#summoning my tumblr army

[rubywingsracing]

GUYS i need ur help!! Any ideas for changes i can/should make to this??? want the best chance to win the comp lol

[dead-philosophy]

HERALDING THE END

Show me how the gods kill.

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[theredneckerchief]

In which Melrin and the Knights are sitting around the campfire and Sir Percival is in charge of the story telling...

Percival: They call him...Emrys

Lancelot: *glances at Merlin*

Merin: *chokes on his soup*

Arthur: It's alright Merlin no need to be scared, Emrys doesn't actually exist

Percival: The Druids say, he was born from mortals in the time of the great purge, from a dragonlord who saught shelter and from a woman with a heart of gold. A child born from a love that could never be. The tripple goddess took pity on her peoples and gathered the lost magic of the dead felled by the Butcher King -sorry Arthur.

Arthur: *waves his hand for him to continue*

Merlin: *trying to catch Lancelot's eye and get him to change topics*

Lancelot: *looks at Merlin and nods* What happened next Perc?

Merlin: *mouths* traitor

Percival: Well, the babe was born with the lost magic of Albion coursing through his veins. A God in his own right. He can level any kingdom with a thought, create or destroy armies with the snap of his fingers.

Arthur: See Merlin? If he existed, I doubt "The Butcher King's" kingdom would still exist. *satisfied smirk at Merlin's pale face*

Percival: Ah you see Emrys was not born without purpose Arthur. He is the guardian of the Once and Future King. A King destined to usher a golden age of prosperity and unite the land of Albion under a banner of peace.

Gwaine: Sooo how would we know who this Emrys is? What if Arthur is that King?

Arthur: Whilst I appreciate the praise Gwaine, it's a children's story meant to scare people like Merlin. It can't possibly be true.

Percival: Well there is a way to test it... it is said that Emrys will respond to any prayer spoken sincerely by the Once and Future King.

Gwaine: Go on Arthur, try it *winks*

Merlin: I really don't think this is a good idea.

Leon: I agree with Merlin here, summoning a dangerous sorcerer is a bad idea...

Gwaine: We're not summoning him, just pray for something harmless, he can't refuse it right? So why not try? Or are you worried you're not this great King? *wiggles eyebrows*

Arthur: *growls* Fine. *closes eyes* As I sit here now I pray to Emrys to...uh...give Gwaine an apple.

Merlin: *Magics an apple infront of gwaine*

Arthur: *opens eyes* What? Why's everyone looking at me like that? *sees apple*...oh

Leon: Merlin...?

Merlin: *high pitched squeek* yeh?

Percival: I saw it too.

Gwaine: And me.

Arthur: What? What is it? I command you as the King of Camelot to tell me what the bloody hell is going on.

Leon: It's Merlin sire. His eyes... They blazed gold at your prayer...

Arthur: *laughing hysterically* Good one Leon.

*silence*

Arthur: You're serious? Yo- you mean Mer- *turns to Merlin, eyes fixed on his* As I sit here today, I pray to Emrys to sharpen my sword.

Merlin: *Eyes blaze gold*

*Arthur's sword unsheathes itself and starts sharpening itself mid-air*

Merlin: Um...tada? *jazz hands*

Elyan: *comes back from gathering firewood* So what was Percy's story about today?

(Inspired by this tumblr post:

)

[tsun-bun]

Decided to dip my toes back into writing and tumblr for @queengiuliettafirstlady and @candied-boys Ikemen Advent event! Fandom: Ikemen Revolution Prompt: Woolen Clothes Just wholesome Black Army shenanigans! (+ a lil Red Army at the end) I wanted to write something cosy! No particular pairings or anything Word count: 996 ------------------------- Though cold winds blew outside, it was warm and lively as ever in the Black Army headquarters. It wasn’t yet Christmas day (weeks away, even), but nonetheless the officers and Alice had been summoned by Seth for “Santa Seth’s Super Special Gift Extravaganza ☆”.

“… Seth, your naming taste gets worse every year,” Luka remarked as they all made their way inside the lounge.

“Bah!!” Seth shook his head dramatically. “This is why I have to get you in the spirit of the season, Luka!!”

“What’s it even supposed to mean? Ya got us gifts already? Ain’t it a bit early?” Fenrir tilted his head, confused.

“That’s why it’s special ♪” Seth chirped. “Now, now, everyone, please sit.”

At his instruction, they all took their seats, some more begrudgingly than others. Without further ado, Seth clapped his hands together, and spun about to fetch the presents. With a flourish, he gave each of them their own neatly-wrapped box - complete with glittering bows and cute name tags, of course.

“Don’t open them just yet!” he tutted, mostly to Fenrir - whose fingers were already itching to unwrap his present as soon as it landed in his lap. Beside him, Ray lifted up his own, giving it a shake to try and puzzle out what was inside.

At last, after twirling around the room, Seth was left only with one present to hold: suspiciously, his own.

“Wow, you really went all out, Seth!” Alice exclaimed, admiring all the sparkles and decorations. Of course, he had added extra ribbons specially for her.

“Aahh I knew a sweet girl like yourself would appreciate good presentation!”

Sirius regarded the present with more skepticism. “Shall we open them now?”

“Don’t you need your reading glasses first, old man?~” Seth ignored Sirius’ warning glare. “Okayyy, everybody, you can open them!”

For a few moments, the only sound in the room was that of torn wrapping paper: Fenrir eagerly digging out his present, Ray unable to quite contain a bit of childlike enthusiasm either, Sirius reluctantly (but nonetheless carefully) unfolding the paper, Alice teetering between excitement and worry as she tried not to ruin Seth’s hard work present-wrapping… while Luka unwrapped his with some sense of dread, as if something might leap out at him.

Soon, they had all opened the presents to reveal… Christmas sweaters. Though they were matching, they were all personalised to some degree: the wool dyed different colours and woven into festive patterns, alongside the more… unique choices, clearly willed into existence by Seth himself.

“Ta-daa!!” Seth triumphantly lifted his sweater up, his signature shade of green, patterned with cute little foxes in Santa hats. “Aren’t they just adorable?”

Sirius was the first to speak up. “Seth. What is this?”

His sweater proudly declared “Santa’s FAVOURITE DADDY”, decorated with silhouettes of his “children” - the Black Army brats and Chutney.

“Sirius, it’s fashionable for a refined older gentlemaaaaa–”

Seth flailed his arms as he ran away from Sirius, still clutching onto his sweater, its sleeves flailing around behind him.

“How many times do I have to tell you brats that I’m only 30?”

“I’m sorry, daddy Sirius~!” Seth called out as he wiggled away from the grumbling “old man”…

“Woah! Look, Ray, ours match!!” Fenrir excitedly held up his sweater against Ray’s - the Ace of Spades had a strange combination of dogs and guns. Even dogs WITH guns. Ray’s had a variety of kitty cats in regal poses, wearing crowns and capes fit for a King.

“… Not bad,” Ray decided with a smile, quietly satisfied to match with his bro.

Having escaped Sirius (for now), Seth nodded enthusiastically at them. “Right?! I thought we could all wear matching sweaters for Christmas day! Aren’t they sooo cute?”

“… Seth,” Luka spoke without looking up from his sweater.

“Yesss, darling angel?” Seth gazed down at him, eyes glittering with hope.

“Can I give mine back?” Luka casually destroyed that hope.

Seth looked appalled, wailing. “Nooo!! How could you say that?!”

“Luka, you have to admit, it is very cute…” Alice gently nudged him, a gleam in her eyes as if she was already picturing him in it.

It was alarmingly cute. With chubby-cheeked hamsters and angels, hamster angels even, with halos and wings, the wool all soft pastel colours.

“That’s the problem, Alice. And matching sweaters… aren’t we too old for this? It’s cheesy.” Luka pouted.

“But it’s perfect for the angel of the Black Army!” Seth chimed in.

“Please stop calling me that…” Luka muttered, blushing already as he imagined the future fawning he’d be subject to.

“Hmmm… I don’t know, I think it’s a sweet tradition,” Alice joked, showing off her own sweater, decorated with all the cute little candies and desserts she made and enjoyed in Cradle.

Ray reached over to ruffle Alice’s hair with a grin. “Just perfect for our resident sweets-lover, huh?”

Sirius rolled his eyes with fond exasperation before suggesting: “Well, if it’ll make the little lady happy…”

Luka sighed, relenting. “I guess I can wear it for one day…”

Seth brightened up immediately, pulling them both into a hug. “Yippee! We’ll be one big, festive family! ♡”

—

A few days later, somewhere in Red Territory, Edgar struck up a conversation…

“Have you heard from Luka recently?”

“Hmph, of course!!” Jonah replied, offended to even be asked. “I have to be well-informed to pick out the perfect gift for my dear baby brother.”

Edgar smiled so innocently that it could only mean he was about to say something very, very devious. “Why, then you’ve surely heard the Black Army officers are wearing matching sweaters this year–”

The sentence was barely out of his mouth before Jonah stormed off to go... shopping?

“Geez… how’s he planning to match without even seeing ‘em?” Kyle rubbed at the back of his neck, watching Jonah zoom off into the distance.

Edgar smiled enigmatically. “Oh, that’s half the fun of it.”

“Huh. Well, he’d better not come back with embarrassing sweaters for all of us…”

[favcharacterpoll]

ROUND 5 MATCH 16: LINK VS. NICO

Link from BotW/TotK faces Nico di Angelo from the Riordanverse. Who do you like more?

Link Propaganda:

"i love this guy"

"I love him so much, okay? He's the only person capable of wielding the Master Sword, bears the Triforce of Courage, and was chosen by the goddess Hylia to protect Hyrule"

"Pretty boy"

"ok so link is like the best character ever imo cause have you seen what he looks like in totk he's so gender and ahhh and he's really cool and I love him so so much <333 and oot link is really cool and he's my whole childhood, and I love skyward sword and wind waker link cause they're so expressive, and I love twilight princess wolf link I just love all versions of link so much<3 only exception is the version from the philips cdi games he's so goofy" (focus on the totk part of this one)

"link is THE Gender Envy icon pretty boy pretty boy with sword!!"

Nico Propaganda:

"autism"

"YOU KNOW WHAT. if autism isn't enough to compel you to VOTE NICO then i will write this.

ok so he's gay & european (like the legally blonde song) and also a goth. we love our goths here on tumblr right?!

first i need to provide you a visual. please imagine a small italian boy. now imagine that small italian boy going through a time machine hotel casino in vegas, some wack crazy traumatic incidents, becoming an alt/emo kid and being so fucking powerful that even gods show a little more respect to him than others...

nico has gone through literal hell TWICE !! one time it was VOLUNTARY !! and all the while he was probably experiencing said hell in its most terrifying form. this shows us his mental resilience and selflessness are incredibly strong traits of his and that maybe he should stop being a reckless bitch but whatever !!!!!!

tumblrinas listen up... nico was the first canon lgbt+ character created by rick riordan in the chb chronicles (i am not counting all the other gods, goddesses, minor deities and other figures of greco-roman myth). he was the trailblazer. his story didn't end in tragedy, but he found friendship and love and family, which in this age of upsetting "bury your gays" media is still quite hopeful to read!!

nico has a sunshine bf who would literally walk through hell with him!! i'm not kidding. this actually happened. i'm sure he's definitely cheering from the sidelines somewhere... please do not let will solace down!!

did i mention nico's the son of hades, god of the underworld?? this means his powers include, but are not limited to, being able to communicate with spirits via mcdonalds happy meals, wielding a sword that rends souls asunder, turning people into ghosts, re-animating skeletons, shadow traveling and being able to read other people's death auras.

these powers and his terrifyingly grumpy personality (in earlier books) have created a reputation famous among the demigods and deities. also he literally summons an entire skeleton army and rises from the fucking underworld with his father, stepmother and step-grandmother (all gods) (how does this work) in tow, inspiring FEAR and PANIC among the enemy lines.

and if that's not enough, he's friends with lizard people, his signature items of clothing are a BIG AVIATOR JACKET + SKULL RING = VERY GOOD CHARACTER DESIGN and his hair canonically smells like rain on stone. just so you know

VOTE NICO VOTE NICO VOTE NICO !!!!!!!!!!!"

[thelordofgifs]

the fairest stars, continued

The "Beren and Lúthien steal two Silmarils" AU that has spiralled completely out of my control: time for a new post again! Parts 1-9 are here and Parts 10-15 here. Also now slowly being uploaded to AO3 here, though you still want tumblr for the latest version.

To recap:

Maedhros and Maglor are in Himring.

Maedhros has (somewhat, a bit, with caveats) recovered from his very bad unreality attack, and is now attempting to defend Himring from an army of orcs. Unfortunately 90% of his people aren't there.

Maglor has very much not recovered from being stabbed by Maedhros, and is not really in a great situation.

Fingon is busy trying to stop Curufin's war with Doriath. He's kind of managing to talk Thingol down from attacking Himring's assembled army.

Although his bright idea for accomplishing this was offering to execute Curufin.

Maedhros holds one Silmaril in Himring, Thingol has kept one in Menegroth, and the last one is still in Angband.

Dead characters who are nonetheless still in the story: Lúthien, Beren, Finrod, Celegorm.

When Maedhros' mother named him well-made, she was not picturing his prowess on a battlefield: but Maedhros was forged anew in the crucible of Angband, or perhaps more gently in his long months of healing by Mithrim's shores, and this is what he is good for, now.

And he is very good at war.

Under his command the defence of Himring rallies. Maedhros sets the few archers he has to rain down arrows on the arrows on the attacking orcs, and takes a small party out on horseback to drive them further back, and the fortress gains a little breathing space.

But there is only so much he can do with so few people – and people, at that, who are so strangely slow to respond to his command.

Not that they will disobey him openly, but he is far too aware of their suspicious eyes on his back, the wave of mutters that breaks every time he issues an order.

"And the way they look at me – as if I'm, as if I'm one of the Enemy's thralls – do you think—?"

"Nelyo," Maglor says instantly, "you are not a thrall."

Maedhros attempts to stop his frenetic pacing up and down Maglor's room. "Then why," he says. There is so much noise in his head. He cannot seem to finish the sentence.

"They're Curvo's people," says Maglor, and there is something hard and unfamiliar in his voice as he speaks their brother's name. "Who can say what poison he's fed them?"

That was the wrong thing to say. Maedhros blanches for a moment, draws in a sharp breath, and then says, "Curvo told me – he told me—"

"I know," Maglor says, reaching out a hand. "I know, and he lied. Come here."

Maedhros clutches at his hand. Maglor can feel his frantic, fluttering pulse beneath his fingers.

Maedhros can feel Maglor's, faint and irregular.

He tries to steady his breathing. Tries not to sort through the jumble of memories pressing against his skull (they're dead, they're both dead) and focuses on the present.

Maglor is here, alive, alive – although his pallor has worsened every time Maedhros can snatch a moment from the siege to visit him, and his grip on Maedhros' Silmaril is white-knuckled, and some nameless fear touches Maedhros as he looks at him.

"Should I send you away, dearest?" he asks.

Maglor's eyes widen. "What?"

"It isn't safe here," Maedhros explains, although he has little heart for his suggestion in the face of Maglor's obvious dismay. "If Himring does fall – I don't wish to put you through a hard retreat."

"Don't make me leave you," Maglor begs, his voice teetering on the edge of real distress. "I want – I want to stay here, and—"

"All right," Maedhros soothes. "All right. You can stay as long as I hold."

"You'll hold, Nelyo," Maglor says. "You always do."

In the face of this unwavering confidence Maedhros manages to summon a shaky smile.

When he is gone – and the sustaining warmth of the Silmaril with him – Maglor reviews his objectives, which are threefold.

One: stay alive. Not going very well tbh. He has not recovered from the blood loss. And more than that the world feels grey and cold to his eyes – he who has always loved sunrises – and he cannot stop remembering: the splintered haunted look in Maedhros' eyes, the way, before Maglor sang him to sleep, he was reaching for the knife to try again.

Two: make sure Himring doesn't fall. He cannot quite believe it will, while Maedhros is in command, but the news about the recalcitrance of the few soldiers they have is concerning. He should have realised that rumour would spread through the castle after Maedhros was found in a pool of Maglor's blood, should have blackmailed Curufin's lieutenant into keeping her mouth shut about it – but too late now. Hopefully Maedhros can rally them.

Three: keep Maedhros generally sane, and specifically unaware that he stabbed Maglor. Also not going too well. Maedhros is growing stressed and paranoid. He's noticed that Maglor is healing very slowly (or not at all, to be more accurate). And – as today's incident shows – he will remember, sooner or later.

A dire situation all round, Maglor concludes, and he is not sure how much longer he will have the energy to attempt to handle it.

Where's Fingon when you need him?

Exactly where he should be, actually!

Fingon is mostly succeeding in his objectives.

The Sindar have stood down.

(Thingol agreed to his terms. That’s what matters, right? Not the vague flash of disgust in his eyes.)

“Are we going back to Himring?” Curufin wants to know. “They’re in danger.”

I have to kill you, Fingon thinks, and says aloud, “Yes, we are. But if you’re lying to me again, Curufin…”

He lets the threat trail off.

Anyway. More pressing concerns for now.

He sets a hard pace back through Himlad, reasoning that even if Curufin is lying there won’t be any harm done in getting back to Himring quicker.

Curufin has been trying to make contact with Maglor again, but his brother’s mind is closed – worrying.

All he gathered from Maglor’s brief use of ósanwë was the scent of blood and panic, the sound of orc-horns in the distance and a terrible pain in his side.

Has Maglor been injured in battle? Surely not; his leg can’t be mended enough for him to fight yet. But then what’s wrong with him?

Curufin definitely isn’t going to try touching Maedhros’ mind, considering the state Maedhros was in when he left Himring.

This is such a mess. And it’s all his fault. And Celegorm is still dead.

Be better, Fingon told Curufin – but now he won’t even look at Curufin, and Curufin’s hand is still burned and he doesn’t think it will ever heal.

Does he even want it to?

Back at Himring, Maedhros watches as the orcs press closer. If they manage to surround the great hill completely—

[look I know nothing about military stuff. in lieu of any actual manoeuvres or strategies we are going to assume that the Bad Thing that needs to be prevented is the fortress being encircled. got it? cool.]

“Harass them from both flanks,” he orders. “Keep them contained, don’t let them spread out.”

His paltry force obeys, but with plenty of murmuring.

The patrols, Maedhros catches, and His own brother.

He doesn’t know what they mean. He doesn’t know how much longer he can possibly hold. He doesn’t know where Fingon is, or whether he’s succeeded at preventing a war with Doriath, or why Maglor isn’t getting better.

When there is nothing left but the clamour in his head and his racing pulse, there is still war, at least: still the swift brutal swing of his sword though orc-neck after orc-neck, the splatter of black blood against his breastplate and the deadly dance of the battle-field.

(Still the gentle light of the Silmaril in his pocket. Still Maglor, breathing. But those are harder to hold on to.)

Himring will not fall. Himring must not fall.

As the weary battle for the fortress continues, its chronicle is woven by steady, skilful hands in the House of Vairë.

Míriel Therindë’s grandson has little difficulty finding her tapestries in the Halls of Mandos.

He is staring at them in transfixed horror when he feels a presence behind him.

“Oh. It’s you. What are you doing here?”

“Same as you, I imagine,” says Finrod, coming to sit beside him (metaphorically. since spirits can’t really sit. you know the drill). “Looking at the tapestries.”

Celegorm snorts impatiently. In life he had a tendency, when frustrated, to slip into the language and mannerisms of whatever bird or beast he felt most appropriate to the situation – elves are simply too stupid to talk to being the clear implication.

Finrod is absurdly pleased to find out this is still the case.

Or maybe it isn’t absurd, he tells himself, maybe it’s natural to want to believe that this is still the cousin he grew up with, that a person can betray you and turn your kingdom against you and still have some parts worth saving.

“I meant,” Celegorm is saying derisively, “what are you doing in these Halls? I thought your dear cousin won you a special boon.”

“Impressive you can still speak of her, after what you did,” observes Finrod. “But yes, Mandos did tell me I was to be re-embodied. First of all the Exiles, you know.”

“And?” Celegorm presses, after he is silent for a time.

Finrod smiles at him. “I told him thanks, but no thanks,” he says.

Celegorm splutters for a bit. “What?” he manages at last. “Ingoldo, have you lost your mind? How – why – is this all out of some misguided form of pity? Or are you just flinging it in my face that you can choose to leave and I can’t?”

“Lúthien reminded me,” Finrod says seriously, “that we always have a choice.”

Back in Himring, Maedhros is being pressed hard.

They are so badly outnumbered, and the orcs keep coming and coming, a never-ending river.

If Himring falls, Maglor dies – for there is no chance of his surviving a hurried retreat, Maedhros can see that even without fully understanding what ails his brother, and he has refused to be sent away in advance.

Himring can’t fall, Maedhros tells himself.

(To evil end shall all things turn that they begin well – how those words echoed in his ears four hundred years ago, as he watched his high stone fortress built. He realises, now, that he always expected Himring to fall.)

The orcs have pushed them back to the south of the hill, almost closing off the circle, cutting off their last path of retreat.

Will he burn with the house, then – like Amrod, like his father? The prospect would not be so awful were it not for Maglor.

Nothing lasts forever; Maedhros understands that as few other elves do, and has done since Angband.

But Maglor – Maglor has to live forever – Maglor is dying—

To the south-west sounds a clear silver horn, the horn of Fingolfin.

(to be continued)

[anonnie-in-wonderland]

Call Me Crazy...

Rating: T

 Word Count:11.8k 

 Warning(s): anxiety/anxious thoughts, near panic attacks, injury, but also beware the fluff for it is potent

 Summary: When Y/N gets her hands on the newest Samsung phone, she thinks at most she’ll get a little clout with her friends and fewer dropped calls. A direct portal to BTS? Not so much.

 Genre(s): Strangers to Friends to Lovers| Crack Treated Seriously| Fluff| Comedy| Romance| Magical Realism

 Tags: bts x reader | ot7 x reader | poly| FM!POC!reader

 Ch.3:  Don’t Hold Your Breath for a Break

A/N: Hiiii, sorry I’ve been away for so long. 🥺 Life has been pretty stressful. But, I’m back now, new chapter, whoo! I have had this on my mind for a while now, and finally got the chance to incorporate it into this chapter~ I really do hope you enjoy the arrival of the next BTS member to show up, whose dynamics with Y/N are already among my favorites. Also, always feel free to chat with me about this fic if you’d like, I don’t bite and thrive on the engagement! 🤗 I wanna know if anyone wants to guess what is going on or has figured it out yet. This chapter is especially dedicated to the blog who had a super easy tutorial on how to keep your formatting from google docs to tumblr!! Saved me a lot of time. Hehe *PLEASE do not ask about the taglist in this story’s comments*

In the days that followed, Y/N completely fell down a rabbit hole. It felt prudent to look more into BTS, or more specifically, Park Jimin. From a strictly legal perspective and nothing more.

 After all, she was sure his attorneys would be sending a court summons any day now just as soon as they managed to find out her identity and track her down. It was something she lived in fear of.

 Binna was none-the-wiser that the reason she suddenly seemed so attentive about the band’s recent lives was because she wanted to know if they’d mentioned anything. Any clues that would tell Y/N when her days as a free person were coming to an end. 

Honestly, she hadn’t found much. Nothing that would be helpful in allowing her to participate in her own legal defense. Speaking of that, could she even afford an attorney that would be able to stand up against Park Jimin’s? She was sure a global superstar would have the best in the country.

Y/N listlessly scrolled through yet more photos of Jimin—looking for hidden meanings in the recent videos the group had posted was starting to make her feel like she was overreacting at best and paranoid at worst. 

There were pictures of him with a variety of hair colors and outfits, taken over time, and he was flawless in all of them. Even ones she came across where he wasn’t glammed out in full makeup made it obvious he was just one of the lucky ones, naturally born attractive. 

“How many wardrobe malfunctions can one person have throughout their career?” Y/N found herself muttering, spying yet another photo where Jimin’s fancy jacket was sliding down his arm. “Is he allergic to keeping his shirt on his shoulders?”

Though, given how many fan compilations existed that compiled every single moment where Jimin’s shirt or jacket hadn’t quite managed to stay all the way on, it didn’t seem like there were many complaints. Army was swooning and swooning hard if anything. 

But really, being sued within an inch of her life wasn’t even the worst part about it all. If someone saw the “notes” section of her phone, they’d have her committed first, and ask questions later. She’d have her committed, under normal circumstances.

 Because what she had experienced not once, but twice? It went against everything she stood for. Logical, grounded, a firm believer in science and fact. Facts didn’t support phenomena like getting sucked through a mirror and ending up in an idol’s dance studio. 

Facts didn’t support seeing the face of another idol—because she now knew the reason the man in the mirror looked vaguely familiar was because he was another BTS member, Seokjin—instead of her own reflection when she went to brush her teeth. It just…didn’t make sense. 

Science couldn’t support it. It was nuts. Yet it happened to her. And that was the only reason she believed it. Too bad no one else would. Or worse, if and when Jimin announced he’d be pressing charges for assault, and she had confessed beforehand to someone…it would probably be taken as evidence the attack was premeditated.

 Sure, they’d have to prove how she got in. But…but still! She couldn’t risk it. Wouldn’t. Which meant her phone was her only safe secret-keeper. They were co-conspirators in it all. 

Speaking of the damned cursed thing… trying to outright return it hadn’t worked, even though she had the receipt and everything! She still remembered the bizarre events that day.

Y/N was almost out of breath by the time she entered the phone store, embarrassingly worked up in front of the few strangers milling around inside. She got a few curious, side-long glances, and then they went back to perusing the inventory.

“Welcome!” Called an employee already speaking to other customers. “Someone will assist you shortly.”

Y/N gave a short, affirmative nod, trying not to come off anxious as she glanced around. Everything looked…the same as the night she had bought the phone. Shiny new models on display, the monitor above their heads playing a loop of advertisements for different Samsung products, and everything neatly put away and organized. Absently, she began to think over the store’s layout, and the fact that it could have a strong subconscious effect on the consumer. Organization of inventory could actually play a role in whether or not someone wanted to buy something.

But, putting that aside, the store didn’t look like the kind of place that would sell someone a phone that would ruin their life. Looks could be deceiving, though. Who knew what was actually afoot?

“Oh, can I help you, miss?” A middle-aged woman wearing the store’s polo top came over with a tag that said her name was Hayoung asked in an attentive tone.

Y/N was quick to nod. “I’m here to make a return, actually. I bought a phone from your store not long ago.”

“Was the item not to your liking?” Hayoung asked, guiding her over to an available station.

The university student glanced down at the phone in question, which she’d placed back in the original purchase box. “You could…say that.” She mumbled. “I’ve thought about it, and I really don’t need anything even half this fancy.” Telling the woman she thought the phone might have it in for her was out of the question. “So I’d like to exchange it for something simpler.”

Hayoung dutifully accepted the box, scanning the barcode and then lifting up the lid. Y/N had anticipated a smooth return in which she’d flash her receipt, maybe some ID, and have the exchange completed in no time. But when Hayoung’s brow furrowed, she knew she wouldn’t like whatever the saleswoman was going to say.

“Is…is something wrong?”

“Well,” she paused, “Are you sure you purchased your phone here? From this store? I know we’ve had models similar to this in stock before, but this one’s just not ringing up.”

“Really?” Y/N shook her head, rummaging around in her purse. “I don’t see how that could be. I have the receipt if that helps…” 

She then proceeded to go through her small purse, searching the exact spot she knew she had folded and placed the receipt. “Um, hold on a minute please,” Hayoung waited expectantly as Y/N kept looking, growing increasingly more frustrated as she turned the contents of her purse inside out hunting for the receipt. 

No, no way was she ever that careless. She had made sure she put it into her purse before leaving the apartment, and she didn’t exactly care that much in it to begin with! It was all zipped up tight, so how could it have fallen out?!

It took several more long, awkward moments of searching futilely in vein for her to realize it was true. The receipt was no where to be found. Trying to fight down the flush of defeat crossing her cheeks, Y/N cleared her throat, speaking diplomatically, “I’m sorry, I don’t seem to have my receipt on hand after all. I guess I’ll just…try to search it out and return when I do.”

“Oh, there’s no need. Our system can search for and find the purchase if you happen to have the card on hand.”

Y/N wanted to slump over in defeat, “Actually my friend bought it…”

“Oh,” Hayoung tilted her head, “Do you happen to know the account number used?”

Y/N mentally wondered if Binna was free. She shouldn’t be in class right now, right? So it would be okay to quickly give her a call and get this sorted out. She had to leave the store without this phone. That was a must!

 “H-Hold on please!” It was a little embarrassing, snatching the phone she had been trying to return from its box and powering it on. In anticipation of making the return, Y/N had thought to wipe it and remove the SIM card chip, but then recalled hearing it was best to do that at the store when the transaction was complete, in case there was something forgotten on the phone that still needed to be retrieved.

Hastily scrolling down the admittedly short contacts’ list, Y/N located Binna’s number and pressed the button to dial. The phone rang three times, and she anxiously tapped her foot as she waited to see if her friend would pick up. ‘Please, Bin. Come on. Please.’

Of course, as it always was when she needed something to work out, it didn’t quite go smoothly. Binna hadn’t picked up, and she had ended up ending the call right before it switched to voice mail. Typing out a text message asking for the information she needed, Y/N had glared spitefully down at the phone.

“Do you recall the name of the clerk who sold you the phone?” Hayoung asked gently. 

Y/N thought it over, the sales associate’s face floating to mind. “Yes, his name was Suk-kyu.”

“Hmm, that name doesn’t sound familiar.” Hayoung shook her head. “I’ve been employed here three years and never heard anyone go by that name,”

It was unlike her, but Y/N felt she was entitled to a bit of out of character behavior when her jaw actually dropped. “You’re kidding…”

But, Hayoung assured her, she was not. She didn’t think they had ever carried the exclusive Army Edition of the phone. She didn’t know who Suk-kyu was, and Y/N couldn’t find her receipt, the only bit of evidence that might have been able to successfully lift the burden of the phone from her person. She had left the store, apologizing for wasting the patient woman’s time, and feeling like she was at least partially going crazy. 

Needless to say, Y/N had been…anxious about the phone since then. A bit scared, even. A fear she had no choice but to shoulder in silence for the time being. There wasn’t much she could do but continue searching high and low for the receipt and hope it turned up soon.

 In the meantime, she didn’t let on that anything was wrong, using the phone like before, though limiting that to when it was really necessary. No more playing around with it or downloading apps. Nope, she didn’t want to risk getting too attached to the thing. 

The only thing she did besides make calls was research. Things she never would have thought about looking up before. Like, unexplained phenomena with electronics, most of which led to completely wild conspiracy theories or dead ends.

Y/N had been so engrossed in breaking her brain over what to do, she jumped when the apartment door swung open, turning around on the coach to see Binna march in, a few grocery bags in her hands. Keys in her mouth, she gently kicked the door closed, humming to herself until she happened to look up and spot Y/N.

“Oh!” Binna hustled into the small kitchen to set her bags down, then her keys. “Y/N, didn’t expect to see you here right now. You’ve got class today, right?”

“It was canceled…” she sighed, sliding down the couch cushions and placing her phone on the coffee table. “The professor’s out sick with the flu.”

Binna winced in sympathy. “Yikes, poor guy…”

“Yeah,” Y/N took great care not to get sick, so she hadn’t so much as had a cold in years, but she still remembered times when she was a child in bed with chills, body aches and a fever. Once she had even had pneumonia, her mother forced to call out from work and nurse her back to health. “He just wanted us to go over the assignment we’ve been working on since the start of the semester. You know, take this as independent study time basically. But…”

“Buuut, knowing you,” Binna smiled, “You’ve already taken the initiative and gotten a head start a long time ago, so you’re ahead of everyone else.”

“Done, actually,” Y/N confirmed, not afraid to admit to her efficiency. 

Her roommate made a noise of encouragement as she began to put the groceries away. It didn’t look like much. A loaf of bread, some bottles of sauce they’d been running low on, some eggs and a carton of milk.

 “That’s great, since it actually kind of works out. Chin-Mae and Min Su invited me to check out this new steak house that just opened up. I heard reservations are booked out for weeks already, but thanks to Min Su’s connections, we can go this evening. What do you say?” Binna wiggled her eyebrows, trying to entice Y/N. 

“Alright, I’m in,” she agreed.

“Because I’m sure they won’t mind adding just one more to our party, especially if that person is you…” Binna continued to ramble.

“Bin, did you hear me?” Y/N clucked, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I said I’m in.”

Eyes round as the eggs she had put away, Binna blinked, nodded, and finally broke out into an ear to ear grin. “Oh, wow, that’s new. I m-mean not that it isn’t great you wanna join us, but…”

“What?” Y/N felt a little defensiveness creeping up on her, and she probably didn’t do the best job completely hiding it from her tone. “You made the invite, and you said Min Su and Chin-Mae would be fine with it. Did you not…really want me to come along?”

They thought she would kill the mood, the nasty little whisper entered her head unbidden. They thought she was so stuffy and boring.

“What, Y/N, no!” Binna immediately denied, “I’m really glad you can make it,” she shot over to the couch, wrapping her arms around her friend’s neck from behind as she bent over for the hug. “It’s true you normally put up a little more resistance when we ask you to come somewhere. You stay so busy, so I was a little surprised is all. But I’m glad you’re agreeing.”

Y/N’s tense shoulders relaxed, and she mentally sighed to herself, feeling silly. Of course, of course her friends wanted her there. And this was Binna, who struggled to have a bad thought about anybody. Secretly resentful definitely wasn’t her style. 

But with the stress she had been under, and the dread she’d done her best not to give into, Y/N could admit her nerves had been on edge. “Yeah, sorry about that…” she laughed weakly, reaching up and patting one of the arms looped around her neck. “I don’t know where that came from, but I’m happy to eat a little steak if Min Su’s recommending it.” The man had the best luck finding good places to eat, or stores that sold exactly what you were looking for but probably overlooked. 

“Good girl,” Binna uncoiled her arms and leaned back against the couch itself. “That’s the spirit. And hey, I heard from some of the girls in the campus’ BTS fan club that one of the guys on campus might be related to one of the waiters who might have catered the food on the set of a music video for Taehyung!”

She said it in a breathy squeal, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile indulgently. She was almost sure she knew which one Taehyung was, but she still wouldn’t put money on it. It might just as soon be someone else. Maybe Namjoon? 

She’d gotten more familiar with their names but as most of her time perusing videos and photos had been spent investigating Jimin, she wasn’t entirely sure on the others’ faces. Well, besides Jin and J-Hope. 

“Nice,” she said, letting Binna get all her gushing out as she texted Chin-Mae just to make sure it really was okay if she tagged along. Stupid to be anxious about feeling unsure if everyone really wanted her to come, but better to be safe than sorry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She was impressed the minute they walked through the door. Min Su stopped trying to sneak an arm around Chin-Mae’s waist and immediately went over to talk to the maître d. The two men spoke cordially, the head waiter confirmed their reservation, and then they were led to their table with a flourish. 

Binna was practically bouncing on her heels, squealing under her breath. “Can you believe this place?” she whispered excitedly, “I feel like a movie star, coming here.”

The restaurant was definitely lavish, so she understood where her friend was coming from. The tables were polished stained oak, and lit by a candle to provide ambiance, and the floors were a gorgeous brown tile that Y/N suspected to be marble. 

The restaurant was done in a mixture of black, gold with high beam wood ceilings and low atmospheric lighting. They walked past a bar, long and oval, with shimmering glasses the team of bartender would pull down as they did impressive tricks to wow the gathered guests. 

“It’s one of the hottest spots in Gangnam right now,” Chin-Mae commented as they sat down. The table comfortably fit the four of them, and everyone got settled as a young woman hurried over, handing them menus and introducing herself. 

“This is so cool,” Binna exclaimed, still wiggling in place. She shook Y/N’s arm. She was all done up with some icy blue eye shadow that matched her aqua dress, and a more subtle plum shade of lipstick. 

Her hair was secured in a complicated twist by a pin she recognized from the last time they had gone shopping together. Y/N adjusted the shawl draped over her shoulders, pulling down her own strapless dress. Binna had helped her pick accessories, which were mostly shades of amber or gold, and apply some light makeup. 

Y/N chuckled, nodding as she scanned the menu, trying her best to ignore the listed prices. She had come fully prepared to pay her own way, but Min Su insisted the meal was going to be on him. It must have been nice.

 The perks of being from an affluent family, she supposed. The guy was already well on his way to being a successful lawyer, following the family tradition. He had moved all the way from his hometown in China to come and work on his master’s degree at one of the top universities in Korea, just for a change of pace. “Thanks again for letting us crash your date night, guys.” Binna beamed.

“Please,” Chin-Mae scoffed lightly, not looking up from his menu. “What was I supposed to do all evening? Talk to him?”

Min Su pouted, but it didn’t diminish the fond glow in his eyes as he leaned over his boyfriend’s shoulder and whispered something in his ear that gave Chin-Mae pause.

 Their friend cut a sharp look at his partner, smacking his thigh and then proceeding to ignore the man who was happily leaning into him and commenting on the menu. Yeah, nothing new there. Min Su was totally gone on Chin-Mae, as always.

 There was nothing about Chin-Mae’s bluntness or dismissive attitude in public that ever put him off. If anything, the mean behavior only served to make Min Su try harder. Though, she and Binna both knew Chin-Mae wouldn’t be with someone this long if he wasn’t just as serious about them.

 He was just a straight shooter, raised in a family that wasn’t completely accepting of who he was, and unfortunately awkward and out of his depth about how to handle someone as affectionate and doting as the man he happened to fall in love with.

 They were well suited in that regard. Min Su was patient and persistent enough to shower Chin-Mae in all the attention he needed to overcome the lingering doubts about being worthy of such deep love and devotion. 

Y/N was perfectly fine, pursuing the path she was. Career goals first, everything else second. But sometimes, watching them, a little envy did ignite.

 It must have been nice to find something like that, and she was truly happy for them. It didn’t seem likely she’d have time in the near future to go out and chase it for herself, of course. And she wasn’t really worried about it. 

“So, what’ll it be for you guys?” Y/N cleared her throat, interrupting the warm and cozy silence they’d all been existing in.

“Ohh, I think I’m gonna have the smoked chicken and spinach salad, and a side of the fried mushrooms,” Binna announced, tongue poking out in concentration as her finger followed where the items she wanted were on the menu.

“You’re going so easy on him.” Chin-Mae remarked. “I’m getting the iron skillet trout,” he squinted, leaning further into the menu. Min Su only smiled, plucking the reading glasses from Chin Mae’s breast pocket that he had forgotten to put on and placing them on his face for him.

 The absent-minded pat he got on the hand for it made the law student’s whole face light up. “And the chicken fried steak. That okay, babe?” He might not have looked it, exactly, but Chin-Mae had a healthy appetite. And if they were coming to such an exclusive restaurant for the first time, it wasn’t surprising he wouldn’t be keen to hold back.

Min Su was nodding encouragingly before Chin-Mae had even fully gotten the question out of his mouth. “And what about you, Y/N?”

She clammed up slightly, having been looking at the menu, mentally ruling out what seemed too expensive, or wasn’t quite her taste. “Uh, the pot roast sounds like a filling entree.”

“And?” Chin-Mae prodded, interlocking his hands together and leaning on them.

“And nothing,” Y/N shook her head. “It comes with two sides, that’s more than enough.”

“Boo,” Her friend hissed dramatically. “Fine. If neither one of you is going to take advantage of this, then I guess it’s up to me.”

Their waitress returned with a tray of drinks at precisely that moment, and as she set them down in front of the correct person, everyone began telling her their orders, which she jotted down without missing a beat.

 Only Min Su had actually ordered any steak, but, given the price of a 24 oz there was just no way she felt comfortable doing that to the poor guy, even if he was a good sport about it and more than capable of handling a large bill. 

As they sat, sipping their champagne and waiting on the food, something Y/N had been putting off thinking about started floating through her mind. Ever since the whole Jimin fiasco, despite her deep diving and frantic searching, nothing had turned up that indicated anyone was coming after her. 

But she just wasn’t willing to believe she’d gotten away that easily. She almost killed a celebrity. And, due to that, she’d really wanted to seek legal advice from Min Su, under the guise of some far-fetched hypothetical, of course. Her friends weren’t onto her, and she couldn’t give them a reason to be. 

She just had to find a way to casually broach the topic…

“Oh,” Binna gasped from her side, drawing the whole table’s attention to herself. She was carefully scrolling her phone with a freshly manicured nail, scowling slightly. It was so rare that Binna displayed any actual disdain, it had Y/N a bit curious. 

“What’s wrong, Bin?”

“It’s nothing,” she replied immediately, then paused. “Well it’s not nothing but, it’s just…I really wished we lived in a world that respected idols as people, you know? Some people call themselves fans and act like famous people aren’t allowed to have any boundaries.” She then went on to describe how there’d been another sasaeng incident reported on a news site she followed to keep up with celebrity gossip. 

Apparently, it was a pretty serious one, and crazed ‘fans’ had attacked an actress a well-known idol was reported to be dating. Her bodyguard had fended them off, but the actress still went to the hospital with some injuries. 

Y/N perked up slightly, but Min Su and Chin-Mae were thankfully too engrossed in listening to Binna rant to notice. It would be much easier to bring up her question using the information Binna had just provided them as a pretext.

 It was about time she had a stroke of good luck. Stopping to think it over, Y/N cringed. Not that she wasn’t sympathetic to the poor woman who had been harmed because of someone’s delusions. But it just…presented an opportunity she had to take, and….

‘Oh, why am I trying to rationalize it to myself?! I should just ask the question before the subject changes.’

 That decided, she opened her mouth and spoke, doing her best to make it seem as casual as possible. “So Min Su, you’re practically a lawyer. What kind of charges could that person face? Attacking a celebrity and inflicting bodily harm isn’t the same as harassing them for a photo.”

 Y/N silently patted herself on the back, sitting from her glass with an expression carefully schooled to look only mildly interested. Inside was another matter. She was rocking back in forth, heart hammering and eyes wide, waiting for an answer with baited breath.

“Hmm, well, I’ve mostly studied corporate law.” He admitted, playing with a ring on his index finger, “But I do know that given the severity, it’s likely both the actress and the company she’s represented under will press charges. Things are also moving faster these days, prosecuting people who do things like that.” 

Y/N swallowed, eyes fixated on Min Su’s thoughtful expression. “There were also witnesses, so it’s very likely to result in a conviction.” Yes, there had been a witness in her case too. Well, J-Hope had only seen her fleetingly. Maybe. Hopefully not. But if she was on any camera then…it was most definitely over for her.

 “The court could go light on them if it was a first offense…they might be sentenced to a large fine and community service…” Okay, Y/N thought. It would probably drain her savings, but it was still possible to bounce back and have a future, right? She could still put it in the past and become a CEO one day, right?! “Then again, it was a premeditated attack. Jail time is also a strong possibility.”

Her heart sank back down to her feet. Jail. What successful CEO in Korea had been to jail before graduating, and for assaulting an idol no less. 

‘I. Am. Done.’

“What’s the matter, Y/N?” Binna giggled, “You look like you smelled a rotten egg. But I guess hearing about how far some crazy people will go is pretty disgusting, isn’t it? I don’t think I’ll have much sympathy for them, whatever happens.”

“…Yeah…” Y/N said once her words came unstuck. That was another thing. Her sweet friend was going to think she was a criminal. She had known Binna since high school, having shared a homeroom class with her. They were vague acquaintances then, friendly enough to speak from time to time but by no means close enough to hang out between classes or after school. 

In fact, admittedly, Y/N used to wonder if Binna’s perky personality was just an act. It had to be, in her cynical rationalizing, because who was really that upbeat, in high school? 

Later on, she would realize she was just projecting, and once she stopped doing that was when she truly came to appreciate Binna for all that she was, steadfast and supportive. Although they didn’t become close, didn’t become friends, until meeting at orientation when arriving at Korea University. 

“They knew the consequences before they did it.” Chin-Mae joined in, swishing the last of his champagne around before drinking it down. “It’s stupid to think your life won’t be impacted when you run wild like that.”

Except, Y/N wanted to wail. She hadn’t known. She wasn’t a sasaeng, and she knew she had assaulted someone but at the same time she hadn’t really done anything wrong. Except maybe buy a cursed magical phone, that somehow was behind all this.

…Yeah, she’d just keep that thought to herself. 

“Well,” Y/N smiled, “Thanks for giving your input.” She told Min Su, who nodded, humming with a cheerful ‘no problem’.

A cartoony chime went off, and Binna groaned as she stared down at her phone, “Nooo,” she sighed, sounding truly remorseful. “Right now?”

“What’s happening?” Chin-Mae raised a brow.

“Jimin is going live!” She whined, “And normally I’d watch but I’m having such a great time with all of you, and I don’t want to be rude…”

“It’s fine, go ahead.” Y/N said, forcing a smile. “We know how addicted to that stuff you are.” Really, she wanted the floor to swallow her into the abyss. She knew the minute she heard that sound what was going on. If her phone had been turned on, they would have heard the same noise coming from her purse too.

She had made an account on several apps BTS often broadcasted their lives to, and set an alert for just that occasion. There were a couple of false alarms she hadn’t tuned into once she saw they weren’t from the person she was basically stalking at this point. But this was it. The big moment. 

He hadn’t done a solo live since the accident…but Binna said his members had mentioned that he had a small accident while practicing and was recovering well. 

All of Army was behind him, sending him tons of well wishes from all over the world. It was sweet, but she wondered how fast they would turn if they knew she was behind their beloved idol’s injuries. 

“Yeah, what Y/N said,” Chin-Mae rolled his eyes. “Check on your man,” he joked.

Binna giggled, flashing them a cute heart. “He’s not my man,” she replied playfully, “I’d have to get in line for that. Plus, I’m really more of an OT7, you know? It’s really hard to stick with one bias.”

 Nonetheless, when she began to watch, since Y/N couldn’t exactly whip out her phone and do the same without raising suspicion, she subtly leaned closer to at least listen.

Of course, Binna was always more astute than she let on. “Oh, did you wanna see too?” She angled the screen so they could both see before Y/N even had the chance to protest. 

And the live was just starting, the exact same idol she had seen what felt like a lifetime ago was sitting in a room by himself. It looked like he was on a couch, legs crossed, looking small in his soft oversized sweater and giving the camera a cute wave. “Hi, everyone,” his sweet voice said. “Thank you for waiting on me!”

Gushing comments poured in, cheering him and welcoming him back, asking him what he’d been up to, and telling him he looked good. Jimin tilted his head, a coy, secretive smile appearing on his shiny lips. Y/N couldn’t tell if he was wearing gloss or if they always looked like that.

 She had been a bit too preoccupied the one and only time she had the opportunity to see them in person. He had dyed his hair a different color, though. It was now a shade of strawberry blonde that complimented his angelic features well.

 “Well, I haven’t been up to much. Just resting, really.” he explained. “Even on days when I felt better and tried to join practices, the members just shooed me away.” He laughed. “Oh, but look at this!” He reached down, his head dipping out of screen for a minute, popping up seconds later holding a little pot. “Taehyung got me this ‘get well’ plant!” He showed them a cute little sapling.

Binna cooed, Y/N glancing at her then refocusing on his words. Who knew when a hidden meaning would pop up.

“I don’t know how well I’ll be able to take care of it; I’m not sure if I have a green thumb. But I’ll try my best!”

Comments came pouring in again, people saying he was going to enter his plant dad era, because collecting succulents could be addicting.

 Other people gushed at the sweetness of the VMin friendship, whatever that was, and yet more people reminded Jimin that he looked really good. Yet one comment in particular seemed to catch his eye, and he squinted, seemingly intrigued. 

“Hmm? You wish you were a plant so I could take care of you?” He repeated. “You don’t have to be a plant for me to want to take care of you.” The statement was very matter-of-fact, “You’re Army. I’ll always watch over Army.”

Binna sounded like she released a tiny sniffle. “Is he not just the sweetest?” She asked, nudging Y/N a bit. “Since you’re new to BTS, have you chosen a bias yet?”

Y/N wished she could tell her the real reason behind her sudden interest, but that was kind of out of the question. “No, not yet…”

“Y/N’s a BTS fan now?” Chin-Mae asked, “Since when?”

“Pretty recent.” Binna replied.

Y/N was only half listening to her friends, mostly focusing on Jimin’s chatter. Someone was still insisting they wanted to be his plant, and he looked nothing short of amused. 

“Okay, if you insist. Should I start a garden then?” He asked his fans. Y/N watched, stunned, as his bright eyes narrowed into a practiced and very effective smolder. She had seen it in pictures before, but in real time it was really something else, “It’ll be full of so many pretty flowers, and you’ll all bloom just for me, right?” The heady purr of his words sent a shocked shiver right down her spine. 

Binna swooned, while Y/N felt her breath hitch. ‘What… the…hell…was that?!’ A flirty throwaway line like that had never had that effect on her before.

 But then, thinking back, he had flirted with her in the dance studio too. She’d just been too worried to pay attention. Clearly, the man was an old hand at the art of duality, going from wholesome to heathen in five seconds flat. That was…dangerous. 

Binna seemed to already know how she felt, leaning into her with a sigh. “That, Y/N, is what happens when Jimin turns from angel to demon.” Her friend explained. “I’d say you’ll get used to it, but odds are you probably won’t.”

Jimin then went back to amicably speaking to everyone, as if he hadn’t just teased fans within an inch of their lives. The conversation moved on, and he was speaking about upcoming projects he was excited about or a funny habit that he had noticed in his band member. All normal, non-threatening stuff. Y/N was almost thinking she could relax. Almost. 

“What? You want to tell me a secret?” Jimin was reading another comment. “Okay, I’m listening…”

Y/N quirked a brow at the comment. “Sometimes I dream about you.” it read.

The idol grinned, replying casually. “Sometimes I miss Army so much I end up thinking about all of you in the middle of the day.” Y/N’s blood ran cold as he looked intensely at the screen. “It’s almost like you’re there…”

That was it. The sign she was waiting for! He was talking to her. 

“I…” Y/N stumbled to her feet, startling Binna. “Need the bathroom, I’ll be back.”

“Oh, okay.” Her friend said slowly, setting down her phone. “Is anything wrong? You don’t…look so good suddenly.”

‘You wouldn’t either in my shoes,’ she thought miserably. ‘Park Jimin is going to sue me within an inch of my life.’

“It’s alright,” she held a hand to her stomach, selling the illusion of sudden nausea. “Just…lady problems.” She said lamely.

Poor Binna didn’t even question it; she nodded, eyes full of sympathy. “Well text if you need anything.” She squeezed Y/N’s hand. “I’ve got a few extra tampons in my purse.” she whispered discreetly. Really, Binna was too good of a friend for her. 

Y/N rounded the corner in a hurry, blindly guessing where the bathrooms might be located. She passed their waitress, rolling out a cart that she was pretty sure contained their meals. Everything looked delicious, and of course she couldn’t even enjoy the great evening Min Su had generously provided. All because she was screwed. 

She hustled into a bathroom as fancy as the rest of the steak house, and so spacious there would probably be an echo. She hustled over to the sink, activating the handless system by shoving her trembling fingers under it. As she splashed her face with warm water, the dread twisting up her stomach gave way to deja vu. 

‘This is just like…the event at the internship.’ The wild day that would be the beginning of the end of her life. Removing her hands from the water, she gently pressed the pad of her thumb up to her eye, tapping it a few times.

 Her makeup was well done, but it still felt like she could see bags. ‘At least it can’t get worse.’ She assumed. After all, what was worse than this? The dumb phone was put away in her clutch, turned off, and back at the table.

 The very least she could do was fake a smile so she didn’t ruin everyone’s meal, and enjoy what might be her last chance to experience this. They probably didn’t serve many steakhouse dinners where she was going. 

That thought firmly in mind, Y/N squared her shoulders and prepared to march back out, tightly gripping her clutch at her side. Wait, her clutch?!

Binna must have handed it over to her, assuming she might need it. She had said to text if she needed anything, and Y/N couldn’t exactly do that without a phone. Well, at least it was off. Y/N wasn’t totally sure what kind of phenomenon had disrupted her life, but it all started with that phone. 

No sooner had she backed away from the mirror than a wave of dizziness overtook her, sending her keeling forward. Instinctively, she clutched the sink to maintain her balance, almost screaming out when she looked up as the dizzy feeling passed. 

The mirror in front of her was the same as always, a reflection of her wide, mortified eyes. But the long glossy mirror that made up the entire wall of the bathroom at the entrance of the restroom? 

A reflection of another room, just like before. “No…” she whispered, not ready to admit that it was happening again. What was worse? All of it being real, or her losing her mind? “Not again…!”

She clenched her eyes shut, then attempted to get her feet moving. She would keep her head down and hurry right on past, to the exit. That was the plan at least. And she was making good progress to move without falling over in her modest heels, but the minute she actually got closer to the mirrors, a strange feeling overwhelmed her. 

Almost like a compulsion to stop. Y/N felt like she was watching a scene in a movie, watching a victim wander down the hall of a haunted house, towards the homicidal attacker lying in wait.

 Her feet were making her move on her own! Her fingertips reached out, and yet she had no control. She had to touch the mirror, see if that room on the other side was real. But deep down, she knew the answer before her fingers made contact.

It was a strange emotion somewhere between surprise resignation when she wobbled onto a floor that was not marble and found her eyes darting around a room that was not the steak house. 

Pressing against the mirror desperately, she confirmed what a large part of her had assumed. There was no give to the mirror, apparently no way back from the time being. Was she even still in Gangnam?

Her senses were feeding her all kinds of information, and frankly, it was starting to overwhelm her. The raw scents of sweat, male musk, and ammonia could only mean one thing, and it was further proven when she peered around the blind corner of a painted brick wall, only to see two people exercising. 

Well, one was doing stretches, and with the way he hopped up, he had just finished. An older man in a tank top and sweats had pads strapped to his hands, and Y/N watched closely, not even daring to breathe, as the younger man sat down and laced boxing gloves onto his taped hands. 

He stood up, and who she assumed was his trainer got into a defensive stance while the younger man hopped around nimbly. Y/N watched, wide-eyed as they began to train, the guy in the black hoodie practicing blocking, jabbing and dodging.

 It was clear he had put a lot of dedication into this. Y/N was never much of a sports person, but she knew the result of hard-work when she saw it. His moves were fluid, and instead of slowing down, they got quicker the more he went at it. 

Somehow, it never felt like a good time to draw their attention to herself, go wobbling over in her dinner attire, and ask for directions back to the High Tower SteakHouse. She had a few other options, of course, like calling Binna. Or maybe Chin-Mae…but how did she explain it? 

She had gone to the restroom for a few minutes and wound up in a completely different location without leaving the restaurant?! Then again, it meant they would really have no choice but to believe her. 

It was impossible for her to have gone anywhere far when they all saw her leave for the bathroom. Maybe she could sneak out while they were distracted and then call when she was outside the gym, not standing around all conspicuous.

Y/N was weighing the merits of her plan when she heard an excited yell, whipping her head around and watching the trainer give his client a few congratulatory pats on the back, apparently satisfied with the work he’d put in for the day. 

They began speaking lowly to themselves, and Y/N paled when she noticed the only door out of the room she could spot was behind them…. The corner she was standing behind seemed to be where the water fountains and locker rooms were located. 

Hiding out in there was another option, but it didn’t exactly appeal when she would have to keep checking to see when the gym was empty. Right now it was just the two of them, but what if more people came in? 

They’d have questions about someone being dressed like she was, right? Then again she could also be found out just staying put where she was. Ugh…it was beyond frustrating. 

Her luck was completely shot, huh?

A little hope returned when the trainer waved at the young man and then began heading for the exit. She assumed they were done for the day, and the second guy would be done soon too. But not so, because then she’d actually be lucky. 

As soon as his trainer had cleared the room, he gave a loud sigh, beginning to shimmy out of his hoodie. Y/N didn’t think she was close enough to make the door in the small moment he had his vision obstructed, but she was close enough to get an eyeful.

 If his training earlier hadn’t tipped her off that he was dedicated, his physique would have. He was all hard lines, though the minuscule glimpse of a thin waist when his shirt rode up with his hoodie was impressive too.

 She could see a full sleeve of tattoos decorating one arm, and coupled with his longish two-toned hair, a deep brown that gave way to a raging red, he was kind of…hard to look at. Distracting in a way she didn’t anticipate. She didn’t get distracted, not usually.  

He, on the other hand, got straight to business. Oblivious of her presence, he walked right over to the large, hanging punching bag and began to hit it. But he wasn’t just hitting it. Again, Y/N was no boxing aficionado, but she knew he knew what he was doing. 

His strikes were always controlled, his breathing never ragged the way she could guess hers would be. He pivoted on his back foot, and she knew that the small movement put more power into his strikes.

 He was hitting the bag like it owed him money, grunting occasionally, the muscles in his arms and shoulders flexing in his t-shirt. At some point, Y/N figured he would stop. He would either head out the door, or into the locker room, and that was when she would flee. 

Hopefully, wherever the cruel cosmic entity that thought her life was a joke had dumped her, it wasn’t very far from the restaurant. Then again, shouldn’t she have gotten a worried text by now? 

She’d been gone for a while. Or, maybe Binna had actually come to check on her and seen that she had disappeared entirely. Y/N could imagine the freak out as Binna flailed her way back to the table and informed Min Su and Chin-Mae that somehow, someway, she’d been kidnapped. 

What was her life lately, she thought miserably. With nothing to really do but scroll her phone or continue to watch the mystery man go at it, she turned to checking what news was trending for the day. Normally, she at least kept up with news involving the business world, if nothing else.

 The celebrity gossip blogs she left to Binna, BTS investment notwithstanding. Stocks were up at several companies she had an interest in working at after graduation—assuming she made it with her life in chaos lately—so that was good.

 A CEO had resigned from his post at a company she had almost interned at but decided not to at the last minute off a strange feeling. Some scandal involving embezzlement. So she dodged a bullet there.

 And, lastly, BTS’ Jungkook had endorsed some new sports brand, and now merchandise was selling out faster than it could be restocked. The article included a picture of Jungkook, posing in shorts and a t-shirt next to a mountain of different athletic gear for various sports. 

Wait. Y/N could have swallowed her tongue. Wait. That man, the man in the picture and the one boxing…were the same person?!

Feeling like she may just be sick, Y/N did a quick check, and really took in the boxer. That was undoubtedly the idol pictured in the article. 

Not only was she going to jail for assaulting one BTS member (albeit on accident) a fact that she had managed to forget up until that moment, she got pulled back into the same thing that got her in trouble before, and ended up crossing paths with another one?! 

Once it came out what happened between her and Park Jimin, there was no possible way people would believe she wasn’t a sasaeng. The circumstantial evidence just kept getting more and more damning. 

Jungkook. Jungkook. What did she know about Jungkook? Admittedly not much, considering all her focus had really been on Jimin for obvious reasons. She knew…that Binna said he was the youngest in the boy group. He was multitalented, and here her friend swore she wasn’t exaggerating or anything.

 According to her, he was like some kind of Barbie of idols, he could do it all. Those weren’t her exact words, but it was the gist. Jungkook also had a habit of being a little shy around members of the opposite sex, or so it was claimed. 

Y/N personally had always thought all idols had to be manufacturing some parts of their personalities for public consumption. Who knew which parts? None of the scraps of information she had been fed told her anything about whether he was liable to press charges for stalking him or not.

Then again, he was an idol, and knowing that, Y/N had to assume he had gone out of his way to book private gym time, hence why the spacious work out room was empty save for him. Which meant him catching her was going to lead to a world of trouble. 

How good were her odds if she just booked it for the exit the minute he went back to the locker room? Or if he left, she’d wait a little bit to be sure he had cleared the building, then she’d leave too. Waiting…yep…that’s all she could do. If she wasn’t in a dress, and didn’t find the idea so dirty, she would slump over on the floor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook caught the punching bag as it swung back from his last strike, finally feeling satisfied with his boxing for the time being. His limbs had that good burn that he liked, and his heart rate was up, despite his controlled breathing. But he wasn’t ready to leave just yet, so he decided to switch from boxing to something new. After a break.

Unlacing his boxing gloves, he found his gym bag and rummaged inside for his water bottle. Sitting down on a mat, he took a few sips, trying not to gulp it down too fast. His bottle was empty in no time, despite his attempts at moderation, and refilling before he resumed working out didn’t seem like a bad idea. 

His footsteps echoing in the big empty gym was probably his imagination, but the weird sight when he rounded the corner? That he was pretty sure was real. Leaning against the wall, a woman…no, a girl, dressed up like she had somewhere important to be was nodding off. He froze, staring, all kinds of thoughts flying through his head. 

Who was she? How’d she get in? When did she get in? Was she dangerous? Did he need to call for back up? Jungkook had purposely began training at this gym because it was exclusive. As his fame had grown, unfortunately he had to stop using more easy to find public gyms.

 The one at HYBE was an option, but sometimes he wanted something…quieter. Trainees who came in meant well, and they tried to be respectful besides giving him friendly greetings, but they couldn’t help but gawk, and that made it awkward when he was trying to get in the zone. Here, he had thought, was perfect.

But maybe he was rushing to conclusions. He didn’t know anything about the situation besides a girl in a nice dress was falling asleep by the water fountains while standing up. Her head slumped forward, then snapped up quickly as she jolted awake, eyes wide and alert. 

That was when they locked gazes, and his loose, sore muscles tensed right up. She, on the other hand, curled away like she was facing a thug in an alley. It was bemusing; yeah he’d bulked up a lot in the last several years after he got serious about training. Jungkook never considered himself all that intimidating, though. 

“Are you… staff?” he asked, since it didn’t seem like she was going to speak up first. Not with the way she kept looking like the guillotine was coming down on her head any moment. 

It took a reasonably long time for her to compose herself and answer, which was another pretty big tip off that something was not right. He was ready to whip out his phone and call security. Or at least he would be, if he hadn’t put it on do not disturb and left it in his bag. 

“This is all a misunderstanding, really,” she warbled, her hands slapped the wall behind her like she was trying to steady herself. “I didn’t…I didn’t mean to be here.”

“What?” Jungkook was definitely growing suspicious. No one who wasn’t up to something just answered like that.

“I was just going to wait until you left and I guess I started to nod off…” she ran a shaky hand through her hair, disturbing it a little. “But really, please, if you’ll pretend you never saw me, I promise, I’ll be on my way.”

He backed away quickly as she lurched forward, but before he could tell her not to do anything funny, she bowed very formally, and the idol watched, perplexed. When he didn’t respond in any way, she resumed her upright position, then tried to brush by him with her head down. 

Though, when he noticed the phone clenched tight in her fist, he acted without thinking. Something his hyungs had told him to be careful of doing in the past. At least they weren’t around to scold him.

“Hey,” he seized her wrist, and she stopped in her tracks, though he wasn’t expecting her reaction at all. Her eyes took in the hand on her like she could just flay it off with the intensity of her stare alone, and then she met his eyes head-on, hers surprisingly stony. “Your phone…”

“What about it?” she tried tugging her hand away, but he wasn’t ready to let go just yet. Not until he got some answers. He liked this gym. He wanted to keep using this gym, and at the thought that his privacy was being invaded yet again, and he would have to find somewhere else, yet again, he was getting a little worked up. 

“That’s an Army phone, a Galaxy Z Flip 4: Army Edition.”

Her eyes widened, and then she scoffed, shaking her head. “Yeah, I guess you would know. But to tell you the truth, though I can admire your band’s marketability, this phone itself has been nothing but problems. This is just the latest one. Now, please, let go.” There was some bite in her tone now, her voice surprisingly stern. 

When she tugged again, he acquiesced, something she probably didn’t expect, since she stumbled before catching herself. And when she felt her cellphone tugged right out of her hand? She rounded on him, scowling. “That belongs to me.” She held her hand out, clearly expecting it back.

“Why are you here? This is a private gym, and you don’t sound like you’re staff.”

She snatched for the phone, but he held it away, using his speed to his advantage. “Are you Army?”

“What? No,” she sounded offended by the notion, which in turn offended him. Then again, a true Army wouldn’t do this to him. Wouldn’t invade his space. “And what does that matter?”

“You’re not Army but you’ve got a phone that’s a rare exclusive. Only Army would want to own something like this. And if you’d go this far, you might be a sasaeng.” 

Here, she did pause in trying to retrieve her phone, a bit red in the face under her makeup. “Please, between my class schedule and internship, who would even have the time? The people who think stalking and harassing idols is worth jeopardizing their future for really need…” Surprisingly, the girl tried to jump for the phone like she wasn’t in heels, but he held it above his head, which meant it was way above hers, “…a hobby!”

“So I won’t find pictures you secretly took on this?” Jungkook squinted, not convinced. 

“No!” She hissed, jumping again, “Now who’s invading whose privacy, you…you muscle-headed, bunny-eyed brute!” 

He was so taken aback, he faltered, and with one last pounce, the mystery girl had snatched the phone, though not without a cost.

 Before she could even yell out in triumph, her heel wobbled and her foot rolled. Jungkook watched in slow motion, wincing in automatic sympathy as she went down. 

Time sped up as she cried out, on the ground and clutching her ankle in a dress too nice to be touching the bare gym floor. He stood over her, carefully watching her face at first. He could tell she was in pain, but attempting not to show the extent.

 Something about that alone…took him back to his early days. A wave of nostalgia he didn’t want to feel washed over him. He would hide his exhaustion, sometimes even hide injuries sustained while on stage until the end of a performance, until he couldn’t hide it anymore, just to avoid worrying his hyungs.

 And when they caught him, like they inevitably always did, he’d cry, apologize, worry they would resent him. It didn’t make sense to everyone, probably only to those who had experience firsthand with the feeling. Not wanting to let others down, wanting to live up to everyone’s expectations, struggling with the fact that they were still human.

The girl gingerly tried to shift her injured ankle, and that alone seemed to send a fresh wave of pain throbbing through it. With the way she bit her lip and clenched her eyes to stifle the cry he could just tell. 

And even though Jungkook had been concerned about a million things regarding her appearance, including that she might be another delusional ‘fan’, no one could fake pain that expertly. Plus, she’d have to be some actress to make her ankle swell on command.

 It was probably stupid of him to drop his guard, even for a second, but he found himself dropping to his knees, almost reaching out, and then hesitating. She stared up at him through her lashes, her own eyes as guarded as his had been, but wavering as she focused on ignoring her obvious injury. “I need…I need to call my friend.”

Making up his mind, Jungkook loosely grasped her foot by the heel, ignoring her half-hearted attempts to swat his hand away. He extended her leg, careful not to hurt her as he manipulated her foot to get a better idea of how bad it was. “You rolled it pretty hard.” He finally concluded.

“Yeah, no kidding.” Jungkook briefly met eyes with her again, but she stubbornly looked away. “I wonder how that happened.”

Guilt hit him pretty fast. Yeah. Even if he thought she was an intruder, he should have just called security and let them handle it. They were never far, and there was no way she could have stopped him. Not by physically overpowering at least. 

“Hang on,” he told her, setting her foot down and getting back on his feet. “I can help.”

“That’s a nice gesture,” she ground out, failing to hide a wince, “But really, I have my phone, so I can just call my fri—” she grabbed it and opened it, only for her face to fall. “Really? Now?” He heard her grumble irritably.

Noticing his quizzical face, turned a blank screen to him. “It’s dead.” She deadpanned. 

“Okay, then let me help.”

Jungkook didn’t know this stranger by any stretch of the imagination, but he had anticipated what her response would be. It probably sounded something like “no”, since she seemed disinclined to take his help.

 Was she always like this, so stubborn? Was it some kind of pride thing? He had been there, too; his hyungs really had their hands full with him over the years, didn’t they? 

Retrieving the first aid kit Jimin had gifted him some time back, he made a brisk return to find the girl in much the same position he had left her, staring sulkily at her injured ankle. She looked up when he approached, but didn’t say a word. 

“You might have to take off your shoe.” he informed her.

He waited to get a response, the big plastic kit held by his side. Jungkook wondered if she just planned to ignore him, and if he should take her silence as consent and proceed, but that didn’t feel right. Finally, she mumbled, “…This is really happening…isn’t it?”

Nodding slowly, he popped the kit open and examined its contents, locating the roll of compression wrap. While he did that, he noticed her leaning forward, trying to unstrap her heel without moving in a way that would hurt her foot even more. 

Jungkook had never worn heels, but he always thought anyone who did without falling over must have some hidden talent. Hers weren’t as tall as some, but she was still plucking at the strap with building frustration. 

Guessing she wanted it over and done with just as bad as he did, the idol seized the heel of her foot again, bringing her leg out and reaching for the buckle himself.

If he expected a beaming smile and a grateful attitude, he’d be sorely mistaken. She gave him the stink eye. “I can do at least this much.”

“Maybe, but I can do it faster.” He shrugged, already loosening the heel and sliding it off while holding her foot steady. From so close, and without the shoe in the way, he could really see just how fast the ankle had discolored and swollen. Again, he wrestled with the guilt, absently reaching for the wrap. “So,” he began by holding her ankle at a ninety-degree angle, “Who are you? Because this doesn’t mean I forgot…”

“Believe me, I’m someone who doesn’t want to be here anymore than you want me to be here. I didn’t have a choice, not that you’d ever believe me…” she huffed. “But, because legal repercussions are probably unavoidable, I’ll start by being cooperative. Maybe when they review all this, that’ll work in my favor.” It sounded like she was talking to herself, not him, but then she cleared her throat and extended her hand. “My name is L/N Y/N.”

Jungkook didn’t expect such a strange introduction, and the attempt at a handshake reminded him of Namjoon-hyung. He grasped her palm very briefly, barely holding on to it long enough for their hands to go up and down, but she didn’t seem inclined to want to hold onto him either.

“Y/N…” he repeated. 

“As for what I’m doing here…well, again, it’s not something any sane person would believe.” She switched her focus to watching him meticulously wrap her ankle. It was pretty careful care for someone that could have been stalking him, but he had already started, and if he was going to do it, his sense of perfectionism said he had to do it right. 

“Are you…insane?”

“Excuse me?” She didn’t look very amused, but he guessed it wasn’t exactly a polite question.

“You said a sane person wouldn’t believe you…” he explained. 

“I am not insane,” Y/N rubbed a hand to her forehead. “I just feel like I am lately,” she whispered. “I was dining out with some friends, in the restaurant bathroom and then…”

Jungkook waited while he secured the wrap with some bandage clips and closed his first aid kit. “And then?”

“It’s going to sound insane,” she finished matter-of-factly, “You’re going to call me a liar and accuse me of stalking you, then we’ll be right back where we started.”

Jungkook was torn between still wanting to contact security, but also experiencing some curiosity he couldn’t quite tamp down. “Do you have proof?” It didn’t sound like she did. 

“Proof?” Y/N repeated, arching a brow as if he had just said something strange.

“You’re not even going to try to make me believe you?” he goaded. 

“Sure, help me up and I’ll hobble right over to the mirror. You’ll see exactly how I got here and this whole think’ll be cleared up just like that.” Her tone was so sugary the sarcasm was evident. 

Jungkook figured he had indulged this for this long…why not go all the way. Offering her a hand, he warned her to brace herself, and then pulled her up with ease. “Okay.”

“Okay?” She said warily, trying not to show him how much she was utilizing the wall for support. 

“Okay,” Jungkook nodded, “Show me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Idols were weird. Y/N wasn’t sure if it was just the fact that they lived in a completely ‘different world’ from normal people or what, but she hadn’t expected her first extended run-in with some world-famous celebrity to go like this. 

Park Jimin was one thing; he’d been concussed, so that was enough to make him loopy. She hadn’t expected anything out of his mouth to make sense. But this guy, Jean Jungkook? 

Totally different. He wasn’t suffering a head injury, for one. And he had seemed angry at first, but still handled her appearance in much the same way a mean boy on the playground would in elementary school. Playing keep away with her phone, really?

He’d even treated her with decency when she tripped and sprained her ankle. God, that was yet another thing she was going to have to deal with. Sprained her ankle! Sprained! How was she supposed to get around campus quickly? It was huge. Though she supposed that wasn’t a concern at present. 

The idol’s strange demand was at the forefront of her mind, seeing as he was right behind her while she hobbled slowly to the mirror, her heel in one hand and her phone in the other. 

She must have looked like a suffering pigeon, doing a funny little hop. But she refused to let him touch her after she got her bearings. It was humiliating enough to have someone see her make a fool of herself and get injured to boot, idol or no idol. Well actually, his status made it even worse. 

And he was watching her oh so closely as she made it to the mirror, taking a deep breath and turned around to look at him with some difficulty. “Here it is.” She said flatly. “How I got in, and how I probably would be able to get out, if life felt like cutting me a break.”

He stepped around her, staring at her incredulously like she knew he would. She would look at herself that way in his position. Jungkook pressed against the mirror with the flat of his hand, one good time, as if to confirm it was solid. “You used the mirror? What, like magic? Like a drama?”

“You’re the one who said you wanted proof; I never said it would satisfy you.” she retorted. “I barely understand it myself, but what I’m saying is the only truth I have to cling to.” Her chin dipped, “No matter how implausible it is…” 

She knew she would get the same result he had when she pushed on the mirror, but as if to confirm her fate was truly sealed, Y/N tried anyway. When her hand went right through, the cool glass giving way to cool nothingness, she yelled, pitching forward.

Jungkook made a noise, something startled, and she glanced at him to confirm he was seeing what was happening. His bulging eyes made it evident that he was. Yes! Y/N jerked her arm away too fast, and in doing so almost fell back on her ass, if not for the lightning reflexes of the idol who moved to extend an arm around her waist.

 Y/N got her bearings, smoothed a hand over her shirt and her racing heart, and tried to hold back her tears. He could see. He could really see. The weeks of going crazy in silence, holding it all in, and someone else…could see.

“Your arm went through the glass,” he breathed.

“More than my arm’s gone through.” Y/N spoke with more confidence, now that there was no way he could deny it. “That’s…how I got here.”

The idol once again moved forward, pressing both hands against the mirror. Nothing. “How?” He wondered.

“I don’t know.” Y/N replied, “It’s been happening since…since I got this phone. So that’s my only theory, that the events are connected.” She held up the dead device and wiggled it around. “Not that that’s a story anyone would believe if I got caught breaking and entering.” 

The idol appeared to be thinking, worrying his lip piercing with his tongue, “Unless they saw it.”

Y/N squared her shoulders, eyeing him up and down. He fidgeted, looking small somehow, despite being fairly tall with a healthy amount of muscle. From close up it was even easier to see than watching him from behind the wall. 

“It might come as a surprise for you to know, not everyone would be as cavalier as you about all this. In fact, I’d go as far as saying your reaction was a bit…strange. Has anyone told you that you’re odd?”

  ‘Nice going, Y/N.’ She thought bitterly, ‘That was over the top blunt. You’re not trying to make an enemy out of the very first person to be witnessing the crazy with you.’

Luckily, the idol didn’t look overly offended. Jungkook pursed his lips, big eyes sheepish as he rubbed his head. “Uh-huh, my hyung.” he said thoughtfully.

“Well…” Y/N gestured vaguely. “Now that you’ve seen what I’ve seen, you know about as much as I do. Would it be too much trouble to ask if I could…go?” Pointing a thumb toward the mirror like she was about to miss her cab would seem dumb if he didn’t know. 

“Oh, right,” Jungkook’s tapped the mirror again. “You’re going back to where you came from.”

“Ideally,” Y/N frowned, “I’ve been gone a long time. There’s no way my friends aren’t concerned about that. And when they can’t find me who knows what they’ll think.”

Somewhat afraid the give they had both witnessed was a one-off, Y/N pressed her hand to the mirror once again, happy when it rippled and went right through. It might have been too late to salvage the evening with her friends, but at least she could salvage her reputation.

[alexanderlightweight]

It is now Wednesday where I’m at so I plan to send you some things. Some are ideas that I’ve been playing around with and I’m curious to see if any inspire you and what your take on them might be. (Also if you got this message more than once I apologize. Tumblr app knocked me off a few times while I was in the middle of typing.)

So my first idea is Alec becoming a True Nephilim. You know, that giant form of heavenly fire. What I found says that Nephilim lost the ability to become True Nephilim when giant demons stopped coming to Earth. They just didn’t need it anymore. And that’s why parabatai falling in love is forbidden, because it triggers the transformation.

Maybe there’s a demon army. Maybe a giant sized demon comes through and starts wrecking the place like a damn Kaiju. However it happens, Magnus is injured and Alec is furious and terrified. Maybe he thinks Magnus is dead for a moment. But his love for Magnus triggers the transformation.

The wiki says True Nephilim are mindless in their destruction and have been known to kill even their own family. And if they don’t turn back, they die. Alec is better than that and only kills the demons and then Magnus is there, coaxing him back. And even though he is made of heavenly fire, it doesn’t burn Magnus because no matter his form Alec refuses to hurt him.

(Sorry that’s a long one.)

this was fun! this is in the created for death where nephilim can be 70/30 sometimes. i hope you enjoy this take on it!

*canon level violence and eldritch horror stuff

<3 lumine

-

Magnus stares at Azazel and spits out a mouthful of blood, mocking the greater demon with a smirk.

“You think yourself strong enough to stand against me, truly you are a spoiled child. Your father cannot always protect you.” Azazel tells him, smug and undaunted and nearly spotless.

Of course he is.

He waited until Magnus has been fighting rift upon rift for weeks straight now. Days of his magic constantly being drained in offensive, defensive and emergency healing magic as well.

Then he arrived, stole the magic from a handful of downworlders and now he mocks Magnus, as if Azazel didn’t do all of this because he was wary.

“My father has never protected me.” Magnus reminds Azazel with a hoarse laugh, “for protecting me would risk weakening me. You avoid attacking me because you know his revenge would be swift, but you know he will not step in until after the end.”

Azazel laughs, something cruel and mocking to his tone as he shakes his head.

“You’re smart, I’ll give you that.” And then he summons the sands of Dudael and Magnus swallows down blood and bile and salt from his own sweat and reaches for the flames of Edom.

—

One moment Magnus is fighting, magnificent, glorious and the next Alec is using every bit of his speed and strength rune to get there in time to catch him, to brace him from the blow he’s been struck.

“Azazel.” Magnus manages to murmur up at him and Alec feels terror grip his heart, crushing it.

There is blood on Magnus’ mouth and his eyes are tired, stubborn and determined but so very tired. Magnus has been fighting endlessly and while the sex rituals they do every morning help, it’s not enough and Alec knows it.

Something licks up Alec’s spine and he turns, seeing the slowly approaching, smirking greater demon. Azazel kicks a hand out of his way with an almost vicious glee as he walks, hate in the greedy gaze he has only for Magnus.

Something cracks.

Some deep, internal glacier shudders with the wake of an emotional earthquake. An avalanche of visceral hate, love and determination nearly overwhelm Alec and then he’s gone.

There is one thing and one thing only on his mind.

Azazel must die, to protect Magnus.

—

Magnus barely notices at first and then he can’t do anything but notice. Alexander is touching him when the transformation starts and cold fire sears its way through Magnus’ veins, leaving a hungry, cold energy in it’s wake.

It’s like being dunked in a river of ice and Magnus gasps, breathless with the energy being forcefully given.

“Alexander—” he begs because this isn’t anything he understands but he fears, more than he ever thought he could and then Alexander begins to shake. His back seizing in a grotesque pattern of shapes and Magnus can’t help but snap away his clothes, just in time for Alexander to hunch over and his back to split open.

Skin cracks and muscles tear and Alexander stays silent as the world screams for him. Nephilim fall like around them, terror in their voices as the squelch of ripping blood and sinew echoes across the battlefield.

Viscera drips down grotesquely gorgeous feathers and Magnus shudders under the gaze of a thousand eyes as Alexander opens all of his.

Magnus is watched for a moment with a terrifyingly alien longing and love and then Alexander is gone.

Azazel goes not down, but up. Higher and higher as all six of Alexander’s wings take them up and up and the world around them screams at how wrong the sudden silence feels.

[randomthingsthatilike1]

🦀 time for crab 🦀

just me and my crab army *clack clack clack* 🦀

today i summoned 38 crabs! look at them!

group picture!!!

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tumblr live death day!!!

[ruibaozha]

GREETINGSE i was wondering if you could tell me (and the rest of tumblr) more about Nezha's artifacts/weapons ? He seems to have. a lot of them and I'd like to know more !!!

You have a very cool blog btw !! Thank you for sharing stuff about Nezha it's very interesting and fuels my hyperfixation 😌✨

Hello hello!

I'm sure items like Nezha's Wind Fire Wheels and Flame Tipped Spear are well known iconography, but in the spirit of over-explaining I would like to describe where these weapons came from among others within his arsenal. This post will overlap with a handful of points I had been saving for a post describing Nezha's military career so I apologize if anything stated becomes redundant.

Did you know that Nezha's conflicts with Ao Guang and the Lady Rock Demoness pre-date the publication of Canonization of the Gods? These stories appear elsewhere succinctly within the Ming-period encyclopedia The Grand Compendium of the Three Religions' Deities which record the careers of more than a hundred divinities, like Guanyin and Mazu (1). One of which described is Nezha. The translated description of his strength is as follows:

Nezha was originally a great arhat-immortal in the service of the Jade Emperor. He was six feet tall, his head crowned by a golden disc. He had six heads, nine eyes, and eight arms. He puffed out dark clouds. He stood on a large rock. His hand weilded an instrument of the law (falü). He roared loudly, summoning clouds and rain, shaking Heaven and Earth. Because the world was full of demon-kings, the Jade Emperor ordered him incarnated on earth ... The demons were all subdued by Nezha: The Bull Demon King, the Lion Demon King, the Elephant Demon King, the Horse-Headed Demon King, the World-Devouring Demon King, the Mother-of-Demons Demon King, the Nine-Headed Demon King, the Tārā Demon King, the Brahmā Demon King, the five-hundred yakshas, and the seventy-two Fire Crows all surrendered to him. (2)

And this reputation as a devout acolyte of either the Buddha or the Jade Emperor depending on which era you are drawing upon is something to be elaborated upon later. The very difference between it being the World-Honored One or the Jade Emperor sending Nezha to quell these demons is worthy of it's own elaborations, however we are here to discuss the two iconic stories that lead to his eventual suicide. Even within the pages of The Grand Compendium he could not escape his own demise:

When he was five days old, Nezha went bathing in the Eastern Ocean. He trampled over the [dragon king's] Crystal Palace. He somersaulted straight to the top of the Precious Pagoda. Because he had trampled over his palace, the infuriated dragon king challenged him to fight. By then, Nezha was already seven days old, and he could overcome the nine dragons. The old dragon had no choice, except complaining to the [Jade] Emperor. The General [Nezha] knew of his intention. Intercepting him by Heaven's Gate, he killed the dragon. Mounting the Jade Emperor's altar, Nezha took the Buddha's bow and arrows. He shot an arrow, unintentionally killing Lady Rock's son. Lady Rock raised an army to fight him. The General [Nezha] took the Demon-Felling Club from his father's altar and, fighting his way Westwards, slew her. Considering that Lady Rock had been the demons' chief, Nezha's father was infuriated. He worried lest his son's killing her would provoke the demon hordes to war. Therefore, the General [Nezha] sliced off his flesh and bones, returning them to his father. Holding fast to his inner soul (zhen ling), he hastened to the Buddha's side, pleading that the World-Honored One make him complete once more. Considering that Nezha could subdue demons, the Buddha snapped a lotus flower. He fashioned it's stem into bones, it's roots into flesh, it's fiber into tendons, and it's leaves into clothes, giving life to Nezha once more. (3)

There are of course similarities and differences but I mention this as it sets forward a number of precedents. Established is the moment Nezha is bathing in the river, the conflict with the dragon king Ao Guang, the presence of a bow and arrow, subjugation of a rock-spirit, and introduction of his iconic lotus motifs to name a few. But more pressingly it helps set the stage for what is perhaps the earliest known documentation of these tales.

Between 1228 and 1250 the Quanzhou Pagodas were constructed, the stone monuments depicting 80 Buddhas, Bodhisattvas, saints, and guardian divinities. The ground floor features ferocious martial gods protecting the stupa's gates so it is not a surprise that Nezha is found here protecting those behind him. Within the southest corner of the Eastern Pagoda's ground level, flanking both sides of the ornamental gate, are the tablets showing a benign and wrathful Nezha.

Notice the dragon beneath his feet, the belt made from it's tendons in his left hand and the divine bow in his right.

Notice the six arms and three heads. Alongside holding a sword, Nezha is also holding both a sun and a moon which was typical of many Tantric deities (4).

I only look so far back to help establish the image of the Nezha I am about to describe. The Song and Ming periods had a penchant for depicting Nezha with a fire-emanating wheel and/or fire-emanating ball such as within Hong Mai's Record of Hearsay (夷堅志). The story follows a Jiangxi ritual master named Cheng who was attacked by a strong stone spirit, he recites the "Spell of Nezha's Fireball" to summon him.

Cheng anxiously recited a spell and walked the Big Dipper Outline. The prodigy showed not the slightest fear and gradually pressed in against his body. Cheng realized that this was a stone spirit. Consequently he recited the "Spell of Nezha's Fireball" and, forming a mudrā, recited: "Divine General! Can you tolerate a wang-liang demon obstructing my way? Expel him forthwith!" Suddenly a fireball emerged from behind Cheng's body and struggled with the black lump. After a while a noise burst out, like clashing metal, and the black lump disappeared. The fireball made several revolutions around Cheng's body and also vanished. (5)

The Ming-era fiction, theatre dramas and overly-flattering literature largely named Nezha's fiery weapon as a Dharma wheel, a fire wheel, or a golden wheel. Within The Grand Compendium Nezha is using the Dharma wheel, in Zhu Youdun's The Bodhisattva Manjusri Subjugates the Lion Nezha is using the golden wheel against the fearsome animal, and the 1592 edition of The Journey to the West describes his "lightning-propelled fire wheel"(6). The presence of the fire wheel is not completely unique to Nezha though as it is an ancient emblem of Buddhist law, a similarly Ming-era mural within the Beijing Fahai Temple showing a Tantric deity with six arms and a weapon held by each. The flame wheel is also present here.

The flame wheel was not alone though, often Nezha would have an embroidered ball accompanying it. The Journey to the West would explain it's use in conjunction with the flaming wheel: "The lightning propelled fire wheel was like darting flame; Hither and thither the embroidered ball rotated"(7).

Even Nezha's golden brick has it's roots. Mark Meulenbeld has argued that the golden brick used against his brother Muzha within Canonization of the Gods has origins in Ming Daoist scriptures. The ritual compendium The Daoist Methods United in Principle, which predates Canonization by over two centuries, recommends the use of golden bricks for locking demons in bottles (8).

Equally an argument can be made that Nezha's Wind Fire Wheels and Flame Tipped spear have roots within Daoist exorcism with Buddhist overlap. By the fifteenth century edition of The Daoist Methods United in Principle Nezha is described weilding the golden brick, a golden spear, and riding fire wheels(9).

This answer has already gotten quite long, so I hope this was sufficient thus far. I would be more than happy to elaborate on this topic further if there is interest for it. Thank you for your question!

Citations:

(1) This compendium survives presently in both a Ming-era edition titled Sanjiao yuanliu shengdi fozu sou shen daquan (三教源流搜神大全) and a Qing-era edition titled Huitu sanjiao yuanliu soushen daquan (绘图三教搜神大全).

(2) Within the Ming-era edition this description is present on pages 326-327. Within the Qing-era edition, 330-331.

(3) Within the Ming-era edition this is described on page 326. Within the Qing-era edition, page 330.

(4) It is worth saying that this well may not be Nezha. The pagodas lack cartouches. Within Twin Pagodas of Zayton G. Ecke and P. Demiéville cite a local tradition to identify the three-headed six-armed guardian as an asura demon and the opposite image as the dragon king Sāraga. However a proper association between the images is never made and both the bow and tendons are unexplained.

(5) The translation used here is by Edward Davis within Society and the Supernatural on pages 47-48. Within Hong Mai's Yijian zhi the original is on pages 1429-1430. Davis identifies Cheng as a village ritual master and thus distinguished from Daoist priests. However, Li Fengmao's Wuying xinyang on pages 573-574 highlights the orthodox Daoist elements within Cheng's performance.

(6) It may be worth comparing editions here. Take the Ming and Qing era editions of The Grand Compendium page 326 and page 330 respectively against Wu Cheng'en's Journey to the West 4.44, translated by Anthony Yu on 1:129.

(7) This is also Anthony Yu's translation within 1:129.

(8) Daofa huiyuan, DZ 1220, 240.11a, 138.13a and Fahai yizhu, DZ 1166, 15.17a; Meulenbeld's chapter 5 of Demonic Warfare.

(9) Daofa huiyuan, DZ 1220, 138.13a.

[redbean-nom]

wip dump, complete with sometimes-helpful sometimes-unhelpful file names

sith maul (in which he savage and feral actually get their new sith order thing off the ground and kill palpatine in son of dathomir)

domino rex (domino squad rex au. captain jesse has a headache already)

darth ezra (ezra as fully fallen/maul's apprentice. he summons giant sith alchemy type creatures to fight like some sort of evil pokemon trainer)

korkie flood (one of the less helpful file names. i don't know what this is supposed to be about but i think it was tumblr inspired. also apparently that's my design for adult korkie?)

admirals au (early version where the escaped clone/droid rebel army shows up to destroy the death star ahead of schedule at scarif)

[zu-is-here]

OH MY GOD?? Σ>―(〃°ω°〃)♡→

This is my first time receiving a Tumblr gift— Thank you very much for the crabs army, anon! <3

That's so nice and generous of you╰(*´︶`*)╯☆ I'm really hyped to summon them all now but I guess it'll be better to wait until July 29th? (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)♪

[ohhicas]

Just a thought, but what do you think apprentices' and Ansem the Wise children would look like if they ever had them? Would they have the same appearance, character?

i went through an emotional journey about this ask today

My real answer is: I'll need an egg donor for this, because blonde tends to be recessive and I'm SURE silver/grey is recessive. and Red sure as hell is recessive. Dilan's about the only one passing a hair color down without a gene fight. (and lets not get into the mess of EYES COLOR. Where does ORANGE land? What about Dilan "Tumblr's Alexandria's Genesis" ass Vibrant Purple???)

I'd like to personally imagine that Even & Ansem's genes would try their hardest to pass down their straight, thinner hair. Ienzo's hair is thick for how well it holds shape at such a short cut/weird comb-over style, so anyone mixing with him would be 'break a comb' thick. Aeleus's hair is a crinkle, shellacked down, escaping into a Final Fantasy bomb fire poof out the back. Curly hair is vicious in the gene pool, whatever he produces is getting at minimum a slight wave. Dilan is a difficult one; he keeps his hair braided but he has a LOT of thick braids, so unless he's wearing extensions he's probably team "Break a comb" so that's another thick hair team. his little wispy that flies around freely at the forehead seems ??Slightly Wavy?? but only as Dilan; as Xaldin that shit is pin-straight and might as well double as extra lances.

Shoulder Width being XXL seems to run the gambit through all five; Ienzo's broad for his bishounen looks. Dude can suplex people as Zexion.

my JOKE answer is "silly Anon, we've already seen their children" Ienzo was basically emotionally adopted by Even and Ansem as a child; at minimum he's their ward. With actual canon he calls both of them as father figures (in the chara files, they're the two he names as such. Those two only.) 'What does their son look like' he's right there, and he's a very snarky adult man who bench presses novels for fun

and Vexen has an army of puppets/dolls/replicas you can consider his Children; all of them in varying shapes and sizes but all created by him. What is that if not a father?

my Extra Stupid Joke Answer, entirely My little AU Universe is

Ienzo has a son already and it's this creature (made/summoned of his own brain in attempting to tap back into his lost Zexion powers)

[edgesystem]

Bone Velvet

My very first Big Bang! And my first grishaverse fic. And my first real use of this tumblr account. Lots of firsts, really. Thank you @grishaversebigbang for existing so I can make random stories and get awesome art out of it.

Materialki: @ferrisraccoon Link

@polekands Link

Summary: 

Mal has spent his entire life in the shadow of his popular and competent childhood friend, Alina Starkov. But when a terrible accident exposes his ability to summon light, he is torn from everything he knows and taken to the little palace for training. Given true power for the first time in his life, Mal finds himself in a position where his choices will affect all of Ravka.

A role reversal AU where Mal is the sun summoner instead of Alina.

Ao3 Link

Alexei

One marker in, Alexei decided he was finally going to confront Alina, and it only took until the third marker for him to actually do it. The boards of the sand skiff creaked slightly as he made his way to the strange blue light Alina sat directly underneath, sketching the beginnings of a new map.

She was stunning, as alway. There was a vibrancy to her, an inner glow that always took Alexei’s breath away. He was not alone of course. Her natural aura combined with her delicate shu features and made her widely popular. Alina had numerous suitors, both in and out of the cartography corps. Yet she never seemed particularly interested in any of them. Alexei himself had given up some time ago.

“What are you making? He asked her.

Alina smiled slightly and Alexei tried not to faint on the spot. “A map of the fold.”

He peered over at the piece of paper, trying to glimpse her work in the dim light. He could make out a few decrepit buildings, the markers for the skiff and even a volcra nest slightly ahead of them. Alexei could barely see an inch away from his own face, but he was certain the map was accurate. Alina had a knack, something no one could properly explain.

“Is that why you did it?” Alexei asked, “So you could map the fold?”

“Did what?” Alina laughed nervously. Her smile could melt all of the ice in Fjerda

“I saw you in the map room.”

Alina’s expression quickly transitioned into a distressed frown. “I didn’t mean for everyone to get transferred. It was only supposed to be me.”

“I’m not mad.” Alexei reassured her, “I just want to know why.”

There was a brief moment of silence when Alina’s eyes drifted over to the side of the sand skiff. Alexei was already fairly sure he knew what she was looking at, but he turned around anyway.

Sure enough, standing at the edge of the ship and glaring into darkness was a wiry scrap of a boy. He looked rather sickly, which made him seem even younger than he was. Malyen Oretsev, the unfortunate boy who won what the first army called the nightmare lottery. The only person Alina seemed to ever pay attention to.

“You should tell him how you feel.”

“What? No. We’re… we’re just friends.” Alexei couldn’t help but find the situation sadly ridiculous. Here he was, standing next to the girl he was in love with, encouraging her to be honest with her feelings. Perhaps he should take his own advice. As much as he felt like he’d given up any chance of the two of them being together, he was starting to think he would still cling to that hope until the words were actually spoken.

There was only one way to know.

“Alina?” he started, thankful that the dark hid his trembling hands.

“Yes?” she asked

There was a great jolt that sent the low-light lantern to the ground. It shattered, enveloping the skiff in darkness. Alexei didn’t think. He acted on a deep, irresistible instinct that sprung into motion before he could even process what he was doing.

He struck a match.

Witch an ear-piercing shriek, the volcra descended upon them in an instant, dozens of them swarming the ship with their sharp teeth and leathery wings. He felt a claw tear into his shoulder and the pain forced him to drop his match. He winced as the dark void lit up in flames, silhouetting the grim scene as volcra attacked first army and grisha alike.

There was a part of him that knew he was a coward. That part wanted to stay, to help the rest of the cartographers. But he was merely a mapmaker, no real help to anyone. And that deep instinct was beginning to take hold of him again. The pure cold need to survive overtook his body.

Alexei ran.

He was over the skiff and running through the thick dunes of the fold before he could properly think. Desperately, he tried to think of the brief look he caught of Alina’s map in order to gain his bearings. But it was difficult to find a cardinal direction in the pure darkness. For all he knew, he was merely running further into danger. Alexei turned back to the burning ship, attempting to use the light to find any possible landmark.

That was when the light started. It washed over Alexei like a wave, causing the volcra around him to scatter. Shielding his eyes with his hand from the brightness, he caught two figures in the center of the blast.

Hovering several feet above the skiff, dangling from a volcra’s talons, Alina Starkov hung limply. The only tension was in her hands, which were turning white from how firmly she was holding onto the person beneath her.

That person was Malyen Oretsev, the surly tracker boy, and he was shining like the sun.

[drops-of-universe]

it's always a bit of a surprise seeing your mug on here, since the mental image I have of you is some semblance of a gremlin, and holy shit you are not 🤣

im not a gremlin but a strange archaic creature, whos able to summon ancient demons to infiltrate my mutuals human bodies for my growing tumblr army

[hauntedtotem]

So i dont know your OCs but tell us about one! Please?

HI! so. Im currently working on getting updates ref sheets bc my birthday is coming up and i might commission or find art trades or whatever- but atm I'm stuck with old art for most of them, bare with me here :')

starting off with Rayn (pronounced like Rain), they're a fallen angel that was cast out of heaven by a tyrannical god for disobeying orders (was supposed to smite a human but felt too bad about it) they're nonbinary and a total softy, very timid "crybaby" type but they come out of their shell more after meeting their gf Dusty

Dusty and Rayn are some of my oldest ocs i still use, dating back to 2015 and were originally inspired by wtnv and gravity falls

(ooold art here vv, all outdated information )

they used to have multiple/weird eyes like this but eventually was changed, which sucks bc i have some cool ass fanart of these designs. I don't want to scrap these tho so I'm thinking they can be alt forms for when they're more "powered up"?

--

Then there's my mad scientist boys, modeled very very vaguely off me and my partner lol. They're trying to create an army to sell to rich villains, but have very different approaches. Malcolm (blue) is trying to resurrect the dead, while Lucius (green) is trying to create sentient mutant plants. They're more of a comic relief than a serious story-line, and not very successful in their endeavors

---

then Clementine and Vermillion-

Clementine is a gardener that has a huge distaste for humanity, believing that humans are evil and have poisoned the earth to an irreversible degree, so she summons the god of decay and rot (Vermilion) to bring about a plague and wipe out humanity. Problem is, Vermilion isn't this horrific eldritch creature she thought he was going to be. He's more of a trickster god and likes humans a lot, "because they're funny" and he likes their fashion. His story arc is more so about how rot is a necessary part of the circle of life and how concepts like death aren't evil- it can also be beautiful and bring forth new life. so, Clementine USED to look like this vvv

but everyone HATED her??? so she got n update. ((the skull pupils r from her pact w vermilion bc she has to serve him now tht she summoned him

and this is vermilion

admittedly, he is very fun to make horror content for though, and I like dressing him up in a bunch of different outfits lol

theres abt 4+ more ocs, but tumblr wont let me add more photos lol