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 ÂĄ or Âż 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 "TilĂn didn't scream" is most of the reason this warning exists.
Charlie Slimecicle stepped off the train.
Heâd been hoping for a bright, sunny day to start their vacation, but was sorely disappointed. The portal had apparently taken them pretty far, since theyâd gone from noon to night time. Talk about jetlag. They hadnât even been on a plane.
âWhat happened to the other guys?â he wondered aloud as he stepped onto the platform.
âYeah no clue,â Phil said, scanning the empty station. âThought theyâd meet us here.â
âGuys!â one of the Spanish speakers--Vegetta, heâd said, when theyâd all met up at the first station--called, from a lectern at the wall. âThere is a book!â
They crowded around as he read the instructions aloud--something about pressure plates, Slime wasnât 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 wasnât 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 theyâd been provided along with their tickets.
âComo se dice âwe are going to die nowâ?â He giggled, chasing Phil and Fit to one end of the station.
âÂĄVamos a morir!â 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 didnât contribute much to solving the puzzle, and before long the sound of the timer ticking down was accompanied by a loud buzzing alarm.
âItâs been an honor!â he shrieked at the top of his lungs. âItâs been an honor!â
The bear ran past them again, shouting, âIâm going to die!â in English this time.
âAdiĂłs amigos!â 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.
âCome on, Iâm trying to take a vacation, I gotta work now?â Fit complained. âThis is ridiculous.â
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.
âI got the English book!â Spreen called, holding it with two fingers like it had personally offended him.
âEnglish leader,â Vegetta said, seeming to find that amusing.
âEnglish leader.â Spreen laughed and flicked the book away. Slime stepped back but somehow it still nailed him in the chest.
âGuess Iâm reading then,â he said cheerfully.
âIn Spanish?â Maximus said.
âUm.â
Vegetta called something, backing across the plaza with the book open in his hands. Phil backed up to the wall.
âHere,â Phil instructed, âweâll read it here.â
âOkay okay.â He flicked it open. âSo we have to get water wheel planks--â
Their peace lasted a grand total of thirty seconds as voices suddenly began shouting, overlapping in chaotic chorus.
âWhat is that?â Fit demanded.
âIs that coming from the other side?â Phil stared up at the top of the wall.
âThis is the thinnest thick wall Iâve ever seen,â Slime said, giddy laughter bubbling out of him again. âIs this thing made out of pencil shavings? If I sneeze on it, is there gonna be a hole?â
âNevermind, weâll read it over here.â Phil dragged them away again, but the Spanish speakers were dispersing into the trees.
âForget the book,â Fit said, âfollow them!â
(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.
âMorning Jaiden!â he called to his upstairs neighbor.
âHi Charlie!â He could hear her farming through the wall. âGlad you woke up on time!â
âWell you know, you know, El Backflipo couldnât miss it,â he joked, sifting through his backpack. âGot any spare food? Iâll trade you uno backflipo.â
âI have so much toast, come here and get some, free of charge.â
With a quick backflip and some toast to start the day, he popped open the map.
âThereâs a lot of people down the wall,â he noted, their green dots so clustered they formed one. âWanna check it out?â
âYeah sure.â Jaiden tossed some seeds into a chest. âDo you know what this eventâs gonna be?â
âI have no idea,â he admitted cheerfully.
She laughed. âYeah, me neither. I guess thereâs an egg involved, but thatâs all I know.â
He dug around in his backpack for a paraglider, nodding along. âYeah, yeah, un huevo, I get you.â Shuffling the landmine from Vegetta to one side, he yanked out his glider and threw himself out her window. âLetâs go!â
(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. Theyâd 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 wasnât)
So, Mariana wasnât 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 wasnât checking the translation.
It was great. They thought theyâd killed a child immediately and then decided to fake their own childâs 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 werenât forgiven in time to save his own childâs life.
And then Juanaflippa was dead. Dead at Marianaâs 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 couldnât 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 couldnât 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 didnât convince them. in another world, they left his daughter in Hell.
this was not that world)
TilĂn was still before she hit the ground.
TilĂn didnât scream. Maybe they didnât 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.
âYOU KILL MY BEST FRIENDS,â Flippa wrote. He begged her to understand. She wrote, âi canât believe it.â
She wrote, âI HATE YOU.â
(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 wifeâs sword. The same way. The next day.
Theyâd only just gotten her back. And Mariana killed her again.
He only left eggxile for the funeral. She wouldnât 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 wasnât leaving without them. TilĂn. 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 wouldnât pick up his calls. Maybe if he put more shit in the shrine; angels liked shiny shit, didnât 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.
He went back to the mine.
He went back to the mine.
âThis is where I sit, this is where my bitch wife sits, and this is where my daughter sits, if I had one!â
Heâd said that before. No he hadnât. Yes he had.
No, he just needed to clear his head.
Charlie Slimecicle went back to the mine.
Charlie Slimecicle stepped off the train.
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