#Constantine is concerned

[emdeerm]

Prompt/Idea

A new daycare?!

Many years has passed. Danny is now, finally a freshly adult ghost at the ripe age of 200! Take that everyone! I'm no longer a baby!

Now that his powers have finally stopped developing and changing, and others would stop their pestering. He was grateful that they stopped trying to kill him when they learned that he was actually a very, VERY young Ghost. But! Enough is enough and they can finally stop. (it never ended. A baby is a baby for ever.)

Danny had already lived one human life. His loved ones had joined him on the other side of the veil years ago. His parents did too, no surprise there, and thankfully, they are nice as ghosts.

After living in the zone for a century, Danny realised something very important. The baby ghosts, Neverborn or freshly Dead, don't have anyone to show them the ropes and to protect them. Some are so weak, they destabilize and turn into pure ecto with time.

So he took the matters into his own hands and opened a Baby Ghost Daycare, or BGD for short. Every ghost under the age of 120 must come there at least 3 times a week. There, they learn their powers, get stable nutrition and discover their Obsessions in a safe manner. Frostbite and his people is their on call doctors.

-----

Deadman entered into the JLD meeting room holding a glowing green paper and having a look of absolute embarrassment. He shows it to his friends.

He has been invited to the Daycare.

[thefanficcup]

DC/DP Constantine Bingo

When Danny gets crowned High King he gets loaded with mountains of paperwork all because of one John Constantine. So instead of dealing with it he turns Constantine's sold soul pieces into a currency for favors from the King. (Claming John's soul for himself to end all debates)

Then because Constantine will likely continue to sell his soul carelessly Danny makes an official decree that anyone who wants can create a 5 by 5 grid of beings/situations/etc. John will se his soul to and send it to Clockwork to officially enter the bingo, creating a realms wide bingo with prices. Along with this comes a ruling that of John comes to you and wish to sell his soul in return for a favor that you can do, you must accept, preventing people from cheating.

~~~

This of course makes John very paranoid. It suddenly got very easy to trade his soul and many beings even seemed eager to do it. Despite them knowing it would not give them the ownership of his soul.

~~~

What happens when Danny receives an update on the bingo, in the form of a green postit-note, in the middle of a dinner at Wayne manor.

It could either be a meet your partners family dinner or a adopted danny dinner.

Anyway now he either has to come clean about being a ghost, the ghost king, or make up a story about befriending ghosts and getting invited to the bingo that way.

Bonus points if Danny name dropps Constantine without knowing that the Wayne's are the bats and that John had shared his paranoia with his coworkers.

~~~

I am not a writer but if you like this and want to write it your self, be my guest, just tag me so I can read it👻👻

[nelkcats]

Be Not Afraid

Danny's forms were pretty stable in the Infinite Realms, and well, his own dimension. The problem was when he had to run certain errands elsewhere (Clockwork's fault) and the universes didn't know where to put him.

Despite having two defined forms in his original dimension. The other dimensions seemed to decide that Danny didn't need that, and his humanity had to go, or something. The halfa couldn't understand it.

So of course, he ended up looking very amorphous and strange when he traveled to other dimensions. Sometimes with multiple eyes, at other times his body was made of pieces of ice, there were times when he was just a toxic green eye that glowed and blinded whoever saw it. The only thing that remained constant was that he didn't look human. Which made most of his tasks difficult. People feared the unknown after all.

When he arrived in the DC universe he didn't expect a welcoming committee. He even told them "Be not afraid" the moment he landed on a crowded street, but apparently that was counterproductive, since they classified him as some kind of avenging angel.

With a sigh, Danny kept exploring and the strangest things happened to him: Two glowing rings chased him everywhere (One was black and the other was white, but he had a feeling that taking them wouldn't be the smartest move, the ring and the crown were very jealous since he was crowned after all)

And a British magician... flirted with him? Danny was pretty sure the hellbazer was seeing him as eyes and ice floating but that didn't seem to stop him from trying. The halfa didn't know if he was flattered or worried.

Anyway, he couldn't find Dr. Fate, nor "Justice League Dark", whatever it was. But the wizard, Constantine, was willing to take him on a date. The rings continued to follow him while some people with green rings looked in the background (they looked strangely scared) and a new religion had been created for "The Great One" which reminded him of Frostbite.

Traveling was hard.

[charlietheepicwriter7]

"You can't move him up a grade!" The social worker said, aghast. "I won't deny that Danny is brilliant, but look at his social skills. He needs proper socialization with people his age, not-"

"People on the same level as him?" Tim asked. He was glaring at the woman.

"High schoolers," she finished, giving Tim a look.

Dick's hands were folded as if in prayer, pressed against his mouth. "I understand you point, Mrs. Gonzalez, but this is my reasoning; there is not an eighth grade class in this country that can handle Danny. He curses. He drinks. He smokes. I love that kid and I'm doing the best I can, but he's a feral goblin child and you, or any teacher, can't control him."

She looked like she swallowed a raw egg, but Mrs. Gonzalez had been Danny's social worker since the paperwork went through, and was a long time friend of the police chief in Bludhaven. She'd been there for the Toast Incident; she knew how Danny was. "...Why don't we consider a homeschool program first? With after school and weekend activities."

Dick flashed a smile. "That's better."

[phantoms-world-and-more]

John Constantine visit way manner when Danny's there

So for whatever reason Bruce called John Constantine over to Wayne Manor, some of the JL are there superman, wonder woman and the Flash, since their all there it must be important that's the only reason Constantine agreed to go

When he showed up he was greeted by Alfred and taken to the dining room where all the other members are there

They start talking to Constantine and he's just getting more annoyed because this wasn't important just time sensitive so he annoyed at them for calling him

At that moment Damian and the friend he had over walked by

The friend (Danny if Bruce remembers right) stops and stares at John with the blankest expression they've ever seen

Constantine is also starting at him with the most blank expression they've ever seen

So for a good 3 minutes, Danny and Constantine were staring at each other Danny broke the silence by pointing at the front door and saying

Get out

Constantine shot up from the table and sprinted for the front door, after he left the manor he kept running all the way back to the house of mysteries

Danny just stared for a moment before leaving to play with Damian

Now Constantine won't return their calls and Danny presents what happens didn't happen

[tanglepelt]

Dc x dp idea 26

Inspired by atla

Danny was unable to stop the ghost king from destroying amity in the ghost zone. Pariah declares earth will be his next conquest he needs more skeleton soldiers bound to him.

He rips open a portal Danny rushes to the other side. He freezes the portal and him (not his plan) with ghost ice. Pariah freshly released is unable to open a secondary stable portal.

Rather then a full army. attacks only happen through natural portals. This bringing anger between the two dimensions at a all time high. Time continues. Danny stays frozen. Amity long forgotten.

As the attacks happen more then once technology is made to deal with threats. Nothing lethal more often then not the ghost return to the ghost zone when there attacks fail.

Unstable portals are now opening with more frequency. One day heros get a spike from amity and come investigate. When coming across the iceberg with a glowing green humanoid trapped one hero touched the ice.

It begins to melt. Danny falls out unfrozen. The glowing becomes more intense as the portal becomes visible through the ice. Somehow Danny while panicking manages to stabilize the ice which forces himself into his human half.

So now the justice league has to deal with feral Danny to stop pariah. Nobody is happy with the arrangement. Danny just wants to go off and fight. He doesn’t want to deal with learning how to use his powers.

It’s unfortunately up to the halfa to restore balance between the two dimensions.

They have until the ice melts to help the feral child master all his powers. So hopefully together they can save the world.

[gourmet-trash]

As others have pointed out, I too reject "token straight friend Rose Walker" and instead give you "bad taste in women Rose Walker"

The first time it happens, Hob doesn't say anything. He doesn't even acknowledge, outwardly, that he noticed it at all. Between the Inn and his teaching job and, oh you know, just several hundreds of years of being around children and young adults, he can confidently say he has at least some modicum of knowledge on how to interact with them.

So, the first time, he doesn't say anything. He's cool like that.

He also doesn't say anything the second time.

But the third time he watches Rose Walker making figurative heart eyes at Johanna Constantine, of all people, he can't help himself. He also can't really pretend he doesn't see Rose so busy gawking that she misses the rim of her glass and splashes cider onto her jumper. She's sitting right in front of him at the bar, after all.

"Doing all right there?" he teases, passing a few napkins across the bar.

Rose grabs the proffered napkins quickly, visibly flustered while she dabs at the damp spot on her chest. "Just, uh, clumsy, I guess."

Hob snorts softly. "Or distracted," he says, lifting his eyebrows when she jerks her head up.

"...I don't know what you're talking about!"

Hob makes a little "sure you don't" humming sound and picks Rose's glass up to wipe it down for her while she deals with her jumper. "It's cute," he insists, even though he knows from experience that most young adults don't like to hear it. And judging from the face Rose makes, she's no exception.

It almost makes Hob laugh -- Dream makes a very similar expression when someone tells him he's cute.

For Rose's sake, he swallows down that particular amusement and sets the cider back in front of her. "It is! But you might want to work on being a smidge less obvious with the staring."

Rose clears her throat, passing the damp napkins back across the bar when he motions for them. "...It's that obvious?" she asks slowly.

"Little bit, I'm afraid," he says, smiling apologetically.

Rose groans at that and drops her face into her hands. Hob only just makes out the muffled, "Do you think she noticed?" that follows.

Hob glances to the corner of the Inn where Jo has roped some sorry sap into a game of darts. It's not going well for the lad if the jeering of his friends is anything to go by. "Mmm...she's a little distracted, so probably not this time."

"This time?!" Rose repeats, lifting her head out of her hands to balk at him.

"You've been very obvious about it, poppet."

"And you didn't tell me!? I can't ever come back here!" Rose hisses.

Hob bites back his amusement -- poorly, judging by Rose's narrow expression. "I promise it isn't that big of a deal."

"What is not that big of a deal?"

The next few seconds are spent by Hob and Rose startling, someone bumping the glass between them in the process, and then both of them frantically trying to catch said glass before it spills more cider over the bar. When the glass is upright again and they turn accusatory stares on the King of Dreams, sitting at the previously empty barstool at Rose's side, his expression is nonplussed if not vaguely amused.

"You know, one of these days you're actually going to give me a heart attack or something. And then you're gonna have to explain to Auntie Death why she's here," Rose points out.

"I will take that under advisement," Dream drawls, more obviously amused by then. And when Hob leans over the bar, he obligingly tips his head a bit to accept the kiss dropped against his temple.

"Hello, love. Please don't give any of my patrons heart attacks at the bar."

"I will endeavor not to," Dream assures him. But the scuffle over the cider has not distracted him, and he repeats, "What is not that big of a deal?"

"Nothing!' Rose says quickly -- too quickly -- before Hob has a chance to deflect with a bit more tact. "Hence, not a big deal," she adds, snatching the glass off the bar and taking a long drink.

Dream watches her for a moment, no doubt taking stock of the damp spot on her jumper and the blustering, before turning to Hob, expectant.

But Hob has not been a snitch for many, many years, and he is not looking to revive that particular character trait this century. He flashes Dream a smile and leans back from the bar, already grabbing a cocktail glass. "How about we try a French 75 today?"

Dream purses his lips, though Hob suspects it has more to do with his question being very obviously ignored and less to do with their ongoing game of "make Dream try a new cocktail every time he comes in until Hob finds one he actually likes."

"Hob." 

He hums to acknowledge he heard him, considering the gin he has on hand.

"What are you not telling me?"

Hob grabs one of the bottles. "That I don't think you're going to like the French 75."

He turns his back to fetch the champagne and to hide a grin when he hears an annoyed little huff from the other side of the bar. Dream would deny huffing, of course, so undignified. But he huffed. He was huffy.

"Rose Walker."

"No," Rose says shortly, setting her nearly empty glass back down. "Look, no offense Uncle Morpheus, but it's seriously not a big deal, and it's also not something I wanna talk about. Okay?"

It is not, apparently, okay. Hob can tell the second he turns back around, spots the telltale sheen of emotion in Dream's eyes. Rose probably did too, which is why she's very pointedly looking down at the last of her cider rather than at her Uncle. Because they have come a long way since the rocky start of their relationship, but Hob knows better than most how fiercely Dream wants to nurture this relationship with his niece and nephew, almost despite himself. 

And bless him, but jumping straight into teenagers and young adults, nevermind the complications of a crush, is a tall order for anyone, much less the anthropomorphic personification of dreams. He definitely hasn’t had as much hands on time with young humans as Hob. Or if he has, he’s…rusty, to say the least. 

"You were comfortable to discuss these things with Hob, but not with me?"

Rose groans outright and turns on her stool, however reluctantly, to face Lord Shaper. "No, actually, I didn't want to be talking about it with Professor Gadling, either. So if we could all stop talking about it and pretend this never happened, that would be great!" she said, shooting a pointed frown in Hob's direction for good measure.

He holds his hands up in as placating a gesture as he can manage with a lemon twist between his fingers, and Dream glances between them for a moment before, with obvious reluctance, inclining his head.

"Very well," he says. "It is not my intention to make you uncomfortable."

"Thank you," Rose says, less terse, and Hob sets another cider in front of her at the same time he passes Dream the French 75. Dream eyes the cocktail with no small amount of distrust and Hob can’t help but laugh.

"Oh, come on, don't make that face before you've even tried it."

"Yeah, they're not bad. If you don't like it, we can switch," Rose offers, and while Dream does not look anymore convinced that he'll enjoy the beverage, or that he'd prefer Rose's cider, Hob can tell some of his proverbial feathers (well, currently proverbial, but sometimes more literal?) have settled. 

Heaven help him, but he does so adore this impossible, mercurial creature.

At their encouragement, Dream does eventually take a sip of the cocktail. And while his reaction is not quite as strong as it had been to the martini from last week or the Alabama slammer which, admittedly, Hob had only made as a means of getting Dream to say Alabama slammer, he is clearly not impressed.

"What do you think?" Rose asks, amused.

"It is...palatable," Dream says after a moment, and Rose laughs when he lifts it for another reluctant sip.

"Don't drink it if you don't like it!" she protests, waving for him to put the glass back down, which Dream does with something not unlike relief.

"Starting to think gin might not be your thing," Hob says, glancing over when the bell over the door jingles. He smiles and waves a hand that way. "See? Cor can use the door."

"Didn't you say he broke into your apartment through a window last month?" Rose asks, smirking when Hob shushes her.

But, by that point, Corinthian is close enough to hear. And to reach around Dream to pluck the French 75 off the bar. "And guess who finally got the damn locks on his windows repaired after that?"

"That is not a good reason for breaking into my flat!" Hob protests.

"It's a perfect reason for breaking in! I could've stabbed you in your sleep!" Corinthian argues.

"You have stabbed me in my sleep!"

Corinthian chuckles over the cocktail, half draped against Dream's side, who shifts subtle to make room for him there. "I have done that," he agrees.

"You've what?" Dream says, turning a frown on Corinthian who waves a dismissive hand.

"Metaphorically," he lies, before sidestepping out of the conversation by leaning around Dream again to flash a smile down the bar. "Well, hey there, Rosebud."

Rose, whose attention had drifted back in the direction of the darts game -- new bloke trying his hand now and losing just as spectacularly -- turns quickly back around. "Hey! Where's Jed?"

"Dropped him off at the movies with a couple friends."

Rose frowns. "...What movie?"

"One that I'm certain Jed and his friends were able to buy tickets to themselves, of course," Corinthian says breezily. Rose narrows her eyes a little further.

"If Jed has nightmares all week, it's gonna be your fault."

Corinthian makes a little noise of disagreement over his drink, and Hob starts wiping down the bar to keep himself useful while they bicker. And to avoid letting Dream pull him into any further interrogation about the whole stabbing thing.

"Technically, that would be My Lord's fault, wouldn't it?" Corinthian says, motioning at Dream between them, whose suspicious expression has not wavered.

Rose rolls her eyes. "You know what I mean!"

"Uh huh. Didn't know you were so into darts, Rose."

Hob pauses his cleaning to glance up between them, Rose visibly flustered and Corinthian's eyebrows lifted high above his sunglasses while he sips Dream's drink.

"What?" Rose eventually says, and Hob doesn't wince but it's a near miss. Poor thing, she's usually better toe to toe with Cor in one of his more meddling moods.

"You know what I mean," he drawls, and Rose snatches her cider up to chug. Again.

Rose knows what he means. And Hob knows what he means, even if he's not entirely sure how Corinthian himself knows. But Dream, sitting between the three of them, clearly does not, and he misunderstands rather wildly.

"Would you care to play darts, Rose Walker?" 

"That's a great idea!" Corinthian insists while Rose coughs around her drink. "That gal in the corner seems like she's pretty good, I bet she could talk you through the rules."

And then Dream turns his head and his attention alights on the darts game already happening. "Johanna Constantine is here?" he asks, looking back to Hob for confirmation.

"She's a regular these days, yeah," Hob says, and he'd argue that Dream doesn't stand from the stool so much as he pours himself from it, too liquid in his movements for the human shape he wears.

"Then I shall have to introduce you, Rose," he insists, and Rose only manages a token, squeaked protest before Dream is ushering her towards the darts game.

Hob swats Corinthian with the towel he'd been wiping the counter with. "That wasn't necessary," he points out, trying very hard to tap down on his own amusement.

"Sure it was! This way Dream can figure it out himself, and then he can be the one to tell her there's no way in hell we're gonna approve her trying to date Johanna fucking Constantine."

Hob laughs despite himself and leans against the bar, smiling when Corinthian takes up Dream's abandoned stool to meet him halfway. "She is a grown woman, you know. We can't stop her from trying to date who she likes."

"We can sure as hell try."

"We can do that," he agrees, leaning in to return the quick, sharp kiss Corinthian dips in for. "Does he know how to play darts?" Hob asks, glancing towards the corner when Corinthian leans back.

"I have absolutely no idea." [ ← prev ] [ next → ]

[talentforlying]

thinking about john's multitude of short-lived, often quickly-abandoned apartments for some reason, so a couple details:

although you might expect to find a very wizard-y interior to any place he's currently living at — you know, grimoires, skulls, dust, clutter, etc. — his flats actually tend to be fairly spartan in terms of decor; they've even been accused of looking modern, here and there. he just moves too frequently to really settle in & accrue Things, and has so often had to simply up & leave everything he currently owned behind (with very little chance of getting any of it back) that he no longer attaches much meaning to household objects.

besides the consistent presence of at least one bookshelf with at least 12 books on it, and a sad sprig of garden sage that miraculously hasn't died yet, the one exception to his lack of personal touch is his extensive collection of records + tapes, all of which he has repeatedly & methodically tracked down and bought / bid / traded / stolen / threatened for / blackmailed for / simply taken back whenever an enterprising landlord or new tenant left him the opportunity to do so. his record player itself has never needed to be taken back, since it has always mysteriously vanished from whatever flat he's leaving and mysteriously appeared wherever he's staying; it's convenient like that. his 10th anniversary walkman, however, frequently goes missing, only to turn up again later in a place he KNOWS he checked when he's least expecting it.

lack of home decor isn't to say he doesn't own much, mind: the bulk of his personal possessions — assorted occult paraphernalia, blackmail documentation, miscellaneous crap from his mucous membrane days, and anything he is able to take with him from past flats — are usually stored off-site, in a secure location that can't easily be tied back to him. this guy's been accused of being a satanic killer on multiple occasions, he knows better than to keep all the real shit out where anyone can just swan in and see it.

currently, this storage location (which i lovingly call occult shit central) is an abandoned inner london storefront + adjoining flat that was formerly his old friend ray monde's shop and home, called brick-a-brac antiques. it's decidedly cozier than the last place, (in that there are chairs, plural,) and has fewer bear traps laid out in anticipation of unlucky thieves; in fact, if a person were to visit without already knowing where constantine actually lives, it'd be easy to mistake it as his expectedly-wizardy flat. it's not an ideal location for an occult shit central, too close to the heart of the city and too close to people to avoid drumming up suspicion should constantine attempt any sort of ritual inside, but until chas finally quits ducking the paperwork and signs over his storage lot (which he may or may not be dragging his feet on out of pure resentment for having to do it at all) ray's place is the best option there is.

constantine's previous (and future) storage location was a lock-up in streatham that chas had been letting him use (see: all but surrendered to him entirely) since he got out of ravenscar, but after constantine's sister died, john decided he was done with magic and, in a spontaneous fit of rage, burnt the place down with everything but a few necessities still inside. he regretted this later, when he inevitably returned to the occult scene after just over a year away, and spent a lot of time calling in favors / hypnotizing arson inspectors to try and put together an inventory of everything he'd lost.

in the nearly 20 years since the fire, he's managed to replace or find substitutes for about 2/3 of what he had (occult-wise), and gather enough fresh dirt / do enough favors / orchestrate enough compromising situations to accumulate a little over 1/4 of the political / interpersonal power he once maintained. ( the lack of success in the latter being, in part, because people now in power aren't as familiar with his name & reputation as they once were; in part because people just don't believe in magic as much as they used to, or were otherwise bought by hell / heaven / other parties a LONG time ago; and in part because he's come to absolutely fucking despise most politicians / people in power more than he is willing to work with them, or more than he is able to plausibly believe they won't try to drop him at the first opportunity. )

you would be hard-pressed to find a landlady/landlord that speaks kindly of this man. if he wasn't kicked out for suspicious smells / disturbing noises / sudden infestations / suspected satanic activity, then it's likely that he abruptly up and disappeared in the middle of the night, with no warning and no rent. (on a few occasions, this vanishing act also coincided conspicuously with a gruesome death on the premises, sometimes of the landlady/landlord themselves, although no one's ever been able to prove anything.) frankly it's . . . magic, that people still rent to him.

due to these aforementioned bad ends, he's incredibly lucky if he gets enough time or leeway to take any sort of furniture with him from one place to the next. however, there is one incredibly comfy, wing-backed, sapphire-blue armchair that's miraculously managed to survive every move in the last ten or so years without being reported stolen — even though it has survived every move because it has, in fact, been stolen in the dead of night nearly every single time, by john and at least one of his buddies.

[pablohunie1993]

[lothirielswandc]

John Constantine: Don't mind me, love *jumps into a hell portal*

Clark Kent: ...Is he going to be okay??

Zatanna Zatara: Oh, he'll be fine. John visits hell like every other Friday. Not just for work stuff, a lot of his friends end up there.

Clark Kent: That is...sad, yet relatable.

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

I did not commit homicide.

And I deserve ice cream.

[villetteulogy]

The fact that M Heger asked Mrs Gaskell about his letters to Charlotte at the end of their interview is just hysterical to me. We can see through your feigned casualness, monsieur!!!

‘They contained advice about her character, studies, mode of life’ SURE

Given how anxious Heger was to know the whereabouts of his letters, I’m just going to take a wild guess and say that they also contained irrefutable proof that he was as invested in his relationship with Charlotte as she was….

[bigassbowlingballhead]

My boy Matt Ryan voicing Constantine in the Harley Quinn animated series 😭😭

[thefiresontheheight]

I may not have much going for me but at least one time I made a dude go “I’m a published author, a teacher and a scrabble champion, and your word choice is too much.”

[volixia669]

So uh, hmm. I guess WB and HBOMax being all “YOU CAN’T USE JOHN CONSTANTINE BECAUSE WE’RE GONNA USE JOHN CONSTANTINE” to Legends of Tomorrow & Matt Ryan (who literally made the character popular again) as well as presumably to the showrunners of Sandman was rather presumptuous.

Unless they plan on using him in Doom Patrol or something, but tbh I’d be pretty pissed if Batgirl got cancelled for a Constantine movie.

Also I got rather fond of Welsh John Constantine dammit.

[2oodl3s]

my bestie and i just went on a john constantine deep dive and here’s what we found….

what’s one thing that a monkey, swamp thing, and king shark have in common?

you guessed it! they were all seduced by john constantine!