#internal struggles

[phantomphangphucker]

Phic Phight - You Look Sort Of Like My Father

For: Chrysanthemum and Care

Danny’s never had good parents. They were objectively ‘good’ people, but maybe an objectively ‘bad’ man would make for a genuinely good parent.

You look sort of… like my father.

Little boy, little boy, let me come in.

Let the dark come in.

Dad is that you, are you back?

Danny’s always had a… rocky relationship with his parents, it’s not that they were actively mean to him or that he actively hated them. It’s more that they just… weren’t good, weren’t attentive.

Weren’t really meant to be parents.

They were meant to be scientists, to be researchers, to be explores even; meant to be ghost hunters.

Kids were just for ‘the Fenton legacy’ or because ’married couples were supposed to have kids’ or simply for them to have extra hands to help them or extra minds to listen to them…

Or maybe it was simply to have free experiments that couldn’t escape for eighteen years.

…

That last one felt a little too true these days. At least they didn’t know about him, about what he was. If they did…

It, it would be so so much worse. Surely.

How couldn’t it be? They’d have access to a ghost, a unique hybrid ghost at that, that was stuck under their roof for at least two more years… if he survived whatever they’d do for that long anyways.

He didn’t have his hopes up. Never did. Never had even.

At least when he was human, fully human, he didn’t have to wonder if they’d saw out his ribs just to see what colour they might be. Blood samples were just blood. The stool stuff was creepy but still, not really a part of him.

Plus they stopped doing that stuff a year after they started actively feed him and Jazz ecto as little kids, since it didn’t ’yield interesting results’.

If it had…

He’d have been screwed from the start of his half life. He absolutely would have had to flee on day one. God that would have been awful.

He’d have… survived of course, he was good at surviving, had to be, but surviving wasn’t good. Surviving, only just surviving, was worse than dying.

He’d do it for his friends and to protect the town of course but still, he’d be doing all of it, all of that, empty and numb and waiting for the fight that would finally brutally beat the fight out of every one of his limbs and eventually… his heart and core too.

But that’s not how things are, not how they were, small mercy he guesses.

Didn’t really make what he does have now much better though. And it’s not like he can even dream that things would be better if only he hadn’t died.

They would be, just…

They still wouldn’t be good. They wouldn’t be fine or even okay.

And giving kids at least a ‘fine’ childhood was kinda the point of being a parent, ‘good’ was the goal and ‘great’ was better, but ‘fine’ would do. ‘Okay’ was only really acceptable with parents who didn’t choose to become parents, which was firmly not his parents positions.

They chose this.

They shouldn’t have.

He wished they hadn’t.

…

Well, okay, that wasn’t strictly true. He… enjoyed being around, he did!

He liked helping people, and seeing movies, and getting into ghostly fist fights, and hanging out with his friends… Even taunting Dash mid bully session could be fun.

But his parents shouldn’t have had kids and Danny would be better off someone else’s kid. Jazz was treated better by them and even she knew that; and unlike him, she had told them as much.

Did they care?

No, not really. Just a ‘that’s nice, honey’, which was and is somehow worse than them being upset, or heck, even happy. They just… didn’t really care.

He’d always wanted to fly, but all they taught him was how to drown.

The only things from them he did really like was his own love of science, of exploring and discovering, of tinkering; but they only cared and nurtured those things in him as far as they benefited and leaning into their interests… not his. Sure he was interested in ghosts too, just not like them.

Never like them.

They’d want him to be. Push him to be. So he never made that little interest known.

That’s okay though.

Because he explored his interests on his own, which wasn’t how it should be.

But…

His parents also gave him what he is. He wouldn’t be a halfa if it was for them. And that was such a part of him he could hardly seem himself without it. Even if what gave him it is all the things wrong with his parents. All the reasons they should never have been parents.

Unsafe handling of samples and unlocked projects. No adult supervision and contaminated baby bottles from the day he was born.

His parents must have paid someone off to avoid him and jazz getting taken away by cps. That, or, Sam was right and the cps only ever really did anything when a kid died and actually left a corpse behind.

…

Sucks for him he guesses then. Or not. The adoption system sounded awful.

He just… didn’t know if that would be better or worse than what he’s got, hard to say. Which he knows is really really bad. At this point it didn’t matter anyways, he had two more years and it wouldn’t matter.

He could stay.

He could go.

He could stay sometimes and go other times.

It would be up to him. And well… he did not hate his parents. In some ways he wanted to stay, he just… knows he can’t. It’s not safe. It never will be safe. Human or halfa. It won’t be safe. It won’t be healthy. It won’t be happy.

He won’t be free.

He really wanted to be free.

Not free from them, not really. Just free to be, well, him. Free to go where he wanted. Free to talk as he wanted. Free to decorate as he wanted. Free to simply be without having to be so damn paranoid about them. About them hurting him, about them confining him, about them maybe simply just not caring.

If they ever found out and just said ‘that’s nice, sweetie’, he knows he wouldn’t be able to handle that.

What would he even be supposed to do with that?

Nothing. Because you can’t do anything when someone gives you nothing. And that was a nothing response.

He could power through torture, would suck but he could do it. It was something. Confinement he could find an escape or be rescued. Nothing would just…

…

Yeah. It would just, and that’s it. And being stuck in that kind of uncertainty would be the farthest from being free or safe or happy.

He can only starve for so long before he’ll die. He’s starving for freedom. For better. For more. For what only the darkness seems to whisper he can actually have.

It’s a bit weird.

Because he didn’t used to really think about this stuff, all of it, before. As a kid, an early teen, it just simply was. No need to think about it and no real reason to. Jazz did, because Jazz studied behaviours, because Jazz cared about and for him more than they ever did.

But at least he knows why he actually thinks about this stuff now. He had a reference point, and a bit more maturity of course; but it was mostly that reference point he mentioned. And ironically, the reference point that actually got him to really think about how bad his parents were at being parents was an outright mass murderer…

That was pretty messed up, in all honesty. Even to him.

When a literal war mongering genocidal mad man provides an actual example of what a good parent should be, because the biological parents were just that far gone.

Someone he knows is no good, is good to him.

But…

Pariah just… seemed to care, not just in general but about him specifically.

Somehow.

Danny had been pretty convinced that the whole ‘you nearly truly bested me, child, you shall be my heir’ situation was just that, claiming a strong heir.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

Just some other adult using what they wanted or needed of Danny and moving along.

Like mom and dad.

Like Vlad.

Like ClockWork.

Like Pamela and Jeremy Manson.

Like Alicia.

Like Pandora.

Like Angela and Maurice Foley.

Even like Lancer.

In fact… the only adult that Danny can think of that didn’t do that to him, was Sam’s nana Ida… his nana Ida… who of course died.

Figures right?

The one adult who treated him well dying?

Yeah…

‘That’s rough buddy’.

He was tired of rough. Honestly.

But then, now, there’s Pariah. Who… doesn’t do that to him.

Sure Pariah trains him. Hand to hand combat. Weapons. Political jargon. War strategies. Zone geography. Ghost typography and linguistics.

But…

He also listens to him. He doesn’t just throw things at him. Doesn’t just push his own wants, his own desires, his own ways, on him. On Danny. He didn’t do that to Danny as a whole, not just the ghost Phantom or the Human Fenton. Danny. He listened.

He gave back more than ‘that’s nice, sweetie’. Or ‘be back by super!’. Or ‘okay, have fun’.

Pariah gave responses. He gave actual feed back, and opinions, and his own specific thoughts.

And neither did he just say what he thought Danny wanted to hear or what he thought would get Danny to do or say or be the way he wanted. Even when Pariah knew it wasn’t what Danny wanted to hear.

When Pariah’s thoughts and opinions were cruel and twisted and dangerous.

Which was… good. It was really good.

As much as that had been difficult to admit, even to just himself.

Because someone who ended trillions in death and murdered thousands in life, shouldn’t be someone Danny’s ever thinking positively of… right?

Yet he was.

Because Pariah actually seemed to give a damn about Danny. Even if sometimes it was a bit twisted or dark. Even when he pushed for more than Danny was willing to give, he’d back off, drop it, immediately. Maybe explain himself a little, but that was all.

That alone was refreshing.

A ten foot civilization Ender trying to test out Danny’s level of willingness to commit murder, shouldn’t be ‘refreshing’… but it was.

Pariah was everything he didn’t have. Everything he’d never had.

And wasn’t that an awful thing?

What’s worse is it made Danny feel… off kilter. It just wasn’t what he was used to. His experience with so called ‘parental figures’ was lie, hide, and subdue everything.

Be enough for their wants and their needs but never too much. Never too you. If it was a situation where he didn’t have to then he wouldn’t, but with mom and dad he always had to. With anyone with actual claim to the term ‘parent’ with him, he had to.

Until Pariah.

Mom and dad left the door open, the latch ajar, for someone else to come in and scoop him up.

Pariah wanted of him of course. Wanted for him. But he also just wanted Danny seemingly. Wanted Danny as Danny. No lies. No hiding. No subduing his self.

Pariah didn’t like stars. Well he did, he just liked the stars because Danny liked the stars. Danny’s mom and dad couldn’t even understand the concept of liking something just because someone else, because their kid, did.

Pariah, he… felt more a parent each day and each night than Maddie or Jack did.

Every day he sent the FrightKnight as his guard, not because he wanted to ‘keep an eye’ on Danny, but because he wanted Danny safe. Because he did not view Danny as safe in his home environment… or a school… or at his friend’s homes.

Every night he decided to show up and glare menacingly at whatever ghost was bugging Danny, all so he could have some ‘father/son’ time.

Every day he just plain played with him, no ‘how to be a parent’ book needed.

Every night he’d sit on the observatory and let Danny explain the constellations at him even though he’d seen them all before.

Every day he eagerly teach Danny maths and social and even English, in place of living teachers who had long since given up on him.

Every night he simply let Danny sleep purely because he knows Danny needs to.

Then there was what he didn’t do.

He didn’t tell Danny half of what he was, was lesser than him. No, just that everyone was beneath them, because they were king and prince. No bigotry, no bias. It was simple status.

He didn’t gift him backhandedly or gift him only things that were useful to ‘the parent’ instead.

He didn’t disregard him and all that was his. Didn’t give him nothing answers.

Most of all, he didn’t experiment on him. Tests of skill or knowledge, sure, but not experiments, and the tests were with good reason.

Danny being weak, Danny being unskilled, Danny be unaware; would be dangerous. For him, for Pariah, for both of them. It wasn’t the same, it was always willing, eager even.

Pariah… was making Danny happy. Not like the contentment from when he was a young naive child. Actually happy.

That just… also hurt. Because it should be his mom and dad doing that. Having that effect. Not someone Danny met only because of an ill-thought fight and Vlad machinations.

But at some point Danny has to choose himself. His happiness. Choose a future with him happy in it.

Mom and dad.

Maddie and Jack.

Weren’t that future.

They never were. Never even could be. They didn’t have the capacity to be. Not for him, not for Jazz, not for anyone. That’s not Danny’s fault. That’s not Jazz’s fault. He can’t even blame Vlad. It was just them. Maddie and Jack. But that’s what made it hurt too.

Because they were happy the way they were. Hurting and failing those they chose to bring into the world by force. And happy people… can’t be changed. Shouldn’t be really.

It would be really selfish of Danny.

So he’ll let them have their peace. Without him.

It’s okay. It hurts, but it’s okay.

Danny had someone who did want him. Who did change for him. Pariah wanted Danny. And Danny likes being wanted, wants to be wanted.

Was that so wrong?

Was it okay for him to… actually pick Pariah? As a dad?

It… felt like it was but it also felt like it wasn’t.

…

Danny made his choice already. Made it a while ago. Long before he met Pariah. Long before he died. Long before he even understood that not choosing Maddie and Jack was even an option.

It just…

He just… needed to realize that. Mourn that. Hurt a little.

And he had. He really really had.

The realization will settle in. The mourning will peter down. The hurt will dull.

But at least that was an adjustment he wouldn’t have to bear alone.

Even if Pariah didn’t get Danny’s emotions, because they were too human or perhaps simply to foreign to Pariah himself, he would still make an effort to get them or hear them or soften them to something easier for Danny.

That’s so so much more than he’s ever had.

Still.

He has to stay. Stay here. In this house. For two more years, regardless of his falling off breaking non-attachment to its owners. He will be here, but he’ll be motionless. He won’t be himself.

He has nothing left to give.

They failed him, and Pariah came like holy water being poured on him. The devil always seemed so much kinder than god.

Will they even know? Will they be able to tell?

Like astronomy, they were whole worlds apart. Whole universes.

…

They already rarely see him. His room his only home here. The night. The sky. The stars. Even more so home.

Will they one day realize that he too -so much like Jazz but so much painfully later- had lost his will to believe in them? That he tried so hard but they never had anything. Had nothing for him.

Would he just be a memory?

Would they?

Once you reach the sky, you can’t look down at the sea.

A ghost gave him hope and an idea of what happiness was, what it could be.

He… he can almost laugh at how crazy that might drive them…

…

If they cared at all, or if they just dismissed him with their nothings.

Pariah would care. Pariah would laugh with him. And Danny’s heart and core would beat and pulse all the more with it.

Pariah could have him as son.

Pariah had him as son.

And Danny?

Danny, for once, for once in his life and death, had a dad.

As much as it hurt, he couldn’t bear the sound of loosing what he’s never before found.

And with that, the Infinite Realms had a king and prince too. And Danny could make Pariah love the place again. Want it to flourish again.

Because Danny wanted that.

Danny wanted it to thrive.

That place was the space he’d never get to see. The spaceship he can’t fly.

He can’t force a star that’s already died to align with living ones.

But he’ll reach out into the void with his small child ghost hands, and this time…

This time…

He won’t grab the wrong hand.

You look nothing like my mother

You look nothing like my father.

Dark thrashing, calling my name

Looming, threatening, and shaking the latch

You look nothing like my mother I know no mother.

You look exactly like my father.

End.

Prompts: Pariah Dark adopts Danny. He is a surprising dedicated to being a good parent. "This had all been for his own good, he knew that. Still, it was hard to remember that sometimes."

[bobauthorman]

[i-want-to-be-a-poet]

i want to be forgiving i really do i want to lead with love and the kindness that accompanies it but others shall not allow for it perhaps i shall offer them love regardless.

[solexstras]

Voices stretch from your dreams, enveloping you in whispers that never fade. A constant diet of that which your subconscious feeds you, not a simple exchange but a dagger dug deep inside your mind.

It was already troublesome that the Doctor experienced a rare spout of insomnia that he kept a secret. But it seemed he somehow managed to doze off after working himself tirelessly. This was his life now. Assisting others in medical and magical emergencies alike while the only satisfaction he ever garnered was the idea he was providing selfless helpfulness.

But his rest as he laid back in his office chair would not last. For it wasn't uncommon to hear people talk on occasion that weren't actually physically there. After all, the Doctor was a dabbler of the dark. This time, however, they were noisy and personal at that.

" You will always be alone. You are not helping them; you are helping yourself. You cannot wash away the sins of your past. You are as cruel as -he- is. You do not deserve repetency. "

Sol winced, feeling that nagging pain that came like the tip of a blade being dipped into his brain matter. A veil of darkness slowly taking shape around his body as if he was subconsciously calling upon it in defense.

" Misery. Depravity. Depression. They will feast upon your brilliance. "

Tears suddenly trickled down his cheeks as the magical pressure within him released all at once, suddenly various objects on his desk onto the floor in a gust of wind. The shadows at his command quite literally detonated. " STOP! " He cried out, gasping for air as he felt his weary heart thudding within his chest. It wasn't until he managed to regain some form of composure that he eyed the clock in the distance, noting that the time passed had been nothing more than an hour.

His cosmic gaze possessed bags under his eyes as he tried to wipe away the waterworks and proceeded to do as he always did. He stood up and muttered under his breath. " Time to make coffee and reread my studies... again. " He stated it with a hint of drollness. Oh well, at least an hour was an improvement.

[[ @nahisummerhold lovely imagery but it seems you woke him up. xD ]]

[wabistroubledmind]

To feel pt.2

To live without feeling is not to live at all. Yes, they say that and yes, in some ways, I believe too. However, I also believe this a perfect ¨do as I say, not as I do¨ situation because, of course, we all know how vital feelings are, and yet we hide them. What for, really? Shame? Embarrassment? Aren´t those feelings as well?

I´m a hypocrite, of course, for I too live my life with my feelings locked inside a vault which keys have been lost far, far long ago. I claim to feel so much I´ve plead to God for a way out for; ´´in any moment, I could explode´´. Truly it does feel that way but it never does come out. For I claim to live my life to the fullest yet I hide my sadness, my fears, my anger, my love.

How full could that life be if one is constantly hiding the most important parts away? How fullfilled could one´s life be if it´s embarrassed by joy? Ashamed of tears? What is the purpose of hiding that which makes us human? Hiding the only one thing all of us have in common? What is the purpose of lighting a fire if not to watch it all burn? Dissipate the smoke, sweep the ashes, swallow the coughs, pretend that to breathe is not a priority. Pretend that to feel is not a priority. We all do it anyway.

[imaginationfanstar]

Exactly because it’s just as the saying goes: the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

That scene where Luisa grabs the piano so Agustin can play it, to distract everyone from Mirabel, is the perfect visual representation of this dynamic.

Or when Isabela says: if you weren’t always trying so hard you wouldn’t be in the way. That’s an uncharitable way of putting it, but she’s basically saying ‘don’t draw attention to yourself. It’s only going to end badly for you.’

Those two had no way of knowing what they were getting into. No idea that the images they would construct for themselves would hurt them along with their relationship with each other.

In the end, the cool sisters drifted apart. They didn’t spend time together. They didn’t talk, and they only knew each other by the roles they were inhabiting. The Golden Child, the Unbreakable Work Horse, and the family Scapegoat who can’t do anything right. Hence, the tension, the strain, the resentment, the jealousy we see in the story before each of them reaches their breaking point. Finally confessing how they’re truly feeling for the very first time!

(I imagine the triplets also went through a similar phase in their lives too.)

Now, Isa and Luisa, have always been protective of their baby sister. We see it in their respective songs. In the way they consistently check on Mirabel to make sure she’s ok. However, they got so caught up in the roles they were playing, and the image they were projecting, that they forgot who they were doing this for in the first place.

Alma definitely reinforced this mentality as well, but, the aftermath of Mirabel’s ceremony was not kind to anyone and they were all trying to cope with it in the best way they knew how. Who do you think they learned this type of behavior from?

The Original Señorita Perfecta Julieta with her ever calming presence, level headedness and never ending work load. The strong & steadfast Doña Alma, matriarch of the family and leader of the community who always conducts herself with grace and poise. That’s who!

I’ve said this in previous posts, but most of the internal conflict the characters are facing is only reinforced by an external lack of communication.

I haven't seen anyone else mention this but I don't think Isabela and Luisa's situations in encanto can entirely be contributed to Abuela's high expectations. it's definitely apart of, but nobody else in the family is held to the same standard they are, not even Dolores or Camilo. Only they are described as "One strong, one graceful/Perfect in every way" in The Family Madrigal.

I think the reason for this unique pedestal that only they exist on, is that they created it.

why did they do this, you ask? because when they were 11 and 9 respectively, they watched their baby sister receive no gift and no one knew why. they heard what people in the town said, about her and what it meant. They saw how it was effecting their family, how their Tìo left and how worried everyone was. how helpless everyone was.

and what do you do when you baby sister is caught in a spotlight for all the wrong reasons? you redirect the spotlight.

[smylenol]

🃏

[joncronshawauthor]

The Real Darkness in Dark Fantasy: The Human Heart

Blood, blades, and betrayal might draw readers to dark fantasy. But it’s the quiet moments – the internal struggles, the fraying of conscience, the tested loyalties – that truly hook us. When done right, character depth transforms dark fantasy from mere violence into a profound exploration of human nature. Soren’s Transformation in Guild of Assassins Consider how my novel Guild of Assassins…

[lacquerheadd]

L, do you know Gods of death love apples?

L, do you know Gods of death who love apples have red hands?

[wickedzeevyln]

A Christmas Carol

You can tell that your performance is not going anywhere when the lights outside the house of your unwilling audience switches the lights off to drive you away or to meet your little concert with silence by pretending they are asleep, to be fair, we did sound like a bleating flock of sheep drunk on rum when we stood in front of their doors to belt out Christmas carols hoping in return we would be…

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

𝔇𝔞𝔯𝔨 𝔄𝔤𝔢 - 𝔑𝔢𝔬𝔨𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔯𝔰

[arabella-s-arts]

Scenes/Things in Supernatural that genuinely don't make sense to me if Dean was straight:

The confession booth scene.

Sam just rolling with the fact that Dean's siren is a guy while still thinking sirens infect people through sex.

Dean being flustered by several men: Gunner Lawless, Aaron, Doctor Sexy, etc.

All the parallels between Destiel and other couples. (A big one being "last night on Earth" bc how do you do that accidentally.)

Having all the gay jokes be on Dean instead of Sam.

Paralleling Sam meeting his childhood celebrity crush with Dean meeting Gunner Lawless.

The boner Dean got when Cas cleaned up.

Dean gulping after Cas does an impression from a Western movie.

Charlie, a lesbian, calling Castiel "dreamy."

The way Mary looks at Dean and Cas when they hug.

Dean wondering why everyone assumes he's gay, while Sam not caring.

The logic that Charlie can't flirt with guys because she's only attracted to women, but then having Dean flirt with the guy for her.

Dean seeming disappointed when learning that Aaron's flirting was fake.

The amount of time Dean and Cas spend staring at each other.

Dean canonically having an orgy with Crowley.

A woman saying that she knows when someone's pining for someone else to Dean, just for us to learn that Dean was never in love with Amara.

The set design and script choices that lead to a cross in the background while Dean said "I do." to Cas after he came back to life.

That time when Dean wanted to say something and Cas was like, "It's okay, I heard your prayer." But Dean still looked like he wanted to say something important.

Amara: [about Dean] "I can see inside your heart. Feel the love you feel. Except, it’s cloaked in shame.”

If you want to have a more expansive list, @destiel-is-real-idgaf added to this one quite nicely.

[girlblocker]

a contender for dumbest post I’ve seen on here… literally ‘let men hate women’

[a1z4artzy]

Behold! Camp Counselor Peri and Devious Camper Dev 🌲⭐ I hope others see my vision- I miss Camp Camp Dadvid moment and now there's no future for that to continue (RIP Roosterteeth). I'm unsure if I'm grasping the father-son bond too desperately… oh what am I saying, I'M DESPERATE FOR GIRL FAILURE DAD PERI PLS 😫🙏 and my boy Dev deserves to have a dad that steps up for him 😔💜 Also, feel free to make AU or headcanon outta this hehe

[lalallalas-posts]

when he was burning from the inside out he yelled for Mike

not joyce or jonathan or any of their friends, but mike.

[safftums]

a bit of reassurance for anyone who needs to hear it:

shaming yourself for your vore thing is unproductive and ultimately hurts you. don’t call yourself cringe or whatever. genuinely just enjoy what you do, sincerely, without having to drench yourself in a layer of “haha noooo it’s okay i know it’s badwrong” irony.

literally, of all the fetishes in the world, vore isn’t going to hurt anyone because we all know cannibalism is wrong, and soft vore is impossible irl.

nothing has been healthier for me than embracing being weird. be free. be weird. eat bitches. whatever.