What I Could Have Been
I find myself longing for another life. I have been imagining what would have happened if I had had parents who understood me, a secular childhood, a childhood in which I was encouraged to pursue art instead of being told it was impractical. A life where I stopped caring earlier about what my family thought of me. A life where I never went to BYU-Idaho to please my parents. A life where I could have found others like me instead of consistently being told I was wrong, when I was just alone.
I suppose this is grief. My birthday is coming up. Anniversaries are always meaningful, whether you realize it or not. My body remembers. My body feels the years of loneliness.
I wish I didn't feel alone so often. It's embarrassing, but the people i feel I understand best have been my clients--sensitive souls who have similar energy to my own. Maybe you have to be mentally ill to treat the mentally ill. I definitely think it helps. I watch my dog at the dog park, always searching for other dogs like him. I feel like I do the same, but so rarely find someone who I can be authentic with. Truth is hard, and most people run from it.
My girlfriend loves me too much. It's uncomfortable for me. I can feel myself wanting to pull away, to run, to flee. I can't tell if I'm supposed to learn to accept it or to hold my boundaries. I'm so used to relying on myself. but I've gotten lax. I've let her take care of me and support me, and in turn, I've neglected myself and my responsibilities. I am the only one who can know what I need. But she is noisy and I can't get space to listen to myself in a 19-foot van. No matter what happens, I end up caretaking in some way, shape, or form. But I'm burnt out on a lifetime of caring for others. I cannot fake my emotions any more. I have little patience for people who expect me to. Moreover, I do not want to fake my emotions for anyone else's benefit any longer. I'm clocking out. This labor is not in my job description anymore.
I want to believe in the fairy tale of true love, but I have long since stopped believing in fantasies. Instead, I learn how fantasies are made--the ins and outs of storytelling, the technical work required to create believable illusions. I believe in reality. Maybe a little too much, and more than most. I enjoy smashing people's bubbles, waking people up to a world outside of their delusions. People resist that, though. I get it. I used to live in a bubble. I was a good little Mormon girl who believed a bunch of fairy tales that came with strict rules governing my behavior. I didn't break the rules, because I didn't want to. I believed. I set a good example for my younger siblings. I was too scared to be bad.
Until I couldn't anymore. I've learned firsthand that you can't suppress your truth forever. I had checked out of church, learned to disassociate from a young age, found ways of keeping myself entertained. I brought a journal to church with me--acceptable cover for taking notes on talks, but I was secretly journaling my own thoughts, doodling characters in the margins, creating my own little safe space to live on the page. My brain made a place for me, while my body went through the motions of my obligations. Sometimes my body made its own choices, like taking 30-minute bathroom breaks while I was supposed to be in my religious classes with the other devout young adults. Some days I would oversleep accidentally-on-purpose and then lie to my parents about what lessons I learned in church that week. They wouldn't have wanted to hear that I wasn't going, so I didn't tell them. The key to a good lie is to believe in it, and i believed the lie deeply. I was an imaginative, creative child who could easily imagine a world in which I went to, and enjoyed church. But I couldn't make it real.
I was almost always alone. What would it had been like if someone else had been brave enough to skip Sunday school with me all those years ago? Maybe I'd be better at connecting with others instead of writing my secret thoughts on the internet in the middle of the night. But this is the safest way I've ever found to be honest.
Maybe I could have been different if they would have just let me be myself. If they could have handled the reality of who I am, instead of trying to mold me into a perfect daughter of God. I could never be that girl. I would die before I became that woman.
I'm too messy, too loud, too small to have such heavy expectations placed on me. I fell short again and again and learned that being perfect was impossible.
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Young Old Things
I like the thought of a deaged Dan causing a misunderstanding between Danny, Vlad, and the batfam.
TW: sexual assault hinted at
....
Danny, Dan, and Ellie go to see Jazz in Gotham. They've been waiting to "visit" her for weeks since she moved out. Only waiting for her to get a big enough place for all of them. Danny already said he'd share a room with Ellie and Dan, especially now that they found out if she is her true age she'll start to stabilize more permanently with Danny's ecto. Plus, having Dan be the same size helps, or so she says (he might be desperate for a new family and Ellie is trying to help, Danny and Jazz never bring it up in front of him).
The Fenton parents don't know about Danny being Phantom, instead believing that some big ghostly event caused Danny to have a ghost daughter.
And that he tried to clone himself mixed with a ghost to use that body to stabilize her. They may be proud of their scientist son, they are not proud that he won't let them experiment on his ghostly "creations".
Of course they are entirely wrong:
Ellie is one of Vlads' attempts to clone him, the only one that survived.
And Dan is an amalgamation of Danny and Vlad from an alternate timeline. He doesn't know why he's keeping that from his parents. He owes nothing to that scumbag, but Jazz says many victims try to keep their abusers safe from facing consequences. Before Dan was deaged, and much before he met the Fenton parents, he'd pointed out that he'd be scared who his parents would have chosen to believe too.
Jazz gets a full ride scholarship with Gotham U, the Wayne's new massive donation to the psychology department, as well as her well written letter about being the head of her home, helped immensely.
She felt bad using a slightly blurred version of their story to get a good scholarship, but Danny pushed her to go for it.
Hence her, Danny and his 3 year old "twins" were at a gala for the university.
It was being held in the museum after closing hours. The invitation she got had specified that her brother was invited, each with a plus one.
They couldn't exactly get a babysitter for two super-powered toddlers in the city known for hating metas. Besides it wasn't like they had time to get dates anyway.
The night started out fine. There were scholarship students, student council members, some Gotham U staff, and a few rich folk mingling and eating tiny foods that both Ellie and Dan adored.
Ellie fell asleep in Danny's arms almost the second she'd finished eating, and Dan was overly protective of the both of them as always. Of course the dense crowd and constant noise wasn't helping calm him down.
A Wayne, he wasn't sure which one exactly, had brought Danny a plate of food and sat with him as he tried to distract Dan. At first Dan didn't care for him at all, but he mentioned reading about the constellation on Dan's shirt and he loosened up. He never let go of Danny's pant leg though.
The night turned sour when all three's ghost sense went off. There was no immediate threat, but even the Wayne kid noticed them tense and turned to the hallway.
Dan was the first to spot him. "Vad."
"Bad?" The man mimicked.
"He has trouble with his Ls."
"No! I can say Ellie." Dan huffed, poking the side of her sparkly green shoe.
"Vlad, the guy that walked in." Danny said, decidedly looking down into his daughter's sleeping face, squished into his shirt and drooling.
"Vladimir Masters?"
He nodded, before he could continue however Dan spoke up.
"He is bad. He's the reason I was born. And Ellie too." Dan put himself in front of Danny, his little legs going over Danny's feet like a guard dog.
He could see the Wayne's hands tighten into fists, he tapped the inside of his wrist a bit and watched as he squirmed in his seat.
"Hey, Tim." Another dark haired light eyed Wayne and a girl came up to them. "Who's this?"
"Danny, these are my sibilings. Dick and Cass. Guys, this is Danny."
"Hi, nice to meet you Danny. I'd shake your hand but it looks busy." He gestured towards Ellie. As his hand swept nearer, Dan tried to swipe it away. "Oh, and who's this."
"I'm Dan. You can't touch Mommy." His little face contorted into his best toddler attempt at scaring them off.
"I would never do that. No one here would." Dick said as he crouched down to be eye level with his son.
"He would." Dan pointed at Vlad, all three turned to look at the man. Before anyone else noticed, specifically Vlad himself, Danny pushed his arm down.
"Don't point, it's rude."
"He's a rude butt." Danny laughed softly and Dan continued. "It doesn't mater that I'm half of him, I'll never be evil like him." He yawned and laid his face on Danny's leg.
"I think that's enough signs that we should head home. Thank you for talking with me, Tim."
"No problem, it was m-"
Dan grabbed around Danny's legs and whined "I don't wanna gooOOOooo. I want more of the tiny hot dogs."
Danny looked up to see Vlad infront of the food table. The Wayne sibilings followed his gaze "I'm sorry buddy, but-"
Tim stood up, "I'll get you guys a whole mountain of the tiny hot dogs. Why don't you guys wait for me at the door." Ever so softly he heard Tim whisper, "Go with them." To his brother.
"Where are your things? I'll help you get ready." Dick looked around like he didn't know where the coat closet was. He'd probably been to events like this hundreds of times, but Danny appreciated the sentiment.
"Their stroller is at the entrance, I have to get my sister though."
The girl who hadn't said a word hummed and went off, "Cass can find her, I'll help you and we can meet at the entrance."
"Alright, thank you."
It wasn't until they had both kids in the stroller with their coats on and Dan had a bottle of milk (with a lot of ectoplasm in it) that Danny realized he'd never mentioned who his sister was.
Dick waved towrds the end of the hall and saw his sister and the two Waynes he'd met walking with Brucie Wayne himself.
Jazz looked down and pat Cass' hand. "Thank you for getting me."
"Danger." Her voice was soft, but she didn't seem shy like he had expected.
"All four of you seemed to get along well with my kids. Would you like to come by for dinner next week?" Brucie asked as he looked between the four of them.
"I'd love to!" Jazz said enthusiastically. "Would Tuesday ight work?"
Danny could see the gears start to speed up in her head and he huffed a little. "Jazz, I need to get them in bed."
"Right, of course. Thank you again, for everything."
"Tuesday night works perfectly," Brucie Wayne said with a massive smile on his face, "we'll send someone to pick you up. Have a good night."
With that they walked down the ramp and down a few blocks to their two bed room apartment.
"Jazz," She looked over to Danny, "I think they know more than they are letting on."
She lent over the stroller a bit to check if the kids were asleep, before adding, "I agree, I think there is something up with them, but I don't think they're bad."
"Dan was okay with them mostly, and Ellie was fast asleep even with then around."
"I guess we'll just have to find out, then. Besides, it would be good for you to make friends your age and not at the car shop."
"Yeah, alright."
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