Phic Phight - You Look Sort Of Like My Father
For: Chrysanthemum and Care
Dannyâs never had good parents. They were objectively âgoodâ people, but maybe an objectively âbadâ 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?
Dannyâs always had a⌠rocky relationship with his parents, itâs not that they were actively mean to him or that he actively hated them. Itâs more that they just⌠werenât good, werenât attentive.
Werenât 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 âthe Fenton legacyâ or because âmarried couples were supposed to have kidsâ or simply for them to have extra hands to help them or extra minds to listen to themâŚ
Or maybe it was simply to have free experiments that couldnât escape for eighteen years.
âŚ
That last one felt a little too true these days. At least they didnât know about him, about what he was. If they didâŚ
It, it would be so so much worse. Surely.
How couldnât it be? Theyâd 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 theyâd do for that long anyways.
He didnât have his hopes up. Never did. Never had even.
At least when he was human, fully human, he didnât have to wonder if theyâd 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 didnât âyield interesting resultsâ.
If it hadâŚ
Heâd 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.
Heâd have⌠survived of course, he was good at surviving, had to be, but surviving wasnât good. Surviving, only just surviving, was worse than dying.
Heâd do it for his friends and to protect the town of course but still, heâd 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 thatâs not how things are, not how they were, small mercy he guesses.
Didnât really make what he does have now much better though. And itâs not like he can even dream that things would be better if only he hadnât died.
They would be, justâŚ
They still wouldnât be good. They wouldnât be fine or even okay.
And giving kids at least a âfineâ childhood was kinda the point of being a parent, âgoodâ was the goal and âgreatâ was better, but âfineâ would do. âOkayâ was only really acceptable with parents who didnât choose to become parents, which was firmly not his parents positions.
They chose this.
They shouldnât have.
He wished they hadnât.
âŚ
Well, okay, that wasnât 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 shouldnât have had kids and Danny would be better off someone elseâs 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 âthatâs nice, honeyâ, which was and is somehow worse than them being upset, or heck, even happy. They just⌠didnât really care.
Heâd 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.
Theyâd want him to be. Push him to be. So he never made that little interest known.
Thatâs okay though.
Because he explored his interests on his own, which wasnât how it should be.
ButâŚ
His parents also gave him what he is. He wouldnât 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.
âŚ
Sucks for him he guesses then. Or not. The adoption system sounded awful.
He just⌠didnât know if that would be better or worse than what heâs got, hard to say. Which he knows is really really bad. At this point it didnât matter anyways, he had two more years and it wouldnât 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 canât. Itâs not safe. It never will be safe. Human or halfa. It wonât be safe. It wonât be healthy. It wonât be happy.
He wonât 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 âthatâs nice, sweetieâ, he knows he wouldnât be able to handle that.
What would he even be supposed to do with that?
Nothing. Because you canât 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 justâŚ
âŚ
Yeah. It would just, and thatâs 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 heâll die. Heâs starving for freedom. For better. For more. For what only the darkness seems to whisper he can actually have.
Itâs a bit weird.
Because he didnât 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 murdererâŚ
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.
ButâŚ
Pariah just⌠seemed to care, not just in general but about him specifically.
Somehow.
Danny had been pretty convinced that the whole âyou nearly truly bested me, child, you shall be my heirâ 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 didnât do that to him, was Samâs nana Ida⌠his nana Ida⌠who of course died.
Figures right?
The one adult who treated him well dying?
YeahâŚ
âThatâs rough buddyâ.
He was tired of rough. Honestly.
But then, now, thereâs Pariah. Who⌠doesnât do that to him.
Sure Pariah trains him. Hand to hand combat. Weapons. Political jargon. War strategies. Zone geography. Ghost typography and linguistics.
ButâŚ
He also listens to him. He doesnât just throw things at him. Doesnât just push his own wants, his own desires, his own ways, on him. On Danny. He didnât do that to Danny as a whole, not just the ghost Phantom or the Human Fenton. Danny. He listened.
He gave back more than âthatâs nice, sweetieâ. Or âbe back by super!â. Or âokay, have funâ.
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 wasnât what Danny wanted to hear.
When Pariahâs 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, shouldnât be someone Dannyâs 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, heâd 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 Dannyâs level of willingness to commit murder, shouldnât be ârefreshingâ⌠but it was.
Pariah was everything he didnât have. Everything heâd never had.
And wasnât that an awful thing?
Whatâs worse is it made Danny feel⌠off kilter. It just wasnât what he was used to. His experience with so called âparental figuresâ 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 didnât have to then he wouldnât, but with mom and dad he always had to. With anyone with actual claim to the term âparentâ 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 didnât like stars. Well he did, he just liked the stars because Danny liked the stars. Dannyâs mom and dad couldnât 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 âkeep an eyeâ 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 friendâs homes.
Every night he decided to show up and glare menacingly at whatever ghost was bugging Danny, all so he could have some âfather/sonâ time.
Every day he just plain played with him, no âhow to be a parentâ book needed.
Every night heâd sit on the observatory and let Danny explain the constellations at him even though heâd 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 didnât do.
He didnât 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 didnât gift him backhandedly or gift him only things that were useful to âthe parentâ instead.
He didnât disregard him and all that was his. Didnât give him nothing answers.
Most of all, he didnât 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 wasnât 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.
Werenât that future.
They never were. Never even could be. They didnât have the capacity to be. Not for him, not for Jazz, not for anyone. Thatâs not Dannyâs fault. Thatâs not Jazzâs fault. He canât even blame Vlad. It was just them. Maddie and Jack. But thatâs 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⌠canât be changed. Shouldnât be really.
It would be really selfish of Danny.
So heâll let them have their peace. Without him.
Itâs okay. It hurts, but itâs 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 wasnât.
âŚ
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 justâŚ
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 wouldnât have to bear alone.
Even if Pariah didnât get Dannyâs 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.
Thatâs so so much more than heâs 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 heâll be motionless. He wonât 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.
âŚ
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 canât 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 themâŚ
âŚ
If they cared at all, or if they just dismissed him with their nothings.
Pariah would care. Pariah would laugh with him. And Dannyâs 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 couldnât bear the sound of loosing what heâs 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 heâd never get to see. The spaceship he canât fly.
He canât force a star thatâs already died to align with living ones.
But heâll reach out into the void with his small child ghost hands, and this timeâŚ
This timeâŚ
He wonât 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."
