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ariadnes-red-thread · 28 days

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The Last Word: Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE: LOOKING TOO CLOSELY

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter [coming soon]

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Fives/OFC

Chapter Summary: Mal settles into the 501st, but running into a familiar face in a clone army is the last thing she expects

Chapter Warnings: Some swearing (mostly in mand'o), Mentions of Umbara/past trauma and past sexual situations

Chapter Word Count: 3.9k

Recommended Listening: Looking Too Closely by Fink

A/N: Whoops, so maybe by "Coming Soon", I meant 14 months later. Sorry, I was crippled by self-hatred, perfection paralysis, and fears of my own incompetence. I'll try to be more cool writer girl next time. Thanks to everyone who connected with Mal and with my writing, and reached out to remind me that this might be a story worth telling. I love and adore you forever.

Ao3

Taglist

“Welcome to the 501st.”

Rex extended his hand out to Mal. For the briefest moment, she stared at his gauntlet, decorated in blue and white. The gap between them felt lightyears apart, and she was almost surprised at how quickly her hand closed the space. Taking his hand, she turned her eyes up to meet his and smiled, trying to reflect the Captain’s own warmth back at him. Mal gripped his hand firmly as she tried to shut out the hundreds of soldiers marching around the 501st’s hangar. The last thing she wanted was for him to see her discomfort. This was an opportunity, and she was grateful for it. It just felt odd, like putting on someone else’s clothes. The size was right, but the fit was all wrong.

Calling it the 501st’s hangar wasn’t entirely true. In a day or so, this battalion - her battalion, Mal quickly reminded herself - would ship out, off to a different star system, and another troop would take over this space for their leave. But for now, it swarmed with blue and white troopers. This system was designed for convenience and space-saving, but it gave Mal, and all transfers, an advantage. She already knew where everything was, from the medical supplies to the fresher. Still, after a briefing on protocols (all of which she learned a long time ago), Rex insisted on giving her a tour.

As he led her through the stacks and pointed out where the medical supplies were being kept, Mal had a feeling he was trying to distract her and that her feeble efforts to mask her unease hadn’t gone far with the blonde clone. She wasn't surprised.

Mal spent most of her life taking care of other people. It had taken a long time for her to get used to the way the Wolfpack watched over her. But she smiled, realizing that all the ways they had helped her made her softer now, more ready to let someone else in. So she tried to relax as she followed Rex, letting him point out where the extra gauze was stored, which fresher to use, and where to find the ration bars if she needed a meal.

Despite herself, Mal soon found herself feeling almost at home. Wolffe was right. Rex was the best. She watched as he would stop occasionally to check in with a passing soldier. He would slide an arm over their shoulder or rest a hand on the pauldron. Sometimes the check-in would be wordless, just a nod between the two men. Sometimes, Rex would mumble a bit of mando’a, and his brother would smile. Just as quickly, his attention would be back on her. There were a couple of moments when she thought she might have seen a shadow pass over his face as his eyes lingered on a soldier for a moment longer or as he scanned the crowd, looking for someone he couldn’t find. She might have imagined them, though, because, in the next breath, he would turn back to her with a charming grin and point out where someone named Jesse had hidden more snacks.

As Mal peered over his shoulder while he rifled through a med-pack and showed her the simple, familiar contents, the tension started to leave her shoulders, and a wave of ease settled onto her brow. There was comfort in the sameness. And comfort made Mal curious.

“So, who am I working with?” She turned her attention from the med-packs back to the throngs of troopers scattered across the platform.

Rex followed her gaze. With battlefield precision, he scanned the crowd, searching out his medic. The Captain spied his target in split seconds.

“Oi, Kix!” Rex’s voice boomed over the thunder of boots on durasteel.

At least two dozen men jumped to attention as their commanding officer’s call echoed off the soaring walls of the vast space. There was a clattering of dedlanite as a trooper dropped a container of DC15Ss. Across the bay, a clone with a medical sigil on his shoulder peeled off from a group of soldiers. A collective sigh went up through the troopers as they each realized it wasn’t them who was being summoned by their CO.

The medic, Kix, jogged across the hangar to where Mal and Rex were standing with only the lightest sense of urgency. Mal eyed the medic as he got closer. Crux was clinical and quiet, a man of science born from science. Their only heated battles (recently anyways) came when he felt like she was acting on her gut rather than evidence. Kix didn’t appear to be cut from the same cloth. His helmet was tucked under his arm, and she could see how brightly he smiled as he threw greetings and quips over his shoulder at brothers who whistled and cat-called as he ran by. His appearance was as bold as his crossing, with hair closely shaved into intricate lighting bolt patterns and an Aurebeseh tattoo on the left side of his scalp. When he got close enough, Mal could finally make out the writing, ‘The only good droid is a dead droid’. Mal couldn’t help the smile on her face. It was a sentiment she could get behind. The 501st medic came to a halt next to Rex.

“This is Kix.” Rex clapped the medic on the shoulder. “You’ll report to him. There’s the CMO Coric somewhere too but you’ll meet him later. Kix here is the head medic for Torrent Company and the most dedicated medic I’ve ever met. We’re lucky to have him.”

“Aw shucks, Captain.” Kix laughed at Rex. He shifted slightly under Rex’s grasp, just a little further from the Captain. “Nice to meet you…”

He held out a gauntleted hand as he waited for a name.

“Mal.”

“Nice to meet you, Mal.”

Rex watched for a moment before he began to shift from foot to foot. He wasn’t a man who sat still for long, Mal noticed. She wondered if he’d always been like that or if this came from being burdened with so many responsibilities. Wolffe was the same way, his attention jumping from task to task, somehow always simultaneously present and attentive, but still somewhere else.

“I’ve got a meeting with the generals.” Rex finally said as he clapped his gloved palms together. “Kix, you mind helpin’ her get settled?”

“On it, sir.” The medic replied, brightly.

“Thank you, Captain.” Mal turned to Rex. "I feel very settled in."

"Wolffe wouldn't have let me live it down otherwise." He said, waving away her gratitude.

“Come on, I’m starving. Let’s go to the mess.” Kix motioned for Mal to follow him, already spinning on his heel. “You can meet some of the men.”

“Good luck.” Rex cheekily yelled after them.

“I can handle the 501st,” Mal called back over her shoulder, “I put up with the 104th for years.”

Rex laughed and nodded as though she won a hand of sabacc. With a small salute, he turned in the opposite direction and disappeared into the gears of the GAR.

“He’s just being dramatic.” Kix rolled his eyes as Mal caught up to him. “The boys are all good fun.”

She fell into step beside the clone as Kix started to make his way down the long durasteel hallway to the mess. Mal lost track of time while Rex was showing her around, but it must have been getting close to dinner because most of the other clones were starting to head in the same direction.

“You get the full tour?” Kix raised an eyebrow as he flashed a knowing eyebrow.

“Captain Rex was very thorough,” Mal smiled back, instantly at ease with the small gift of an inside joke.

Mal watched the medic out of the corner of her eye as they walked. He nodded to every soldier that passed, but the ones with decorated armor got a verbal greeting or a pat on the shoulder.

“How long have you been with the 501st?” Mal asked, curious about her new CO.

It had taken a long time for her and Crux to warm up to each other. They started at the same time, joining the decimated 104th as it was rebuilding. Crux wasn’t thrilled to be serving with a civilian, and Mal had her own grudge, which was no fault of Crux’s. She knew it was irrational to dislike him for not being Tye, but she couldn’t help it. Still, once they stopped yelling at each other, they found that they worked well together. Crux’s strength was in his analysis and his textbook memory. Mal’s came from her quick thinking, calm under pressure, and her well-trained gut instincts. They came at problems from different routes, but almost always ended up at the same answer. Another ache passed through her as she realized their last mission working together would be just that. For now anyways, she tried to reassure herself.

“Just after Teth. Got assigned to Rex after that disaster, and he’s been grumpy about it ever since.” Kix flashed a cheeky smile at Captain Rex’s expense. “I’ll be honest, this is the first time we’ve had a civilian medic.”

Mal shrugged. It wasn’t surprising. There weren’t many civilians in the GAR, and even fewer were medics. The government official that helped her at the recruitment office had tried to talk her out of signing up in at least fifteen different ways as she was filling out the dataforms.

“How about you?” Kix asked, “How long have you been with the 104th?”

“I joined after Abregato,” Mal answered. It wasn’t a lie.

“Hmm, I remember that one.” Kix frowned as he rubbed the back of his neck with a gloved palm. “I helped take care of Wolffe and the other two when they got back. Commander Tano still talks about it sometimes. Rough stuff. Glad that was before your time.”

Mal had heard a lot about Commander Tano, and even seen her from a distance on the Venator a few times. The Togruta Jedi padawan was hard to miss and liked to visit General Plo when she could. Boost, Sinker, and Wolffe spoke about her in hushed, grateful tones. Mal supposed that she did too. It wasn’t surprising, given that the whole of the 104th would have been wiped out if not for Commander Tano. Mal knew exactly to whom she owed her friends’ lives.

“You must have started with Crux, then.”

Mal looked back at the clone to find him watching her with a glance that was trying to appear more casual than it was. He must have seen something in her face change at the mention of Abregado. The clones in the 501st were good at distraction, Mal was starting to notice, but she was grateful for the change in subject.

“You know Crux?” Mal tried to match the Kix’s bright tone.

“Yeah, we went through medic training together,” Kix said. “Crux and I shipped out after Geonosis. Both the 501st and the 104th had hard times of it. Trained with Tye, the first CMO for the 104th, too, but he would have been before your time.”

Mal’s spine stiffened at his name.

A flash of a smile.

“You deserve to be happy.”

“Yeah,” Mal agreed, even as her heart clenched. “Before my time.”

“Heya, Kix.”

A clone with a large Republic cog in the middle of his helmet fell into step beside Kix. He elbowed his friend as his helmet tilted towards Mal. She could feel his eyes as they looked her up and down before he spied the medical sigil on the shoulder of her jumpsuit.

“Rex finally get someone to replace you?” The clone elbowed Kix again.

“You’d be dead without me,” Kix replied without missing a beat. “Mal, meet Jesse.”

“Hi!” Even through the modulator, the man’s greeting was warm.

The clone named Jesse stripped his helmet from his head. He tucked it under his arm as he flashed Mal a sideways smile. The cog that had decorated his helmet matched a tattoo that covered most of the upper half of his face, spanning from just under his left eye to the top of his clean-shaven head. His smile stretched across his face, bringing a glint to his eyes and wrinkling the edge of the cog.

“Nice to meet you.” Mal couldn’t help but smile back. “Nice tattoo.”

“You like it? I lost a game of sabacc to Hardcase, but I’ve grown attached.” Jesse ran a hand over his clean scalp as he grinned a little wider. “Spotchka may have been involved.”

“It suits you.”

It did. The clone had an animated face, his expression written all over it, and the tattoo emphasized every look. Mal imagined he wasn’t very good at sabacc.

“I like her.” Jesse turned to Kix with an air of grievance. “You never compliment me.”

“She doesn’t know you yet.” Kix chuckled.

“You’re just mad you’re not the prettiest medic in the 501st anymore.” Jesse snapped back.

Mal winced at the comment. She had a feeling Jesse was just kidding and that the joke was more at Kix’s expense than hers, but it was irritating all the same. Mal had never met a clone who thought less of her expertise because she was a woman. Still, there were plenty of civilian mechanics and medics who did. Any other day, the comment would probably have rolled off her. Instead, Mal thought of the clone from the night before. Would he think less of her if she ever had to treat him? Would he trust her? She quickly pushed that thought aside. No point in considering it. In an army of a billion clones, that wasn’t something she would ever have to worry about.

“Hard to compete with Kix.” Mal quickly spoke.

Just like that, the worry was gone, and Jesse was reaching around Kix to slap her on the back.

“I like you,” He let out a belly laugh as he repeated his approval.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t make me regret introducing you two already.” Kix rolled his eyes before they suddenly flashed.

Mal followed his look down the hallway. Just ahead, two troopers walked with their helmets pressed close together like they were strategizing. One was dressed in clone trooper armor, and the other wore the unmistakable kit of an ARC trooper. His kama swayed around his hips as he walked, arm over the shoulder of the other trooper. They seemed to catch Kix’s attention.

“Now, these two, you definitely need to know. Gotta watch them closely.” Kix spoke, his voice raised and playful. “They spend more time in the medbay than the rest of the battalion combined.”

They stopped and turned at Kix’s words, the sound of mocking modulated laughter coming from their helmets. Kix and Jesse paused with them, forming a small crowd in the busy hallway, like rocks in a river.

“This is Mal, our new medic from the 104th.” Kix gestured.

The clone troopers pulled their buckets from their heads. The first man smiled sweetly, a contrast to the single teardrop that decorated the lower lid of his left eye. Mal barely registered him, though. She was too busy gaping at his friend. The second man flashed a knowing, familiar grin. Even without the temple tattoo, Mal would have recognized him anywhere.

Fives.

The first thing Fives saw as he rounded the corner into the mess hall was Jesse’s face. His vod immediately looked annoyed and that put an extra spring in Fives’ step. Nothing like the sheer pleasure of irritating Jesse without even having to put in the effort.

“Ah osik, I bet Tup 5 credits you’d miss roll call.” The lieutenant frowned at Fives over two steaming paper cups of caf.

“Come on, Jess.” Fives grinned at his older brother. “You know me better than that.”

Fives picked up the two cups before he turned, seamlessly slipping the drinks out from under his vod's nose. Jesse leapt up and yelped but, short of leaping over the table, there was no stopping Fives.

He kept moving down the hall, practically gliding, as Jesse’s swears faded behind him. He hummed, sipping on the black caf that Jesse had poured for himself, and savoring each jolt to his taste buds. Fives meandered his way through the maze of the base, nodding to brothers that greeted him. Faces, armor, and haircuts were all distinct. He recognized them all but most of the names escaped him. It was becoming harder and harder to keep track. There were so many, and they came and went all too quickly. It made him feel old in a way that an eleven year old probably shouldn’t. Was it eleven? Or was it twelve now?, he wondered. Who could keep track of decanting days anymore? That was Echo’s job and, without his twin, he wasn’t ever in the celebrating mood. Finally, Fives slipped into one of the main supply rooms, where he paused before a large supply shelf. It was pressed up against the durasteel and tucked in the back of the dark storage space.

“Hey, Tup. You there?” Fives called.

“Roger, roger.” Tup called back.

The long-haired clone popped his head over the edge of the fourth shelf, about eight feet off of the floor. He perched there for a moment, chin resting on his hand as he smiled down at Fives. Fives grinned back up at his vod. Tup found the empty shelf the first day after the Umbara deployment, and he dragged a mattress up there to turn it into a getaway. Fives didn’t ask why he wanted one and Tup didn’t volunteer the information. Instead, Fives just helped him redirect several blankets and a mattress from shipping to an “ARC training mission” and, in a comical heist that involved General Skywalker nearly catching them, assisted Tup in smuggling the large bedding into the supply room.

“So, how was the night, vod?” Tup winked.

“A gentleman never tells,” Fives smirked up at his brother.

“Well, luckily, you’ve never been a gentleman.” Tup laughed as he swung down from the shelf, landing gracefully beside Fives.

“Hey! I brought you caf and everything.” Fives held out the second cup to Tup, who took it without hesitation.

“Ah yes, three creams. Just how Kix takes it.” Tup chortled as he sipped on the warm liquid.

Fives smiled back at the younger clone. Losing Echo left a hole in his heart that he knew would never be filled, and it had been a long time since he had felt a connection with one of his brothers like that. Tup was different though. He reminded him of Echo in some ways. He was quietly smart. A little nerdy. But he could still merk a Seppie in seconds and without hesitation. He was clever, more clever than most people realized. Fives was still impressed with the plan Tup came up with to capture General Krell. While he knew he could never replace his twin and he wasn’t looking to try, he felt a little more whole lately when Tup was around.

“Now, come on vod.” Tup threw his other arm around Fives, “Tell me about the night.”

He filled Tup in on a few of the details while they made the walk to roll-call. He skipped the feeling that she had given him when he made her laugh or the way he wished someone would bottle up her scent. Instead, he talked about the other stuff, like how great her tits were and how hot the sex had been. Tup dutifully listened to all of it with a small smile on his face.

They made it to roll-call right on time. Jesse glared at Fives over a fresh cup of caf. Fives gave his fuming vod a wave just as Rex called them to attention. The Captain marched down the line, inspecting his soldiers. He paused in front of Fives.

“Nice to see you made it back,” Rex muttered, cocking an eyebrow at the ARC.

“No idea what you’re talkin’ about, Sir,” Fives smirked at his old friend.

Rex let out a familiar sigh of exasperation as he shook his head and continued back down the line.

It was Fives' least favorite kind of day. Drills, strategy meetings, and more drills. The drills drove him crazy. It was all pretend. There was no room to be creative or stakes to make the shineys take it seriously. It seemed like they were getting sloppier and sloppier, and nothing he said would get through to them until the blaster fire was real. The strategy meetings weren’t bad, but it was all a lot of talk and pretend. He knew it was important. Fives got that. But there was never a day that he didn’t want to be out there, in the fight, instead of planetside doing drills.

“We’re gonna have to reconsider how we’re using our resources holding Felucia,” Tup was still thinking about their last meeting as the day wound down and they made their way to the mess. Fives was only half-listening, having had his fill of strategy talk for the day, but Tup kept going, his enthusiasm obvious though his modulator. “Focusing on hyperspace lanes instead of the planet itself could help us protect the whole system. We keep fighting these high-cost, low reward battles on the planet’s surface.”

“S’not a bad idea.” Fives heard enough that he looked his vod up and down.

“It’s a great idea.” Tup looked back at him and Fives knew, even through the helmet, exactly the teasing look his vod was giving him. “Don’t you run to Rex and steal it.”

Fives snorted and wrapped an arm around Tup’s shoulders.

“I would never dream-” Fives started to protest before a voice rose up behind them.

“… these two, you definitely need to know. They spend more time in the med bay than the rest of the battalion combined.”

Fives barked out a laugh. Tup joined him as he tilted his helmet at Fives. He rolled his eyes at Tup and knew, in the same way that Tup knew what expression he was making; Tup was rolling his eyes too. They paused their walk and turned towards Kix's voice.

He was glad he had his helmet on. Standing there, walking with his vode, was the woman from this morning. Her form was now hidden behind a civilian medic jumpsuit, and her long red curls were pulled back away from her face, tied back into a low bun, but he knew her in moments.

He knew the light in her eyes as she laughed at Kix’s words. He recognized the smile that danced on those soft lips. He knew the smattering of freckles he could map out on her nose and her cheeks. He knew the way her skin would feel if he were to dig his fingers into those hips, barely hidden by the bulky jumpsuit. Maker, he knew the way she smelled still and could taste it in the air. Or maybe that was just him and the way she lingered on his skin.

Pull it together, Fives. He warned himself. His heart wouldn’t slow, though. He couldn’t believe his luck as he took in the blue markings on her jumpsuit. She was here, and she was theirs.

“This is Mal, our new civilian medic transfer from the 104th.”

Fives barely heard Kix as he stripped the bucket from his head. He waited for Mal to squeal, to laugh, for the joy to spark in her eyes like it had last night.

“This is Tup.” His heart threatened to beat out of his chest as Kix droned on, “And this is Fives, our resident ARC.”

“And resident pain in the ass,” Jesse added loudly.

Fives ignored Jesse as he pressed his lips together in a knowing smile. She knows, you di’kut, he wanted to shout, but Mal spoke first.

“Nice to meet you.”

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svtskneecaps · 2 months

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literally it's 3am where i live and i'm on mobile but FUCK IT i haven't posted any actual writing in like a YEAR on this blog whose description include the words "I WRITE" and i can't tell if i'm even going anywhere with this so fuck it under the cut is the prospective absolute mess of the first chapter of the flipo family time loop fic. (for clarity, flipo family as in slime, mariana, and juanaflippa) this covers loop 0, aka the relevant parts of canon. words: 1630

parts of it i popped off with and other parts i hate; up to you to identify them. also the italics and other formatting got erased when i copy pasted and i'm re-adding all of it by hand so if i missed a spot, no i didn't. if i missed an accent on a letter in spanish that was a typo, if i missed a ¡ or ¿ that may have been on purpose.

oh and for obvious reasons, content warning for mentions and mild descriptions of child death and child murder. no blood, and most of it is a three word mention; i'd say the brief paragraph beginning "Tilín didn't scream" is most of the reason this warning exists.

Charlie Slimecicle stepped off the train.

He’d been hoping for a bright, sunny day to start their vacation, but was sorely disappointed. The portal had apparently taken them pretty far, since they’d gone from noon to night time. Talk about jetlag. They hadn’t even been on a plane.

“What happened to the other guys?” he wondered aloud as he stepped onto the platform.

“Yeah no clue,” Phil said, scanning the empty station. “Thought they’d meet us here.”

“Guys!” one of the Spanish speakers--Vegetta, he’d said, when they’d all met up at the first station--called, from a lectern at the wall. “There is a book!”

They crowded around as he read the instructions aloud--something about pressure plates, Slime wasn’t paying that close of attention. He was a little more preoccupied with making sure it only felt like his brain was dripping out of his ears. That would be kind of embarrassing.

Which was not to say that he wasn’t enjoying the constant onslaught of people talking over each other using words he may or may not understand. In fact, it was the opposite; he was frankly thriving in the absolute chaos that kicked back up around him as a timer appeared in the wrist communicators they’d been provided along with their tickets.

“Como se dice ‘we are going to die now’?” He giggled, chasing Phil and Fit to one end of the station.

“¡Vamos a morir!” shouted Spiderman, echoed seconds later by the black bear in the collared shirt.

Giddy over the high of attempting to use his high school foreign language for the first time maybe ever, Slime absolutely didn’t contribute much to solving the puzzle, and before long the sound of the timer ticking down was accompanied by a loud buzzing alarm.

“It’s been an honor!” he shrieked at the top of his lungs. “It’s been an honor!”

The bear ran past them again, shouting, “I’m going to die!” in English this time.

“Adiós amigos!” Slime yelled.

The countdown ended.

And then his communicator buzzed, and there was a video playing on the screen, showing a cartoonish yellow duck in front of a blurry beach stock photo. He skimmed it absently--some generic welcoming message and another side quest for them--distracted by Maximus audibly losing his shit laughing across the station.

“Come on, I’m trying to take a vacation, I gotta work now?” Fit complained. “This is ridiculous.”

Slime wanted to jump on that bit, but the message cut off with coordinates marred by static and the noise of the emergency weather alert system and he lost his train of thought completely.

“I got the English book!” Spreen called, holding it with two fingers like it had personally offended him.

“English leader,” Vegetta said, seeming to find that amusing.

“English leader.” Spreen laughed and flicked the book away. Slime stepped back but somehow it still nailed him in the chest.

“Guess I’m reading then,” he said cheerfully.

“In Spanish?” Maximus said.

“Um.”

Vegetta called something, backing across the plaza with the book open in his hands. Phil backed up to the wall.

“Here,” Phil instructed, “we’ll read it here.”

“Okay okay.” He flicked it open. “So we have to get water wheel planks--”

Their peace lasted a grand total of thirty seconds as voices suddenly began shouting, overlapping in chaotic chorus.

“What is that?” Fit demanded.

“Is that coming from the other side?” Phil stared up at the top of the wall.

“This is the thinnest thick wall I’ve ever seen,” Slime said, giddy laughter bubbling out of him again. “Is this thing made out of pencil shavings? If I sneeze on it, is there gonna be a hole?”

“Nevermind, we’ll read it over here.” Phil dragged them away again, but the Spanish speakers were dispersing into the trees.

“Forget the book,” Fit said, “follow them!”

(In the end it was explosives that took the wall down, which in hindsight was a precursor to how a not insignificant portion of time on the island was spent. The first day, however, it was just funny, much like everything else.)

(That was to say, the first first day.)

The communicator had indicated that today there was something special planned, so he made an extra effort to wake up.

“Morning Jaiden!” he called to his upstairs neighbor.

“Hi Charlie!” He could hear her farming through the wall. “Glad you woke up on time!”

“Well you know, you know, El Backflipo couldn’t miss it,” he joked, sifting through his backpack. “Got any spare food? I’ll trade you uno backflipo.”

“I have so much toast, come here and get some, free of charge.”

With a quick backflip and some toast to start the day, he popped open the map.

“There’s a lot of people down the wall,” he noted, their green dots so clustered they formed one. “Wanna check it out?”

“Yeah sure.” Jaiden tossed some seeds into a chest. “Do you know what this event’s gonna be?”

“I have no idea,” he admitted cheerfully.

She laughed. “Yeah, me neither. I guess there’s an egg involved, but that’s all I know.”

He dug around in his backpack for a paraglider, nodding along. “Yeah, yeah, un huevo, I get you.” Shuffling the landmine from Vegetta to one side, he yanked out his glider and threw himself out her window. “Let’s go!”

(nothing like getting struck by lightning to wake a guy up in the morning)

Slime fiddled with the communicator as he waited for the line of people to get through the ticket machine; he already had his own, a nice B for Backflipo. The new live translations still boggled his mind. He had to fight the urge to chant weird shit under his breath, just to see what the bubbles would say.

He paid a little extra attention when Mariana walked up to the machine. That guy seemed cool. They’d done that pequeño dormir together on day one, and he had a good sense of humor. Egg parenting would probably be funny.

He was thrilled to see the B for Backflipo on the ticket Mariana stepped away with, even if Mariana was decidedly less so. This was gonna be good.

(it was, and it wasn’t)

So, Mariana wasn’t exactly the coparent of dreams. Then again, Slime was pretty sure Mariana could say the same about him. In fact he was pretty sure Mariana had said the same, but in Spanish, when he wasn’t checking the translation.

It was great. They thought they’d killed a child immediately and then decided to fake their own child’s death to get away with it, and then confessed their sins to a bilingual angel and built a farm and then he buried himself beneath an improvised cross and went into a coma until his sins were forgiven, or something, except his sins weren’t forgiven in time to save his own child’s life.

And then Juanaflippa was dead. Dead at Mariana’s hand.

His bitch wife killed their daughter.

(Everything went faster, after that.)

Slime wanted to kill him.

Slime wanted to kill him for killing their fucking daughter, but of course, Mariana couldn’t even be bothered to be around to take care of her alive, never mind to pay for his crimes when she died by his hand!

(in a better world, his rage started and ended there. in a better world, the anger fizzled out with the lack of a target.

this was not that world)

There couldn’t be an Egg Event with no eggs.

If he killed them all, it would bring her back.

(in a worse world, he succeeded. in a worse world, the Egg Event ended there.

this was not that world)

They held a trial.

If he won, it would bring her back.

(in another world, he didn’t convince them. in another world, they left his daughter in Hell.

this was not that world)

Tilín was still before she hit the ground.

Tilín didn’t scream. Maybe they didn’t have time. It happened so fast. He was sure it happened fast. Almost too fast. But everything went so fast, now, even though Flippa was back. Yet, time slowed down for this, like a rubberneck driving past a highway accident, watching him desperately trying to shock their heart back into motion.

“YOU KILL MY BEST FRIENDS,” Flippa wrote. He begged her to understand. She wrote, “i can’t believe it.”

She wrote, “I HATE YOU.”

(in a better world, the error would have been caught in April instead of July.

this was not that world)

His daughter fell to his bitch wife’s sword. The same way. The next day.

They’d only just gotten her back. And Mariana killed her again.

He only left eggxile for the funeral. She wouldn’t stay dead, but he had to be there.

Time went even faster after that. He was Gegg, or maybe Gegg was him, or maybe Gegg was Gegg, or maybe. . . ?

He went back to eggxile.

He wasn’t leaving without them. Tilín. Juanaflippa. He would do whatever was necessary. He would pray to any higher power. Lil J still owed him a goddamn favor, but the guy wouldn’t pick up his calls. Maybe if he put more shit in the shrine; angels liked shiny shit, didn’t they? He went back to the mine, where the gasses swirled in his head. He built the shrine. He mined. He built the shrine.

He went back to the mine.

“This is where I sit, this is where my bitch wife sits, and this is where my daughter sits, if I had one!”

He’d said that before. No he hadn’t. Yes he had.

No, he just needed to clear his head.

Charlie Slimecicle went back to the mine.

Charlie Slimecicle stepped off the train.

#qsmp #qsmp fanfiction #qsmp slimecicle #qsmp juanaflippa #won't tag his partner since he didn't get to star much in this part #this idea is at its core a flipo FAMILY fic though it starts out with slime #just. the problem is getting to that point. bc beyond these words i have like 500 more lmao #for anyone curious for directors commentary in the tags:#pequeño dormir' is on purpose; i figured that would be a mistake slime would make at day 14 on the island #i also omitted the ¿ and ¡ from slime's spanish dialogue for the same reason; it's as close to an actual accent as i can get in text #(accent as in accented speech not accented letter; speaking spanish with an american accent)#slime's quote at the end about where people sit is taken verbatim from one of his streams #at time of posting it is available on his vods channel titled 'we won the war. (qsmp)'#a lot of the day 1 dialogue and flippa's dialogue from tilín's death is also verbatim #oh and the sequence from the 'we won the war' vod carries a lot of weight in the idea (wasn't the spark but it filled some gaps)#for me the cave gases are what drives every loop; time rolls back whenever slime inhales too much gas and 'forgets'#i don't have exact mechanics about it but suffice it to say if ANYONE were to spend too much time in this random ass cave #they would also loop back in time; slime's just the one who in this timeline Happened to discover it #shut up vic #block game brainrot #yea idk i just liked some of the dialogue tbh i think this gets super messy after they get flippa and then brings it back around at the mine #it's got some messy pacing in that middle bit but the foundation of a time loop story is its loop 0 #that's what every loop after it has to call back to; that's the beauty of a time loop story #how is this different from loop 0; how is it the same #we've come so far only to get nowhere at all yknow #i'm a fan of stories rhyming but ESPECIALLY time loops so this is the setup for a lot of that #dude i gotta send this i've been sitting on parts of this draft for a year #may someone besides me read these words 🙏 thank you and goodnight #if people say nice things maybe i'll finally wring more words out of my brain. idk.#long tags

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