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just-here-with-my-thoughts · 3 months

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Day 11: Time Loop / Cabin Fever

@febuwhump prompt: Time Loop @badthingshappenbingo prompt: Cabin Fever

Fandom: The Bad Batch Characters: Hunter, Wrecker Set after Season 2 Word Count: ~770 Click here to read on AO3

Synopsis: Hunter feels trapped in an endless loop after losing Omega.

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Wake up. Breakfast. Dress. Follow another lead. Evening meal. Check in with Rex and Echo. Bed. Listen to Wrecker snore.

Nothing was bringing them closer to finding Omega. For all he vaunted his resistance network, Rex’s operation was in its infancy and even with Echo’s assistance the Advanced Science Division was beyond their reach. The tid-bits of information they were able to provide Hunter and Wrecker with were no more than rumours, ghost-stories.

The two clones spent days in each hyperspace jump, travelling to remote locales to chase down any clue that might lead to some concrete bit of evidence they could use. Anywhere the ephemeral ASD was rumoured to have been, Imperial presence was heavy. Every day demanded the utmost caution.

Even trained as they were, it was hard. Tempers frayed.

Evening meal, eaten in sullen silence. Check in with Rex and Echo. Bed; together, crammed into the same bunk, the only comfort in the day. Listen to Wrecker snore.

Wake up. Breakfast. Dress. Follow another lead. Evening meal. Check in with Rex and Echo. Bed. Listen to Wrecker snore.

“I don’t want to sleep on the Marauder,” snarled Hunter, physically digging in his heels and bringing them up short. “I just… I can’t.”

Another day of fruitless searching. Exhausted, bone-weary, lashed by inclement weather. The Marauder, their only home, haunted by the ghosts of their missing vode. Hunter couldn’t bear the thought of lying awake another night, listening to the echoing silence, staring at walls so familiar he wanted to tear them down.

“Give it up, Hunter,” growled Wrecker wearily. “We got nowhere else to stay.”

The big clone shouldered past his brother, heading up the ramp to the ship. Hunter dropped to his haunches, twisting his fingertips into the damp grass and swishing them back and forth.

“Sleep out here,” he called, an uncertain waver of command in his voice. “Wrecker. Come sleep out here with me.”

Wrecker stopped and peered back down at Hunter in the gathering darkness. “It’s rainin’.”

“It’s dry under the belly of the ship.”

For a moment they locked gazes, mutual stubbornness at war. Then Wrecker rolled his eyes.

“I’ll grab blankets from the bunk.”

Hunter whooshed out a sigh of relief and got back to his feet. Steeling himself, he followed Wrecker into the Marauder.

“I’ll fix dinner,” he offered, sounding guilty.

The way Wrecker bumped their shoulders together let him know he needn’t have worried. Hunter made sure to clasp a grateful hand to his brother’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze as he gathered their meagre rations and carried them back outside.

Wrecker had laid out a groundsheet and chucked the blankets and pillows haphazardly on it, as far as he could from the rain that gusted in under the Marauder’s protecting canopy. Hunter settled at his side, offering the larger portion of food without comment. Wrecker accepted. They ate, as usual, in silence.

“Thanks for this,” muttered Hunter after a bit.

“’S okay, vod,” was Wrecker’s reply.

“I just…” Hunter trailed off in thought, pulling his bandana off and running a hand through his hair, then scrubbing it over his face. “I need a break. Just for one night.”

Wrecker wiped up every morsel of food with his fingertips before discarding his bowl. He leaned his weight against Hunter, swaying them both to the side.

“Go to sleep. I’ll take watch.”

Sleeping outside. Not as safe as in the Marauder. Hunter felt a pang of responsibility.

“No. It’s okay, I can take first–”

“Hunter.” Wrecker’s voice was low and serious, but when Hunter looked up at him he was smiling. “I know yer sleep better planet-side. Get some rest. I’ll sleep tomorrow, whils’ you get us in the air again.”

Hunter rubbed a hand over his face again – because of tiredness, surely, not the sudden stinging in his eyes.

“Thanks, Wrecker.”

He settled onto the ground, letting his senses stretch out to sample the sounds and smells of the sodden night. Wind rustled plants, damp earth, the faint aroma of crushed grass. Storm-warmed air tickling over his skin in erratic gusts. The solid, reassuring bulk of his brother.

Hunter looped an arm round Wrecker’s middle, burrowing close into his side. One giant hand settled tenderly on his head, stroking his rain-damp hair.

“Night, Hunter.”

“Night, Wrecker.”

And whispered into the empty chasm of his heart:

“Night, Omega.”

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday11 #time loop #badthingshappenbingo #cabin fever #the bad batch #tbb fanfic #tbb hunter #tbb wrecker

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kybercrystals94 · 3 months

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Costly Mistakes

Read here on Ao3!

Febuwhump 2024 | Day 11 | Alt. Prompt 4: Human Weapon

Rated: T | Words: 542 | Summary: Something happens during a training simulation. [Character Focus: Crosshair, Hunter]

“You shouldn’t be out here,” Crosshair says.

Hunter doesn’t turn. “Neither should you.”

Crosshair sits down next to him, legs hanging over the edge of the maintenance deck. The sea far below them, dark and turning.

“How’d you get out here without the others following you,” Hunter asks.

“I didn’t,” Crosshair responds. “But I told them if they didn’t go back to the barracks, I’d make their lives a living hell.”

“And they believed you?”

“Wrecker did. Tech took a hint.”

Hunter finally glances at his silver-haired brother. “I came out here to be alone.”

“So did I. You can leave anytime.”

“I mean it, Crosshair. Go away.”

Crosshair shrugs, propping himself back on his hands. “Fine. I will. After you explain to me what happened during that simulation today.”

Hunter turns to face him fully, eyes fiery. “Nothing. Happened.”

“I’ll tell you what I saw,” Crosshair continues, “You froze. You would’ve taken a stun blast right to the head if Tech hadn’t stepped in.”

“I didn’t freeze.”

“What then?”

“Nothing. I didn’t see the droid there. That’s it. A mistake.”

“A costly mistake.”

Hunter carefully holds Crosshair’s gaze, eyes shrouded by a furrowed brow, dark hair damp and matted from the ocean mist saturating the air. He looks terrifying, but Crosshair knows his brother too well. Hunter is the one terrified. He wouldn’t be isolating himself if he wasn’t.

“You don’t even know what happened, do you,” Crosshair says, breaking eye contact to look out at the dark, wretched clouds rolling in. He can see that Hunter is still watching him out of his peripheral.

“My senses,” Hunter says finally, voice low.

“An overload,” Crosshair supplies, but it doesn’t explain why Hunter froze on the field. He’s experienced sensory overloads all his short life. He’s learned to tell his brothers, warn them of his impairment so that they can adjust. They have signs for this.

That’s why Crosshair isn’t surprised when Hunter shakes his head. “No. It was different.”

“Different how?”

“It was like they were gone…” Hunter says. “I couldn’t sense anything.”

Crosshair is quiet, leaving the silence for Hunter to fill.

Hunter growls, grabs at the back of his head and presses his arms around his skull. “That’s never happened before. I could see but I couldn’t see. I could hear but I couldn’t hear.”

“So you were like a normal clone,” Crosshair says after a moment. “It was your enhancement that cut out.”

Hunter leans forward, head still tucked tightly between his arms. Crosshair almost doesn’t hear him when he says, “It felt…good. It felt quiet.”

A beat.

“Do you ever wish we weren’t…”

Clones?

Soldiers?

Experiments?

Crosshair nods, even though Hunter won’t see him. “Yes.”

Hunter takes an audible breath, collecting himself, before he sits up straight, dropping his arms. “Kriffing little wishing will do,” he says, resigned. He turns his head, just slightly, in Crosshair’s direction. “It won’t happen again. It caught me off guard this time, but next time…I’ll be ready.”

“Good.”

Crosshair moves to stand up, but Hunter catches his arm. “Don’t…tell anyone. Not even Wrecker or Tech.”

“Why?”

“Tech will try to figure it out, Wrecker might let it slip. If the kammies found out…”

“Right. Between us.”

“Thanks, Cross.”

END

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nade2308 · 3 months

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I knew it the second I saw this prompt that I will do something for EoT, and while I could come up with a fic, it didn't come to me as naturally as the gifs did. Had to use this song again, it's one of my favorites. Not tagging this as MCD because no one actually stays dead, but they are stuck in a time loop where they repeatedly die.

@thethistlegirl

@febuwhump

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#febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday11 #time loop #bill cage #rita vrataski #edge of tomorrow #tom cruise #emily blunt #my gifs #edge of tomorrow gifs #my edit

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iztarshi · 3 months

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Fandom: tmnt 1987

Raphael wakes up on the morning of his eighteenth birthday and starts by listing to himself the reasons why that’s nonsense.

1) If he was sold at the legal size of six inches then he was likely anywhere from two to seven years old at the time, it’s been six or seven years since then, he’s been alive for fourteen years at most. But Splinter decided they were adults this year and Leonardo decided that meant these should be their eighteenth birthdays, and Michelangelo was excited to throw eighteenth birthday parties and here they all are.

2) It’s not his birthday, it’s an arbitrary day Splinter picked for him.

3) What does being eighteen even mean for a turtle? If it was twenty-one maybe it would mean Leonardo would let them have some champagne, but eighteen? He could vote, if turtles had the vote. He could enlist, which, hah, nope, he’s been fighting for years already he’s not upgrading to an actual war. Anyway, he doesn’t think the new Don’t Ask Don’t Tell laws would cover someone not asking if you’re a turtle.

At this point in the list, Michelangelo comes to wake him up and he puts his head under the covers.

“Wake up, dude, it’s your birthday!” Michelangelo announces.

“I don’t want a birthday, I want more sleep,” Raphael says.

“But I made breakfast…”

The blanket provides excellent defense from Michelangelo’s puppy dog eyes, so Raphael is able to say, “I don’t care,” and listen to Michelangelo walk away no matter how dragging and sad he makes his footsteps.

4) Why is Raphael’s birthday about making Michelangelo happy? Raphael would be much happier if everyone just forgot it.

Stewing on this keeps him busy until Leonardo comes to wake him up with a pat on the shoulder. “It’s nearly lunchtime,” he says. “You missed training.”

“Thanks for the birthday present,” Raphael answers. But he can’t lie in bed all day, and he’s getting hungry, so he does get up.

Technically the party is this evening, but clearly Michelangelo can’t contain his excitement. There are banners and balloons, there are party foods mostly consisting of a variety of mini-pizzas. There’s music. Great, this is going to last all afternoon. At least the food looks good.

“Happy Birthday!” Michelangelo tells him.

Raphael rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, you said.”

“Have some pizza,” Donatello suggests, handing him a plate of his favourites. At least the food is good.

The food that evening is good too, the cake is tasty enough Raphael’s glad he didn’t find a way to ruin it. The others let him pick the channel when they watch TV and shrug off how obviously he’s sulking his way through his birthday. So, that’s nice, at least, even if the whole thing is just grating like sandpaper on his shell.

It’s still a huge relief to fall into bed and forget about birthdays for another year.

Raphael wakes up on the morning of his eighteenth birthday and doesn’t realise this until Michelangelo says, “Wake up, dude, it’s your birthday!”

He opens his eyes and blinks at the other turtle. “No, it’s not. That was yesterday.”

Michelangelo rolls his eyes. “Come on, I made breakfast.”

“No seriously,” Raphael says. “You had better not be trying to make me celebrate my birthday twice in a row because I’m not doing it, Michelangelo.”

He follows Michelangelo into the kitchen where there are pancakes because Michelangelo has been branching out a bit from pizza recently. Leonardo is eating one with maple syrup and chopped olives.

“Happy Birthday!” he and Donatello chorus.

“Not you too,” Raphael moans. “Come on, wasn’t yesterday enough?”

Donatello frowns. “What happened yesterday?”

“My birthday, unfortunately.”

“Quite joking, dude, it’s not funny,” Michelangelo says.

“Who’s joking?” Raphael answers. “You guys are the ones screwing around.”

“It could be a minor time anomaly,” Donatello says, thoughtfully. “With all the time travel we’ve had in the last few years the time-space continuum might take a while to stabilise.”

“Seriously?” Raphael demands. “It’s seriously my birthday.”

“It seriously is,” Leonardo says, so earnestly that Raphael gives up on it being a joke.

“Great,” Raphael says. “So what do we do about it?”

Donatello shrugs. “Just carry on as normal. Having to relive one day isn’t so bad.”

“I’m not celebrating my birthday twice in a row.”

Michelangelo’s face crumples. “I was up all night preparing…”

Raphael caves like he pretty much knew he would. “Fine, fine.” He supposes he can endure one more birthday.

Raphael wakes up on the morning of his eighteenth birthday and he’s not even that surprised. As soon as Michelangelo cheerfully announces, “Wake up, dude, it’s your birthday!” he stomps into the living area to find Donatello.

“You said this time anomaly would be over by today,” he accuses Donatello, who is biting into a pancake.

“I. What?” Donatello says.

“I’m stuck in a time loop, this is the third time I’ve had my birthday, and I’m not putting up with it. You said it was a time anomaly caused by all our time travelling visitors, so fix it.”

Donatello stands up, looking at Raphael as if he’s suddenly much more interesting than the pancakes. “Come into my lab and I’ll see what I can do.”

After some prodding with various technological devices, Donatello hmms thoughtfully and goes to rummage around in the back of his lab.

“Aha!” he says. “My time stopping device.”

“That can break the time loop?”

“Techinically, no. It can only freeze one person or object in time. But if the entire world is resetting every time you reach midnight - or an arbitrary time somewhere between 11 pm and 9 am - then having you frozen ought to prevent it. The world will be able to carry on as normal.”

“Uh. Th-that does not sound great for me.” Raphael starts backing away nervously. He was not expecting to be sacrificed to save the world from a time anomaly when he asked for Donatello’s help!

“Oh, I’d unfreeze you the next day. Once time has moved on it should be fine to bring you back into the timestream.”

Raphael sighs in relief. “You have an inimitable bedside manner, Donatello. Let’s do that, then.”

“You don’t want to wait until after the party?” Donatello asks. There’s a teasing gleam in his eye so Raphael doesn’t bother answering that one.

“Haha,” Raphael says. “Get on with it.”

Raphael wakes up on the morning of his eighteenth birthday already knowing exactly what day it is.

This time Donatello tries sending him to a different dimension which would have led to a really nice visit with the Neutrinos if Michelangelo didn’t insist on coming along and telling everyone it’s Raphael’s birthday. The Neutrinos do know how to party and if Michelangelo is the one who’s really having a good time, well. At least someone is.

This time they’re all still up at midnight and Raphael is sits in a flying car with a tremendous view over the biggest city in dimension X nervously watching the clock on the dashboard tick its way up.

Raphael wakes up in bed on his eighteenth birthday.

By the twelfth loop Donatello is out of ideas and increasingly upset when Raphael answers, “We tried that already,” to everything he suggests. He spends the afternoon and evening crashing furiously around his lab while Michelangelo tries to throw a party for Raphael anyway and Leonardo and Splinter both fret.

On the thirteenth loop Raphael doesn’t tell Donatello.

When Michelangelo greets him with, “Wake up, dude, it’s your birthday!” he gets out of bed mechanically.

Nothing feels real at this point. The pancakes look like the ones in adverts where the too perfect syrup is really motor oil. Raphael stares at them and wonders whether he’s doomed to an eternity of seeing these pancakes.

No one notices how out of it he is. They try to cheer him up the same way they did on the first loop, letting him pick the movies — he picks different ones — and not mentioning that he’s quiet and irritable.

Raphael wakes up on the morning of his eighteenth birthday for the fourteenth time and runs away from home. He has to move fast to be out of the way before Michelangelo comes to wake him up but he does leave a note.

I’m not celebrating my birthday this year. Please leave me alone and I’ll be back tomorrow.

Raphael

Michelangelo’s going to be really upset and they’re all going to worry, especially since he left his turtle comm behind, but it will all be the same tomorrow. Like it never happened at all. So how mean can it be, really?

He watches art house movies, sneaks into a live comedy show, and eats pizza on the roof at just the right distance from a loud concert. For today he can almost forget he’s in a time loop, after all he’s doing something different from yesterday.

It would probably take weeks to run out of things to do in New York, even once Raphael’s done the ones that really appeal to him. Even limited to things happening on a single day. It takes four days for him to no longer enjoy doing them alone. Even looping his birthday would be better than never seeing his family.

So he tries bringing them along.

It’s not even hard to convince them. “Hey, there’s a baseball game we can see from some roofs. I want to go.” There’s no argument, it’s his birthday, and they all enjoy a baseball game now and then.

But they bring the birthday with them. Not the banners, or the cake, or the food, but something less tangible. Everyone wants to talk about his birthday more than they want to talk about the game. Chatting about the past year, about the upcoming year, teasing him about past birthdays. Michelangelo sneaks cotton candy and crackerjack from the concessions stand and leaves money for it. Raphael is offered first pick and the others watch to see if he enjoys the snacks. Why does he hate that so much?

By the time they get home for the party dinner Raphael is snippy and sulking. He refuses to eat any cake.

Why did he miss these guys so badly, again?

Raphael wakes up on the morning of his eighteenth birthday for the nineteenth time and refuses to get out of bed. Michelangelo’s cheery wake up call is ignored and when Leonardo comes to shake him awake for lunch he just moans and vanishes into his shell.

Leonardo sits down and rubs his shell through the covers. “Are you not feeling well?”

“No,” Raphael mutters. Ill isn’t exactly what he’s feeling, but he thinks he deserves the sympathy.

“Try to get a bit more sleep then,” Leonardo says.

Michelangelo brings him soup for lunch instead of pizza and everyone sits around him while he eats. It’s somehow very different from the way they kept making him the centre of attention yesterday and even kind of nice.

Afterwards he curls up under the blanket again and it’s not long before he hears the soft, halting patter of rat feet mixed with the soft thud of a staff.

Splinter sits down on the bed and puts one hand against Raphael’s head to check for a fever. “Can you tell me what hurts, my turtle?” he asks.

Raphael sits up and then wishes he hadn’t when it makes him taller than Splinter. He’s always been taller than Splinter — at least since he stopped being palm-sized — but he would have liked to pretend otherwise. Maybe what he needs right now is a pair of big hands prepared to stop him walking his little flippers off the table.

“Uh, it’s not really…” he starts.

Splinter nods. “You are upset about your birthday?”

“No. I mean, yeah, but also I’m in a time loop.” It sounds abrupt and stupid said like that, Raphael groans. “Don’t tell Donatello, he already did his best. I don’t want to burst his bubble by telling him science is not always the answer.”

Splinter is quiet for a long moment and when he speaks it is slowly and thoughtfully. “I assume we were all aware of this at first?”

“Yeah.”

“And in previous loops I left it to Donatello to deal with?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s his thing, right? He said it was a time anomaly caused by all the time travelling lately, but —” Raphael takes a deep breath against the sting of tears. “But why is it just me? I mean, if Donatello’s right and the whole world’s repeating this day again and again without knowing, then maybe I’m the lucky one? But it doesn’t feel like that.”

“Hmm.” Splinter squeezes Raphael’s hands. “Science was never my field, but the mind can affect reality. Remember how I have taught you to reach for one another when meditating?”

“You think that would help?”

“Ah, probably not. But when you do that your feelings of connection to one another allow you to make an impression on the universe.”

“Are you saying I’m doing this to myself.” Raphael jerks away, wrapping his arms around himself.

“I doubt you would have the power to do anything so drastic. But whatever time anomaly is in play, your attitude towards this day may have entangled it with you. Let it go, if you can.”

Splinter pats his head gently and walks out, which, okay. Giving cryptic advice and walking off is sort of Splinter’s thing. It usually does help, in the end, but is this really the time for cryptic advice? Raphael sucks at interpreting it.

Still. He might not understand that whole thing about the universe, but a time loop that’s about you, personally, is the plot of Groundhog Day, right? The key to getting out of the loop is getting it right, living the day the way… he guesses, the way the universe wants you to. Great, he’s being bossed around by the cosmos.

Thinking about it the guy in Groundhog Day spent years in the loop and became a whole different person by the end of it. Raphael doesn’t want that. Sure, he’s a jerk, but he’s… he’s him. If he’s going to grow and change he wants to do it with the other turtles, not alone so he can become worthy of them. He just wants to get this day right quickly so he can go home.

Michelangelo brings him dinner on a tray with a bunch of balloons tied to it. There’s a slice of cake. Raphael nearly bursts into tears.

Raphael does everything right. Michelangelo is greeted that morning with equal cheer and compliemented on the pancakes. Leonardo is delighted when Raphael makes no objection to training on his birthday and gives it his all. Reminiscences, teasing, and even questions about the future are greeted without sarcasm. Raphael blows out the candles and wishes for this to be over before eating his piece of cake with a smile.

Raphael wakes up on the morning of his eighteenth birthday and wonders what he did wrong. Why it wasn’t enough. But that was only one try! He’s got to keep going!

So he does it again. And again.

Raphael wakes up on the morning of his eighteenth birthday after five tries at being good and decides that’s clearly not enough. He’s got to be perfect.

So maybe he’s more manic than cheerful when he answers Michelangelo’s wake up call with, “Good morning, my sweet Michelangelo. Breakfast smells absolutely amazing.”

When he greets the others with, “Good morning on this fabulous day!” Donatello gives him a Look. But he can’t let that discourage him! Embarrassment is a small price to pay for tomorrow.

He tells Leonardo that he couldn ’t possibly mind training with such a dedicated teacher. He insists on helping Michelangelo with lunch.

“He didn’t accidentally get hit with that personality changing ray again, did he?” he overhears Donatello asking Leonardo.

“I don’t know. Did you leave it lying around again?” Leonardo asks.

This is what they notice? Raphael thinks. Not him drifting through the day barely speaking. The time he refused to get out of bed they just thought he was ill. But if he’s nice something must really be wrong. Maybe he should use the personality altering ray. Maybe that’s the only shortcut to what the stupid universe seems to want.

Or maybe it doesn’t want anything and he’s only imagining there’s a way out.

Raphael wakes up on his eighteenth birthday and takes the day off from being nice. He can try again tomorrow. Or next week. Whenever. The only one it will make any difference to is him.

It’s not like he sets out to be nasty, it’s just a day where he’s not trying to be anything. He says good morning to Michelangelo, but curls back up to sleep until Leonardo wakes him for lunch.

He eats mini-pizzas and picks the movies, but complains that they’re all ones he’s seen.

“I don’t remember seeing the Snail that Slimed Tokyo?” Leonardo says.

“Yeah, me neither,” Michelangelo says.

“I must have watched it without you guys,” Raphael answers. “Definitely seen it, though. It eats the girl in this next scene.”

Michelangelo smacks him with a pillow and it’s worth it.

Everyone disappears shortly before dinner only to reappear and herd him over to the dinner table, set out with all the food Michelangelo cooked and a picture perfect birthday cake in the centre.

“Now it’s time to really get the party started,” Michelangelo enthuses.

“Can we not?” Raphael says, hopelessly. “Just this once, can we pretend it’s not my birthday?”

“Dude, come on, you only turn eighteen once.”

Raphael laughs and it catches in his throat like sandpaper. “Even if that was true,” he says. “Even if that was true. Even if this wasn’t an arbitrary day decided by Splinter and an arbitrary age decided by Leonardo, because our glorious leader is the boss of how old I am now. Even if turning eighteen meant anything to a turtle, if I could buy property, or vote, or, or smoke.”

“You definitely can’t smoke,” Leonardo interjects, alarmed.

“Right, see, there’s something else our fearless leader gets to decide. Even if I could smoke. Or gamble. Or, or, anything else, I still wouldn’t want to celebrate that. I am sick of you guys throwing a party for something I hate! All you want is an excuse for a day you, for some reason, enjoy! It’s selfish and stupid and I don’t even know why I want to be around friends like you. I hate my birthday and I hate all of you. If this party matters so much to you, you can have it without me.”

Raphael remembers his turtle comm can be tracked and throws it into the cake for emphasis before running out.

Stupid, he thinks, curling up against a random chimney pot. That was way overdoing not being nice today. He’s probably made Michelangelo cry.

Not that it’s going to matter. Tomorrow will wipe the slate clean.

Raphael decides to find a clock he can watch, see how long he’s got to wait before he gets the next do over.

It’s about four hours before Raphael is finally watching the clock tick down. He sighs and braces himself for waking up.

The hands meet at the top. The bell chimes. The minute hand moves on.

It is no longer Raphael’s eighteenth birthday and he’s got some apologising to do.

Raphael comes back at around half past midnight on the day following his eighteenth birthday to find Michelangelo pacing the floor in tears. He rushes over to grab Raphael’s shoulders and then immediately backs off.

“Sorry,” they both say.

Raphael blinks. “Why are you apologising?”

“For makin’ you celebrate. I didn’t know you hated it that much.”

“I’ve always hated my birthday.” It’s practically a family joke.

“Yeah, but, I shoulda known you really meant it. I just thought you were being grumpy about it, I didn’t know I was makin’ you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.” Raphael grabs Michelangelo around the shoulders, pulling him into a hug. “I really don’t. Ugh. I wouldn’t have said that if I’d known it was going to count. It wasn’t meant to matter.”

“Why would it not matter?” Michelangelo sounds horrified.

“Not like that. Would you believe I’ve been in a time loop? It’s been a couple of weeks. Nearly four? I’ve been trying to figure out how to break it but of course it breaks when I’ve just upset everyone and worried you all sick. Splinter said my thoughts were connected to the universe, he didn’t say the universe had it in for me. Although I really should have guessed.”

Michelangelo takes a moment to process that and then he says, “Oh yeah! Everyone is worried sick. I gotta call them,” and takes out his turtle comm. “Guys, you can stop looking, he’s here. Yeah, he’s okay, um, I think.”

Raphael leans over Michelangelo’s shoulder. “I’m fine. And I’m sorry.”

Leonardo says, “We’ll talk when we get home,” and shuts off the communicator.

“Think I’m in for a scolding?” Raphael asks lightly.

“Not if you tell them what you told me,” Michelangelo says. “Being in a time loop would drive anyone nuts.”

Raphael laughs because Michelangelo is so straightforward sometimes. Sure, they’ve all been through a lot of crazy stuff, but he’s still accepted Raphael’s explanation really fast.

“It was really scary, though, you runnin’ off like that,” Michelangelo adds. “Especially when you haven’t seemed like you wanna be part of the team sometimes.”

“You took that seriously?”

“Pretty hard not to when you and Donatello actually left.”

Leonardo and Donatello arrive soon after that, they must have been close by when they got the call, and Raphael explains about the time loop with a rundown of the less embarrassing moments. When he lays it out it doesn’t seem like he’s been through anything that bad. A month of birthdays, hanging out with his family.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t fix it,” Donatello says when he’s finished.

“Uh, hey, don’t do that. Not your fault,” Raphael says. He knows there’s nothing that can really make it okay when Donatello can’t help one of them, but he really wishes something could. “I’m sorry I snapped like that.”

“Do you really not want to be eighteen?” Leonardo asks. “You’re right, I’m the one who decided. It’s not like you have to be.”

“Eh. May as well be one year closer to tasting champagne.”

“Be honest,” Leonardo says. “I know you did tell us you don’t like celebrating your birthday and we brushed it off, but we’re listening now.”

“I. Ugh.” His leader is looking at him with big, sincere eyes that are less round now than they were a couple of years ago, but no less effective. “I don’t want to think about ages. We were never kids, we’re never really going to be adults. We’re never going to be allowed to be adults. Not unless turtle suffrage becomes a thing. So.” A deep breath. “And what does no longer being Master Splinter’s students mean? ‘Cause if it means we have to get jobs now I’d better not wind up doing birthday party gig work again.”

“We’re not going to split up,” Leonardo says, like there’s no irony in him being the one to reassure Raphael of that after the whole HAVOC thing. “That time when Splinter left us and we had to get jobs on our own was part of Splinter’s plan. It wasn’t practice for it happening for real. And I… I wouldn’t make that choice again.”

Raphael mutters, “Okay,” and blinks hard.

“Guess the universe was waiting for you to be honest about your feelings,” Michelangelo says, resting his chin on Raphael’s shoulder.

“If so that’s really unfair,” Raphael says. “I was being honest in the first place and I didn’t mean everything I shouted either. The universe has an anti-turtle bias. Then again, I’ve always suspected as much.”

“Cheer up, dude,” Michelangelo says. “It’s not your birthday.”

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday11 #tmnt 1987 #87 turtles #I genuinely did write this one in a day #and now I need to sleep #also shout out to the discord #for telling me what americans can legally do at eighteen #I think I brought up everything they mentioned by the end

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such-a-random-rambler · 3 months

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Febuwhump - Day 11

When John’s hologram appears it’s not the usual calm and put together brother, or controlled and professional Thunderbird Five that beams into the room. John’s hair is ruffled, his collar open and there’s a wild, distraught fire in his eyes.

“I can’t do this day again.” It’s half declaration, half desperate plea, running his hands across his face and through his hair. “I think I’m losing my mind.”

Scott’s on his feet, instantly concerned. “What’s wrong John?”

“I’ve tried everything I can think of, I’ve done this day over and over and over. I can’t watch you all die again.”

#febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday11 #time loop #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #john tracy

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what-the-whump · 3 months

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Febuwhump 2024 | Day 11 | ALT Last Man Standing

Power Rangers Mystic Force | 1x25 | The Hunter

#Power Rangers #Power Rangers Mystic Force #Nick Russell #Xander Bly #Vida Rocca #Madison Rocca #Chip Thorn #1x25 #hurt #shot #collapse #worry #support #febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday11 #febuwhumpalt10

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scratchandplaster · 1 year

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FEBUWHUMP 2023 DAY 11 - Fever

CW: disorientation, dub-con touch (non-sexual)

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Whumpee stirred under the covers, irritated by the pressure against their mouth. They tried to let out a disgruntled moan, only for the object of annoyance to tip closer towards their teeth.

The glass gave a light click, approaching carefully, and let its contents flow down Whumpee's sore insides. Instantly, they felt themself relax; the cool taste of water washing away the sticky feeling coating every inch of them, that let them simmer in misery. They wanted to thank their benefactor, drinking down the last sip and putting all their energy into a detailed speech of gratitude.

"Mhh," came out instead.

Even though their struggle was only rewarded with a sharp stab of pain behind their eyes, they prepared another attempt. Whoever it was needed to know they were conscious, not only to ask for more, but to also figure out who came to their aid. The lights overhead were too dim to see, blurring out their sight indefinitely.

"Shh, don't exhaust yourself." A pleasant voice above interrupted all their efforts, accompanied by a hand now stroking Whumpee's sweaty strands of hair away from their forehead. They didn't seem to recognize their company, but pushed that thought aside to enjoy the refreshingly cold touch that soaked them with little drops of relief.

"You started burning up tonight, so please rest for the time being. I'll take care of everything."

Nonetheless, Whumpee tried to see, to recognize the person beside them. Fighting weakly against the soft weight of blankets piled on top of their body, the hand wandered further down their face, cupping around their cheeks to hold them still.

It took only seconds before the writhing stopped, and they laid breathless in the stranger's embrace once again. The soothing fingers slipped even lower to tuck them back in tightly.

"Whumpee, you have to sleep through this. You're safe with me, nothing can happen to you here!"

Whumpee wondered how they knew their name, but exhaustion quickly moved that concern aside.

The shapeless sounds continued to whisper sweet words through the space between them, letting Whumpee drift off again; lulled by the knowledge of being secure in their care.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Febuwhump 2023 Masterlist]

@febuwhump

#but is it Whumper or Caretaker?!#or even better....Carewhumper 👀#whump #whumpblr #creative writing #whump community #whump prompt #febuwhump #febuwhump2023 #febuwhumpday11 #fever whump #sickfic #whump drabble #amnesia #sick whumpee #disorientation

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secret-bug-pain-blog · 3 months

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@febuwhump Day 11 - ALT PROMPT - Last Man Standing

Hello. Another alt prompt. A lot of them didn't really hit the spot, whump-wise, so we're sort of budgeting our replacements here - don't worry about the delay on the last two days, we were travelling and watching small children and not particularly available. This one's Fun Leif Activities!

Leif can't remember how long he's been here.

He stands over his teammates, tense and ready. There are monsters in these woods, beasts who will rip them asunder- beasts that have already done all too much after them. His wings are flared in a display of threat, his muzzle frozen over with icy fangs, his fur a bristling array of needles.

He can't remember what it was he was fighting. He can't remember why. It doesn't matter. His bones and his guts twist to suit his need. He bares his teeth at those he only knows as enemy, and he flares his wings, and he bites and scratches and shreds at those who get too close.

If they get to his teammates, then they're dead. If he loses, then they're dead. There is no room for error. There is no room for rest. There is no room for mercy.

(There's something wrong with his hands. There's something wrong with his eyes. There's something wrong with his antenna.)

Leif turns on his heel, baring fangs at yet another enemy. The warning he speaks is in a language he cannot comprehend. He has a program for it, somewhere, but he cannot run it now- too much space, too much processing. He has a duty, he must perform it well, he must perform it without error or falter or-

(He maintains the ice over their bodies. Preservation. Cryogenics. The brain doesn't begin to rot until the heart's been stopped for four to six minutes.)

Daggers of ice stop most enemies in their tracks. Yowled curses and slashing blows make up for the rest. His shell grates up against itself as he lunges, twisted at angles it was never meant to go. The discomfort doesn't matter.

He has to protect them. Or they will die.

(Brain activity fully ceases after ten minutes. The person is considered brain dead. To restart a heart, there must be some electrical activity remaining.)

He has to protect them. Or they will die.

(A bee's muscles will lock up in environments under 55° farenheight, preventing it from flying. When below freezing temperatures, a bee's body will slowly cease to function. Eventually, it will shut down entirely as its bodily fluids freeze.)

He has to protect them. Or they will die.

(A northern scarab beetle can persist in temperatures below zero for up to six hours at a time due to the minor warm-blooded adaptations present in the north and the high degree of insulation offered by their unique shell structure. Despite this, the species still relies on hibernation to survive the winter, much like its unawakened kin. Deprived of a burrow or shelter, they will still eventually die of exposure.)

He has to protect them. Or they. Will. Die.

ZM-28 bares its teeth at an enemy, barking out a warning in a language that it doesn't speak. The enemy does not heed it. Their chitin crunches beneath its ice, its claws, its teeth. They flee with nothing more inflicted than a handful of daggers, shoved into its shell. An acceptable margin of injury. A fix to be completed later. No significant detriment. The half-eaten ganglia severed are nonvital enough that they may not even need to be recombined.

Old programs whir in the back of its head. This place is wrong. It is not where it was meant to defend. Frozen moss crunches beneath its feet, rather than frosted tile. The subroutines imbedded in it tell it that it is at the wrong place. The core of its programming protests that it doesn't matter.

It is not a lab guardian. Something in it rejects the idea of being in a lab at all. It has a quarry, and that quarry must be defended. Its paws twist awkwardly under it as it moves to check on its quarries, touching up the ice that contains them.

It was not meant to die. It was not meant to be killable. It was built with immortality in mind, to fuel the continued survival of its creators. Its subroutines are carried to serve those creators once they succeed.

Its creators are gone, and its colony is dead and dying, and all that matters is to protect.

It flings an icicle at an enemy.

All that matters is to protect.

#whump #my posts #writing #bug fables #febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday11 #last man standing #leif's request spoilers #leif #unreliable narrator #altered perception #alt prompt #we only did one wash on leif bc we wanted to do writing today instead #so far we have done. checks. 5598 words #the grind neverending and et cetera this is our only pic of leif before our phones color correction blasted it into unrecognizability

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whumpinthepot · 3 months

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@febuwhump 2024

Day 11. Time Loop

—

A virtual reality simulation for soldiers to practice out on the field during war, its the same day every time with them being shot at and brutalized, putting them through a mind loop but what they do in the VR changes the outcome of what happens to them in it. They’re put through it so many times it causes mental damage and all of them have to do it, causing a group mentality or shared mindset. Its so realistic that it inflicts pain and emotional strain. Still, they have to do it every single day until they’re trained properly to be able to handle the real thing.

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday11 #febuwhump2024 #military whump #whump prompt #time loop #whump #breezys post

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em-writes-stuff · 2 months

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Time Loop

day 11 of @febuwhump

villain, hero, and superhero

1415 words

warnings: cursing, character death

Villain wakes up and rolls over, taking note of the time before gently shaking Hero’s shoulder. “It’s time to wake up, big day today.”

Hero grumbles and rolls over, eyes barely open. “Hey handsome.” he says with a smile. “Kiss?”

Villain rolls its eyes and shakes its head, “After you brush your teeth.”

Hero whines, but lets himself fall out of the bed, barely catching himself before he hits the floor. “But that’s gonna be forever,” He says, drawing out the words.

“Then you better hurry up,” Villain says, pulling a pair of shorts on. “But still brush for two minutes. A fast two minutes.” it pokes its head into the bathroom and points to the clock. “Definitely one hundred and twenty seconds though.”

Hero rolls his eyes and makes a show of putting the toothpaste on the toothbrush before Villain turns out of the bathroom.

Villain gets Hero’s things together, packing his clothes back in the overnight bag and throwing a few things he’d forgotten past times in too.

Hero runs out of the bathroom and stands in front of Villain expectantly. “Kiss?”

With a bright smile, Villain obliges and gives Hero a small peck on the lips. “You have to get going now though. Make sure Superhero makes it to the tower on time. None of your usual ‘running a few minutes late’ business, got it? This is important.”

Hero mock salutes and nods, “Yessir!”

They both walk to the door and Villain hands Hero his bag, “You better make it. Ok?”

“You’ve got a backup plan, right?” Hero asks playfully. Villain’s face darkens and it clears its throat, looking to the ground. Hero shakes his head and chuckles nervously. “I was only joking. It’ll work tonight; you have to believe it.”

Villain forces a smile and nods. It opens the door and pushes Hero out into the hallway. “You have to get back before Supervillain wakes up. She can’t find out. Go!”

For the next eight hours, Villain checks the clock constantly. It pops something in the microwave for lunch and moves things around in the house, but always has a clock in sight. It can’t be late.

Villain’s phone alarm goes off and it jumps up to turn it off. It takes a deep breath and gets dressed, it’s almost time to go.

Villain walks out the door, trusty dagger tucked into its belt and a worried expression on its face. It looks up and sees the tower. It’s nearly two stories tall, four legs that hold up a small, rickety platform. The ladder leading up to the platform is missing a few rungs, but not too many that getting up is overly difficult. Thank goodness for that.

Villain gets to the top without much trouble and sits in the middle of the platform, waiting for Hero and Superhero to meet it there. It peeks its head over the ledge and sees Hero’s car pull up to the base of the tower. Quickly, it pulls back and takes a deep breath.

The ladder starts to shake and Villain spreads its feet out below it to steady itself.

It can hear Superhero complaining below, “Hero, are you sure about this? It's a lot of trouble to take out one measly bad guy. How’do you even find out about Villain being here? It’s such a weird place and I’d think that it’d hole up in the ground somewhere, not up high. It just doesn’t make sense.”

Ouch, one measly bad guy? Superhero has to see it as more than that.

Hero chuckles, his voice closer than Superhero’s, “I have my ways. I can’t go and expose them to you, then you won’t have any reason to keep me around.”

They fall into an awkward silence and Villain wants to blow its cover just to tell Hero there’s so many other reasons to keep him around, but it keeps its mouth shut.

Hero’s full head of hair comes into view over the edge of the platform and he peeks his eyes over. His eyes light up and he pulls himself up the rest of the way quickly.

“Well?” Superhero calls from the ladder.

Villain and Hero roll their eyes at the same time and Hero pokes his head over the edge, “We beat it here. Now it’s a waiting game.”

Villain takes a step back and hides behind Hero to get as much surprise it can from Superhero. Hero turns his head to look at it and puckers his lips, he whispers, “Kiss?”

Villain smiles and obliges, pulling back a second later when Superhero’s hand grasps the edge of the platform. Hero turns his attention to her and takes a few steps forward to help her onto the platform.

For a split second, she doesn’t notice Villain. But as soon as she does, she grabs the gun on her belt and holds it against Hero’s temple.

“I fucking knew it.” she spits. “You two are working together.”

Hero struggles under her strength and he looks pleadingly at Villain.

“I just needed him to have us meet. I promise, I’m not going to try to do anything other than that.” Villain says, taking steps back to give Supervillain more space. “Let him go.”

She ignores Villain and grabs Hero by his throat. “How long have you been working against me?”

“I’m no- I didn’t. This is good for you, it’s gonna help, I promise. Just listen to Villain. Please.”

She holds him over the edge of the platform, “How long?”

“Two months!” Villain shouts. “Two fucking months. That’s it! I found him, told him my plan, practically forced him to follow through. He’s not betraying your trust, he’s trying to save his life.”

Hero shakes his head and tries to speak, but Superhero’s hand is crushing his throat.

“Two months?” she asks. “That’s a long fucking time to come up with a plan. The two of you have been doing something else, haven’t you?”

Hero shakes his head and his eyes dart to Villain, begging her to deny it.

It shakes its head, “Nothing else. There was never a good time for this to happen, we’d planned a few other times, but something always came up.”

She rolls her eyes, “Oh, whatever! You’re both fucking lying to me! There’s no way you’re not doing anything else!”

Hero’s head lolls to the side, his eyes barely open now. Villain lunges forward and pulls him back onto the platform.

“You’re killing him!” it shouts. Superhero lets it take him out of her hands and into its lap.

She looks down at them both and takes a deep breath. “If you want him so badly, you can keep him.”

She points the gun at his stomach and shoots without a second thought.

Hero wails in pain, writhing in Villain’s lap. Villain presses its hand against the wound and watches as Superhero disappears over the side of the platform, rattling the ladder as she makes her way down.

“Villain?” he asks, his hand suddenly on top of its. “Do you think I’m gonna die?”

Villain shakes its head and pulls Hero more into its lap. “No, you’re not going to die. I promise.”

“It feels like I might,” he says, voice trembling.

It presses harder onto his wound and looks at the sky, “No, you’ll be alright. I have a plan B.”

He shakes his head, “Don’t do it, it’s not worth it.”

It smiles painfully and nods, “I already made up my mind.”

It’s unforgivable for it to do something so selfish, something that serves no other purpose than to have another try to fuck today up. Villain leans its forehead against Hero’s and whispers, “Kiss?”

He sobs. “Please don’t do this.”

After a moment of them staring at each other, Hero resigns and lifts his chin, letting his lips meet Villain’s.

It smiles and waits for Hero to pull away. “Thank you.” It mutters, “I’ll see you soon.”

They both close their eyes and the world starts to spin for Villain. Hero disappears from its arms and the cold of the metal platform is replaced by the warmth of its bed. Clothes change from rough to smooth and before it knows it, Villain’s back in its bed.

Villain wakes up and rolls over, taking note of the time before gently shaking Hero’s shoulder. “It’s time to wake up, big day today.”

Hero grumbles and rolls over, eyes barely open. “Hey handsome.” he says with a smile. “Kiss?”

#febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday11 #time loop #time loop whump #villain #hero #superhero #villain x hero #superhero whumper #hero whumpee #em writes #em writes stuff #my writing #whump #whump fic

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needfantasticstories · 3 months

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[Febuwhump Day 11: time loop. TW: Major Character Death]

Chapter 11: For Want of Time

Thunder reverberated in the hills.

Legend and Hyrule walked near the back of the heroes with only Time behind them.

A swelling of power besides the looming storm grew heavy in the air, pressing in their ears and prickling their skin. Hyrule caught Legend's eye, and he knew from his companion's furrowed brow that he sensed it too: the growling, humming pulses of dark magic. No one else seemed to notice, but the pair slowed to a stop and looked around.

Time caught up to them, his armor clinking softly with each step. "What is it?" He too stopped and looked around.

Hyrule shook his head, and raised a quieting hand. It was fading. No. Moving. He had to listen with all his senses now.

There. Just beyond the next bend in the road. Hyrule pointed just as Legend drew his blade and shield.

"Something is coming fast," Legend confirmed, but too late.

A massive purple cloud rushed forward through the trees in a way no cloud would--clawing forward on its tendrils like a rampaging beast.

“Look out!” Hyrule shouted ahead to the others. I should have told them to look out sooner!

“Poison!” Legend yelled. But it was too late. It swarmed over the others like a tidal wave.

A heavy, gloved hand wrenched Hyrule back. He slammed into two bodies as a flash of blue enveloped them. Time had pulled him and Legend into his arms.

Hyrule gawked at the sight: a protective barrier encircled the three of them against the fog, and just in time. Purple and red swirls looped around the barrier and hand-like tendrils grasped and clawed, but just as quickly they faded.

The blue glow around them also dissipated.

“Check on the others!” shouted Time. He released the duo and pushed them forward, then bent over double to catch his breath.

Hyrule took only a few steps before he skidded to a stop. Legend slowed and drew close to his side.

This isn’t right! This can’t be right! Hyrule’s head swam.

The others were all dead. He didn’t have to touch them to see. Only skeletons remained of the men and boys he knew and loved. Wild’s blue tunic hung thin over a skeleton with one hand curled around Twilight’s arm guard. Four’s boots were barely visible under Sky’s sailcloth as the knight had tried to cover them both. Wind and Warrior lay in a mirror image of them under the soldier's royal blue scarf. A tiny wind nudged it, as if pleading them to get up, to move… The people Hyrule would kill for, and die for, no longer existed. He'd spent every waking moment with them for the last eight months, knew their secrets and fears and the flavor of their auras, which now had disappeared.

“No!” Time knelt at Twilight’s side, one hand hovering over his descendant, the other at his belt, as he looked at each of them. "My boys," He whispered. "Sky... how will any of us be..." He ran his hand through his hair, grabbing it viciously in his own fists.

Hyrule looked back over the corpses, and nearly bent double as his stomach thrashed, pushing its burning contents into his throat. Feeling unreal and weightless, he was at the side of the road, somehow. His muscles convulsed from his curling toes all the way up to his head as he vomited. Pressure surged upward into his head until his skin ached from the rushing blood, small vessels tingling as they burst while he heaved again and again. Sweat dripped from his brow. At last, his stomach unsteady but no longer clenching, he spat the bile and wiped sweat from his face only to look up and find Legend at his side caught in the same act. Despite being in no better condition, the Veteran put an arm around his shoulders and led him away from their respective messes and back to Time's side.

“We have to stick together,” he mumbled.

Hyrule felt like vomiting again. They would never be together again, not all of them. Not Warrior and Twilight and Four and--

“Boys! Take hold of my arms!” Time ordered in a gravelly voice, raw from tears he must have shed too quietly for them to hear. The man stood tall, looking down at the small blue ocarina he always carried. “Take my arms and don’t let go until I say so. This has to work, and I don't... I want to do this alone. Not if I can help it.”

The woods were so quiet. Hyrule nearly tripped as he ran to him. He kept his eyes on Time to keep himself from seeing the clothes hanging limp on the road until at last he clutched Time’s arm, solid and strong. The soldier already had the ocarina to his lips, and when Legend grabbed hold of Time’s other elbow, the first note filled the air. The tune surrounded them. The sun and the shadows at the feet jerked back a little.

Suddenly, Hyrule was not facing the same direction, nor was he holding Time’s arm. Instead, he walked beside Legend, exactly where he’d walked shortly before it all went so wrong. The same birds as before sang their tunes in the trees. The little magic auras of the plants and insects were the same. On the road ahead, like a vision from the divine, walked Wild, Twilight, Wind, Warrior, Four, and Sky. Alive. Healthy. Wearing their own flesh as they should, scars and slumped shoulders and all.

He turned to Legend, who gaped back at him with just as much shock as Hyrule felt.

“Boys, do you see anything?” Time asked urgently, running up from behind and grabbing their shoulders. “Where does the fog come from?”

“Time… what… what just happened?” Legend demanded. “What is that thing? Is it Nayru’s?”

“It’s a sacred relic from Zelda, one I would never use except…” Time scowled as he put it back on his belt, and sighed. “That can’t be how it happens. They need to live. Sky, he needs his Sun and then Wind… and if they don’t....”

“This could unmake everything,” Legend guessed.

Time nodded.

“We’re not losing them. So we’re going to stop it from happening.”

“We’re back in time?” Hyrule watched the others continuing ahead without them. He wanted to run after them, to check them for injuries he knew they didn’t have. He just wanted to feel their heartbeats under his fingers, to make sure they were real. But he stayed by Time’s side as he slowly began to walk.

“We have ten minutes before it happens again. Let’s figure out how to stop it.”

Hyrule let out his lingering surprise as he exhaled, though his mind still raced with questions. “Maybe we can go another way? Up those hills?”

“Too steep. Unless we give them all pegasus boots, there’s no way we’ll make it out of this valley in time.

Hyrule looked around again, but saw nothing else. Yet he felt something, up in the hills…

“There!” Legend shouted, pointing to a copse of trees on a steep hill up where the road curved.

Between the magic of the old trees, Hyrule felt a darkness lurking in their shadows. The rest of the hill was bare except for vibrant green grass. Approaching unnoticed would be impossible. Hyrule never would have noticed if he hadn’t been looking for it, so strong were the golden-green humming magic of those ancient oaks. “I feel it too,” He told the others. “Something is hiding up there.”

Deciding what to do was trickier than Hyrule had hoped. They still hadn’t decided how best to find the source when a sound made them all pause.

Thunder reverberated in the hills.

“No!” Legend screamed, and Hyrule’s heart was with him, though he could not breathe in, let alone scream.

I can’t be here! I can’t relive this! The purple fog bellowed toward them. His brothers cried out in alarm, Sky pulling Four underneath his sailcloth, Wild grabbing Twilight’s arm, Wind clutching Warrior who loosed his cloak-sized scarf to cover them both…

Legend grabbed Time’s hand, and Hyrule shook free of his fear and hurried to do the same.

An eerie sound surrounded him. No, that note he’d heard before from the ocarina, and this time Hyrule felt the weight of it’s magic lifting him. Another and another note carried all around them. They slowed and then froze the fog and his brothers at once like a macabre painting.

The shadows jerked forward as the sun sprung back. The road whirled forward underneath the heroes.

They were back. Hyrule wiped the tear that fell down his cheek, and sniffed and cleared his throat. No use crying. They had brothers to save.

“I’m going to find out who he is.” he declared, letting go of TIme’s arm with only a moment of hesitation. He walked briskly toward the hill and readied his fairy spell.

“I’m coming.” Legend was at his side.

“That’s noble of you and all, but stay with Time. I have a disguise. No one suspects fairies, not even monsters.” And before either Legend or Time could protest, Hyrule had transformed and began flying up to the steep hillside.

He flew around the back of the copse. A magician in purple robes peered around a tree, holding open a book. It was small, but dense. The words on the page glowed red as the wizard chanted. Hyrule did not understand with his ears, but with his soul. It was the language of magic, each word filling the air with a heavy weight of power, of will.

Hunger. Soar. Kill. Consume.

The wizard lowered his hand, and turned around. Yellowed eyes fell heavy on Hyrule. He was pinned in place as he hovered.

He remembered a story: Aurora’s quiet tale of a wizard whispering poisonous words, one who corrupted her brother’s heart and turned him against her with lies and a lust for power. He recalled the horror on her face when he told her she’d lain a death-like sleep for a hundred years.

Shouts from the road told him the spell had worked. The deed was done, once more. This wizard had murdered his brothers.

The wizard flicked his hand, and Hyrule lurched sideways as if swatted by that hand. He tumbled head over heels in the air, beating his wings frantically to catch the wind. At last, he fluttered to a stop and flew upright.

Time! Legend! He raced as fast as his tiny wings could carry him around the mage, down the hill and through the trees and over the road.

The bodies lay on the ground, exactly as before, except one.

“Sky!” Hyrule shouted.

Time held the sky-knight. His face was white.

“I told him not to look,” Legend muttered.

“What happened?” Hyrule asked Legend, who knelt at Wild’s boots. His face was pale and scowling, tears gleaming down his cheeks.

“I could only save one.” Legend spoke thickly to Hyrule as he took his Hylian form, his voice still heavy from crying, and he gestured toward Sky. “I tried to warn him not to look.”

Hyrule could not help himself. He glanced at Four, and regretted it. A small, lonely skeleton lay there. He swallowed to keep the bile down.

“You could have died, going off like that, Rulie!” Legend’s eyes were bright with new tears, but sharp with anger too.

“Time was going to reverse it anyway, and I saw who did it. I know what happened.”

Time rubbed the Skyknight’s back as his crying stilled. “Sky, we’re going to go back and reverse this. We need you to help us.”

The knight sniffed, and pulled out of Time’s steadying hold, finding his own strength.

“How? What do you mean you can reverse this?”

Time held up the ocarina. “From my Zelda,” he explained, “I can’t use it lightly, but for this… I think Zelda would agree. We can go back to five minutes before this happens. I hoped it would give us more.”

Sky stood in shock, not moving at all. At last he turned to Legend, keeping his eyes away from the carnage. “Why me? Why did you save me , out of everyone? Wild was right there...”

“I wasn’t really thinking. I saw her, and I just…”

“Fi?” Sky reached back and touched her hilt.

Legend nodded.

Hyrule ran to Sky and embraced him. It felt so good to see at least one more of them survive. Sky hugged him tightly back.

“We can do this. We can save the rest of them!” Hyrule said to them all, “It’s a wizard casting a consuming spell. I’ve never seen it before, but I know the feel of it. It’s what Ganon used when he came to power. It wrecked my era. But he’s casting from a spellbook, and I don’t think he can cast without it. If we take it before he begins the spell, we might have a chance. Even if it’s just enough to buy the others time to run.”

“A wizard?” Time said, “Is that like a Sage?”

“I suppose so. They’re wicked. They use spells for curses or to threaten people and to gain power for themselves. Zelda Aurora was cursed by one who tricked her brother. They’re some of Ganon’s strongest supporters in my time. But I’ve learned they usually don’t pay attention to simple things: simple travelers, lone fairies. He swatted me away, and that was it. We can go back, and we can stop him!”

“Did you have a plan in mind?” Time raised his one unscarred eyebrow.

“Yes.”

Soon after, the notes of an ocarina carried over the heroes.

(To Be Continued...)

#linked universe #linked universe fanfic #lu hyrule #lu legend #lu time #skipwrites #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday11 #tw character death #tw dead body #now make those previous two plural #tw vomiting

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