theres no possible way for us to be stuck in a timeloop since time doesnt exist normally in space, obviously
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Chapter 3: Fight, flight or freeze
Warnings: homophobia, violence, slurs, attempted suicide.
Please read tags.
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Chapter 3 of my timeloop is up, in case anyone feels like reading some terrible experiences today.
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If you don’t trap them in a time loop and commit suicide every time is it really love??
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theres no possible way for us to be stuck in a timeloop since time doesnt exist normally in space, obviously
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Minute 023
Calendar malfunction detected. It is now both Thursday and Not Thursday. Proceed accordingly.
Blort: “We regret the inconvenience.”
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Timeloop experts:
When you have a workout in one iteration, are you tired the next iteration? Do you grow muscle if you work out many iterations? Do you get fat if you eat like shit and don’t work out in the loop? Or does your body fully reset to the start state?
I’m asking because I’m in a timeloop and think it’d be funny if I get out looking very different, so to the perception of others it will look like I suddenly transformed overnight
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🎧 The Receipt That Knew My Name
A story centered on a coincidence so unhinged it refuses to be ignored
The receipt fell out of a library book I didn’t remember checking out.
That alone wasn’t alarming. Library books are time travelers. They collect bookmarks, grocery lists, old bus transfers, dried flowers, love notes written in shaky ink. But this receipt didn’t belong to the book, or the library, or this year.
It was dated April 14, 1998.
I was eight years old in 1998. I did not buy coffee then. I was more of a juice box professional.
The receipt said otherwise.
One large black coffee.
No sugar.
No cream.
Paid in cash.
Under the total, scribbled like an afterthought, was my full name. First, middle, last. Spelled correctly, which almost never happens.
I stood there between the fiction stacks while the air conditioner rattled overhead, feeling like the building had leaned in closer. Libraries have that way about them. They know things. They wait.
I checked the book’s checkout slip. Today’s date. My handwriting. No prank potential. No helpful explanation waving from the shadows.
I folded the receipt and slid it into my pocket like it might escape.
On the walk home, coincidences began stacking themselves like unpaid bills.
The streetlight at the corner flickered three times, then held steady. The number on the bus roaring past was the same number my father used to call lucky. The song drifting from an open car window was the one my mother sang while cleaning on Sundays, off-key and unapologetic.
I told myself it was nothing.
People say that right before things become very much something.
At home, I made coffee without thinking. Black. No sugar. No cream. I didn’t notice until the mug was already in my hand.
My phone buzzed.
A notification from a calendar app I barely used.
Meeting reminder
April 14
3:30 PM
No title. No notes. Just a location.
The address made my stomach drop.
It was the coffee shop from the receipt.
The one that burned down twenty years ago.
I laughed. Not because it was funny. Because laughing felt like a life raft. I checked the app. No glitches. No typo. The reminder had been created years ago, according to the details. Long before I owned this phone. Long before cloud backups became the quiet gods they are now.
I did not want to go.
That didn’t matter.
At 3:28 PM, my feet were already moving.
The coffee shop wasn’t there, of course. The lot had been repaved, repainted, repurposed into something sterile and forgettable. A dentist’s office squatted where warmth used to live.
Except.
At the far edge of the parking lot, behind a stand of stubborn trees, stood a narrow brick building I had never seen before.
A single door.
A flickering sign.
OPEN.
I checked my watch.
3:29 PM.
The bell above the door chimed when I stepped inside. The smell hit me first. Burnt beans and something sweet. Cinnamon maybe. Or memory.
The place was empty except for one person behind the counter.
They looked up and smiled like they’d been waiting all day.
“Black coffee?” they asked.
My throat tightened. “Do I know you?”
They tilted their head. “Not yet. Sit. It’ll make sense faster if you sit.”
I did. Because apparently that’s who I am now. A person who sits.
They poured the coffee before I could protest. The cup slid across the counter and stopped perfectly in front of me.
No logo. No branding.
Just my name written on the side in familiar handwriting.
My handwriting.
“I didn’t write that,” I said.
They shrugged. “Depends which direction you’re standing in time.”
I stared. “This is a prank.”
“Sure,” they said easily. “That’s what you said last time too.”
The word last echoed uncomfortably.
They leaned forward. “You found the receipt.”
“Yes.”
“And the reminder.”
“Yes.”
They smiled wider. “Good. You’re early today.”
A laugh escaped me, sharp and brittle. “Early for what?”
“For understanding,” they said. “Or repeating. Hard to tell which one you’ll pick.”
The walls seemed to hum, like a refrigerator in a quiet house.
“You were here once,” they continued. “April 14, 1998. You were upset. You didn’t understand why your parents were arguing. You ran out. You followed a smell of coffee that didn’t exist yet.”
My hands went cold.
“I didn’t drink the coffee,” they said. “You did.”
“That’s impossible.”
They tapped the counter. “And yet.”
A memory stirred. Fuzzy. Unreliable. Standing on tiptoe. A cup too hot for my hands. A voice telling me it was okay. That I’d be fine. That some things just repeat until you learn how to stand differently inside them.
My heart thudded hard.
“You wrote the reminder,” they said. “Years later. You didn’t remember why. You just knew April 14 mattered.”
“And you?” I asked. “Who are you?”
They hesitated. Just long enough.
“I’m the part of you that noticed the pattern,” they said. “The one that stopped calling it coincidence.”
I pushed the cup away. “This is insane.”
“Absolutely,” they agreed. “But insanity doesn’t rule out accuracy.”
The bell chimed again.
Someone else entered.
I turned and felt the floor tilt.
It was me.
Older. Tired around the eyes. Familiar in a way mirrors never manage.
They froze when they saw me. Then sighed.
“Oh good,” they said. “You finally came.”
I looked between them and the barista. “How many of me are there?”
“Enough,” the older me said. “Too many, sometimes.”
They sat beside me, their presence warm and unsettling. “Every time you ignore the signs, you end up back here. The universe has terrible patience.”
“Why?” I whispered.
They looked at the cup. At the name. At the receipt now burning in my pocket like a secret that wanted out.
“Because you keep walking past the moment that changes everything,” they said. “And the moment gets tired of waiting.”
The barista nodded. “Today’s a convergence. That’s rare.”
“Lucky me,” I muttered.
The older me smiled sadly. “You can walk away again. Forget this. You’re good at that.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then the coincidences stop being cute,” they said. “They become choices.”
Silence settled. Thick. Heavy.
I picked up the cup.
The coffee was perfect. Exactly how I liked it. Always had.
I looked up at myself, younger and older and reflected and repeating.
“I guess,” I said slowly, “I’m done pretending this is random.”
The older me laughed. Relief cracking through it. “Took you long enough.”
The barista rang a bell I hadn’t noticed before.
The walls hummed louder.
Outside, the world waited, rearranging itself politely.
Crazy coincidence.
Or maybe just the moment when patterns finally get tired of whispering.
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Can someone put me in a timeloop that lasts like 6 months? The spectre of the future looms over me and haunts me in my dreams, and I think having the loss of urgency would be nice
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In honour of the Day of the Hog of the Ground, here is a timeloop writing prompt. Use it however you wish. But please tag me in any stories written by you that follow it.
You are in a time loop. You have read stories about time loops for several decades. You have been waiting for this moment for as long as you can remember. Your first decision is to commit suicide. When the loop resets, everyone forgets you did it, as you expected… but they also forget your very existence. You kill your childhood bully… the same thing happens. Everyone except you forgets that person existed. You keep on killing, keeping in mind that the loops could break at any moment and reminding yourself not to kill more than one person per loop. After you kill the wizard who put you in the loop, you lose your own memories of the loops and murders you have done.
Link
turn the hourglass (turn it again) - Chapter 1 - Anonymous - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga) [Archive of Our Own]
Chapters:
3/3
Fandom:
僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga)
Rating:
Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings:
Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Relationships:
Bakugou Katsuki & Midoriya Izuku, Bakugou Katsuki & Todoroki Shouto, Bakugou Katsuki & Jirou Kyouka
Characters:
Bakugou Katsuki, Midoriya Izuku, Todoroki Shouto
Additional Tags:
Mentioned Jirou Kyouka, Mentioned Todoroki Shouto, Mentioned Yagi Toshinori | All Might, honestly only wonderduo are significant characters here, Time Loop, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Whump, Bakugou Katsuki Whump, Midoriya Izuku Whump, Heavy Angst, Temporary Character Death, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sad with a Happy Ending, Tired Bakugou Katsuki, Bakugou Katsuki Needs a Hug, Soft Bakugou Katsuki, Protective Bakugou Katsuki, Bakugou Katsuki & Midoriya Izuku are Best Friends, Bakugou Katsuki & Midoriya Izuku Friendship, Characters Are Pro Heroes (My Hero Academia), Hugs, Platonic Cuddling, that ones for me, Soft Midoriya Izuku, Protective Midoriya Izuku, Bakugou Katsuki is So Done, Bakugou Katsuki is a Mess, Worried Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku is a Dork, i would die for him, so would katsuki, Bakugou Katsuki Loves Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku Loves Bakugou Katsuki, those are tags, Im losing it, Bakugou Katsuki is a Good Friend, Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Hurt Midoriya Izuku, Bakugou Katsuki is Bad at Feelings, Burns, #LET_IZUKU_EAT_HIS_CEREAL, no beta we die like men, Implied/Referenced Suicide, No Romance, we dont do that here, Platonic Relationships, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort
Series:
Part 5 of Itski’s bnha fics
Summary:
“Izuku.” He stared on in horror, “The day. What day is it?”
Getting back on his feet, Izuku’s arms started flittering around Katsuki, but he made no moves to reach out. Still, his face scrunched up and his head tilted to the side, “It’s Wednesday…”
And Katsuki’s world turned on its head.
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Katsuki gets stuck in a timeloop, Izuku keeps dying. He’s not gonna give up, especially on Izuku.
Or,
The author loves timeloop aus and also Izuku whumps and also wonderduo and had way too much fun killing the green bean over and over (katsuki suffers)
UPDATES DAILY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
[fic/n: this work contains graphic depictions of violence]
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oh you’re in her dms? ever spent 8 years stuck in a time loop hoping you can save her, only to lose her in the end every single time, yet you’d rather dance this dangerous waltz with time and space because living without her is pointless? yeah, didn’t think so
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ever since i was a little girl ive known i wanted to be stuck in a timeloop
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please ignore all of my previous posts from today. I did not realize I made it out of the timeloop
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The Clock Resets and…
You wake up. Immediately grabbing a nail by your bed to scratch a new number on the back of your hand to wake you up more. Before charging out the door to your workshop.
You have 12 hours, you cannot be late. You used to put a sign up telling others why you were still closed but you have long sense found it wastes time.
Your first few attempts had you try making a sword and shield that could hurt the thing but this time you are hoping to find something more substantial. You look at the watch on your wrist, you have 11 hours and 54 minutes after you scarf down some nutrients while you plan, its been long since you bothered to care about taste.
Looking at the scrap metal you get an idea, thinking about how much chemical propellant you can get as you begin to clamp metal into place and fire up your welder.
You hum your tune to the beat of your drum as you test out the firing mechanism and dryfire it. A few different types and attempts and you find the one with a hammer to cockback is the best system.
With that you focus on making the ammo. If its small you can make more with your limited materials but if its bigger you get more bang for your buck. However you look at the launcher and realize you will need to carry it to the top of the tower and internally groan as you check the time. 8 hours remaining.
After a hard fought internal debate you decide to make 90mm shells. And begin working on the trigger mechanism for the explosive.
You work on a two stage system, one for the shell to get up to speed that starts a burner fuse and then an activator in the cap or tip.
The main explosive was the hardest but you decided to mix a simple explosive out of fuel and fertilizer. You hope the failure rate will be less that 60%
With all the shells made you begin to fill them and carefully seal them. You have 4 hours left.
You begin to take the weapon apart to carry it to the tower as you hum.
After you finish setting up you look out into the desert with a simple sandwich and your favorite tea. Its sweet and earthy notes with a tinge of mint and spice linger on your tongue before you look back over the city.
It runs like clockwork. Unaware of the horrors they will soon face. At one point you tried to warn them but too many times you were labled crazy and it prevented you from helping anyone.
Eventually you settled on solving this yourself. You spent who knows how many loops reading books on all sorts of subjects for your weapons.
You have picked up and dropped many hobbies over the loops but people watchong is something that somehow calms the mind still. You know how everyone will act because of it too.
You watch as your favorite postgirl finally confesses to her girlfriend and proposes, like watching a favorite rerun on TV you mouth their lines perfectly. A feeling on envy quickly being snuffed out. You would have time to get a girlfriend after this was done.
You watch another area of the city where a bartender helps out a drunk woman cry her heart out and comfort her. You like to imagine they end up together.
Its funny, you have watched all these people through each time but you never got to know what happens after. You check your watch, 5 minutes remain.
You sit in your chair and arm the first charge before loading it and aiming. Your reloading mechanism ready to be tested.
From the dwpths of the sand the mechanical monster comes out with bright red lights, its children crawling out of its arms like little scarabs. You aim for the head and fire. Only for a laser to cut through it and knock you back.
As you lay bleeding you press a button on the clock and watch as…
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Answer
OH COME ON AHHGUOHIAODFGIOHASLDKGJASDHDFJASKDJF LOADS GUN SHOOTS MYSELF IN THE HEAD THERE ONE LOOP DOWN