The Watchtower has a perfectly normal and totally ordinary Mechanic. Except that it doesn't, Danny just hasn't found the right time to tell them that yet.
Danny, as Phantom, decided to live in the Watchtower without asking. It was in space, it was away from the GIW and his parents, and it was cool. Really it was the best Real Estate he could want. It would be difficult, but Danny was full confident he could do it.
Except it was easy?
Like, really easy.
Day one, he had dropped his Phantom Form and was in the cafeteria when it was empty, and the Head of Engineering tugged him aside and scolded him for like twenty minutes on leaving without the proper uniform or badge.
So he got a uniform and badge.
Day two he met the Big Three as they walked down the hallway, and Batman handed him a busted up helmet with the instruction "Fix this". So he did.
And on it went, on and on, until Danny was paying rent by being a Mechanic on the Watchtower.
This really doesn't change anything for anyone, until the Watchtower is hacked by an enemy and all listed personnel are gathered up.
Al listed personnel.
Danny isn't actually listed.
Right as the villain is video conferencing his monologue to the heroes trying to get in, Danny walks into the room, gently nudges the man aside, and starts pulling out wires from the console.
"What are you doing?"
"Shhh, I don't get paid enough to deal with these stupid glitches. The airlocks are down again, fuck me, right?"
"What-I shut those down! Cease this!"
"Sorry, what? Ope, doesn't matter anymore. Already fixed it. Shields are operating normally, zetas are online, and air locks are active-sorry 'bout that."
With the villain still spluttering and in shock, Danny nudges past him and his lackeys again and out of the room.
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something bad happened to you, and you died, and you came back wrong.
not wrong all the way. the little ways. you forget important dates, stopped going out with friends. it's harder to make you smile. you're apathetic towards things you used to love, afraid of places you used to go to cheer up. quieter. flinching. different.
you came back for love. you're still here for love. what pulled you back was a brightness so loud that even death couldn't outshout it. death heard the call and smiled at you and said okay. go home. somebody is waiting for you.
but you came back different. like lot's wife; you've turned into salt. you used to chirp through life in hops and skips; but now you lose skin just standing up. you have to move slower, skimming across this world without-touching-it. most things feel dull - until they're suddenly all-too-much. life, and being alive just rushes up and over you and you get hopelessly crushed.
you try to explain it to them: it is ugly, but this is what you are, now. the huge golden hoop of your halo now a little bronze ring. you are still watering your plants and wearing the same clothes. after all, you worked hard to come home. this life; so odd and off-color, now that you are wrong.
but they waited for you - it's just that they wanted the "you" that happened before this. the "you" that could sing in the show and hug people tight and look at a blade without breaking down to cry. the you with a smile in pictures. god, holyshit, it's like looking at a completely different person, isn't it. that other-you; the one they actually wanted.
you are the consolation prize. you are the body that forgot the ghost. you are the memory of the bad thing, and the death after; like you are wearing that memory as a banner. you are a fragment, an assembly. simulacrum. you don't make eye contact in mirrors, afraid the light will glance off and your true nature will flash back at you.
you hear them talk about it in their hushed, desperate whispers. sometimes they even admit it to your face; harsh and violent, acid thrown at christmas dinner. god, can you just fucking be normal again. you do not remember what normal is. you had to climb so far to get back here; you are far too exhausted. you want to open the glass door of your heart and show all the gears. can you help resolve whatever got messed up?
you try so, so hard. you came back for them. because you believed they would love you, even when you were so horribly broken. because you believed they would be patient. because you believed unconditional meant "without exception." you cannot do things the same way. you just get tired too quickly these days.
you want to put them on a couch and pour them the tea with hands that shake more than they remember. you want to line them up and draw them a map of where you have had to wander. you want to show every bruise in a backsplash; the little helpless ant of your soul carrying all that weight, over and over. you want to say: yes! it is different! but i did it for love!
you want to say: "i'm not the same, but i'm yours and i'm here. can that be enough?"
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Prompt 126
You know what would be hilarious?
Constantine comes into one of those meetings as he sometimes does every blue moon. Though the proper word would be storms into a meeting and practically slams a whole stack of papers down.
“Can someone bloody explain to me why the American-fucking-government is trying to go to war with the fucking Infinite Realms?!”
The Justice League is of course alarmed and confused- and also John weren’t you in Hell?! Yeah, he was, where the fuck do you think he found out about this?
Now if you’ll excuse him he’s going back to the House of Mysteries with his now haunted trench coat. John, John Constantine what the fuck do you mean by that? No don’t just leave, don’t leave this mess just for them- JOHN!
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A friend of mine had this idea, and I’d love to see it in an urban fantasy: magic is real and it stays secret because it looks like bad CGI. The fakest thing ever.
People who witness magic in person can always have their minds clouded, as they have been for most of human history, but all this newfangled technology has to be handled a different way. A video camera records exactly what it sees.
So, what it sees is … something that looks laughably fake. For any time period. The various secret magicians of the world make a point to keep their spells up to date with the current mundane trends — some of them even have running contests for who can make the most fake-looking spell.
I imagine they have a great time doing it. I sure would.
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