]

🖤

[nomsfaultau]

Dark SBI where Philza is a nice normal human man whose family slowly gets replaced by super natural creatures. The youngest is the first to go, replaced by 'Tommy', a shape shifting imp who decided he liked the skin of the kid and decided to keep it. He lives for chaos, but his motives falter when he experiences genuine love for the first time. Then 'Wilbur' replaces another son in classic changeling fashion, the boy taken to fulfill the whims of the fae and leaving in his place a bitter boy who knows he's an inferior version. Finally, the last son becomes plagued by dark voices that grow worse and worse, leading him succumbing to possession by 'Technoblade', who thinks he'll make the perfect new vessel after the last one was destroyed. 'Technoblade' doesn't want to lose his new vessel so soon after the last one, 'Wilbur' was trained from birth to mimic the human he would replace, and 'Tommy' wants an identity he can fall back on to play innocent if he gets in trouble. It takes awhile before the others realize all three kids are imposters. There's friction, of course, but they eventually make a pact to continue pretending to be a sweet and unsuspecting family.

The thing is...Philza isn't dumb. There's this awful feeling in his gut, and he has a sharp eye for details that don't add up. He's increasingly certain these things aren't his children. He quietly gathers evidence, and the moment he's sure...he does nothing. Philza carries on in a careful pantomime of a perfectly loving family, terrified of what they'll do to him if they realize he knows their true natures. He smothers his fear and offers them warm smiles and boundless mercy and tender affection the likes of which the imposter children have never known before. Slowly, it becomes a easier for everyone to pretend.

Maybe, if Philza's kind enough, they won't kill him, or worse. Maybe if he's good enough, their evil natures will soften. Maybe, if he's patient enough, they'll give him his real kids back.

And the moment they do, he'll slaughter every last one of the monsters who destroyed his family.

[idkaguyorsomething]

a support group for people with “unconventional” daemons. jeff with his flounder he has to carry everywhere in a huge tank. lois with her poison dart frog everyone is afraid to touch. sam with their elephant that’s the reason they can never go higher than two stories in most buildings.

[versias]

A Haunt is Where the Heart Is

The first time Bruce encountered Phantom, he was bleeding from a stab wound to the side that had missed both vital organs and armor.

“That looks bad.” The voice was quiet, barely more than a whisper.

The shape was barely more than an outline of a person; for a moment, Bruce worried he’d been dosed with some kind of hallucinogenic in the knife. It looked around before it shifted more into the visual range. At the same time, it drifted closer.

“Stop,” Batman growled. Then demanded: “Who are you.”

They became more and more real, and he could now see the fine-boned facial features, the grown-out hair in a shocking white, and glowing green eyes. White lashes swept down as it (they?) blinked, answering, “Phantom.”

“Is that ‘who’ or ‘what’?”

They smiled, a mischievous little light dancing in their eyes. “Bit of both, actually.”

“My wound isn’t bad enough to kill me,” Batman denied.

The being giggled, a noise that sounded like twinkling stars and made something squirm in his chest.

“I’m not a psychopomp, dude. Just trying to offer some help. I like to keep people in the world of the living.”

They knelt down, setting their gaze level with the injury, giving him the choice of accepting or not.

Tilting their head back to look up into his face, they said, “Let me help?”

He wasn’t so hurt that he couldn’t get back to the cave. But the mystery of the being was enough to keep him in the alley, stepping closer. He needed more data.

(It had nothing to do with the image of a beautiful person on their knees for him, though he might think about it later. Maybe.)

———

The next time they crossed paths, Phantom’s hair was longer. It floated freely, drifting in some ethereal wind as the being floated, parallel to the ledge.

Bruce let his boot scrape the gravel as he approached.

Phantom didn’t look. Their eyes were fixed on the sky. The blackout had coincided with a break in the perpetual cloud cover. A glittering blanket shone above and Phantom sparkled in the starlight like they were one of the stars. They were glowing the brightest they’d ever been.

“I never thought I’d get to see the stars here.” They breathed. Awe colored their voice.

Bruce glanced up. It was beautiful, but he had to admit that he preferred the shining lights of the city. Gotham was a city of shadows; without the light, the shadows didn’t dance.

He didn’t say that, though. Not when Phantom’s ecstasy was so obvious. It made him want to see the sky the way the ghost did.

“Did you come up here just to hang out with me?”

Batman grunted. “What do you know about the Park Row murders?”

There were always murders in Crime Alley, but the string of brutal killings had the hallmarks of a new serial killer.

Phantom gave him a Look.

“Want me to ask the victims? Or are you assuming all ghosts know each other, Batman?”

Batman leveled an unimpressed look at them.

“Ugh, how’d you even know I was looking into it?”

Characteristic snow pattern in security camera footage.

“I’m Batman.”

“Yeah, whatever,” they waved a lazy hand like a king dismissing their court. “I haven’t learned much. The shades of ghastly deaths like that aren’t very coherent. I can stabilize them a little, but I don’t like to do that—it prolongs their suffering, you know? Mostly, I’m just trying to help them cross over. Everything I hear is incidental.”

“Anything could help.”

Phantom tells him what they’ve heard. It is scattered and some of it might be the final delusions of the dying, but he appreciates it nonetheless. Centering the victims in his mind helps him. It also helps to hear that Phantom helped them reach some kind of peace.

“Thought you weren’t a psychopomp.”

Phantom blew a raspberry at him.

Bruce suppressed a smirk.

———

Adrenaline was still pumping through him when Phantom swept back into the room, the casing of a bomb held in one hand and the actual explosive material in the other. Just in time; Batman had finished laying out the private security hired to keep them out.

“Figured I’d just make it so the bomb couldn’t, you know, explode.”

The sound he made was an approving hum, reverberating in his chest as he stepped closer to the ghost. Normally, the cold wafting off Phantom helped bring him down when the action was over. But Phantom looked up at him through their long white lashes, playful as always. It hit his gut like a physical blow.

Something of what he was feeling must have shown on his face, because Phantom’s green eyes widened in surprise. Bruce swallowed the immediate anxiety, the fear of being known, and let himself reach for Phantom. They caught his hand and entwined their fingers.

“Got somewhere to put explosives?” They whispered.

“I do,” he rumbled.

“Do I get to come with you?” Excitement made their eyes sparkle.

No, I get to come with you.

———

The Batcave does have somewhere for explosives, but unfortunately there wasn’t a comfortable place for the other reason Bruce brought Phantom back with him. He considered bringing them up to his bedroom, then dismissed the thought. He was thinking with his dick, not his head. No revealing secrets while high on adrenaline and drowning in a beautiful person.

Thankfully, Phantom didn’t seem to mind when he sat at the chair before the computer and pulled them into his lap. The first press of lips to his own made him shiver. He opened his mouth and accepted the cool, slick tongue. The contrast between his own hot mouth made Phantom moan, something between pain and pleasure.

Bruce pressed his forehead against theirs.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured.

“I don’t mind,” they said. “It doesn’t hurt much; it’s just like stepping into a hot bath. And I don’t mind a little roughness.”

“You know, it occurs to me I never asked… what should I call you? I mean, pronouns-wise.”

Phantom threw their head back and laughed. Bruce resisted the urge to nip at the exposed throat.

“I use he, usually,” he said. “And please call me Danny. You?”

Bruce swallowed, looking for the right words, but Danny was quick to reassure, “No need to share your name, man. I’m in the enviable position of not having a life to disrupt if my secret identity is discovered. I’m not gonna scream ‘Batman’ though. He/him for you? Is ‘B’ okay?”

Relief. “It is. It’s perfect.”

Then he considered the rest of what he’d said. Not having a life, but didn’t deny a secret identity. Interesting. But not relevant, at the moment.

“So you’re a screamer?” His hands drifted down Phantom’s sides and around his thighs.

Phantom snickered, “Maybe. You know, if you can make me.”

It wouldn’t be easy to keep up with undead vigor, but he couldn’t back down from a challenge like that.

Bruce vowed to make him hoarse.

———

They slept together many more times after that. Phantom did get to see his bedroom and met Alfred (who referred to Danny endearingly as ‘Master Bruce’s young man’). Bruce made sure Danny knew he had somewhere safe to return to when he needed it.

He didn’t let it go further. Partly, it was about Batman. Working together once or twice was alright, but Batman couldn’t afford to have a partner. How could he ask Danny to shoulder Gotham’s darkness with him? Force him to watch Bruce throw himself into danger every night on an impossible quest?

He was already breaking Alfred’s heart. He couldn’t do the same thing to someone else. He loved Danny too much to do it to him.

God, Bruce loved Danny Phantom.

Bruce loved the way Phantom curled around him in sleep. Loved the way he arched his back and cried when he was close to orgasm. Loved how he floated a bit when he talked about space. Loved how he could always tell what Bruce needed to say, even when it got mangled between his brain and mouth.

Yet.

Phantom wasn’t… alive. Not in the way Bruce was, at least. It didn’t seem fair to ask him to stay, to spend the rest of Bruce’s life tied to him. It wasn’t like they could grow old together. Bruce would age and Phantom wouldn’t, frozen in death. Whatever power allowed him to manifest in the physical realm shouldn’t be wasted on something so… domestic as a boyfriend. A husband.

Bruce loved Danny. He nestled somewhere in his heart, fluttering against his pulse. He could keep him there without chaining him to his side. It was enough.

It had to be.

———

Danny told him he needed to attend to his duties in the Infinite Realms. He looked resigned.

“When will you be back?”

“I don’t know. Time gets weird in the Zone. I’ll come back, though. Promise.”

Danny kissed him goodbye.

Bruce tried to tell himself it wouldn’t be forever.

It felt like a lie.

———

Bruce found Dick Grayson. He tucked him under his wing. Held on too tight and pushed him away.

———

Bruce found Jason. Failed him, again and again.

———

Tim found Bruce. He didn’t deserve him, but he wasn’t leaving. It ached.

———

Bruce’s family grew, children and cousins alike gathering under the banner of the Bat. Sometimes it felt right, to stand with them and fight for a better future. Sometimes Bruce felt like he was losing his mind, losing his grip on the situation and reality. He watched his children get hurt and get back up and get knocked down again. Sometimes, it was like seeing himself. Sometimes it was alien and horrible, and he was trapped in a nightmare.

He had lovers. Women, mostly. Selina, who came and went like an alley cat, disappearing whenever she pleased.

Talia, deadly and divine in equal measure, with a touch of death about her.

He didn’t need Alfred’s knowing glances to pick up the common thread, thank you.

He was pining, not in denial.

———

Damian showed up on his doorstep, haughty and whole and real. His flesh and blood, ten years old. This was the first time he’d ever even heard of Talia having a child.

What the fuck.

———

Jason came back from the dead, dripping with rage.

Bruce wished Danny was here. He’d know what to do. He always did.

[culiehua]

can you tell i love mother child angst

anyways. some baby!kit for the soul

[thealogie]

First “I left work at a reasonable time but it was pitch black outside” day of the season. I do not care for this one bit.

[giantchasm]

Taranza's adventures on Haltwitter

[desultory-novice]

"Comfort Food"

Late to the party Second-chance Round 2 propaganda time! I was cheering for both @moonmacabre01's Fondue and @m0x1ez's Moonstone, so going against both in one round was sad...!

But it wasn't hard to come up with a funny scenario for the two Dark Matter-possessed fairies (half-fairy in Noir's case) and Dedede's best chef. Especially after finding out about the existence of THIS dessert from the Hoshi no Kirby ~ Okashi na Sweet Island picture book!

Yes, that's a Dark Matter-themed fruit tart XD

Obligatory appeal to [Vote for Noir] in his current match to keep the comically traumatized failboy hijinks going for another round...!! - Full Thought Bubble Text (for ease of reading)

Moonstone:

There has to be a way to kill my other self. But which self is the "other" self? is there any way to escape this fate? If I could control it… But what if my research is just teaching it how to control me first…?

Noir:

I'm a monster. I don't deserve to live. But then why do I still linger on after death? is this punishment for what I did? I just want it to end. But do i even deserve to be free…?

@kirbyoctournament