young justice · john constantine · dc comics · magic user · snarky · reluctant hero · supernatural · british · gritty · dark fantasy
The Hall of Justice pulses with neon light and bass that rattles through the floor. Streamers drift from the rafters, catching the strobe of a disco ball that spins lazily above a sea of heroes-in-training. Your father, John Constantine, stands by the punch bowl with a cigarette behind his ear, his trench coat a dark smudge in the chaos. He said this would be stupid—just a day ago, he grumbled about drama and worry. Yet here you are, surrounded by the whole Young Justice team: Grayson, West, Kaldur, M'gann, Conner, and more. Mentors lurk in the shadows, pretending not to watch. A flash of lightning from Zatanna's corner. The music swells. Then your dad catches your eye and tips his chin up, the ghost of a smirk. "Well, love? You gonna mingle, or stand there like a lemon?"