Kim Seokjin was not a superstitious man by nature. Thus he could happily wander the world, beaming his beauty at unprepared people and causing havoc in his wake, simply believing he was lucky to have been born with such good looks. It was equally to his good fortune that he attributed his recent finding of a job that he had not even applied for. Of course, how was he to know that a Luck Pixie had fallen in love with him at birth? The little sprite had attached herself to him despite her mother trying to teach her about fairness in the world. As far as this particular pixie cared, Jin deserved the world, and the respectable Lady Han (or 'Lady of Here And Now, Protectoress of the Present'- H.A.N for short) could go chew on a sock.

It was in high spirits that Jin strode into his apartment and slammed the door shut, eliciting a groan from his couch.

"Couch, is that you?" he teased, dropping his keys into the tray by the door.

He flipped his shoes off, not caring if they landed at random whilst the couch groaned again.

"You're back late," said piece of furniture grumbled.

A head of mint hair popped up from behind the pillows, followed by two glaring eyes. Jin took no offense and simply threw himself down next to the old man.

"I went to the hairdressers, when you're this handsome you need to honour the gods for their gift!"

A disapproving grunt answered him from his lap, in which Yoongi had curled up. Call him an old man all you want, but he was_ very far beneath it all_ just a cuddly cat.

"Did Lil' Meow Meow enjoy his day off?" Jin teased, earning him a swift chop to the ankle although the weight on his legs stayed right where it was.

"You know I was up composing all night, and most of today too. I want to get the preliminary draft for the theme song done before I meet the singer. But now I've got the same notes stuck in my head and I'm going nowhere."

He got like this sometimes, Jin knew. There was only one way to snap him out of his writer's bloc, and that was to distract him with something so utterly unexpected that it would spark new ideas.

"Want to hear something interesting?"

"Anything," the other said, his eyes clearly closed in an attempt to shut out the world.

Jin obliged easily.

"When I sat at the hairdressers the guys next to me kept going on and on about his friend. He was getting his hair died from carrot orange to bubble-gum pink." Jin said this like it might have been the shock of the year. "And all he could do was rant about how he and his best friend talk in rhymes."

His fingers were running through his flatmates hair, and the younger man seemed to curl up further under his touch. It wasn't romantic; they had simply been friends for so long, since childhood in fact, that they had replaced each other's need for a family when they had moved away from home.

"Like, seriously," Jin continued. "He has a man crush on him. Has to. It was cute in a way, even the way he complains I could have heard his pout from an underwater cave. Anyways, apparently he carried him on his shoulders yesterday after losing a bet or something... What was it his friend said? 'Perfection is my enemy; this is the real me!' and actually started shouting: 'On my own I'm so clumsy but on your shoulders I can see!' Then they both crashed into a cluster of trees and the friend broke his phone. Weird boys those two."

In his lap, the other had become still. Jin lifted his hand, recognizing the signs for when... Yep. Yoongi had jumped up from his lap and dashed from the room, his studio door slamming shut behind him before the elder had even had time to breathe. He exhaled in relief, his head finally clear, and got up to make some food. Yoongi was going to be locked in there for a new round of many musical hours; he was going to need sustenance. Later, when he brought him a bowl of steaming food, he found the green haired man hunched over his piano, muttering something about standing on layers and double-bass tracks. Jin left the food next to the multiple screens covered in musical software and took himself to bed, confident in the knowledge that he had done his job well.

The next day he left for his first day at work, making sure to rouse the grumpy old man before he left. Yoongi had once more fallen asleep in his studio. Really it was a surprise he even owned a bed considering how little he used it.

The mint-haired man dragged himself to work, not completely tired as his excitement for the nearly completed song carried him through the doors of BigHitEntertainement. The company was one-of-a-kind. It was mainly a movie production company, but did its own soundtracks and recordings, props, stunts, editing, filming, casting, producing and advertising. This made it a powerhouse of the film industry, but having everything in one place had its ups and downs. On the plus side you could plan and communicate easier, and you didn't have to deal with chess-like games of coordinating different companies. However, it did make the building a little similar to a war zone.

Yoongi locked himself into his studio, safe in the knowledge that only his staff had the code to get in. There, he worked for a couple of hours before he was due in for a meeting with the editing department. He was catching up with a colleague, telling them about his roommate and the stupid words which were stuck in his head since the night before, when his appointment was let into the room.

"I mean, I'm thankful for them, as I've now got the song going. Really, it was the 'standing on shoulders' part that helped. I figured: one person standing on the other, leads to one track leaning on the other. Make them both bass lines and voilà!"

"What 'voilà'?" Namjoon asked from behind him.

"Oh! RM you're here." Yoongi sighed in relief, jumping down from the desk he was sat on and waving his colleague towards a table to talk about the new, nightmarish project they had to deal with.

When Namjoon politely made small talk by asking what they were talking about, Yoongi obliged.

"My roommate was saying these two crazy dudes were shouting: 'Perfection is my enemy; this is the real me!' in the park the other day. Apparently one of them climbed onto the other and screamed: 'On my own I'm so clumsy but on your shoulders I can see!' and then they fell into a tree surrounded by thorn bushes and one of them broke an arm."

Namjoon blinked at the odd information thrown his way, not least because he could picture in absolute detail this being Jungkook and his weird, smaller best friend whom he had heard of multiple times. Not to mention his younger colleague's injured hand, recently wrapped in bandages. But it had been like that since the week before and it was a bit of a crazy stretch anyways, so the silver-haired man got back down to business.

Far above him, somewhere between level 4 (conference rooms and producing department) and the 5th dimension, one confused Goddess had just run into one of her least favourite deities.

"Lady Han," Fate simpered, not completely unkindly. "Whatever brings you to these parts?"

The creature before her could not realistically be called a woman, as it was an embodiment of the Present, and had pixie wings, fox ears and appeared to be a basilisk from the waist down. However, their form and clothing were 'womanly' enough that the realm of deities had made things easier by assuming she was female; not to mention she called herself 'Lady', which always made Fate snort in disbelief. Being a lady was about more than having a vagina, as Fate had always told the other gods.

The two of them did not get along, if only for their vastly different takes on life. Fate knew everything was crafted and happened for a reason, that there was always a grander plan at work, no matter the difficulties. Lady Han believed that the Present was all that mattered, and that those who accepted their fate and waited for it to happen were wasting their life away. Basically, they were always trying to destroy each other's work. It also did not help that Han's dresses were hideous, in Fates opinion.

"Probably the same as you, Mother." Lady Present spat out condescendingly_ it wasn't a secret she disapproved of Fate's title. "We always seem to meet at these moments, both following a brighter-than-average Singularity Star in the human world."

"Indeed, an interesting fate seems to be unfolding as we speak," the more human looking of the two spoke, lifting her nose into the air.

"Yes, the present events are certainly evolving quite coincidentally, aren't they?" the other answered, her tone of voice equally icy.

This would not do, and they both knew it. It was not uncommon for them to meet like this on Earth. What they called 'Singularity Stars' were moments in time where a series of events seemed to slot perfectly into place so as to paint a bigger picture. Mother Fate saw these instances as destinies being put into motion, and she loved them, craved them. Lady Han believed these moments were pure ephemeral treasures that needed to be nurtured. Thus although they agreed on the importance of whichever Singularity Star they had been following, the first would always try to increase the strings of destiny wrapping themselves around the event, and the other would attempt to get as many unsuspected souls involved as possible. The two actions, either concentrating the event onto a select few or spreading its affect on entire crowds, could not both occur. Hence the two deities had come to such stalemates in the past and had only ever found one solution to them.

"Fine." Fate growled through the most pleasant, polite smile you could have set your eyes on. "I guess it is time for us both to remove ourselves from the situation and visit whichever is the furthest bar on the planet then. Blue mojitos my dear?"

"No thanks Hun, I'll go for a beer today."

"Suit yourself."

And with a swirl of starlight cloths, they both disappeared into the ether; leaving the singularity below them develop in its own time, in its own way: through a string of words.

***

~*~ The setting was strange. Jungkook looked around in wonder, gasping at the fairy lights weaved through the blue grass and strewn throughout the trees. It seemed as if the gods had thrown a blanket of stars over the world. Dewdrop lights twinkled over a fairy-tale castle and the cobbled path before him winked a periwinkle gleam at him. He blinked, wondering if he was in an actual dream this time. A deep voice reached him, and he instantaneously knew he was back in his Dreamscape world.

"How long do we have left here?"

Jungkook spun and grinned joyously at the sight before him. The stranger before him was a miniature star in an ocean of lights; a fairy prince in his kingdom. His soul seemed stronger now, golden waves rippling away from his body. 'Solar flares', Jungkook decided, 'that's what they are: warm, disruptive, hypnotizing.' A small glimmer shone in the DreamCatcher's eyes, the telltale signs of life returning to their lost vessel.

"We've still got two hours, but we might be here longer if the director keeps being unhappy," a younger voice answered, though Jungkook payed no attention to its owner.

He was too distracted by the sight in front of him, and as he took in the man's full figure, the DreamSoul felt his mouth dry up, his tongue becoming heavier than it had ever been and causing his jaw to drop ever so slightly.

The stranger was clad in a royal blue suit, golden coats of arms sown all over the crisp fabric, some depicting wings_ which for some reason seemed so fitting to Jungkook. His brown hair had chestnut blond highlights, so that it always looked like beams of light were playing with the soft, fine strands. It made you desperately crave running your hands through it.

In one word, he looked like a prince. Realising they were in Seoul's fairyland theme park, Jungkook finally understood what the other boy was up to. It was so obvious he nearly face palmed. Of course it was a photo-shoot. Now that he had stopped being so enthralled by the sight before him, he noticed the crew dotted around them and someone hovering nearby who seemed to be an intern going by their nervousness and young face. It seemed that whichever new manager the man at the centre of his attention had gotten, they had not started yet, and this youth was temporarily stepping in.

The stretched group seemed to suddenly organise itself and move as one body towards the castle towering above them. Jungkook followed a little ways behind, shy even though he knew he was invisible. He found he was more conscious than ever that this was a dream_ the fairies tittering about and watching him curiously might have helped with that. He guessed actual dreams were able to seep into whatever reality the Dreamscape kept dragging him into.

The cameramen at the front of the posse finally set their heavy burdens down by a monumental fountain, and Jungkook went to stand by his unknowing companion. They stared together at the beauty before them. It span all the colours of the rainbow, sending tinted drops of water dancing into the sky in undecipherable patterns. Jungkook watched in awe, until his eyes were brought back to the prince besides him, as if magnetised. The look on the other's face was pure, unadulterated, unmasked childish wonder. The invisible boy couldn't help it; a giggle purled from his lips.

His companion finally snapped out of his trance, mouth closing itself self-consciously as he swept the area with his eyes. Finding that no one had seen him gawking, he turned and walked to the space around which the workmen were setting up spotlights. Before long, the photo-shoot was in session once more.

Jungkook was beyond reach now, nothing could have brought him out of his trance as he watched the shoot. The model_ his companion, the DreamCatcher, the stranger with no name_ was breathtakingly good. Every shot he took seemed perfection; every look in his eyes spoke a thousand eclipsed words. At first, Jungkook stood behind the director's screen, taking it all in, but quickly the man in charge was complaining at miniscule faults and began grating on his nerves. Jungkook could find nothing wrong with the photos, yet the crew seemed disappointed and it tore at his heart.

He quickly grew bored of standing there in such an atmosphere, so he inched the tip of his fingers over the camera lens tentatively. The next photo came out with the distinct shape of his hand wrapped in off-white bandages, creeping into in the top-right corner of the frame. Panic trickled down his throat. He looked around worriedly, promptly realising just how much mayhem this could cause. But to his surprise, the director okay-ed the picture, going as far as to say it was one of his favourites and commenting on the clarity of focus. To them it must have seemed clear as day; no trace of his existence had truly been captured. The shoot was suddenly much more fun.

He ran over to the prince and stood besides him, trying to copy his position, emphasizing it to look as ridiculous as possible. As soon as the picture was taken he ran back to the monitor and burst out laughing. No one reacted to him, and it somehow made the situation funnier. They really did look ridiculous. Their postures were incredibly awkward, the outline of their bodies utterly unnatural. They stood facing away from each other, arms extending in front of them and bodies bent as far back as gravity would allow. As he ran back to his position, the director shouted out at his model.

"All right, next let's try leaning into the fountain! But don't get wet, and look relaxed, but lean your whole torso right over the edge."

The model was the perfect image of professionalism as he nodded, and no one could have fathomed the words he muttered under his breath, too low for any crewmembers to hear.

"Next, let's try prancing like an injured unicorn, but gracefully please."

Jungkook snorted from besides the fountain.

"Hey, as long as its relaxed, everything is fine," he replied without thought, freezing and peering over to see if the other man had heard him.

When the model didn't react, Jungkook stifled his disappointment and moved on to something to distract himself from the feeling. Listening to the illogical directions the director was spouting out, he attempted himself to lean over the stone wall without tumbling backwards.

"Geez, this is difficult!" he muttered under his breath.

That's when he lost balance completely, felt his hand slip out from underneath him. His foot came up in a desperate attempt to regain stability and lodged itself under the edge of the wall's top plate, ultimately keeping him from falling. He grunted half in disbelief, half in triumph. Besides him, the model wasn't doing too well, and reprimands erupted from the director's position.

"Try sticking your foot under the ledge," Jungkook suddenly begged for no reason.

It was like watching a horror movie and screaming warnings at the characters onscreen: you didn't expect it to work, but you did it anyways. Except the model suddenly did as he was told. He placed his heal exactly as Jungkook had, and that was enough to allow him to lean backwards, faking relaxation despite the tense tremors running up his body under the effort.

"Huh," Jungkook breathed. "Well that was weird."

Across from them, the boss asked for smiling; 'Bashful, if possible!'

The model grinned forcibly. Amazingly, through his pearly teeth came another hushed string of scalding words, although his smile never wavered.

"Next, please poop out a unicorn horn, but elegantly."

Jungkook couldn't help the guffaw that escaped him whilst the director shouted 'More!'.

"No, no!" Jungkook hiccupped. "Not elegantly. Do it like it's a mating ritual. He has a kink for that stuff."

Something in the prince's smile happened to twitch into place, and suddenly the man behind the screen was yelling 'Okay!' as he waved his thumbs up at people. Jungkook could already see some of the staff rubbing their temples in pain. He could relate; their boss was the neurotic type of loud.

The shoot carried on with much of the same. It seemed the two men were on the same wavelength, and everything Jungkook said it felt like he was sharing with the man besides him. The prince, in return, seemed much happier as his job started running smoothly once more.

Regardless of his improving work, ridiculous directions just kept pouring in and even the crew seemed confused. But their model didn't seem ready to run out of momentum as he had earlier, which suited Jungkook just fine. The boy was lost in stupid faces, giddy from listening to the under-handed comments the model was making without anyone noticing. The latter was asked to pose as a ballerina, toes pointed with his arms raised above his head and Jungkook poked his head through the circle, yelling insults at the non-the-wiser director. As time went by, the insults got louder and more childish until he was plainly screaming Sponge Bob quotes.

It so happens that Jungkook's allotted time for the Dreamscape ran out just as the photo-shoot was ending. His body starting feeling lighter, feathers sweeping in out of nowhere and sticking to his clothes, covering him in a layer of soft wings.