#writer's reflection

[m00wd]

Sometimes you need to sleep, sleep a lot. Not to escape, but to rest your soul from your feelings. Because everything, absolutely everything devours you. Completely.

—Brain

[star-struck09]

Slowly, I will learn what it means to be kind to myself.

[histerek]

Stiles: [sobbing bc he can’t save the puppy* who is going to FREEZE in the cold]

Claudia and John, who know this is absolutely NOT a dog: [trying to wrestle the pup out of Stiles’ deceptively strong three-year-old grip]

*Derek, not a puppy but a wolf cub who is admittedly tiny for his age: [head empty no thoughts, enjoying the scent and warmth of Stiles’ scarf]

Talia, watching this all go down behind a tree: [plotting how to save her son for the FIFTH TIME THIS SKI SEASON who she’s beginning to suspect doesn’t want to be saved]

[00book-berries00]

The worst thing about being a hero in any fiction has to be to not have any clue as to when your story "stopped". Not knowing when The Plot has ended and when you can rest.

Imagine being Odysseus... 10 years of Troy, you think you're done ? Nope, your story only just begun and now you're gonna have 10 more years of battle, treasons, plot twists, deaths of loved ones etc...

What I'm saying is... Yes he's back with Penelope *we* know that it's the "happily ever after" but him? He's got no idea

So now I'm picturing the aftermath and the anxiety, possible paranoia, nightmares, anxiousness when there's a storm near Ithaca

I'm not saying that Odysseus necessarily spiralled into stress and paranoia, although I wouldn't blame him.

I'm just saying that as long as one lives, there will always be twists. And how can one react when the absolute worst is meant to be in the past, but life goes on?

[quantumshade]

there's an interesting thing rtd said from the commentary about the "real mom" line:

i get not liking the line but like. it's an intentional mistake and an intentional character choice, and something we'll return to in the future, and that seems like important context to have when talking about the episode.

[phantomwithbreakfast]

~ 𝐀𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐎𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐈𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 ~

⟢ One-shot Danny Phantom — Genre: Angst / Hurt — TW: Emotional Distress — Rating: T — AU? — First Person’s POV

———————

There he was—there it was.

My reflection stared back, the green glow of my eyes erratic, flickering like a faulty lightbulb. I wasn’t just looking at myself—I was looking through myself, and I hated what I saw. Not just the face staring back, but the endless spiral behind it—pulling me deeper into some unknowable abyss.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the battle. That one battle. Not with a ghost, not with some lurking threat—but with myself.

The dark part of… me.

The part that had escaped.

Again.

I’d won, of course—I had to believe that. I was the good side of myself, wasn’t I?

The hero.

But winning didn’t feel like triumph. It felt like a delay. Some whispers of the future lingering behind me, leaning over my shoulders, suffocating me with their burden.

I was afraid of becoming him.

That dangerous, older me. That monstrous version of myself that had been waiting all along.

All the—what ifs—it claws at the edges of my thoughts, unraveling my already frayed mind.

What if I couldn’t stop it? What if I was already becoming that monster? What if it was inevitable?

I stared deeper into the mirror, my fists tightening until my nails bit into my palms through my white gloves. I thought about my family, my friends—the people who had always been there. I’d already pushed them away, hadn’t I?

Maybe they aren’t even my friends anymore. Maybe I don’t deserve them.

Sam and Tucker had gone to college, following their dreams like normal people. Jazz was too busy carving her own path to stay. And me? I had stayed behind in the crumbling town I couldn’t abandon, giving up my dream of going to space. Protecting people was my purpose now. At least, that’s what I told myself. But deep down, I wasn’t so sure anymore.

Was it a noble choice—or a coward’s excuse?

You could still go. You could leave. You could be an astronaut. Fly into space. Fulfill the dream. Your dream.

But it wouldn’t be the same. Nothing ever would.

I gritted my teeth, my reflection rippling in the glass like a warped painting.

Happy thoughts, I told myself. But they didn’t come. They never did anymore. It was always easier to sink into the darker ones, to let them drag myself down into the undertow.

The mocking voices of ghosts, the weight of battles fought and won—none of it mattered in the face of the gnawing feeling in my chest.

My core.

It purred softly, a dissonant hum, both comforting and sinister.

It felt… so freaking wrong.

As if it didn’t belong to me anymore. As if Phantom—him was bleeding into me, hollowing me out from the inside.

My breath hitched. My fingers trembled as I gripped the edges of the sink. My eyes clenched shut, but it didn’t block out the image of myself—the warped, flickering, monstrous reflection staring back. I felt like a glass that was about to shatter, cracks spidering across my soul.

Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.

I punched my palms tighter until the pain jolted me back. But the ache in my chest was worse. Phantom wasn’t just part of me. Phantom was me.

My breath staggered in my throat—a sob trembling on the edge of release. My knuckles ached, my chest burned, and that pressure—that suffocating pressure—kept building on.

“Get out of my head!” I screamed, my voice raw, ripping through the suffocating silence.

The sound reverberated in the tiny room, crashing into the walls and returning to me like a ghostly echo. My reflection flickered again—glowing red of Phantom’s eyes overtaking my own for the briefest moment before fading back into green.

But it wasn’t enough.

“Leave me alone!” I shouted again, this time so forcefully that my throat hurt, as though I was tearing myself apart. The sound cracked into a wail—an uncontrollable, heart-shattering release.

Green tears left cold trails down my cheeks as I screamed again, and again, and again… until the room seemed to quake.

The mirror shattered.

Shards exploded outward, raining onto the counter, the floor, my arms. A jagged piece nicked my cheek, drawing a thin line of green that dripped down onto my trembling hand.

I didn’t care.

My reflection was gone—splintered into a thousand fractured pieces scattered at my feet.

My knees buckled, and I barely caught myself against the sink. My hands shivered, slipping on the porcelain.

I sank to the floor, my back pressed against the cold tile, knees pulled to my chest. My hands tangled in my snow-white hair as sobs wracked my body. Every shuddering breath felt like it might break me further.

The shards of glass caught the dim light, a kaleidoscope of chaos surrounding me, reflecting parts of me I couldn’t escape from.

I clutched my chest, my core still purring that discordant frequency—like a faint, mocking laugh echoing from deep within.

“I’m scared,” I whispered to—no one. My voice cracked. “I don’t want to become… him.”

My words dissolved into another sob as I curled tighter, the shattered mirror fragments glinting like stars against the dark void I felt, pulling me under.

“I will never turn into you.”

———————

Okay. First time I drew Dan. I was scared. Scared of those eyes. Those eyes that pierced the whole time into mine—no, through mine. I should’ve waited with his eyes until the end, but of course, I didn’t.

———————

⟢ You can find my Phan fics here.

[light-the-spark-of-dawn]

Donna Troy having like two dozen different origin stories is ironically reminiscent of Greek myths that developed multiple versions of the same tale

[provinzpoet]

To Be A Man

Boys don’t cry, they show no fear, emotions hidden deep. Then tell me, O society: If this is sown, then what’s to reap?

If tears are truly cleansing, Embalming to the soul, Then why deny this boy the balm And chain him to a role?

-

“Are you a Girl?”, I still recall the question He did ask. For crying was a girly thing - Man ought to wear a mask.

Just 12 years old - Yeah, thanks a lot. Great Job on shaping me. Took way too long to see the truth, until I could break free.

Can you imagine what it took? How long that held me back?

I had to learn to be a Man, In a world that’s taught "to be a Man, Is to keep yourself in check."

-

Society is wrong, my dear, Believe me, if you would.

I’ve been there, done that, made mistakes, But now - I’m doing good.

So if I may, I'd like this chance, to tell you what I’ve learned. I hope this finds you still in time, before that bridge is burned:

To wear emotions on your sleeve is strength - no cross to bear. To those to whom you’ll matter most, it shows them that you care.

So Cry for movies, Cry for poems, Cry for loved ones, Cry for songs.

Just trust me, I was your age too, To be a Man is to be

Just you.

[prosebyday]

This time of year is like a hall of mirrors, a haunting time of reflection.  I can’t look away from my past, everywhere I turn it stares me in the face, reminding me of where I was last year, 2 years ago, 3, 4, 5 – all the possible futures I envisioned and watched crumble. Oh, how things change. I am unrecognizable. 

Hall of Mirrors // Grazia Curcuru

[deerbeatrice]

no one talks about the intense pain sirius probably felt when he moved in with the potters. He spent his whole life being the "problem child" and was both mentally and physically abused by his family. To then be accepted with such love and care that the potters provided would have caused this idea that it was his fault to fracture. To believe for so long that your the reason your own family doesn't love you to meeting people who are able to love the exact same version of you as before is heartbreaking.

I'm just says that the adjustment to living with the potters would have been the hardest thing Sirius had to do because his identity broke.

[m00wd]

I can say goodbye to you a thousand times, but I still don't know how to leave.

—M00wd

[star-struck09]

I wish I could tell you half the things I think about.

[thingswedontunbox]

[harbingersecho]

"zuzu, you didn't tell your friends about me? i'm hurt."

[phantomwithbreakfast]

A small piece from an upcoming chapter of my Phan fic 𝙎𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙁𝙤𝙧 𝙃𝙖𝙡𝙛 𝘼 𝙇𝙞𝙛𝙚.

⋆.˚ ⚡︎

A reflection stared back at him.

A boy—no. A man. A stranger.

His black hair clung to his forehead, greasy, dull, lifeless…

Just… this—this empty thing wearing his skin.

Blue eyes. But were they his?

Hollow. Glassy. A dull, dead shade that wasn’t supposed to belong to him. His gaze drifted downward, skimming over his body—ruined, broken, scarred. He didn’t even flinch at the sight anymore. The jagged lightning-shaped scar stretched across his cheek and neck, a souvenir from those seven months, from that collar.

Seven months.

The scar would never heal. Like the Y-shaped wound carved across his chest. Like the invisible ones inside him, festering, splitting him apart from the inside out.

⚡︎ ⋆.˚

⟢ Ao3

⟢ More under the cut—some detail shots.

⟢ The drawings in the polaroids are older ones that I never shared before, way back from August last year ;3

[whateverisbeautiful]

The

Only

Time

I

Feel

Safe

Is

When

I’m

With

You