#my brain just birthed it unprompted and i apologize

[fudgethehomo]

idk how else to explain this but bea dances like an introverted nerd you convinced to go to the who found out they liked the club

[bangtan-madi]

hi! could you please do number 5 from the time loop prompts with our lovely zen? thank you so much~!

Sorry this took forever to get written!! Thank you for being so patient. Hope you enjoy!! :)

There is something about this crowd that sends you off-kilter. It's not the usual clash of sounds, nor is it the bustle of people. Shoulders brushing shoulders as car horns blare and train tracks rattle, those are things you're used to from living in a busy city. Cell phones going off and people chattering in various dialects and languages are not new to you.

And at first, you don't give the tall, pale-haired man a second glance. Your elbow brushes his, and you keep moving forward. As does he. Neither of you stumble or turn back to apologize. Why would you? There are a hundred thousand people in this square at this very moment. Why would this one render your undivided attention? 

You continue along your way, stumbling through the hoard of citizens of every background. The conglomerate pushes you forward and away from the man in a silver trench-coat.

As you do, a terribly and empty feeling tugs at your heart. It's almost nauseating. The more you walk away from the center of the square, the more your breath catches in your lungs, the more your throat constricts, and the more your eyes start to water. Everything inside you is telling you to stop, to turn, to go back to where you were.

That instinct, above all else, strikes you to your core.

And you obey.

Turning on your heel, you shift your gaze back towards the direction from which you came. Oddly enough, the man in the silver trench-coat stands still, just a few feet away from the center. His back is turned to you, but you can see his shoulders heave heavily. It seems his breathing has become just as difficult as yours.

But why? Why this person? Why this place? Why right now? A million questions of this nature swirl around inside your skull, and they prompt you to take the first step back towards him.

The closer you get, the more relief floods through your system. Breathing comes easier. You find your voice again. Even movement becomes natural again. And as you reach out towards the stranger, without really knowing why, a wave of emotion pours over you.

"Excuse me, I--"

Your words and your thoughts are cut short as your fingers brush his arm for a second time. This instance, you're overwhelmed with imagery of another life. This man and you are the stars of this show. How or why or when are irrelevant as the story plays out in your mind.

The moment you met. The moment you first kissed. The moment you first said, "I love you." The moment you first made good on those words. The moment you married. These, and so much more, consume your senses, and you remember the finer details when you focus on them. The chatrooms, the friends, the intruder, the party, the plays, the weddings and baby showers sleepless nights and Z--

You pull your hand away as the story comes to an end. Not knowing how or why or when, but one thing is illuminatingly clear: this man and you shared a life together. You loved each other. And, eventually, you lost each other.

How could you forget about all of that?

Tears pour from your eyes as the pale-haired man finally turns towards you. The expression of confusion shifts to wide-eyed worry as he reaches for you, gently grasping your shoulders.

"Hey, hey! There's no need to cry. What's wrong, Jagiya? I'm not sure what I can do, but I can do what I can to help. Please, just calm down and I'll help you. Promise."

The nickname only brings back more of that lost life. Needless to say, your tears refuse to halt.

Desperately, the man bends down to be more at eye-level with you. "Please, don't cry. The last thing I want to do make a pretty lady like you sad."

You wipe your eyes with the back of your sleeve and gaze up at the familiar man's scarlet eyes. "You really don't remember?"

"Remember what?"

"Everything!" you exclaim. "You didn't feel anything when I touched your coat?"

He sighs and shakes his head slightly. "Are you sure you're okay? Maybe I should take you to a hosp--"

"--No," you cut him off, shaking your head. "No, we know each other. Your name is Zen. Your birth name is Hyun Ryu. You love to act on stage, and you hate cats because you're allergic. Your close friends are Yoosung, Saeyoung, and Jaehee. You pretend to hate Jumin, but when it comes down to it, you like him, too."

Zen's crimson gaze softens a little, but you can tell he doesn't believe you or remember anything. "That's awfully sweet that you're such a huge fan, but I don't think we've met before."

You grab the periphery of his coat and pull him closer, intensifying your voice. "Your mother called you ugly, and your brother betrayed you, so you left home when you were a teenager. You joined a biker gang and made a lot of mistakes before joining the RFA because of Rika and V. They were your friends, too."

"Wait, how do you know all of that about me?"

"Because I know you, Zen! And you know me. You’re the kindest, most compassionate and creative person I know. You give everything and expect nothing in return. You’re trying to quit smoking because you know how much I hate it. And you’re easing up on riding your motorcycle because I’m scared for your safety. It took you a while to realize that your mother was wrong and that you really are handsome, but your confidence is contagious, and you’ve made me one of the happiest people alive.”

Zen releases your shoulders with a perplexed and lost expression on his face. "I'm not sure what you're trying to do here, but you must've found that on the internet. Not sure how--" He shakes his head. "Who are you?"

"You know!" you exclaim desperately. "You know exactly who I am. You have to--You have to remember. Remember the night under the stars. Remember the day we adopted that Siberian kitten named Mai. Remember the telling me, 'Thank you for choosing me.' Remember our baby girl. Remember I love you. Remember everything before the reset. You have to. Remember me!"

In his hesitation, you see something familiar flicker across his unusual eyes. If you hadn't been gazing at them at the time, you might've missed it. There one second and gone the next, but it was something. You see it on his face; he just remembered something.

"M--MC?"

At the unprompted mention of your name, you slip your fingers up to the collar of his jacket and pull his face down towards yours. He allows you, and your lips meet in the middle. Pouring every bit of memory and love and hope into the kiss, you use the gesture to show him you mean it, that you're telling the truth, that he can remember if he tries. You see that sliver of that past life in his eyes, and like hell you're going to let it slip away.

Something unlocks inside Zen's brain as you press your mouth to his a second time. This time, he kisses back, equally passionate. Everything about you is so familiar. Your voice, your kiss, your appearance, even your tears: Zen knows he's done this all before. Even if he doesn't remember everything, his entire being knows you're telling the truth.

If there's one thing he remembers at this very moment, it's that your name has been circling around in his mind for longer than he's realized.

Zen's hands move for your waist, pulling you closer as his fingers slip under your jacket. Your tiny gasp into the kiss causes him to smile. He tilts his head as you move one hand into his hair, tugging at the shorter, loose strands at the back of his head. The meeting between you goes from innocent and hopeful to passionate and desperate in a matter of moments. As the kiss deepens, it seems you've both forgotten that you're standing in the middle of a busy street. 

Eventually, when you both pull away due to lack of oxygen, Zen pulls you closer and buries his head into your shoulder. He crushes you against him as you gasp for air, wanting to have you even closer but never getting to the point where he's satisfied with the distance between you.

"Do--Do you remember now?" you whisper, happily feeling his speeding pulse as you rest your chin on his shoulder.

"Not everything," he replies, pulling back to stare down at you. "But I remember that I love you. I remember MC, and I feel--I know there's so much more than that. Do you think we can start from there, Jagiya? Maybe you can help me remember the rest?"

A different kind of tears prick your eyes, and a wide grin spreads across your face as you nod. "You know I will,” you breathe, standing on your tip-toes to give him another peck. "For you, my love, anything."��

[chalcid]

2: The Birth Of A Friendship (Disappear)

Monday morning, I hauled myself out of bed early in the morning and packed up for school. Mom and Tilly were still asleep, heck, even the babies were silent, but Dad, unfortunately, was up.

He stepped in front of the refrigerator.

"Aren't you going to say good morning to your father," he asked.

I screeched incoherently at him in reply. Morning-me is not articulate.

He shook his head in disapproval but allowed me to retrieve my leftover burger and fries from the fridge.

I bounced on my heels as my food heated in the microwave as my dad, no doubt, was trying to summon every bit of 'How to make polite conversation with your teenager' he half-heartedly learned at some point.

"So... I heard you had a bit of trouble on your dive," he said awkwardly.

I didn't look away from my leftovers.

"You know, it's always good to be at your full magical capacity before you enter a dangerous situation."

I snorted. The microwave beeped, and I retrieved my food.

"Good chat, Merika," he told me "Have a good day at school."

I glanced at him, mouth full of burger. He grimaced.

Tilly opened the door to her bedroom, fuzzy pink bathrobe trailing behind her like a cape. "Have a good day at work, sweetie," she told my dad, kissing him on the cheek.

"Thank you," he told her, sighing like he was a man that actually did something tiring.

...

"Hey, good morning," Trite said brightly.

Poseikion scooted over to make a space for me on the bench.

I plopped down on the bench and swung my bag onto my lap "Remember the Unit 3 Test half-a-vase?"

"Not strongly," Poseikion responded.

"I think I found the other half yesterday," I informed him "The color doesn't exactly match, but it's about the right shape and a similar pattern."

"How exciting," Trite said absently "Where's Pacifinos?"

"Probably having trouble finding a shirt that matches the cute skirt she got this weekend," Poseikion sighed "She's going to miss the bus. I'll go talk to her."

"Tell her to go with something black or white," I suggested.

"I will," Poseikion replied, with a dramatic flourish of his coat as he slipped back inside the house.

"So," Trite said awkwardly.

"What?" I replied.

"After school, do you want to head down to the beach and throw chips at the seagulls," Trite asked.

"When have I not wanted to throw chips at seagulls?" I cackled. "Maybe we can train them to be our spies. Or adopt one and keep it as a pet."

"Love your line of thinking, but there's no way my parents would go for that," Trite beamed.

"Ugh, parents," I sighed dramatically "They're the worst."

"I thought your parents kind of just let you do whatever you wanted?" Trite asked.

"They do," I said, too quickly. Trite did not look convinced. "I mean, they still do. But Tilly just moved in and with the divorces and my new half and step-siblings...it feels weird. I dunno, the family used to be a small part of my life but now it's trying to take up more space."

"Well, you can't expect too much from your loser parents," Trite sighed.

"Of course," I agreed.

Poseikion and Pacifinos hopped out the door. I could hear the bus pulling up.

"Wow, love the skirt, where'd you find it?" I said brightly.

Pacifinos twirled "The community garage sale. They've got some good stuff there if you know where to look."

"Neat, very neat," I said, just as the bus pulled up.

Pacifinos and Trite began to tell some story, but I was still thinking about my family. And then, unprompted, my brain decided to remind me that "The demons are calling the sharks to their capital in the west"

I shuddered.

Avoiding home was always a good plan, but avoiding the western bays might be an even better one. ...

It was difficult to get through my morning with so much on my mind, but the math problems, as ridiculous and pointless as they may be, helped distract me.

That didn't mean I didn't eagerly await lunch.

At long last, the bell rang, and I dashed down the halls to the smelly cafeteria. Edonia was already there, absently picking at her sandwich as she stared at her book, brow furrowed.

"Reading anything good?" I asked her.

She looked up from her book "Oh, just another romanticized 'founding of Ilcodeux' stories," she told me "Only this author is apparently convinced that Madeline Haddock and Lord Elias were in love. I mean, it's pretty obvious looking at records from the time that she and Daphne were basically married."

"Ugh, that's the worst," I said supportively. The triplets sat down next to us. "Hey, you know a lot about magic, right? Would it be possible for demons to call a bunch of sharks? Like, magically?"

"Mm... maybe," Edonia said, pulling another book out of her backpack "You could check with an actual demon, though. Don't you have art class this afternoon with Deyanira?"

"Yeah, but like?" I said "I don't know her? And the magic capabilities of demons is a weird topic for a first conversation. So could I maybe have some recommended reading instead-"

"Hey!"

I turned around, momentarily terrified, before realizing it was Casey. "Oh hey," I turned to my friends and smiled. "This is the girl who pulled me out of the ocean yesterday."

Casey cringed "Um... I'm actually... not a girl," she said "She/her non-binary. I'm not really out to my family, so..."

"Oh, of course," I said "My apologies. This is Casey, the person who pulled me out of the ocean yesterday."

Pacifinos grinned "I love your hair," she told Casey.

"Oh, thank you," she said "My cousin cut it."

Awkward silence.

"Oh, shoot, if you want your flannel back, I don't have it with me," I informed her "But I could run by your place this evening and drop it off. I washed it. Is that okay?"

"Oh, that's so nice of you," Casey said. "I actually came over here to ask... well, uh.. this is going to sound kind of awkward, but I didn't catch your name?"

"Merika," I said dramatically "Merika Saltwaters."

Casey's face lit up "Like Prince Edociel Saltwaters?"

"He's my great great great grandad," I said. "I get asked that a lot. Anyways, do you want me to drop off your sweater later today? Is there a good time for you?"

"Sometime around five should be good," Casey told me "My house is 207 Ghost River. As the name suggests, there are ghosts, and they do come out at night."

"Are they friendly?" I blurted.

"Yes," Casey replied "They'll probably tell you all about the history of Ghost River if you asked."

"Hm. I'll have to add that of my list of things to do," I said. "Well, it was lovely talking to you, Casey."

"You too," she grinned at me. She had a lot of teeth.

She skipped off and I returned to my sandwich.

"You made a friend," Trite commented.

"I did," I said "Well, I think she's my friend. A fellow lover of topics adults find morbid, at the very least."

"Does she want to be a mortician or something," Poseikion said, scrunching his nose.

"No," I replied, "An explorer."

"What is there to explore," Trite asked.

"The Beyond," A couple of us whispered.

"Ah," Trite said "My mistake."

The bell rang. I stuffed the rest of my sandwich in my mouth and swung my bag over my shoulder "Bye guys," I said incoherently.

"See you in art class," Pacifinos said quietly.

...

I knocked on the door to 207 Ghost River. Ghosts in old-fashioned clothing danced to fiddle music. Down the river, little children were playing with an alligator. That didn't seem safe but who am I to judge?

Distant thumping from inside the house as someone raced down the stairs. Casey threw the door open, winded.

"Here's your flannel, washed and dried as promised," I presented the flannel to Casey.

"Oh, thank you," she said. "Wait, did you mend that rip?"

"My step-mom probably did that. Is that a problem?"

"Oh, no, I was just surprised," Casey said, pulling the flannel on.

"I'll thank her for you," I said politely.

"Would you like some pie," Casey blurted.

"Sure," I said.

Casey gestured for me to enter the house.

"Shoes on or off?" I asked politely.

"On is fine," Casey said absently. Three adorable little floofy dogs ran up to us and began to pant with delight. Casey tossed them some dog treats.

"Who's a good doggy," I whispered "It's you. All of you are top-notch doggos."

Casey led the way to the kitchen.

"Casey," her mom yelled, "No pie before dinner."

"It's not for me," she defended "I figured Merika would like a slice."

"Merika?" her dad asked.

"She means Decimus's kid," Casey's mom answered.

"Oh, her," he replied.

Casey handed me the plate. "What do you think?"

"It's excellent," I said. "Peach?"

"Yes," Casey's mom replied.

"Yum. Thank you."

"It's no problem, sweetheart," Casey's mom said. "I make too many deserts for the seven of us anyway. Casey, why don't you show your friend your work?"

"She'd probably think it's boring," Casey mumbled.

"Depends on what it's on," I said truthfully.

"Well, okay," Casey said. "Upstairs."

I followed her upstairs, the trio of floofballs following us. A fourth one greeted us at the top of the stairs. It was smaller than the others, and light grey.

"Good dogs, all of you," I whispered.

"I'm trying to build a boat," Casey informed me.

"Very cool," I remarked. She opened the door to her room.

There were two beds, so presumably, she only occupied half the room. One wall was plastered with boat designs, mathematical calculations, fish sketches, and to-do lists.

"Oh, wow," I said, "You have been through a lot of designs, haven't you?"

"Yep," Casey said dejectedly "Nothing works. I actually got to the point of building a full-sized model last month but it sank."

"Wow," I said "You know, you can check out old boat blueprints from the library. I've got a whole list of books about boats that might help."

"Oh," Casey said, "Um, thanks."

I admired her boat drawings for a moment longer. If that sketch was pulled off the page and onto the water, there's no chance it would float, but it was made with such love.

"Well, thanks for the pie and the boat discussion, but I should head back," I said politely "See you around?"

"Yeah," Casey agreed.

We really had no idea.