What if oldest dream behind the wall was Tls123?
“We’ll still stick together from now on too, so why do you sound so grimly determined? Don’t worry. No matter what kind of a monster is waiting for us, I’ll finish it off.”
I gently smiled. Meanwhile, the subway was slowing down even further.
My reflection could be seen in the black window of the exit door. There was a splatter of blood on my cheek reflected on the glass. I wiped it off my face. And then, my mood cooled down.
⸢The blood was really on my cheek, and not on the window.⸥
“Doors are opening!”
Along with Lee Hyunsung’s cry, everyone got ready to fight.
“....Ng?”
However, contrary to everyone’s nervousness, what greeted us was a rather empty subway platform. Sure, there were a few people walking around in the surroundings, but none of them paid us much attention.
“What’s this, there’s no....”
Jung Heewon muttered that out, and as we stepped onto the platform, I was overcome with an ominous foreboding. There it was, the unfamiliar sense of reality touching my feet. Faint sparks, along with every single one of my Fables, were pointing in a certain direction.
⸢Someone was sitting on the subway’s bench.⸥
Black athletic wear as if its wearer had just gone out for a run. A beautiful woman was slouched on the bench, unflinching in her sleep even with the bustle of the crowd around her. The short crop of her hair lightly caressed her cheeks.
As the pulsing migraine assaulted me, I somehow managed to lift my unmoving feet.
⸢Kim Dokja made a promise. To end the culprit who made this world. No matter what that existence was.⸥
There were deep bags under the woman’s eyes. It was as if she hadn’t slept properly in years.
⸢Time isn’t moving because not reading and not imagining.⸥
I did think that all of this could be a dream, a lie. I even believed that this was a dream the evil <Star Stream> had created.
I even believed that I could have been the monster waiting past that wall.
But this person, I didn’t expect her to be the one past the full stop. To have met a writer at the place where the creator of a universe of stories resides…
⸢Y ou we re al rea dy ex pec ting this di dn’t you Kim Dok Ja.⸥
Before any story could be described, before it could be read, it had to exist in one person’s dream first.
The author’s.
The Most Ancient Dream. The world’s most omniscient yet powerless god.
“I… am Tls123?”
It was Han Sooyoung who broke the silence. Her eyes were trembling.
All of my senses were gnawing at me; they said that that woman was the culprit behind all these scenarios.
It was the same for my companions.
I thought I heard something fall to the floor, and I saw Jung Heewon’s sword rolling around on the ground.
“Ah, ah....”
She was now looking at her. She was looking at the woman, then back at Han Sooyoung. Her eyes were filling up with despair.
As if she couldn’t believe this. As if she’d prefer that this whole thing turned out to be a lie.
[The promise with the ‘Secretive Plotter’ is activating.]
I opened my mouth only to close it several times. Maybe, this might be my punishment.
For daring to dream of a perfect ending in which all of us survived. To have come this far, and shed blood for such a hope.
It was as if the universe was telling me there was no such thing.
The Star Stream wasn’t like that. This was a universe of sacrifices and salvation too, was a paid service.
[You have promised to destroy <Star Stream>.]
[<Star Stream> will not be destroyed unless the ‘Most Ancient Dream’ is ended.]
I now stared at the woman.
The woman who gave me every reason to survive in this ruined world.
[Please end the ‘Most Ancient Dream’.]
+++
Sparks overflowed above my Incarnation Body. My heart was madly pounding away. My head faltered, and I somehow managed to suck in several deep breaths.
[The 4th Wall] was right. Maybe, I already knew.
There were simply too many hints.
⸢I was far too lucky in this world, and⸥
⸢Everything in this world seemed to be geared towards my convenience, and⸥
⸢At times, this world even felt sloppy.⸥
If all of these were the result of the guiding hand of a writer who so desperately wished for our survival…
⸢The genesis of all the world-lines, the original world-line.⸥
I raised my head back up, then stepped forward to lift ‘that’ Han Sooyoung into my arms. She felt so light. This small body carried the weight of every sin in the world.
The world written just for me.
An anguished cry came from the rear.
“Sooyoung-ssi, calm down!”
“You bastard! Let me go!”
It was a voice far more devastated than I have ever heard from her. Tears were pouring from her eyes as Jung Heewon and Lee Hyunsung held her by her arms. A dagger was gripped tightly onto one hand while [Black Flames] were bursting from the other.
“That bitch, why the hell would I write a story like this!?”
She continued to thrash about, and even the kids held onto her legs to keep her from taking another step forward to do something foolish. The entire nebula worked together to suppress her, their status raging forth as Han Sooyoung did everything she could to break free of the restraint.
“Something this fucked up—“ Han Sooyoung snarled. “If I had to write a story for this purpose, to write a novel with these… Shit developments…!!“
Han Sooyoung choked on her own tears as she continued to try to force her way past our companions.
“Han Sooyoung.”
It was Yoo Junghyuk who stepped in between them. The one who had lived this tragedy for thousands of lives.
“It has been difficult."
He reduced his tragedies to a mere few words.
“But it’s over now.”
⸢His forgiveness was offered in this manner. ⸥
“Shut up!!”
⸢It only served to break her.⸥
“Shut up, shut up, shut up!!”
Yoo Junghyuk opened his mouth as if to respond, then suddenly doubled over in a coughing fit.
Thick fog came in from somewhere, and I picked up on the ominous power of Chaos. Yoo Junghyuk’s expression as he held the blade became weird.
“Y-you bastard....”
As he staggered about, the pitch-black Fable leaked out from his mouth. That Fable gurgled out and travelled down his chin, hit the floor, and finally, formed the silhouette of a person.
The blade of the [Heaven Shaking Sword] gleamed between the jet-black coat; a man who only lived for this moment was standing there now.
⸢The Secretive Plotter.⸥
The being who had even forgotten about his real name after experiencing an enedless tragedy even past the last sentence of his story. The man who lived only for the purpose of revenge was here.
⸢No human can control every type of imagination.⸥
Just how many universes were born and broken in her imagination? Just how many of her imagined tragedies were inherited by just one person?
⸢And that’s why the most ideal person to end this dream had already been determined.⸥
It was the world’s most fair revenge.
So why did I keep holding onto Han Sooyoung this tightly?
[[ It was you. ]]
The Secretive Plotter’s [Heaven Shaking Sword] continued to wander in the air. That sword was now pointed towards its creator.
[[ The being that dreamt and perpetuated every tragedy in all the worldlines. ]]
I only made it this far because of those tragedies she wrote.
It was the story that I loved more than anything. The story I was indebted to.
[[ Kim Dokja. You must end the Most Ancient Dream. ]]
Every letter here was chosen by her hands. By bearing all of these sins, she brought us to this moment.
It was thanks to Han Sooyoung that I managed to survive.
And now it was time to repay my debt.
“Did you forget?”
[‘Demon King’ transformation is activating!]
[‘Archangel’ transformation is activating!]
I smiled gently and with one hand raised my [Unbreakable Faith]. I pulled the sleeping Han Sooyoung closer in the other.
“I didn’t promise to kill people.”
In this place far beyond our full stop, our swords were drawn.
A new story had begun.
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"give me a fandom and a prompt and i'll give you at least five sentences"
Ok then.
Jazz, Danny and Bruce are in the same age range, and Bruce has been harboring a massive crush on 7'foot tall Jazz since just after he began his training journey.
His kids know about and are mercyless. Danny thinks he's a bit of a fruit loop and 100% knows Bruce has a crush on his sister.
Into the future his coworkers find out that batman has been quietly pining after the Ghost Kings sister for years.
Chaos.
love that this reads as a challenge. Ok then. Write it. i will, let's goooo!
(sorry i kinda took it so that Jazz, Danny, and Bruce were all old friends but in that horrible adult way where you can only hang out with each other once in a blue moon when your work schedules miraculously align)
——
"Respectfully, Batman, you can take your "it's not necessary" and you can shove it up your arse. There's a demon the size of a skyscraper heading towards Metropolis and we need reinforcements."
"Superman can—"
"Superman can't. You do remember the part of the report I made telling you this, right? Or did your stubborn little bat brain just shut down when I mentioned magic?"
"Actually," Nightwing interrupts from the side, a shit-eating grin on his face, "I think his brain shut down when you mentioned the Ghost King."
"Nightwing." Batman growls in warning, his jaw clenching so hard Constantine can swear he hears the bones creaking.
Nightwing just snickers, and turns away to press a finger to his ear, no doubt letting the rest of the bat brood in on what's happening here... Whatever that is. All Constantine knows is that Batman is standing between him and fixing this mess for no God-forsaken reason.
Luckily, some of the more reasonable members of the League step in to try and talk some sense into Batman. It gives him some time to calm down.
"Batman. We need him. I know you dislike working with unknowns, but he's our best shot."
It actually looks like Wonder Woman might be getting through to him, Batman even opens his mouth to actually explain some things—a huge step forward for this incredibly emotionally constipated man.
Instead, Nightwing snorts and beats him to it. "Unknowns? More like—"
"Nightwing, please."
"Oh, for Pete's sake, get your head out of your arse and let me do this. The Ghost King is our only hope. I'm summoning him, no matter what you say."
For a long second, Constantine thinks that he'll refuse and he might have to resort to more violent methods of persuasion—which, honestly, Constantine has fantasised about many times during the more boring JL meetings—but eventually, Batman relents and steps out of the way.
"Fine. Nightwing, go check in with Red Robin."
Nightwing has the kind of devious smile that makes John glad he doesn't have kids.
"Oh, don't worry about it, B. Red Robin's coming here. So's Red Hood, I don't need to go anywhere."
"Nightwing—"
"Sh, it's starting." So saying, Nightwing then very obviously ignores Batman's protests with a poker face that even Constantine envies. What he wouldn't give to be able to shut the bat out like that.
The summoning goes quickly, thankfully. The lights flicker, the temperature drops, and the chalk circle erupts in green flames. Standard summoning practices, sure. Even the impromptu appearance of Red Hood and Red Robin—"Did we miss him?", "No, not yet! I got 2:37, what about you guys?"—doesn't throw him off.
It does pique his interest, though. Just what the hell is going on with them? Constantine's weighing up the pros and cons of asking them once all of this is over when the ground splits open and the clawed hand of the Ghost King begins to pull himself out of the ground.
John's a seasoned summoner. It's practically his job, he's done it countless times.
The icey fear that grips his heart, that freezes his breath in his chest, is new.
Pure, unadulterated power floods the area and he feels small, so, so small, like a child playing with things he doesn't understand. When he finally tears his eyes away from the portal, he catches a glimpse of the other magic users in the room, the same horror he feels clear in their faces. Even Captain Marvel stares slackjawed.
The pressure rises, death magic screaming in his ears, almost forcing him to his knees, and suddenly he's not so sure this is a good idea.
Too late to back out now, though.
Sickly green light pours from the crack in the ground, growing brighter and brighter as the giant figure rises, until Constantine has to close his eyes and look away. The last thing he sees are eyes, teeth, horns, a crown so bright that it burns an afterimage into his retinas.
When the light dies down and he opens his eyes again, a humanoid man floats in the centre of the circle. The ground is whole, nothing is burning, the man doesn't even have a crown. Instead, other than the wispy white hair, slightly green skin, and the—you know—floating, the Ghost King appears pretty normal. Huh.
Constantine blinks, rubbing his bleary eyes, and checks around to make sure everyone's okay. Most of the League are doing the same as him, taking fortifying breaths and trying to appear as if they've not just been completely blinded.
Most of them, that is, aside from the Gotham vigilantes.
Batman himself stands upright, arms crossed, looking completely unbothered by the whole thing and John's got to admit, he wishes he could do that, too. That was... a hell of a show.
The others, however, are waving frantically with huge smiles on their faces.
What?
There's a brief, taut silence, as everyone else tries to catch their breath.
As much as he would rather take a bit of a breather, John should probably start making introductions. Unfortunately, he only gets as far as opening his mouth before the Ghost King beats him to it.
"Oh, Ancients, hey guys! It's been forever, how are you? Look at you all, so grown up, wow—Nightwing, buddy, do a flip!"
It doesn't take much to get Nightwing going, and he certainly doesn't leave it at one flip. The whole of the Justice League and Justice League Dark watch with open mouths as Nightwing performs for the Ghost King.
What, and John can't stress this enough, the fuck?
As soon as Nightwing rights himself, Red Hood swats him across the back of the head and calls him a show off.
The Ghost King just laughs as he claps. "There's my little monkey, look at you go! And I'm loving that leather jacket, Hood, is that new? Looks good on you, really your colour. Brings out the red in your helmet."
"Thanks, Uncle D. At least someone around here appreciates fashion."
"Are you kidding me, you know I breathe fashion, need I remind—"
"Need I remind you of the Discowing incident?"
"That was era-appropriate and you know it! Uncle D, tell him it was era-appropriate!"
"It was era-appropriate, but so are crocs and it doesn't make them fashionable." The Ghost King—and holy shit, is this actually the Ghost King? Or did Constantine just accidentally summon a deceased family member, what the fuck is happening here?—turns to look at Red Robin with a smile, resolutely ignorning the argument he created. "How you doing, Double R? You get that tablet Tucker made for you?"
"Yes, thank you! It's so cool, how did he—"
"How's Tucker doing?" Batman interrupts, his hands now hidden underneath his cape.
As soon as the question leaves his lips, everyone groans. Red Robin makes a show of lifting up his wrist and staring at it intently.
"Incredible," Red Hood mutters with a shake of his head.
Even the Ghost King seems put out, rolling his eyes and answering in a flat tone as if he knows Batman isn't interested in what he has to say.
Not for the first time, Constantine feels like he's missing something.
"Tucker's doing very well, thank you for asking."
What follows is the most awkward silence Constantine has ever had the pleasure to be a part of.
All three of the Gotham vigilantes, including the Ghost King, are staring at Batman, waiting for something. Batman's cloak shifts as if he's moving his hands, fidgeting. If Constantine didn't know any better, he'd say he was nervous.
"Good. That's good, I'm glad to hear it."
Instead of saying anything else, the Ghost King just raises his eyebrows and continues to stare at Batman. Has he offended him in some way? Are they all going to die because of this?
After what seems like an agonising few minutes but could only really be a few seconds, Batman's shoulders dip and he takes a breath. "And Jazz?"
They all erupt into shouts, the Ghost King being the loudest. The only thing John can make out is when the Ghost King throws his hand in the air to point at Red Robin with a shout of "Time!"
"1:30.91, we got 1:30.91 on the clock, who's closest?"
"Did you even try to hold it in at all, old man? I'm so disappointed in you. People think you're cool. People think you're suave, I don't understand how they could be so wrong."
"Thank you for that, Hood."
"No, thank you, I won. Again. Because you're so predictable. Actually, I had one minute seventeen, so you held out longer than I thought you would."
Batman pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs loudly.
Constantine feels like doing the same thing.
Whatever. He's going to have to interrupt... whatever this is. There's still a rampaging demon heading their way that they've got to bargain for. He can untangle Batman's personal connection to the Ghost King later. Or he could leave it alone and forget everything about it.
Yeah, he'll do that one.
But before he can actually open his mouth to say anything, the Ghost King, again, beats him to it.
"So, B-Man, did you summon me here for a particular reason, or was it really just so you could ask about Jazz?"
There's a beat of silence before Batman mutters, "I asked about Tucker, too. We've not seen each other in so long, it's only polite."
"And I'm sure you meant it, you're the paragon of manners." The Ghost King nods slow and wide-eyed as if he doesn't believe him at all.
At this point, even Constantine doesn't believe him.
"It has been forever, though." The Ghost King muses, bringing his hand to his chin and folding his legs underneath him. "We should all get together sometime! If you get Alfie to make some of his cookies again, I'll get Clockwork to lend us a pocket dimension where we can spend as much time as we want, deal?"
"It's a deal."
No hesitation at all, incredible.
Hold on. Wait. John has to fight the urge to pinch himself, because this has to be a dream, right? Is Batman actually smiling? He didn't even know he could do that.
An itch niggles at the back of John's mind. He's starting to get an inkling of what's going on here and it's... weird, to say the least.
"Oooh," Nightwing singsongs, like a child in a playground tickled by the very idea of romance.
But then, who's he to judge? John's no stranger to strange bedfellows, that's for sure. Whoever this Jazz is, she must be something incredible—she'd have to be, if Batman can't even go two minutes without asking about her.
"Batman and Jasmine sitting in a tree," Nightwing continues, with both Red Hood and Red Robin joining in for the rest. "K—I—S—S—I—"
"Stop," Batman growls, completely drowned out by the Ghost King's laughter, but...
But.
It all suddenly clicks for John.
The Ghost King Phantom.
Her Royal Highness, Princess Jasmine Phantom.
Jazz.
"Holy shit, mate," John breathes, unable to stop himself as everyone looks his way. "You have the hots for the Princess of the Infinite Realms?"
The Justice League meeting room has never descended into chaos quicker.
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