#loops is (micro) writing

[pretentiouswreckingball]

falling behind

for @jegulus-microfic prompt: hands (wc: 780)

“I can’t do it,”

“Of course you can!”

“I don’t want to. Good luck dying,”

“No one is going to die Regulus, stop being dramatic,”

“Dramatic?” Regulus snaps at him, “we are on a hanging wooden bridge, 61 meters from the ground with no harness or safety measures whatsoever and you are calling me dramatic?”

James looks around at the wooden bridge, moving a little making the bridge move with him, then he shrugs.

“Seems pretty sturdy to me.”

From the way Regulus is glaring at him, James knows he wants to punch him in the face but it’s too busy holding onto the rail for dear life.

James huffs a laugh at the same time a voice calls from the other side of the bridge.

“Oi, are you coming or what?” Sirius calls, the others seems further away following the trail but Sirius seems to be waiting for them both.

James turns around and it only takes one look at Regulus' pale face to know he’s not letting that rail go anytime soon.

He turns around to Sirius.“We are going in a minute, why don’t you guys ahead? we'll catch up with you later,” he assures him.

Sirius seems a little hesitant, looking behind James, at his brother, but eventually he nods.

“Alright, see you guys in a bit, don’t take too long,”

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” James calls back watching Sirius disappearing between the trees.

He turns back to Regulus.“I have an idea,” he says.

Regulus scowls at him, sensing what’s coming. “It better be good,”

“It is, don’t think you’re going to like it though,”

“Oh?”

James doesn’t say anything, he only holds a hand in front of Regulus.

As soon as he understands the offer, he shakes his head furiously. “Absolutely not, I’m not six years old James, I don’t need you or anyone to hold my hand just because I can’t seem to cross a stupid bridge!”

James remains silent, waiting. His palm up, open, inviting. Waiting for Regulus whenever he’s ready.

It takes some time, not as much as James thought it would but enough that his hand is getting heavy. Regulus is still holding onto the rail with both hands but little by little, his grip loses and he lets his right hand move away from the rail and towards James' outreached hand.

When Regulus’ hand is finally on top of his, James intertwines their fingers together. He squeezes once before he takes a step forward, nudging Regulus to follow him.

He does, one hand still gripping the rail and the other gripping James’ so tightly it’s kind of cutting his circulation but James never let go.

When they are one third through the bridge Regulus’ grip gets even tighter and when James looks at him, he notices it’s because he’s looking down at the dangerous river running wildly below them.

“Hey,” James calls him and Regulus’ gaze snaps up. “Eyes on me, love,”

A faint blush covers Regulus’ cheeks but he doesn’t acknowledge that, instead he says, “Tell me something, anything, before I lose my mind over here.”

James seems to think it over but when he settles for something, he smiles sheepishly at Regulus. “Did I tell you the time a bunch of street dogs chased me for five blocks trying to get a hold on my burger?”

Regulus shakes his head, trying to fight back a smile.

James is gesturing wildly, recalling the events with so much enthusiasm Regulus keeps laughing whenever he tries to impersonate the dogs.

Regulus' eyes don’t leave James’ for a second.

And before they know, they are at the end of the bridge.

They come to a stop.

“We did it,” Regulus says, looking at the trail in front of them. James nods.

“Yeah, we did,”

Neither of them move. Neither of them let go of each other. Because moving away from the bridge means moving away from each other.

James is breaking his head trying to come up with an excuse to stretch their moment a little longer but he can’t seem to get a word out of his mouth.

Regulus can.

“Did I even tell you the time a squirrel stole my lunch?” he says softly, still looking at the path in front of them.

James’ chest feels warm at the confirmation that Regulus doesn’t want to let go either. He grins when he looks at him. “No, you haven’t,”

Regulus finally looks back, a smile tugging at his lips. “It’s surprisingly a long story,”

“I happen to have time,”

They walk away, chatting and laughing, unconsciously gravitating towards each other, like they can’t help themselves.

They are still holding hands.

[grandwretch]

I still think time loop would have fucking bumped </3

[atamascolily]

I was trying to write out my thoughts about Homura and Walpurgisnacht's relationship, but I think what best encapsulates them at the moment is actually an image: the M.C. Escher lithograph Drawing Hands (1948).

Drawing Hands is first and foremost a paradox, with each hand rising out of a two-dimensional world to create the other and no beginning or end. In his book Godel, Escher, Bach: An Essential Golden Braid, Douglas Hofsteader uses it to represent the concept of a strange loop: a system (like consciousness or a musical fugue) that moves through multiple iterations, only to finally return to its starting point.

I first encounter this image juxtaposed with the Jorge Luis Borges micro-story, "Borges and I", which is--among many other things--a doppelganger story dealing with questions of identity and the boundaries between one person and another. The story ends with a confession: "I do not know which of us has written this page." The question that I ask now is, does it even matter? Is it truly either/or, or both/and?

The story of Madoka Magica is ultimately circular in nature. This is true of individual installments (here taking the anime episodes collectively as a unit), and I suspect it will ultimately be true on a collective level as well. I fully expect that the last shot of the final installment--whether Walpurgis no Kaiten or some other sequel--to end with the same imagery we saw in the "Prologue in Heaven" that opens the first episode of the anime. The end is the beginning is the end is the beginning--except that everything has changed as a result of the story that has been told; we now have the fully context to appreciate it for what it was all along.

In the anime, Walpurgisnacht created Homura by showing up in that first timeline and killing Madoka, thus inspiring Homura to make a contract and become a magical girl to save her. Thus it would be narratively fitting if Homura's actions--whether directly or indirectly, intentional or unintentional--lead to the creation of Walpurgisnacht, each of them giving rise to the other in turn.

After all, this is the same relationship between magical girls and witches in general--one creates the other in a never-ending loop, at least until Madoka wishes to change the cycle. Even here, the cycle remains a cycle--as evidenced by the name "Law of Cycles": the nature of the loop changes but not its structure.

The shape created by the hands in Drawing Hands is eerily reminiscent of the twofold tomoe, a Shinto symbol composed of two looping swirls, which itself is similar to the Chinese ying and yang symbol. A similar design appears in both Walpurgisnacht's mandala and Homura's shield--just as they are united in their shared motifs of cogs and gears, they are also linked by their connections to the cycle of creation and destruction.

Drawing Hands is also a good metaphor for Madoka Magica in that it involves transcending two dimensions, just as Madoka Magica's animation incorporates three-dimensional objects on a regular basis. It also suggests at the possibility of a world outside of the narrative presented in the story, that everything we've witnessed on screen is in fact a tale unfolding in-universe as well. It's also an excellent metaphor for Rebellion in particular, which explicitly incorporates Homura's floating hands ("blue-screened" to indicate they are visible only to the audience) actively puppeting the Nightmares and building the "stage" in her labyrinth upon which the entire psychodrama takes place.

Oh, and I'd be lying if Drawing Hands didn't make me think of this shot from the original series, too, although both the position and the underlying symbolism are different:

(something something Madoka's wish to save all magical girls with her own hands something something--look, there's a lot of hand imagery in this show, okay?)

That said, given Homura's salamander/lizard motif, perhaps a different M.C. Escher drawing, Reptiles (1943) will prove to be an equally fitting representation of her journey in the end.

We've already seen the salamander representing the "Dark Orb" move from two to three dimensions (and become a phone!) in the trailer for Walpurgis no Kaiten, so who knows what the movie has in store for us?

[rinnysega]

Any advice on how to make progress on a writing project while dealing with emotional/mental fatigue? I’ve wanted to work on my book for MONTHS now but between irl stress and overall fatigue making me feel like all I have the energy for is just watching YouTube and scrolling social media, which just makes me feel worse for not writing. I just miss being in that headspace where I can write for hours at a time.

I understand your sentiment. I went through this recently too and only just got out of it around the end of last year.

Without knowing any details of your irl stress, considering this has lasted a few months for you, I'd first ask if its something in your power to change. I've found it's hard to be creative in an unhealthy environment too, but even harder to make changes to that unhealthy environment if it's something familiar or comfortable or might be too upsetting to change. We're creatures of habit that tend to get stuck in loops and patterns, and if any of those sound like something you're going through that causes mental or emotional stress and fatigue, I highly recommend taking steps to break those patterns or remove certain stressors. Any small changes or accommodations to your overall mental health is something I highly encourage first and foremost.

If they're stressors out of your control, and scrolling YouTube or social media is your coping patterns for the stress while in fatigue, that's something that can be hard to break too. I'm guilty of it myself, like even today I scheduled my day to write, but I got hit with a massive bout of burnout and ended up taking a five hour nap while some YT played in the background. I felt bad too when I woke up that I didn't get to my schedule today, but lately I've been reminding myself that I've been doing well, and my body speaks to me when it's time for a recharge. There's no shame in resting, so I recommend allowing yourself that time to recharge without feeling guilty for not writing. Your body needs it and you can't be your most creative self without taking the time to rest, hydrate, and whatever else your body needs.

If you find it's hard to break away from something like YT while in burnout, I'd ask yourself what kinds of videos are you watching? Something you've seen before like old comfort channels or something new? I'd recommend trying to find content that relates to your work and have it on for "research purposes" to help keep your project in mind while you relax.

Back in late 2023, I was still kind of stumbling through some recent changes to how I navigate in the world post-autism/cptsd dx, but I wanted to write and not have that feeling of guilt too. In my book, one of the timelines takes place in 1995, so I'd put on old 90s commercials, video essays of the decade, etc, and basically be a couch potato when the fatigue hit while it got absorbed. If I came across something interesting, I'd make little notes to myself and tell myself "you're technically writing!" to keep that guilty feeling at bay. The best part is it's technically true! Once I got to a better place where I could sit down and write something, I already had a bullet list of interesting things to include in the novel related to the culture and history of the time period, and the scenes felt very natural to type out since I already did some of the legwork in my couch potato era.

Writing for yourself is very therapeutic and healing in its own way, so if you'd like to tackle subjects that connect to your stressors that could be a way to keep writing if you absolutely feel the need to write. Even if it's not part of a main story or project you're working on, sometimes the habit of sitting down to write small micro fictions of your day as a journal entry with characters or familiar settings can be helpful in getting back into the swing of it.

The most important thing I'd like for you or anyone to take away is that it's okay to take time off and there's no need to feel ashamed of that. I took off all summer of 2023 from writing because at the time, everything felt so big and overwhelming and scary, and I'm very glad I did. I focused on the areas of my life that needed improvement so I could be healthy and live a better life as a recognized autistic adult. I knew it wouldn't last forever, and maybe the temporary aspect is what made it easier. Maybe set a goal post so you feel more in control of your schedule, even if it's something small for now. Point is, the time I needed made me feel more relaxed and energized when I came back to the blank page last fall, and now I finished my book! I'm doing revision work and I wrote short poems and works, some of which are getting published next year! If 2022/2023 Erin knew that? She'd think you were lying lol

Sometimes we just need those few months off while we go through changes or transitional eras of our lives, and there's no shame in it at all! Just remember your stories and projects are worth telling, but shame doesn't help at the end of the day. Just do your best each day, and before you know it, those days will add up to the next moment of your life when inspiration strikes and you write your next big thing

I hope this helped. Just remember, everything is temporary, and life happens in ebbs and flows like water. You'll be back to that headspace, but just remember to take care of yourself first and give yourself the love you need until you get there.

[yaoi-reading]

I could write a huge list of thing that russians took away from me.

And one of them is desire to do anything at all. It is fun to write about the most interesting you've read in 2023, because part of it is anticipation to look back at this post years later and compare with your current taste, interests and so on. I can no longer do it. I am not sure will I be alive at the end of this year, or will my city be free and unoccupied, or will Ukraine still exist, or will western politician not push us to sign some agreement with russians-terrorists-occupiers which equals death sentence in the future to all of us. And those ruminating thoughts are quite exhausting. But nonetheless I decided to make the list of the manga that caught my attention in 2023. Previous versions you can find here (2021) and here (2018).

4-gatsu no Tokyo wa by Haru - ok, I've got nostalgic feelings from this manga, the mood, the tropes and the vibe reminded me bl manga of early 2000s but with updated setting and more modern. And I enjoyed it so much.

Play After Call by Ohtako Mame - not a fan of dom-sub universe stories but the art, storytelling, characters and chemistry between them are top notch

Ao no Flag by KAITO - coming of age story about friendship (and love)

Saezuru Tori wa Habatakanai by Yoneda Kou - at some point i started unironically to wonder maybe the only valid reason not to die is to read next chapter of my favourite manga. Love love love it to pieces.

Bokura no Micro na Shuumatsu by Marukido Maki - ok, i love Marukido Maki, I could read anything written by her. Maybe it is not the best but I remember reading this story about the end of the world before going to sleep and wondering if I wake up next day and continuing to read it during russian massive missile attacks while hiding in the basement and hearing explosions outside.

Ore wo Shiranai Kyou no Kimi by Tonda Moko - time loop and time travel

Totsukuni no Shoujo by Nagabe - gem from Nagabe and once again manga that I read mostly during air raids in the basement. This manga is licensed and translated into Ukrainian. And I am so happy about it! Great story about loneliness and isolation.

60-okubun no Futari by Denzou - dark and twisted, not something you would usually enjoy but it was rather interesting and reminded me a little bit of Harada's twisted stories.

Joy by Etsuko - somehow I was laughing out loud while reading this manga, got a nostalgic feeling from reading it because somehow it reminded me fluffy shojuo stories of 2000s (though it is bl)

Contradict by Ooshima Kamome - rivalry among students firefighters written by Ooshima Kamome? yes, please. I will read anything by her and will ask for more

Ginmokusei no Shitateya by Mamita - men in suits!

Wizdoms by Nagabe - school of magic with anthropomorphic animals, should I say more?

Another thing that russians took away from me is economical stability and it is quite challenging to support and buy works of my favourite mangakas (the death of bookdepository didn't make it easier) and my plan to finish my collection of Saezuru Tori wa Habatakanai is down in the dumps. But if you can please-please-please support mangakas buy their works, merch, etc.

I also want to say thank you to the Armed Forces Of Ukraine. It is the only reason I was able to return to my home last year and continue to live here as normal as possible.

[twistedtummies2]

Super Beanfest, or Harps & Monsters - Part 1 (Commission)

My last, long-delayed commission from the February round. This is an interesting one, because of how it's going to work: once again, myself and the commissioner are going to attempt to do a multi-part comm, spread out over the course of several months/rounds of writing. The commissioner is @clouddreamer101, for a very long time, they and I have had an idea for a multi-part story for Twisted Wonderland. The story has two basic purposes: introducing their OC, Harmonia (based on the Golden Harp from "Mickey and the Beanstalk") in a proper piece of writing, and also shipping them with my big lad, Billy (based on Willie the Giant from the same cartoon). The two have been shipped together by us for a VERY long time, so it's nice to finally write a full and proper story getting that ship sailing.

Oh, there's also some stuff going on with the canon cast, for the record, with the main focus being Epel Felmier. Because why not? XD

This is the first part of the story, and I will write the other parts with the other commission rounds to come. On that note, if anyone from that next round is reading this, I will be contacting you all sometime within the coming week. In the meantime...some boring stuff...

Rating: T (for safety's sake, above all else)

Disclaimer: All characters and settings from Twisted Wonderland belong to Disney & Aniplex. Billy belongs to me, Harmonia belongs to the commissioner, and the other OCs who cameo in this section belong to either one of us or to another user from Tumblr who, for the time, shall remain anonymous. 

WARNING: This section does not contain any DIRECT kinks, aside from some macro/micro elements (if you even count those), but it DOES contain implied vore and other kinky implications. Later chapters shall be more overt, for the record; the rating may go up depending on how those future chapters work out, just for consistency's sake. In any case, DON'T LIKE? DON'T READ.

You'll find chapter two here.

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“Well! It looks like success at last!” “Shhh! Not so loud!” Deuce Spade clamped his mouth shut firmly and nodded at the hiss from Jack Howl. The pair were dressed in their Gym Uniforms for Night Raven College. In Jack’s arms, he carried an unfamiliar third party member: a small young man, with shiny blonde hair, and eyes the color of golden coins. He was dressed in a rather fancy-looking suit, as golden as his eyes and hair, with buttons that resembled musical notes. Jack adjusted his grip as he held the blonde youth bridal style; the wolfman blushed at the intimate position as he began to carefully walk off, carrying the golden boy with him. Deuce took up the rear; he was holding a pair of bean blasters in his hands. “Thank you,” whispered the young man with yellow hair, in a timid little voice. Jack just grunted noncommittally. “You’re welcome,” he grumbled, then smirked. “I guess even Royal Sword students can be helpful sometimes.” The RSA member in question smiled shyly. “Come on!” Deuce called out…then, remembering he wasn’t supposed to be so loud, dropped his voice to a whisper. “Come on, Epel! What are you waiting for?” Epel Felmier had paused at the rear. He was dressed much more extravagantly than his two fellow NRC classmates: garbed in a black beret and the red-white-and-orange getup of a Farmer uniform for Beanfest. The effeminate fellow looked upwards, biting his lip thoughtfully, large aqua blue eyes narrowed. Overhead, a towering figure loomed, snoring so loudly, the entire colosseum around the four shook to its foundations. The giant leaned back against the bleachers, hands folded over the upper curve of his big, fat belly, which rose and fell like a living hill over their heads. Epel’s focus, however, wasn’t on the titan’s face, nor on his gut: it was on the (extra extra extra extra) large leather boots the colossus wore. He saw that the looped ends of the laces were dangling low and long…and the feet were close together. A sly smirk crossed Epel’s face, and he crept closer to the giant, taking hold of the laces as he moved between the ogre’s feet. “What are you doing?!” the RSA student hissed in alarm, as Deuce and Jack watched with perplexed expressions. “Making doubly sure he won’t follow us,” Epel replied, and began to try and tangle the laces together into a knot. “I’m taking no chances. Just in case the big guy-” The snoring suddenly came to a short stop. Epel froze at the sound’s stoppage. He saw Jack, Deuce, and the RSA student all turn pale as a trio of sheets. “...M-Might wake up-EEK!” Epel cried out as the feet jerked to either side, and the laces he still held pulled him clear off the ground as he held them tightly in his hand, stretching him out. The tiny Pomefiore Poison Apple looked up… …And gulped nervously as he saw a pair of cold blue eyes glaring down angrily. The giant growled, snarling, revealing his rather sharp-looking, bone-crushing teeth…and a fat hand began to reach for Epel. Felmier gulped nervously, as the shadow of those greedy fingers overcame him. “...Oh, crab-apples…”

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Three Months Earlier…

“Pick up the pace, potatoes. Unlike that mangy cat in Savanaclaw, I like to be on time.” “Oh, oui-oui, Roi du Poison! We follow in your footsteps like carefree lambs!”

Epel Felmier rolled his eyes and repressed the urge to groan, as walked behind Rook Hunt and Vil Schoenheit. They, along with the rest of Pomefiore - and, in fact, the rest of the school - had been called into the Assembly Hall at Night Raven College. The auditorium was already packed, and more and more students were still pouring in, ushered by their Housewardens and Vices into the seats. Carefully but quickly, Epel found a seat of his own. It wasn’t too long till all of his dorm members were seated; Rook and Vil took the last two seats remaining, with the former immediately to his right, and the latter just beyond, each sitting straight and tall. Vil’s expression was one of cool, detached, business-like calm, while Rook wore his usual not-so-blithe smile. Epel looked around. He frowned in confusion as he scanned the faces - and, more importantly, the heights - of all the assembled students from Pomefiore. Someone, he quickly realized, was missing. “Pssst! Hey! Hey, Vil!” he whispered. Vil’s eyes slid towards Epel ominously, his expression showing a hint of stern disdain. Epel flinched and took a breath, realizing his mistake. “Um…e-excuse me, Housewarden.” “That’s better,” smirked Vil, and turned to look at Epel fully. “What is it, Epel?” “I don’t see Billy here with us. He’s pretty hard to miss,” the lavender haired young fellow explained. “So where’d he go?” Vil shrugged. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “The Headmage called him to his office earlier today, and I have not seen him since. This was before he announced the Assembly.” “Not to worry, Monsieur Pommette!” Rook chuckled cheerily. “I’m sure Monsieur Geant will be quite alright!” Epel frowned, turning away from the pair thoughtfully. He wasn’t necessarily WORRIED about Billy: the shapeshifting ogre could easily take care of himself in many ways. If anything, Epel envied the big lug: he was somehow able to be both extra super manly and strangely adorable at the same time, a struggle the young Felmier was still going through. A small smirk crossed Epel’s face and he chuckled. He and the giant actually had quite a bit in common…but sheer size could not be one of those similarities. He wondered how Billy would have done in Savanaclaw… Shaking his head to clear it, Epel, straightened his posture (he’d caught Vil side-eyeing him again at his hunched seating arrangement), and tried to dismiss the matter. If Billy had gone to see Crowley, then he would probably arrive when the Headmage arrived. No need to be concerned, as Rook had said. It wasn’t too much longer till all were assembled. Finally, Dire Crowley - adjusting his gloves, top hat, and Venetian mask as he entered - stepped into the center of the auditorium stage. Using a simple voice-amplifying spell in place of a microphone, he walked up to the podium and gained the attention of the student body. All idle chatter ceased as the Headmage addressed them.

“Quiet! Quiet all! Listen, everyone! Can you all see me? Can you all hear me? Good,” nodded Crowley, when he was certain all eyes were on him. “Ahem…I’m sorry to have stopped classes so abruptly, but I have some major news, and given the…rather sudden nature of this news, I felt an immediate assembly was best called for. I’m sure all of you are aware of our annual Beanfest competition here on Sage’s Island, correct?” Mumbles and murmurs of recognition came from the students. Epel cocked his head curiously, wondering where this was going. Beanfest, of course, was an important occasion at Night Raven College: every year, the student body would be split into two teams - Farmers and Monsters - in remembrance of the legend of Happy Valley. The legend told the story of a daring farmer who rescued a magical Golden Harp from the clutches of a monstrous giant. Billy’s absence was now almost comical: he was a descendant of the ogre that had matched wits with the farmer those centuries long past. The size-shifting giant was very proud of his heritage, and got VERY excited over Beanfest. Epel shivered a bit, remembering how Billy had swallowed some farmers the last Beanfest, as a means of capturing them…watching the giant belch entire people out of his gut was not exactly a pleasant sight… In any case, however, Beanfest was still a few months away. Why was the Headmage bringing it up now? “Well! You’re all in for a special treat this year!” Crowley’s voice barked, as he clapped his hands together, a rather eager smirk on his dark lips as he spoke. “For this year’s Beanfest, we’ll be collaborating with our…esteemed rivals at Royal Sword Academy, for what their headmaster and I have decided to call… Crowley paused impressively, as if to build up suspense…then threw out his arms and cheered to the high heavens. “SUPER BEANFEST!” The chirp of a lonely cricket was the only sound that answered his booming cry. Crowley’s exuberant expression quickly cooled. He lowered his arms, looking rather embarrassed. Then a single hand shot up. “Um…Headmage?” “Yes, Mr. Spade?” Epel looked towards the hand as it lowered, to see a rather befuddled Deuce tilt his own head in confusion equal to Felmier’s own. “How is ‘Super Beanfest’ different from…well…normal Beanfest, I guess?” “Ah! I’m glad you asked!” answered Crowley, who sounded rather relieved that SOMEBODY cared enough to wonder. “That’s where the collaboration comes into play: instead of a contest between our own students, against each other, Super Beanfest will be a battle between the two schools. Now, things may be a bit confusing, so do pay attention: one student from Night Raven College has been pre-selected to act as a ‘Head Monster.’ Another student at RSA has also been pre-picked to play the role of the Golden Harp.” “Wait…the harp is actually going to be a person?” an anonymous student called.

“Correct!” Crowley crowed. “The goal of the Farmers will be to rescue the Golden Harp, as is usually the case, but this Harp will be another student instead of a simple prop. The Harp and the Head Monster will be stationed in a yet-to-be-disclosed location. Further rules about this matter will be explained in the future, but the important point to note is that the Head Monster must guard the Golden Harp, and the Harp must remain stationary inside the Head Monster’s ‘lair,’ unless accompanied by the Farmers.” “Interesting,” murmured a thoughtful voice. Epel wasn’t sure, but it sounded like the voice of Riddle Rosehearts. “So, our students will be taking the role of the Monsters to try and blockade Royal Sword’s students?” “Ah, this is where things get interesting,” said Crowley, waggling a finger and with a twinkle in his eye. “You see, my dear students…you WON’T be playing the Monsters, aside from the one Head Monster chosen. Instead, our school has been selected to play the Farmers.” “What?!” exclaimed several students at once. “We get to play the heroes saving the day?!” gasped Cater Diamond’s voice. “That’s totes cool! Ha, I’m gonna have to come up with some fun hashtags right away…!” “Please don’t,” groaned the irritated voice of Sebek Zigvolt. “When was this decided?” Vil demanded to know, his sudden call causing Epel to jump slightly in his seat. “When I lost the straw-pulling lottery to decide,” drawled Crowley, in a dry voice, with a drab look. He quickly brightened up again and went on, holding up his hands to placate the stirring students as he continued… “ANYWAY! On the date of the Event, a group of students will be selected at random to act as possible candidates for Team Captains, and the Head Monster and Golden Harp will select their respective Captains from the chosen pool. The Captains will create a general strategy at the start of the game, and lead whatever students they choose in the event: simple as that. The choice will be totally based on their decisions, and with our schools so separate, there should be no inherent bias on either side. Also, since this is the first Event of its kind - and as it has yet to be determined if there will be another like it in the future - the Headmaster of Royal Sword and I have agreed that all students will be permitted to participate. PERMITTED, but not required: if you wish to back out for any reason, you may.” “YES! THANK YOU, ZEUS!” came a voice that could only belong to Idia Shroud. Several people rolled their eyes, including Dire Crowly. “Anyway, All of Sage’s Island will be the battleground, and the teams will meet at specific ‘camps’ off the campuses on the island,” the Headmage went on, then shrugged nonchalantly. “Beyond all that, the rules are essentially the same. Farmers will take out Monsters using bean shooters, Monsters have to try and trap Farmers to keep them from getting the Golden Harp, and bits of gear and special uniforms will be scattered around the woods on the island for both teams to try and find. You all know the drill from there. So, are there any questions?” Epel immediately raised his hand. “Yes, Mr. Felmier?” Crowley pointed him out. “Excuse me, but you said you’d already picked who the Head Monster and the Golden Harp will be,” Epel commented. “So…who are they? Or is that confidential information at all?” “Not in the least,” chuckled Crowley. He seemed greatly amused as he grinned at Epel and the other students. “In fact, the Head Monster is someone you should know very well, Mr. Felmier. Someone everybody here should know! After all, even among our esteemed student body…” Crowley stepped aside from the podium, doffing his hat, as if introducing some grand circus act.

“...You could say he’s larger than life.” The instant those words left Crowley’s lips, Epel suddenly knew exactly who he meant. It all made sense. Why one certain person was missing from the Pomefiore group. Why they’d been called out of class earlier. And perhaps even why this Event had been arranged in the weird way it was. THUMP-A-THUMP-A-THUMP. Pounding footsteps seemed to rock the entire hall. Whispers and murmurs echoed through the assembly area. At the podium, a black and white tie was straightened somewhat nervously, and an indigo vest was adjusted as it clung desperately the sizeable, heaving mass of lard and muscle buried beneath the clean, constricting school uniform. Gapteeth were briefly visible as the absolutely gigantic figure at the podium - standing somewhere between seven and eight feet in height - took a breath and ran one huge, fat hand through their carrot-colored, crew-cut hair. Then, baby blue eyes sparkled as their expression became first a proud and challenging smirk…and then a beaming smile. “Hi there, Little Friends!” cheered Billy Geant, saluting everyone playfully. “I just wanna say one thing: don’t worry about when the big day comes. I promise…I won’t go easy on you.” Epel gulped. Beside him, Rook chuckled, cupping his chin as his eyes narrowed almost deviously. “Sacre bleu,” Hunt murmured. “This just got a bit more interesting…”

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Meanwhile, across the island, in the gilded halls of Royal Sword Academy, a lonely figure was walking through a seemingly empty corridor. The figure was a young man, just slightly below average height, though he seemed much smaller with the way he walked as he trudged through the palatial hallway. His slender, slim physique didn’t help much either; his thin framework bordered on the unhealthy in its leanness, making him seem even tinier than he really was. Ironically, the blue-and-white standard issue uniform of RSA he wore made him seem a little bulkier, in contrast. The young man sighed, brushing some stray strands of his blonde bangs away from his golden-hued eyes. In the corner of his left eye was a tiny birthmark; a similar beauty mark dotted his chin. He adjusted a small white hearing aid he wore in one ear, pausing in his dreary march to look upwards. As sunlight spilled through a stained glass window, it illuminated his soft, almost effete features, which gave him a somewhat androgynous appearance. “Why?” he groaned to the ceiling beyond, voice echoing slightly in the extravagant passage. “Just…just why?” “Why, you ask?” The young man let out a mousey squeak of alarm and looked around, rather startled, as a new voice seemed to croon into his ears. The voice seemed to come from nowhere, and yet everywhere. “Why is one of my favorite questions,” the voice continued to coo. “I’m also partial to ‘Who?’ and ‘Where?’ But ‘Why?’ It’s such a silly thing to ask…and that’s why I love it!” The blonde-haired boy sighed again, this time with some mild irritation. “I’m not in the mood for games right now, Che’Nya,” he grumbled, crossing his arms impatiently. “You-” PFBBBT! The young man eeped and spluttered as a tongue suddenly appeared out of thin air, blowing a raspberry into his face. He glared, huffishly, wiping the speckles of spittle from his cheeks one one sleeve as a disembodied grin, filled with sharp, pointed, pearly teeth, sliced its way inches from his face. “Spoilsport,” came a voice from the mouth, as a second pair of golden eyes popped into view a little over the grin’s crescent curve. “Come on, Harmonia! What’s biting your tail, huh?” Harmonia frowned and turned away. “Why should I tell you?” he mumbled. “You’re just going to tease me.” Che’Nya’s whole face - feline ears, purple hair, and all - appeared in thin air as he gasped with horror. “Me?! Tease someone when they’re on the brink of des-purr?” he punned, the disembodied catboy’s head circling around him. “What makes you think I’d do something like that?”

Harmonia just eyed the neko skeptically…then sighed and sat down on a nearby bench. “Just leave me alone,” he mumbled. Che’Nya’s expression faltered. He looked concerned…but only for a few seconds. The look gave way to a knowing sort of smirk, and the Cheshire Cat swirled into full view. He was dressed as he always was: in an oversized white uniform coat that hung loosely about his frame like an undone straitjacket, along with blue jeans dotted with badges and buttons. He sauntered over and sat beside Harmonia on the bench with a sort of brotherly smile. “Let me guess,” he purred. “You’re upset about Headmage Ambrose’s arrangement with NRC, aren’t you?” “I’m upset about being chosen to play the Golden Harp,” Harmonia replied, glumly. “Why?” Che’Nya asked, tilting his head curiously. “I thought you just said that was a silly question,” Harmonia retorted. “Oh, it is, but it’s also a fun one to answer,” grinned Che’Nya, and nudged him with his head, like a cat nuzzling and pawing at its master. “Come ooooon! Tell me! Tell me!” Harmonia half-heartedly pushed the Cheshire Cat back, and just grumbled, “Forget it. Go away.” “Awww, now that’s not very nice at all,” pouted Che’Nya. “Come on, lighten up! After all, you can’t very well protect Happy Valley if you aren’t happy, can ya?” “I’M NOT PROTECTING THAT PLACE!” Harmonia suddenly shouted, snapping angrily at the cat and leaping from the bench. Che’Nya jumped back, rather startled as the golden boy began to march away. “Just…I don’t want to hear anything else about Happy Valley, or Golden Harps, or…!” “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Turn down the juice!” Che’Nya exclaimed, and hurriedly moved to block Harmonia’s way. His own yellow eyes had become soulful and serious, a rare expression on the feline’s face. “Listen, I can tell when a person needs a listening ear. I’m the Cheshire Cat. I have all the answers…” He playfully tapped Harmonia’s nose, smiling anew. Harmonia squeaked and covered his snout, which made the cat grin wider. “...You just have to keep from getting confused. So go ahead. Lay it on me. If you don’t bite, I won’t.” Che’Nya’s grin made sure to show all his teeth on that last sentence. Harmonia bit his lip, squirming a bit…then sighed. “How much do you know about me?” he asked, timidly. Che’Nya shrugged and slung his arms behind his head lazily. “Nyaaa…I know a little,” he yawned. “Your family line is descended from the magic of the Golden Harp itself, and your Unique Magic comes from her power, passed down through generations, blah blah blah…guess your problem is you’re tired of being typecast?” “Something like that,” admitted Harmonia with a nod. He hugged himself and turned away. “It’s more than that, though. I’m…well…I’m scared.” “Scared?” meowed Che’Nya, raising an eyebrow. “Of what?” Harmonia looked up at him with anxiety in his eyes. “The whole reason they’re doing this Event is because of me. Well…me and one other student.” “Who?” Che’Nya asked, and then giggled. “I really do love that question. ‘Who.’ So many answers you can come up with, and most of them won’t be correct!”

Harmonia decided to ignore that random bit of weirdness, and simply went on. “Some other student at Night Raven,” he said, gravely. “And just as I’m descended from the Golden Harp…” “...They’re descended from the Giant.” Harmonia’s eyes widened. “You…you already know?” Che’Nya smiled oh-so-innocently. “I might have overheard the two Headmages talking to each other. Just a little bit,” he winked. “Then you should know why I’m scared already!” Harmonia said, exasperatedly, and began to tremble as he hugged himself tighter, rubbing at his own shoulders, as if he were experiencing a chill. “I’m descended from the harp, THE harp! And…and he’s descended from THE giant! It’s…it’s like putting a cat and a mouse in the same room, you know it’s not gonna end well!” “Well. That depends on if you’re the cat or the mouse,” smirked Che’Nya, licking his lips in emphasis. “What if he eats me?” whimpered Harmonia, ignoring the cat completely. “Or…or wh-what if he crushes me flat? What if I get stolen a-and taken away, l-like a trophy?” Che’Nya clucked his tongue. “What if, what if, what if?” he chanted in a nasally, mocking way. “Listen, Little Harmony, that’s one question I DON’T like. What’s gonna be is gonna be! There’s no need to get so worked up about it. It’s better to just decide to stop fighting it and go with the flow!” Harmonia scoffed. “Easy for you to say, you’re not the one at risk here. If there’s one thing my family drilled into me that I actually gave any care about, it’s that you can’t trust giants,” Harmonia replied. “They’re greedy monsters. They smell bad. Th-they eat people and smash them just for fun…” “Oh, so you’ve met them all, then?” Che’Nya grinned, almost tauntingly. Harmonia went silent. “Maybe this giant will be a monster, but maybe he won’t be,” Che’Nya went on. “You say you’re tired of people judging you just for being the Harp’s descendant? Well, how do you think he’d feel?” Che’Nya smiled with surprising kindness as he leaned down to Harmonia’s level. “Besides, it’s just a GAME, Little Harmony,” he mewed. “When it’s all over, you can come back home to school.” “Yeah, if I survive,” droned Harmonia sadly. “Gods, I feel like I’m a pawn on a chessboard. No, worse: I’m a chess king.”

“Nya? How is that worse than a pawn?” “Because the King doesn’t DO anything. That piece literally just exists to be captured so somebody else can win the game. The King can’t move very far in any direction and really SHOULDN’T move. It sounds important, but it’s…useless. That’s exactly how the rules have made me out to be.” “Hmmmm…purr-haps,” conceded the cat. “But there ARE still moves the King can make to help protect itself and win the game. As for pawns, they can become queens if they reach the end of the board.” Harmonia was silent, mulling that fact over. Che’Nya chuckled. “You know…in the legend of Happy Valley, the Golden Harp wasn’t completely helpless,” the kitty-boy recalled. “If I re-mew-mber correctly, she actually HELPED the farmers defeat the giant. They couldn’t have won without her. Maybe you should stop seeing your past as a curse, and use that legacy inside of you to your advantage.” The feline giggled. “Or maybe you can just sit nice and pretty and golden-goosey, and you’ll get by without aaaany problems! That works too, don’tcha think?” Harmonia looked Che’Nya up and down, as if he was trying to decide how serious the Cheshire Cat was. “I guess that’s fair,” he said at last, then gave a small sort of smile. “Maybe you have a point. And…well…it’s all decided already, and I’m the only one who CAN’T back out. It would defeat the whole purpose if I did. Might as well just…work with what I’ve got, right?” “That’s the spirit!” cheered Che’Nya, chucking Harmonia lightly in the shoulder with one fist, then smirked wickedly. “And besides, getting eaten by a giant wouldn’t be THAT bad for you, would it now?” Harmonia turned a little paler, and a slightly hysterical, nervous little laughed left him. “HA HA HA HA, you’re funny. No. Just…just no. Please, disappear now,” he groused. Che’Nya laughed loudly.

“You got it! I’m good at that!” he sang out. “After all, it’s what Cheshire Cats do best…” As he began to swirl away, bit by bit, Che’Nya arched an eyebrow sneakily and added: “What do you think Golden Harps do best, hm?” Before Harmonia could answer, Che’Nya had vanished into the ether. He looked around, as if to make sure the cat wasn’t still watching him…then sighed softly. “I guess I’ll need to find out,” he mumbled, and walked away. He held himself a little taller, trying to boost his own self-confidence. All the same, he still felt dreadfully nervous inside.

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The day of the Super Beanfest competition came. Epel Felmier was dressed in his gym uniform, as was standard. The schools had arranged a rendezvous point, midway between the two campuses in the woods. This was where the Captains Pools would meet, and the Head Monster and Golden Harp would make their selections. Epel was the first of the Farmer Captains Pool to arrive. Not necessarily by choice, admittedly: the young farmboy (wasn’t THAT a coincidental background) had found sleep difficult, and had woken early partially as a result. He was seated upon a boulder, looking up at the early morning sky through the gaps in the trees above. The Pomefiore student breathed deeply, allowing his eyes to slide closed. The smell of the trees, and all the rustic odors of nature around him - particularly of the sweet berries and other fruits he could detect somewhere in the green woods - reminded him so much of home…but the faint scent of the sea breeze, wafting through the bushes and brambles from the beach beyond, gave it a sort of ethereal quality one could not find in Harveston. Epel had come to enjoy it here, in the forest…which gave him some confidence he sorely needed. Epel breathed out heavily; not quite a sigh, but very close. He wished he could say the Captains Pool for his school had been chosen with strategic brilliance, and that he’d been elected as an option due to practical reasons of belief in his abilities…but that wasn’t the case at all. The same method that had been used to decide which school would be the Farmers and which school would be the Monsters (minus Billy and the Golden Harp) had been used to determine the Captains. Epel had just been lucky to be chosen. This, Felmier reflected, shouldn’t have bothered him too much: if there was one thing a certain sledding match had taught him, it was that he had the makings of a leader, and he’d always been one to challenge other authorities to begin with. But truth be told…he was worried. This was different, in his mind. There was a lot more riding on something like this. If he got picked, he’d have the pressure of not just a small team of people, but an entire school, heaped upon his shoulders. And if he didn’t get picked, then it would honestly be a bit saddening; he couldn’t help but feel such a choice would mean he wasn’t perceived as fit for the role, and he was very tired of being judged so simply. Either way, he couldn’t win. “Excuse me!” came a voice. “Are you from Night Raven College?”

Epel opened his eyes, and looked to see who had spoken. His eyes widened in surprise at the rather peculiar figure he saw striding towards him: it was a young man, about the same age as himself, but standing a little bit taller. The young man had blonde hair and curious golden eyes, which looked like the yolks of two expertly-cooked eggs in a sea of milky white. The fellow youth wore a hearing aid, but this wasn’t what made him seem odd: it was the very bizarre costume he wore, which was a rather fancy, somewhat old-fashioned-looking suit colored almost entirely in sparkling, glittering gold. The buttons on the coat and vest were made to resemble musical notes, and the cuffs and the trousers remind Epel of the bars on a sheet of music. Topped off with high-heeled (but still fairly masculine-designed) shoes, the newcomer cut was certainly a spectacle to behold. Epel blinked a few times, feeling he might go blind…then awkwardly nodded. “Uh…yeah,” he greeted, slowly. “Howdy-I mean, hello. My name’s Epel. Lemme guess: you’re the Golden Harp?” The newcomer smiled shyly. His timid demeanor didn’t quite match his over-glitzy costume. “Yeah, pretty obvious, isn’t it?” he chuckled, indicating his outfit. “Can’t deny that,” Epel said, with a smile that was slightly forced. He couldn’t help but admit he felt a little surge of bitter apprehension surge inside of his heart: to say that Royal Sword Academy and Night Raven College were rivals was often putting it mildly. The two schools were arch-enemies, and many NRC students would have leapt at the chance to quite literally pounce on the newcomer just for a lark. Epel had faced a few defeats against the rival school in the past, and wasn’t particularly happy to see the leading figure of the opposing team - the one who’d be choosing a Captain from his pool - so suddenly and alone. The newcomer didn’t seem to notice. He smiled in a friendly way and held out a hand. “I’m Harmonia,” he greeted. “Harmonia A’Cappella. It’s nice to meet you.” “Mutual,” Epel lied, as he shook Harmonia’s hand. The descendant of the harp smiled a bit wider, then tilted his head. “Hold on…I think I’ve seen you somewhere before,” he murmured…then his eyes widened. “Wait a bit! Were you in the VDC Championship? The one where Neige competed?” Epel narrowed his eyes and nodded. “Yes,” he replied. “I was one of the lead performers.” He braced himself for what Harmonia would say next; he expected some show of pithy pity or perhaps even a bit of boasting…something about how he shouldn’t feel bad, because he did good, too, even though Neige and his posse were SO good… “Wow!” Harmonia laughed. “It’s such an honor to meet you! I’m so sorry, by the way, you guys were ROBBED that year. Seriously.” Epel gaped. “...Wh-what?”

“Don’t get me wrong: Neige is a cool guy. I’m in his dorm at RSA,” said Harmonia, and rubbed the back of his head with a light laugh. “But, uh…I’m sorry, that children’s song over what YOU guys did? That’s just INSANE. You guys had so much STYLE! So much POWER in your voices! There was so much skill and so much emotion, and the song itself? That just…wow, that honestly really hit me in a good place. Right here.” Harmonia patted his chest in emphasis, giving a sympathetic smile. “You guys should have won. Not us. I’m seriously sorry the judges didn’t take your side.” Epel blinked a few times…then his smile started to become more genuine as a hint of pink colored his cheeks. “I mean…well…thank you! It honestly means a lot to hear you say that,” chuckled Epel, then smirked. “I’d expect the Golden Harp to know a thing or two about music.” Harmonia shrugged. “Well, I do, but it’s not necessarily just for those reasons. Honestly, I’m more experienced with classical stuff,” he sighed, sounding a bit disappointed as he sat down in the grass nearby. “I’d like to change that sometime. You’re so lucky, by the way.” “I am?” “Dude. You got to work with VIL. FRICKIN’. SCHOENHEIT. Do you know what I’d give to even meet him for two seconds?” gushed Harmonia, and smiled in a sentimental way, looking askance. “He and Neige…they both helped me in a time when I really needed it…” “Funny. The Housewarden never mentioned helping someone like you,” Epel remarked. “Oh, not personally. I mean…listening to their music, watching their movies. They inspired me. They made me want to-wait. Did you say HOUSEWARDEN?!” “Yes!” giggled Epel, enjoying the look of utter spellbound awe on Harmonia’s face. “He’s the leader of my dorm. That’s one of the reasons I took part in that contest.” Harmonia just stared. He was filled with admiration, his expression one of purest wonder. “Wow,” he whispered again, and laughed softly. “I’m a little jealous. You were so great onstage, too! It must have been fun.” “That’s, uh…one word for it,” Epel chuckled nervously, remembering the horrors of Vil’s Overblot behind the scenes. “I have to admit, one nice thing was that it was public: meant no one could make the mistake of thinking I’m a girl ever again, if they saw it live or on TV.” “Psh. Yeah, I can sympathize with that,” snorted Harmonia, and gestured to his own face. “I don’t get misgendered TOO often, but it’s annoying when it happens.” Epel’s smiled had become a real grin. He was quickly starting to feel he liked this RSA student. “Are you excited for the competition?” he asked. Harmonia’s smile faded, and he looked away. “Honestly, I’m…really, REALLY scared of meeting the Head Monster,” he answered, nervously, fingers fiddling around each other.

“I guess I would be, too, if I were you,” nodded Epel, then scooted closer with an assuring smile. “Billy is actually in my dorm, too, you know.” “Billy?” blinked Harmonia. “The Giant’s name is…Billy?” “Yeah, why?” “I dunno, just…I expected a giant to have a name like ‘Rothbart the Terrible’ or ‘Redjac the Ravenous,’ not just…um…Billy.” Epel snickered. “His name’s not the only thing that will surprise you,” he said with a merry twinkle in his blue eyes. “Trust me, you’ll be fine. But, uh…can I give you some advice?” “Huh? Oh, um…s-sure, what’s that?” “Whatever you do, do NOT piss him off,” Epel warned. “Keep on good terms with him, and you have nothing to fear.” Harmonia let out a very, VERY nervous laugh. “R-right, uh…ha ha ha…n-no pressure…” In his mind, the mantra of I am so dead, I am so dead, I am so dead kept repeating itself. “Well now!” a voice called out. “This is a surprise! And here we thought you were running late!” The voice was addressing Epel, who turned about, recognizing it. It was Dire Crowley, who was leading a group of NRC students - the rest of the Captains Pool - into the woodlands. The other options for potential Captains, courtesy of the random raffle, were Vil, Deuce, Jack, Riddle, Sebek, and Cater, who approached in that same order. Vil seemed mildly impressed (which, with him, could be taken as the highest form of praise), while the rest mostly seemed astonished to see Epel so far ahead of them. “Well, I wanted to be bright and early,” chuckled Epel in greeting, and helped Harmonia stand up as he went to greet his fellow classmates. “Hmph. And who is this human?” Sebek huffed, haughtily, crossing his arms and sticking his nose up, while the rest eyed the golden-garbed figure with curiosity. “This is Harmonia A’Cappella,” Epel introduced his new acquaintance. “He’s the Descendant of the Golden Harp, and he’ll be choosing one of us as the Farmer Captain. Right, Harmonia?” “R-Right,” stuttered Harmonia, and approached the group somewhat nervously. “It’s, ah…it’s nice to meet you all.” Jack and Sebek grunted, noncommittally. Each eyed the RSA student with a sort of dubious interest. It was clear that each of them was focusing on him as an opponent rather than as an ally, at the moment. The others, however, were thankfully more openly welcoming. “A pleasure, I’m sure,” Riddle greeted, politely, and held out a hand, which Harmonia shook firmly. Riddle smiled. “A decent grip there. I approve.” “Don’t think we’ll go easy on you, no matter which of us you choose,” Deuce piped up with a bold smirk. “We’re gonna save you no matter what!” Harmonia and Epel shared a look; the way Deuce said that made it sound like he was planning to punch the Harp in the face rather than rescue him. “Uh…well…thank you, I think?” Harmonia replied. “That’s such a cool costume!” Cater suddenly exclaimed. “Oh, you have GOT to let me get a picture of it! It’s so totally cammable! Can I? Please?” Harmonia, a bit overwhelmed, stammered out an agreement…and a few moments later was blinking camera flash out of his eyes as Cater snapped a hurried selfie.

“Awesome!” squealed Cater, eagerly tapping at his phone. “HashtagGonnaSaveThisLittleDude! HashtagGoingForTheGold! HashtagSuperBeanfest! Aaaand…send!” The other NRC members all rolled their eyes at Cater Diamond’s antics. By now, Harmonia had recovered, and was standing before Vil. For a moment, he just stood there, clearly unsure of what to say. Vil arched an eyebrow impatiently. “Well?” was all he said. “Speak up, golden potato. I can tell you’re busting at the seams, with the way you’re shaking.” Harmonia needed all his willpower not to immediately burst into an explosive squeal of joy. He knew that would never do. “I, um…I just wanted to say, I…I’m a REALLY big fan of yours, Mr. Schoenheit,” he said, timidly, and held out his hand. “You have absolutely no idea what an honor it is to meet you in person. Um…I-I hope you win. F-For my sake, I mean! Heh heh…yeah…” Vil blinked twice…then smiled, slightly superciliously, and returned the handshake. “It’s always a pleasure to meet a fan,” he said, honestly. “If things go well for our team, when the competition is over, perhaps you’d like an autograph?” Harmonia was astonished and delighted. His eyes sparkled like the Sun. “Oh! Oh, y-yes, sir! That…that would be AMAZING, thank you, sir!” “We’ll see then,” nodded Schoenheit, then gripped Harmonia’s hand more tightly and leaned forward, his smile somewhat sinister. “However, right now we ARE in a competition. I think it would be wise for both of us to keep our heads in the game. Don’t you?” “Ah! Oh, y-yes! Yes, that’s true! Um…thank you again, Mr. Schoenheit. Sir.” Vil chuckled softly, and released Harmonia’s hand. “You’re welcome,” he said, serenely but sincerely. Harmonia was still beaming with joy as he stepped back. While these introductions had been going on, Dire Crowley had been busy checking his pocket watch. “Well,” the Headmage of Night Raven spoke up. “The other team should be arriving shortly, as well as our Head Monster.” “Correction, Headmage Crowley!” called a somewhat creaky sort of voice. “The other team has arrived!” Harmonia and the Night Raven crew looked to see a group of students approaching from the opposite side of the woodland clearing. The expressions on all of the Night Raven students’ faces turned a bit cold as they saw the blue robes of Ambrose LXIII - headmaster of Royal Sword - and the similarly-hued gym uniforms that were worn by the students following close behind him. A few of the newcomers were familiar to the NRC students already: one was a young fellow in a green beret, who hovered over the rest of the RSA Captains Pool with a cocksure smile on his face. Sebek quickly recognized him as Matthew Satyr, who had bedeviled the NRC crew during the Scavenger’s Hunt competition. Another familiar figure was Neige LeBlanche, who waved cheerfully at Vil as he all but skipped forward. Vil responded with a cold sort of smile and a curt nod.

Others, however, were less well-known. One was a strapping youth with dark-toned skin, and long, somewhat shaggy, curly hair. A pin that resembled a sunflower was stuck into said hair, and from beneath the moppish top sprouted two curled horns and a pair of pointed animal ears. His mouth was filled with sharp teeth. His hands ended in long white gloves, which tapered at the fingertips, as if to conceal claws. These were barely visible as he crossed his arms and snorted like a buffalo; his demeanor was a perfect match to that of Howl and Zigvolt. Another had curious, pinkish skin, and brick-colored hair that was tied back into a long ponytail. He, too, had horns: they were colored sky blue, and resembled those of a Long. He had pointed ears, and carried a long, golden-tipped staff in one hand. His smile was boyish and slightly mischievous, a sort of sneaky gleam in his deep brown eyes. The other two appeared to be good friends, given how they stood very close to one another. One had a somewhat dopey, blithe sort of smile on his face, contrasted by blue-gray eyes the color of steel. His hair was a sort of honey-blonde shade, and his body was plump and soft in form. The RSA member who stood a little behind him, as if hiding shyly from the rest of the assembled people, had black hair that matched his dark eyes. His expression was somewhat dour, and a small bandage stretched across the bridge of his nose; another was visible curled around one of his fingers. Along with his gym uniform, he wore a sort of fanciful hood, which resembled the ears of a donkey. “I count six possible Captains here, Ambrose,” sniffed Crowley, somewhat snootily. “Where is your seventh? Or do you intend to volunteer yourself?” “Hardly,” chortled Ambrose, with a jolly smile. “I assure you, my seventh option IS present.” “Oh?” piped up Riddle Rosehearts. “Then where has he gone, sir?” Riddle stiffened as a familiar giggle entered his ear, and he felt a long, fluffy tail suddenly sweep across his front, curling about from somewhere behind him. “Gone?” purred a voice. “I’m not gone. Or then again, purr-haps I AM gone. Yet I’m still here! Curiouser and curiouser, wouldn’t you say?” The tail swept up, tickling Riddle’s nose and making him sneeze. As Riddle staggered in surprise, the tail vanished…then reappeared on a tree branch above everyone’s head. The body of Che’Nya soon apparated into view. Unlike all the other RSA members, he was dressed in his usual clothes, rather than a gym uniform. He was licking the back of one hand, like a cat grooming their paw…but stopped, twitching one pink-furred ear when he saw the looks everyone flashed his way. “Sorryyyyy!” he sang out, teasingly, sticking out his tongue and winking at Riddle, who gave him a flustered glare. “I could NOT resist!”

Some of the RSA members sniggered, while Riddle just grumbled under his breath. Cater shook his head wearily while Deuce rolled his eyes. “You all know him, clearly,” chuckled Ambrose, then gestured to the rest of the students with him. “Not to mention Mr. Satyr and Mr. LeBlanche. As for the rest, allow me to introduce Qiao Zhou, Paisley Burr, and Ivo DePrece. All that’s missing is our Head Monster,” Ambrose observed. “Then we can begin the selection. He IS on his way, isn’t he, Headmage Crowley?” “Of course!” harrumphed the Headmaster of Night Raven, and looked towards Vil. “You did tell him the time to meet us, didn’t you?” “I did,” Vil confirmed. “And Billy rarely disappoints me. Anymore.” “I g-guess that’s good to hear,” Harmonia spoke up. “So, um…in that case, how soon till he-?” He was cut off with a yelp when, suddenly, the earth beneath all their feet seemed to shake. Then it happened again…and again…and again. A sound accompanied each quake: THUMP-A-THUMP-A-THUMP! All of the NRC students smirked. They knew that sound. The RSA students, meanwhile, began to mill about in alarm: Qiao Zhou dropped into a battle-ready pose, holding his staff with a determined glare. Matthew Satyr, similarly, grabbed hold of his dueling rod, which he had brought with him. Paisley blinked and stumbled back a bit, eyes rather wide, while Neige yelped and held onto his hat, letting a startled squeak of “Jiminy Christmas…!” Only Ivo and Che’Nya seemed thoroughly unfazed: the Cheshire Cat was grooming himself and didn’t even appear to notice. Ivo, meanwhile, just gave a dull, almost bored, slow blink as he remained standing behind Paisley. Harmonia seemed the most frightened of all. He knew these were the footsteps of the giant he’d been warned of all his life: the descendant of the nightmare his family had once faced many decades ago. Already, his mind began to conjure up hideous images of what kind of horrendous beast could be approaching. He trembled, and even began to pray silently, as his heart beat quickened with every step…until, finally… CRASH! Two trees were pushed aside, and a mountainous figure stepped into view, looming over all as his shadow fell across them. Gasps of amazement came from the RSA students. Harmonia felt his heart catch in his throat, as he saw a giant pair of boots, covering feet the size of a couple of boats. His eyes trailed upwards, and he saw a truly tremendous body, covered up by the purple-and-green camouflage of a Monster uniform. Wide hips and thighs thicker than any tree trunk transitioned to a belly bigger than anything the Golden Harp had imagined. Muscles could be detected beneath the burly arms’ sheaths of blubber, and a barrel chest rested at the top of the diaphragm. Harmonia felt himself start to whimper, as he continued to look up, up, up…and into the giant’s face… …And at that point, his expression shifted, as he saw round, soft cheeks, a pair of bright, baby-blue eyes, carrot colored hair…and a happy-go-lucky gap-toothed smile. “Hello down there!” the giant called happily. “Sorry I’m late, little friends! Had trouble getting my pants on, heh…anyway, I can’t wait to play with you all! This is gonna be so much fun!” Harmonia gulped nervously. As those sweet, happy words and a surprisingly childish giggle filled the air, all he could think of was one thing. Oh, sweet Gods…he’s adorable.

“Mr. A’Cappella,” Crowley piped up, waving one hand between Harmonia and Billy respectively. “Allow me to introduce Billy Geant: Night Raven’s resident giant, and descendant of the Monster of Happy Valley. Mr. Geant? Meet Mr. A’Cappella.” Billy nodded, and smiled down at A’Cappella brightly. “Hi, Mr. A’Cappella!” he bellowed, and knelt down, holding out a single finger towards him. “Nice to meetcha! You can just call me Billy!” Harmonia froze up as that hand swept down towards him. He paused, looking Billy up and down carefully. The ogre was even larger than he had imagined, and he could practically feel gravity’s draw on his body. He glanced towards the giant’s belly, which sagged low and heavy, spilling over and across the titan’s thigh from its obesity. He shivered a bit, and then held out one comparatively puny hand, and shook the tip of Billy’s fat finger. The skin was warm. Soft. Clean. For some reason, that surprised Harmonia: with the way his family described giants, he’d imagined the the skin to be hard as stone, callused, horribly sweaty, or unpleasantly leathery in texture. He hadn’t expected it to be so…nice. “Th-the feeling’s…mutual,” he said, and smiled a tiny bit. “And, uh…just call me Harmonia, okay?” “Okay, Ammonia!” Snickers suddenly erupted from several people. Vil facepalmed. Harmonia blushed. “N-No, uh…it’s Harmonia.” “...Harmonica?” “Close! Close, um…say it with me slowly, okay? Har-mo-ni-a.” Billy nodded slowly, knitting his brow, focusing REALLY hard as he repeated: “Har-mo-ni-a…Harmonia!” “That’s it!” grinned the harp boy with a giggle. “See? You can do it if you try.” Billy blushed and giggled a bit. “Thanks, uh…H-Harmonia,” he said gratefully. Harmonia smiled wider, as he saw the big behemoth scratch the back of his huge head in embarrassment. He would have been lying if he said that he didn’t feel some trepidation, still, but…the giant didn’t SEEM ill-natured. If anything, he seemed…sweet, and even all that hugeness was starting to seem more cuddly than intensely intimidating. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

“Good morning, Housewarden!” Billy cheered, giving a respectful nod to Vil, and then a mock salute to Epel. “And hello, Epel!” “You seem excited this morning,” Epel smiled, somewhat teasingly. “Why wouldn’t I be?” Billy laughed in response. “Don’t expect us to be any less competitive, just because we’re part of the same dorm,” Vil said, warningly, crossing his arms with a smirk. “I expect you to do your best today, Billy. I shall be doing the same.” Billy smirked back. “Oh, trust me,” he said, and licked his lips none-too-subtly. “I’m not going easy on anyone. I promised you all that from the start.” “If the niceties are out of the way,” chuckled the voice of Headmage Ambrose, “I think it’s time we get this game underway. Don’t you, Headmage Crowley?” “Indeed!” boomed Dire Crowley. “So! Mr. Geant, you shall be first: who from this pool…” He tipped his hat in the direction of the RSA team. “...Will you pick for the Monster Captain?” Billy’s giant head swung around on his shoulders. It tilted slightly as he blinked his very large, baby blue eyes at the seven students from Royal Sword. Matthew and Qiao puffed out their chests with pride…then noticed each other, frowned, and tried to nudge one another aside, like a couple of schoolboys vying for attention. Paisley smiled in a dopey, dumb way and gave a little cheery wave (Billy waved back), while Ivo just blinked in a slow, drab way. As for Adam, he gave a smirk and flexed one arm, showing off the firm biceps beneath his gym suit, while Neige gave a friendly smile and a bow. Che’Nya just swirled into view on top of a nearby log. He smirked, rolled his eyes, and yawned, nonchalantly watching a butterfly go by. Billy immediately pointed a finger towards Che’Nya. “This one,” he smiled. “I want him!” Riddle blanched and sucked in air in a sound of shock, startling everyone else. Only Che’Nya and Billy seemed not to notice. The giant was beaming, and the Cheshire Cat looked astonished. “Me-ow?” he responded, pointing to himself, wide-eyed and surprised. “Yuh-huh!” Billy nodded enthusiastically, and looked toward the two headmages. “I want the pink kitty!” “Interesting choice,” murmured Ambrose, sounding intrigued. “Why would you choose Mr. Alchemivich, eh?” questioned Crowley. Billy blinked. He looked between Che’Nya and the Headmages, as if he seriously couldn’t get why they would even ask that question. His response was slow and measured, as if he were explaining to children… “Pink. Kitty. Do I need another reason?”

Harmonia had to bite his knuckle to keep from squealing with laughter. Qiao, Matthew, and Adam all huffed in disappointment, while Paisley, Ivo, and Neige offered congratulations to the Cheshire Cat. Every single student at Night Raven flushed with embarrassment. Several of them seemed to become very interested in their shoes, all of a sudden. Riddle’s expression still bordered on the mortified. “Yes…well…ahem!” coughed Crowley, who seemed equally flummoxed. “A very…unorthodox method, Mr. Geant. We’ll see how it serves your fellow students in the competition.” “Thank you, Headmage…I think,” chuckled Billy, scratching his pink cheek. “Now, Mr. A’Cappella,” Ambrose LXIII spoke up, stroking his white beard. “Would you be so kind as to choose your team captain from the Night Raven side?” Harmonia’s smile faded, and he turned serious. Tossing some of his golden bangs out of his similarly golden eyes, he looked towards the seven NRC members. He had to admit…this wasn’t an easy choice to make. Naturally, he had a bias towards Vil Schoenheit: a celebrity, an entrepreneur, a Housewarden…he had ample credentials. Then again, he knew that Riddle Rosehearts was a Housewarden as well; he’d seen him on television in the Magift competition. Deuce Spade, Jack Howl, and Sebek Zigvolt all seemed strong and hardy; Harmonia got the feeling none of them would be brilliant strategists, but they certainly had physical fitness on their side. And then there was Cater Diamond…who was snapping selfies of himself, winking and sticking out his tongue… …Yeah, Harmonia dismissed him immediately. But that still left six other candidates who could work out well… The golden boy’s eyes finally fell towards Epel. Small. Effeminate. Almost doe-like in appearance, with somewhat untidy lavender hair, and a light sort of voice. A smile painted Harmonia’s face, and he pointed to his choice. “I elect Epel Felmier for the Farmer Team Captain.” The other Night Raven students seemed utterly floored…except for Cater, who laughed and clapped Epel on the back with a cheer of, “WOO-HOO! HashtagCongratulations!” “M-Me?” Epel gasped, seemingly just as surprised. “Why me?” Harmonia shrugged in response, with a gentle sort of smile. “I’ve only known you for a couple of minutes, but I somehow feel the two of us are kindred spirits. Not only that, but you have strength and experiences that I’ve never gotten to enjoy. If I were to be in charge of a team, I’d hope to have a leader like you.” He extended a hand to Felmier. “I have faith that you and your friends will save me.” Epel blushed…but then a confident smile crossed his face. He shook Harmonia’s hand firmly and nodded. “You can count on me.” “I hope so,” chuckled Harmonia. “And so the choices are made!” Ambrose declared, clapping his hands together with a smile. “The game can finally commence!”

“Indeed,” nodded Crowley, and addressed both teams. “Both sides will be led to their respective main camps, where the participating students are gathered. The Head Monster will bring the Golden Harp to the Colosseum. The Captains shall be given fifteen minutes to select their aids and devise a strategy. In exactly a half hour, the hunt for the Golden Harp will begin. Myself and Headmage Ambrose will now lead our students to their headquarters.”

The two Headmages, having announced this, shook hands with each other (Crowley’s smile was extremely forced, Ambrose’s less so), and then marched off, leading their teams away. Epel cast a brief glance back at Harmonia and Billy before hastening off. Harmonia and Billy watched as the rest soon disappeared into the woods. The former gave a nod to Che’Nya, who smiled back and winked, giving a salute before swishing his tail as he swaggered off with the other RSA members. “Bye-bye, little friends!” Billy sang, waving farewell to all of the students…then looked down at Harmonia. Harmonia, in turn, looked up at the giant. They were now completely alone. Just the two of them. The Monster and the Harp. Nervous, anxious, fluttering feelings flitted about in Harmonia’s chest as he suddenly realized his vulnerable state. There were no Headmages, nor even other students, here to try and help. From this point on, his life was quite literally in the hands of the ogre. For a moment, he worried that now would be when the proverbial shoe would drop: when the titan would suddenly go from seemingly sweet and tender to showing his fangs (either literally, figuratively, or both). But instead, Billy just smiled down at him with a happy “little” look on his face, blinking his big blue eyes curiously. “So,” the giant said at last. “Are you ready to go?” “G-Go?” peeped Harmonia, backing up a step. Billy giggled and tossed his head indicatively. “To the Colosseum! That’s where you and I have to stay while I’m guarding you! Part of the game, right?” “Oh! Oh, r-right, um…s-sure, I…I’m ready to go when…when you are-EEP!” Harmonia flinched as a huge hand - larger than his whole body - suddenly swept down again, and stretched palm open before him. He looked between the fat hand and Billy’s face, as Geant smiled in a playful, exuberant way that showed the gap between his teeth. “Come on then!” Billy cheered. “It’s okay, little friend. I won’t hurt you! I’ll be super-duper careful, mega promise!” He crossed his heart with his free hand and added, “Giant’s Honor!” Harmonia nearly retorted that he didn’t know giants HAD honor…but already, he felt that would be a cruel and unjust response. He could tell saying such a thing would have hurt Billy’s feelings, and…well…somehow, he already knew that hurting Billy’s feelings wasn’t something he wanted to do. So - with the caution one might use when trying to defuse a bomb - Harmonia stepped up onto the soft, slightly springy-feeling surface of the giant’s plump palm. He sat down and braced himself as, a moment later, Billy rose back to his full height, carrying Harmonia up, up, up off the ground. The Golden Harp willed himself not to look down, as he could already feel his stomach flip from the change in air pressure and the feeling of gravity shifting beneath him. Billy smiled and cocked his head as he looked at the little one in the palm of his hand. He had to bite his lip to keep from squeeing. “Awww…you’re ADORABLE!” he cooed, unable to hold in his excitement, a blush painting his face, as he lifted his other hand, pointing one finger at Harmonia. “You’re so little, and you have such a cute little outfit…I wish I had a cool golden outfit like that! You look awesome!” Harmonia felt a little breathless as he nudged the finger away, not wanting to be poked, and barely managed to eep out a sincere but somewhat scared, “Th-thank you.” “You’re welcome!” grinned Billy, and cocked his head the other way. The action reminded Harmonia so much of a curious puppy, it was kind of hilarious. “Comfy there, little friend?” “M-More or less…” “Then let’s get moving,” Billy nodded. “Hold on tight, and don’t worry: I won’t let you go.” Under the circumstances, Harmonia felt there was a certain irony to those words…but he decided not to comment on it. Instead, he just sat quietly, as Billy began to march through the woods, his giant footsteps shaking the forest around them as he tromped in the direction of the Colosseum. The games had begun.

To Be Continued in Part Two…

[dykeishheart]

Every so often you see a ridiculous post, usually something with sexual content presented humorously, and a reblog comment will say something to the effect of "this is why this website is unprofitable"

And while those are funny, it's just patently untrue.

Firstly, it behooves us to establish a baseline of terminology, because in current discourse there's a major disconnect between what 'unprofitable' means when used by tumblr users and when used by tumblr executives.

Unprofitable in lay use typically means 'there is a net negative cash flow for this company' while in executive terms it means something more like 'the revenue generated here is unfit for long term growth'. The key distinction is that root word profit; In reality Tumblr is profitable by the first definition but unprofitable by the second. If tumblr wasn't bringing in enough money to at least balance out operating costs it would have been gone long ago. MySpace still exists, Tumblr will likely occupy that same space until it literally can't afford to anymore. The real issue is that tumblr's business model doesn't generate its own growth, and therefore doesn't continually expand its proft above operation like every corporation expects to.

Basically when users on here talk about profits they're measuring velocity, while executives are measuring acceleration. How much will the money increase its own collection, how can we make that happen faster, and how can we maintain that acceleration curve?

Now that that's out of the way, let's look at Tumblr's actual business model. Compared to Twitter and Facebook, tumblr lacks two key things: Public acclaim, and user incentives for engagement loops.

The first part is easy. Tumblr isn't a famous platform like Facebook is or like Twitter is. Outside of Tumblr, nobody talks about Tumblr. This means it's not viewed as a strong market for advertisers, it's not generating waves of new users, and it's not gonna get attention for doing critical maintenance or breakthrough innovation because the crowds simply aren't here. There are millions of Tumblr users, but it really doesn't mean the same thing as the collective hundreds of millions of users across Facebook and Instragram that all generate tons of ad and data revenue for one corporation.

The second part is more complicated because it gets into the psychology of social media engagement, and I'm not gonna pretend to be an expert on how that works. But the crux of it is that the mechanics of engagement with Tumblr are just different from that of Twitter in a few basic ways that mean huge differences in how the space is utilized.

Firstly, Tumblr is fairly obtuse about post longevity; the halflife of a tumblr post is effectively eternal because posts from the first year the website was open for public use still circulate. Posts didn't even have dates put onto them for users to see until like two years ago, unless you modded your website layout with third party tools like Xkit. This is great if you want a website where your art can last forever, but terrible for creating large surges of engagement super quickly on hot button topics and posts. This latter model is how basically all social media operates nowadays, with posts basically dying after 48 hours. There's always a frenzy on every meme, headline, picture, thinkpiece, and political fuckup that inevitably creates micro-surges of engagement for whoever saw it. This creates vicious cycles of attention seeking in just about everyone involved, but it just doesn't work that way here. I get periodic validation from writing I've posted years ago and that gives me the feedback I'd normally have to post hourly to attain on twitter, so there's really no drive for me to constantly be posting. This lack of need to constantly generate content feeds into the first issue of public acclaim; if everyone isn't constantly posting then the content which does leak out from here isn't enough to cross most of the thresholds to motivate people to migrate to the platform and give it public acclaim.

Secondly, the people who *do* post constantly aren't rewarded for doing so in any meaningful way. People who generate tons of content for YouTube and Instagram and TikTok make actual literal money from doing so. People can use Twitter and Facebook to advertise themselves, their products, their podcasts, their personal websites, whatever. With enough of a presence on most social media, there's monetary drives involved. And this motivates some unsuccessful users to keep trying to gain personal acclaim because it's no longer a social media platform, it's a shovel salesman in a gold rush. Tumblr does not have this. Tipping was added a while back but from what I can tell it's not widely used, and even if it was that's still money coming from other users and not the platform itself. Nobody is posting on tumblr to try and make it big and get real money doing so. The people posting a lot on tumblr are people like writers posting updates for their fics, artists posting their art, sex workers promoting their OnlyFans, porn blogs, stolen meme accounts, and the odd wizard here and there. Most people here are engaging for social fulfillment, which is ironically the least profitable motive a social media platform can offer its userbase.

[chysgoda]

Hold the Gate

( @driftward the magic half of your ask! With another micro story!)

One week ago they had reclaimed Ala Mhigo from the Mad King.

Six days ago he had toasted victory with his brothers and sisters in the Crimson Duelists.

Two days ago Lambert betrayed them all and he was the only one left.

Yesterday the Fourteenth Legion had begun their invasion.

Last night any fighters who had survived the revolution fought in the streets losing their city road by road.

The sun was dawning blood red and last week’s victors were now refugees.

“Get them out! I’ll hold the bastards here!” X’rhun yelled at the monk who was fighting along side him.

The woman nodded and herded their countrymen out of the gate they had pried out of Garlean hands for just this. X’rhun grit his teeth. He was exhausted and nearly run dry of aether. He could not rest yet though. Not with black helmeted troops coming around the corner. Not with the massive demon that walked behind the troops. The legatus walked tall and looked like a voidsent prince come to bleed his city dry.

X’rhun flicked blood off his blade as he threw his arms wide. Deepest black chaos on his left hand, purest white stagnation on his right. He reversed his grip on the hilt and brought his hands together forming a staff of the rapier and focus. At center where life beat red with blood, was the balance. In his mind he drew sigils and arcane geometries and held them in his thoughts as he poured every last drop of aether and to much of himself into the focus. X’rhun braced against the pressure the accelerating aether exerted on him.

He released the spell he’d been holding in. Spidery writing and geometry spread out from his feet. Distantly he felt blood trickle from his nose but ignored it. The spell collapsed around him into pulsing shafts of crimson light. A sweep of X’rhun’s rapier directed the aether towards the Garlean troops. The streaking aether left winding crimson after trails on his vision. He collapsed to his knees and in the moment before columns of blood red aether burned a crater in the street he saw the Black Wolf throw up an arm to protect his eyes.

X’rhun crumpled to the side. His focus rang with a clear mellow tone when it hit the ground. He couldn’t hear those who were escaping anymore. That was good, hopefully. He shook himself and picked up his weapon again. X’rhun looped his fingers through the filigree at the top of his focus, he didn’t have the aether to keep it floating above his hand. If he cast the Scourge once more and kept the bastards back by a few more moments, the others would have a better chance. He would need to burn his life aether to do it this time, but it would by more time. The spell was sluggish and sloppy as he began to form it in his mind. It was not the crisp elegant thing he wished to blind the Garlean’s senses. Still it was what he had to work with.

“Not today Deep Red!” The monk was back and hauled him onto her broad shoulders like a bag annoying green potatoes. The spell in his mind jangled like dropped wind chimes as he lost track of it. His hands went limp but she caught both focus and the rapier before they could hit the ground. Without looking back she turned and ran through the gates.

Injuries old and new, the aether of his life that he’d burned, grief for his fallen home, every nick cut and tear, all demanded their due. As consciousness left him he wanted to laugh out hysterical sobs.

The last two free Ala Mhigans fled the city gates.

[phyreunavailable]

Vague talking about timeloops. This is mostly for my oc but hey it can apply to other time damned characters too I feel. Depending on their realm of time damned.

Hardest part abt writing a time loop, in my opinion, is like- figuring out a normal stage of progression for the person in it. Like naturally they keep learning, they keep getting stronger. And with a smaller number it's easy, but like, if narratively they're at over 1000, then that has to show right? So cool, you make your Uber powered loop 1000 guy. Then you gotta think well shit they must've started smaller right? So there you go, making ur loop 0 guy.

Suddenly someone goes "Oh but what would they be like at loop 200?" And you realize you gotta figure out some sort of general vibe of where they were at. So now at loop 200 your guy is definitely stronger than loop 0, but nowhere near loop 1000. Maybe they've nailed the beginning by now, but are still figuring out after that.

Loop 500? Have a handle on things, maybe just going to solely go for learning new things. What if they tried medicine? What if they gave engineering a try? They've focused on just fighting, but what if other skills came into play too?

Loop 800 they know like everything now yknow. They've learned all the skills, might as well master them through the loops.

Then ur Uber powered loop 1000 guy, just focused on their loops. Whatever their goal is, whatever is driving them this far. Maybe they are taking every option they can. They can do anything now. They've basically become a God at this point, right? They're more powerful than anyone else, they can do everything, so why not take that chance?

And when something is different? They're ecstatic. Something they did changed something. That person never existed in the past, yet here they are. Because you micro managed. Because you changed things.

Hey gang can we tell I like timeloops

[rosella-writes]

Hey, happy Friday! How about a smut prompt for Zev/Alistair? I imagine this line would come from Zev, if the spirit moves you! “You like it that much, hm?”

This was supposed to be a micro prompt but uh writing rope made it get a bit away from me. Mature but it's all beneath the cut, so I left the label as-is. For @dadrunkwriting. Thank you!

~~~

Zevran let the rasp of jute sound across Alistair's skin. He drew it across his throat slowly, as if savouring the draw of a knife, until the end flicked free of him and fell to the blankets. Only then did he set to work looping it about Alistair's wrists and raising his hands above his head.

The assassin glanced from his knotwork up to the king's face — Alistair had colour high in his tawny cheeks, and even the ridges of his ears were flushed pink. His pupils were blown wide in his warm eyes.

"You like it that much, hmm?" Zevran hummed, accentuating his hum with a sudden tug on the end of his jute.

Alistair gasped when the rope closed snugly above the jut of his wrist bone. His cock was insistently hard against Zevran's hip.

"I shouldn't answer that," he finally rasped. His humour was half-lost in his desperate breaths. "Imagine the scandal."

"What scandal, my king?" Zevran drawled. He rapidly tied a chain of looping knots down the span of his arms, then crossed Alistair's hands over his wide, warm chest and bound them to the ties he'd already made around his ribs. "The scandal of your west wall being undefended? Not a single archer!"

Alistair choked out a chuckle, then swallowed a retort along with a whimper as Zevran tightened the ropes that bound his legs. "As if I wouldn't do that on purpose! How else can I expect to be taken by a dastardly assassin who creeps in my bedroom window? Steps had to be taken."

Zevran leaned close, a grin spreading his face. "You missed me?"

"As a dog misses a bone."

"Oh, my dear king, I am so much more attractive than a bone."

Zevran's knots were good, and carefully, lovingly made — they did not slip as he dragged rope through the tie at Alistair's waist. The pull after gradual pull dragged Alistair's leg up at the knee, and when it pressed near his chest Zevran tied it off at his ankle. He pushed at Alistair's foot with satisfaction, watching as the man below him twisted and shifted helplessly atop his covers.

"I'm going to tie your cock now," Zevran promised, leaning down to nose a trail of nearly-kisses along Alistair's throat and shoulder. "My beautiful boy. You are so bellissimo like this, amore mio."

His hands slid down over Alistair's trussed wrists, over his belly, and cupped his hard length in his grasp. Alistair bit off a choked, "Sweet Andraste —" and began to dissolve into nothing but panted sounds.

"Not yet," Zevran teased, looping his final piece of jute around Alistair's cock and beneath his balls. "You cannot come quite yet, caro. Be patient."

And he tightened his final knot.

[pretentiouswreckingball]

loops' pin thingy :D

| loops | AO3 | she / her | english / spanish | 24 | minors dni |

fics

completed

As warm as the Calabrian sun [jegulus] (2/2, 8.4k)

Sometimes, when the planets are misaligned and the odds are not in his favor, James Potter gets sick. But even when all seems lost, James hasn’t run out of luck because, when he least expects it, said luck knocks on his door, taking the shape of someone very dear to him. James only has to let him in. *** Featuring a sick James, a cheeky little Harry, an orange cat named mandarina and an unexpected —but not unrequited— feverish confession under the stars. And love, so much love wrapped between white linen sheets and soft summer breeze.

light as a feather, soft as a kiss [drarry] (1/1, 1.7k)

Draco never thought Harry’s face could ever look this soft, every time he has laid eyes upon Harry over the years, his jaw has always been too tight, his entire face set like stone, defiant. And no matter what he did to avoid it, Draco has always been mesmerized by it, even when he was not supposed to be. So now, as he’s tracing the golden skin that seems to glow under the light of the sun pouring from outside, Draco realizes looks can be deceiving and he’s never been more glad to be in the wrong.

slow dancing in the dark [jegulus, wolfstar] (1/1, 2.5k)

James is gone. But that’s not quite right now, is it? Because to Regulus, James is always only one dance away.

some sunny day [jegulus, wolfstar, pandalily] (1/1, 3.7k)

A beach AU with an insane amount of seawater, sand castles, threesome jokes, number two's and grandparents absolutely besotted with the grandkids.

When it rains [jegulus, wolfstar, pandalily] (1/1, 17.1k)

In the last week of November, a storm takes place. Certainly, three days of intense rain would make everyone stay at home. It seems that six people don't get the memo, instead, they decide to take shelter at a random bus stop. Not at the same time and not the same pair each time, though. What are the odds this particular group of people know each other? And in what way are they all connected?

Don't threaten me with a good time [jegulus] (3/3, 7.6k)

No, that doesn't make sense. James' boyfriend can't be an animagus, can he? Besides, a black cat animagus can't actually bring bad luck... right? --- Or: when Regulus messed up with his boyfriend just for the fun of it and they almost die. A few times.

archenemies (or so he thought) [jegulus, wolfstar] (1/1, 3.2k)

Sirius doesn't like cats. He's an animagus dog for Godric's sake, it's in his very magical nature to despise such sneaky little shits. He particularly doesn't like cats who tend to steal his best friend's attention, leaving him alone in pursuing mischief. So when he confronted his best friend about it, the last thing he's expecting is for the black cat next to him, to turn into his brother.

*in rewrite*

About time, scars and the brightest stars [wolfstar, background jegulus/pandalily] (4/24, long)

About Time AU where Remus discovers he can travel through time and while he tries to navigate through his life with this newfound discovery, he learns about life, loss, love and what it means to be alive.

[inafieldofdaisies]

1. don’t leave + mercy x jacob 💕

Prompt: Send me a number and I’ll write a micro story (3-10 sentences) with the word corresponding to it.

The empty hallways that greeted Mercedes as she entered St. Francis gave her a pause, causing her to worry something she wasn't in the loop about had taken place, yet as she navigated the familiar route to Jacob's office her demeanor remained relaxed, inconspicuous. Her knuckles rapped against the door softly, the curt "Come in" that echoed as response hinting his mood might be the reason why his men were nowhere to be found. She breezed into the room, gaze setting on him as he stood hunched over his desk that was covered in yet another set of plans doomed to fail. "Isaac said you'd asked to see me, a bit too official, wouldn't you say?", she didn't let the fact he hadn't even bothered to turn around and look at her at all discourage her from inching closer until her hands descended onto his shoulders, knitting at the tense muscles beneath her fingertips. "I did, but the situation has changed. You know the way out.", his tone was as emotionless and matter-of-fact as it could get, telling her that sending her away without explanation was something she had to accept as an order, rather than request. Mercedes rounded the desk until he had no choice but to actually face her, "What's wrong with you now?" The snarl he offered her felt forced, giving her a glimpse through the act he was trying to put on, "Absolutely nothing." The second she crossed her hands over her chest and his eyes instinctively dipped down, she had her confirmation, "You suck at acting, I believe we already established that, but I will go, Jacob, just don't come crawling back to me later, because I will not let you in." The stormy look in his eyes signaled she had struck a nerve before Jacob even opened his mouth, "I don't crawl, sweetheart, ever." "Whatever helps you sleep at night.", her lips quirked up into a smirk, before she sent him a final brief glance, "Goodbye, have fun with whatever you're doing." Mercedes twirled around with that, and where most people would have probably scurried out of his sight quickly, each step she took towards the door was measured, meant to make him hesitate. As expected, his voice rang out behind her just when her hand wrapped around the doorknob, "Don't leave."

[dogtoling]

I got Engel! they're so cute, could you tell me more about them?

A few people have asked about Engel actually and I'm not going to reply to all of those (since it's like, the same answer) so i'll do this one!!

I'm pretty sure I posted his design thing from last year on here but here he is (yes, he is a dude despite how he dresses. he is incredibly used to people thinking he is a girl. and he doesn't really care at this point)

Interestingly he is actually not from Octaria OR Inkopolis but actually grew up in the Deepsea and he hated it, like, a lot. Which explains why when he got settled on the surface, he founded a band called Deep Sea Dead Zone. because the deep sea is a dead goddamn place.

Their first album came out in 2017 and the second one, well... it hasn't happened yet because their guitarist kinda fucked off. That guitarist being Dodo, while the other band members are Boy and Peppermint. They're still kinda in the process of recruiting a new one, and while Engel has PLENTY of songs written and probably almost ready to go, the band is still stuck in a bit of limbo because everyone is STILL kind of busy with you know, adult stuff, and other life stuff

(the unhinged cover photo. In spite of how cute Engel likes to dress, his songs are.... hm..... yeah)

The main thing going on for him is being the lead guy for the band, which has also resulted in him being micro-celebrity mostly on social media, but he's also looking to be a fashion designer. Kind of a lot in his life got messed up because of the band going on hiatus and other things happening that threw him out of the loop... he's not a very stable person and yes i took the twitter thread from some tumblr post i saw and edited him into it

(and peppermint. they're best friends and used to be roomies)

Engel is a really outgoing and energetic person usually, and he really doubles down on the cute aesthetics, so a lot of people who don't specifically know him from his band are really surprised to learn what kind of music he writes. In total contrast to how his personality seems to be, like a lot of lyrics are ridiculously moody, angry or straight up depressing...

so basically, he's got a lot going for him but also a lot going against him, mostly his own mental health and past trauma. But he HAS been doing much better recently (therapy, meds et cetera) AND he even has a slug now to help with a feeling of normalcy. Living alone is pretty difficult for him especially with how busy a lot of his friends have been pretty much since their turf team broke up a good few years ago... that was way before Splatoon 2 and before the band even existed

(his emotional support slug, Meat, is pictured in the tableturf drawing)

briefly about his turf team, during the era of Splatoon 1 turf wars in the early 2010's, Deep Sea Dead Zone were a blue ink battling team! (though that was not their name.) Peppermint was a Krak-On Splat Roller, Boy was a .52 Gal, Dodo was an E-Liter 3K and Engel was, of course, a Carbon Roller

He was also brand new to the surface, could barely speak the language, and had to pretty much sneak out to meet up and play with his friends. It's a whole thing. Playing with friends was always the main draw of ink battling as a sport for him, obviously, even though he was pretty decent on his own. When Peppermint had to retire from them due to health reasons, no one (except Dodo because he was never in it for the friends anyway) really felt the urge to keep playing anymore, so he's not touched ink battling since like, probably 2015

With that being said though.... Peppermint has returned to Turf Wars and looks like she misses him

[ladykettlechips]

Thank you to @suspendingtime for tagging me ❤️❤️❤️ These are fun little ways to get to know people, so thanks again~

Last song: 'Kimi koi' by Fruits Zipper (キミコイ)

A thing to know about me is that my music tastes are varied, and that when a song inspires me, I listen to it on a loop for days on end. I'm a big fan of Japanese music and have been since I was about 15 or 16, and this song has been my main inspiration for about a week straight now in writing. I also have a tendency to write in the opposite style of the song I listen to, so, yes. I wrote smut to the cuteness that is this song 😂

Fav colour: Green! 💚

More specifically: Mint green, Pear green, and apple green. I am also fond of most pastel shades, such as baby pink, baby blue, a pastel yellow, etc.

Currently watching: Fellow Travellers.

I'm notorious for watching things one at a time and binging series I have already completed. I finally finished Brooklyn 99 recently, so I'm just gonna focus on FT for now and then probably re-watch Bridgerton.

Last movie: I forget, but I'm off to see A Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes today, so let's just say that! 🐍

Currently reading: Fanfic 😂 or, if we're going by actual books, I have a few in rotation right now included 'Gilded' by Marissa Meyer. One I have dropped cause it was for disso and I hated the writing so much, bahaha. I'm a terrible reader for actual books though, so apologies.

My usual style of book is fantasy / dystopian / fairy tale retellings / portal stories. I love YA as a genre and find it so inspiring and imaginative. I also like reading short stories, flash and micro fiction.

Sweet/Savoury/Spicy: Sweet pastries.

Savoury bread.

Spicy fanfic.

Relationship status: A Single Pringle Unwilling to Mingle

Current obsession: Bridgerton. Japanese Music (always). Kanthony. Writing (wait, this has always been an obsession)

Last google: 'Seannan McGuire Wayward Children Series'

(Which is a bloody good portal series, by the way)

Currently working on: Made to Be (Chapter 7)

It's being a pain in my ass and I just want Anthony to stop being a difficult little shit to write in his POV's, thanks.

Current game: Disney Dreamlight Valley!

I'm not a big gamer, so the ones I play are the kinds that I've played before or feel super in-tune with. Other games I tend to fall back on are Long Live The Queen, The Sims and Pokémon (especially Pokémon)

__________________________________________________

I have no idea who to tag today, so feel free to steal this and have at it if you wish! ENJOY!!!!

[skyestudies]

Swap to Stop: How to Overcome Procrastination

If you’re a chronic crammer like me, chances are that you’ve tried to change your ways with time management and productivity tips. However, one of the reasons why procrastination is so hard to overcome is because it’s actually a habit we form as a way of coping with unpleasant emotions.

If you procrastinate, you might have negative feelings like frustration, confusion, dread, or fear of failure that make you want to avoid tasks to keep yourself from confronting these emotions. As we make a routine of putting off our tasks in response to these emotional triggers and get the reward of momentary relief from doing so, our brains start craving this reward every time we encounter these negative emotions, reinforcing the habit loop of procrastination. In his book The Power of Habit, Charles Duhigg suggests a helpful way of changing habits like procrastination, which is by replacing our routine response to its triggers with other actions that give us similar rewards. Following this approach, when you get the urge to procrastinate in response to negative feelings, here are alternative activities that you can do to get that reward of relief without getting too sidetracked.

Whenever you feel like moving onto another activity to evade your task, you can try writing down that other activity first instead of performing it right away. You might find that even just acknowledging the other things you want to do can give you some release and relief that your brain may treat as a reward, and you can do this every time you get the urge to do another activity to solidify the new routine. Keeping this running list of everything else you might rather do instead of your task may also help you in other ways. It can give you an idea of the routines you’ve unconsciously formed as your brain is used to automatically switching to these activities when you procrastinate, and you can use this information to your advantage. You can introduce barriers that make it harder for you to immediately carry out the routines you’ve listed in tandem with substituting them with another rewarding activity to make the habit easier to change. For example, if you discover that you routinely open a social media app to procrastinate, you can try hiding that app or moving it to another location to break the routine the next time around. You can even swap your Notes app in its place to prompt you to do the new routine of listing down your activities!

Another alternative is to check-in with yourself and take note of the emotions you feel when you get the urge to avoid your tasks. The act of expressing your emotions through writing or other means can be relieving and therefore rewarding to your brain, and if you repeat this replacement enough, you can reinforce the new routine and maybe even develop a new habit of micro-journaling. Since procrastination is driven by unpleasant feelings, this alternative routine may also allow you to identify the emotional roots that trigger your procrastination so you can find ways to address them and prevent the cycle from starting in the long-term. Personally, I discovered through journaling that I tend to avoid particularly challenging tasks because of fear and poor self-esteem – I am afraid that I am not capable of accomplishing the task, so I procrastinate to avoid confronting the possibility that I am not good enough. With this knowledge, I now try to allay these fears by recalling past instances wherein I was able to finish similarly difficult tasks. In managing these emotional triggers, I become less inclined to put off tasks and more encouraged to take them on in the long-term. Finally, when you feel like putting off a task, you can enumerate the rewards you can give yourself after working on it instead.

Contemplating the rewards you can get from accomplishing your tasks can also be rewarding in itself, making it possible to reinforce as a new routine to replace procrastination with enough repetition. You can even use the list of desired activities you listed in the first suggested alternative as a reference for making your rewards list. Breaking your task down into smaller chunks and assigning rewards for completing each of them can give your brain a greater sense of certainty about when it can be rewarded. Doing all of this can also help you train your brain to delay gratification for better rewards at the end.

Replacing the routine of putting off your task with less distracting but similarly relieving activities can help you break the habit of procrastination. All of this will take some effort as you will need to consciously pause and pay attention when you encounter the emotional trigger that compels you to procrastinate, but as with many habits, it will get easier over time as your brain gets used to your new routines. Trust the process, and believe in your capacity for change!

[notchainedtotrauma]

I have written the exclusive Iced Tea patrons (5$) monthly vibrating sonorities post, and here it is. Vibrating sonorities posts are ways in which I transcribe my emotional reactions to a song through writing micro fiction. I chose Bruises by Kelela as the song.

Roy DeCarava, Graduation

The photograph above best visually describe the micro-fiction bits. Here are some excerpts to whet your appetite:

0:00-0:13: The day stood far from here, and I couldn't help but daydream a door to smash through. Too much had happened, ironed into my spine, that I wouldn't remain in the coloring of the event. Of what would become, for blood soiled months, the event.

and

1:56-2:27: The men here cycled through, a steady loop of hollowed bodies and glassy demeanor, providing steady breakfast, the congealed bacon grease, the airless syrup. And Sneak and her as faraway as you can be from the monotony of inedible exhaustion and willed numbness.

and

2:47-3:22: She had constricted herself into the sturdiness of her head as it was crushing her hand; to be swept up within an aching exquisiteness, to hold on. For hours, she kept herself to bed, a mess of creased sheets who remembered her body as she wanted it to be, her spine crisp and tight at intervals as she rippled through the loop of quotidian cruel imagery that sundered her.