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brick-a-doodle-do · 10 months

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i know myself so well DVFEWJRS

HERE IT IS!! LAST CHAPTER IN MAIN SERIES! i started this doc on halloween and finished it around fourth of july! good god!

also i forgot to add bht thank you to xyz for help with this chapter !! part of the last scene was completely their idea :D

the egg scene will forever haunt me. i was stuck on that for at least three months.

not quite ready (iii; final)

(i, ii)

words: 4515 (😱😱😱)

cw: vore mention, dehumanization, mentions of depression, descriptions of questioning reality ? idk the word for that :I

—–—

The following morning, Wilbur sits with himself in silence. The apartment was quiet, broken only by the quiet whooshes of cars rushing in the busy streets down below and the occasional hum from the air conditioner.

By the time the bedroom door that had sat undisturbed for hours creaked open with practiced silence, he didn't know how much time had passed.

That feeling was familiar.

He hates to circle back to the very thing he’s so luckily escaped from, but every little thing he did would remind him of it. Wilbur doesn’t know Tommy very well yet, and he can’t say he’s drawn to doing so, but it’s nice to be able to gaze at the chocolate bag without looking at the walls he only saw as one great big endless void.

He can hear Tommy’s weight shift onto the floorboards softly as he makes his way through the apartment. Wilbur tossed to his side, eyes staring at the cloth of the couch. Familiarity washes over him and drowns him. He had spent too long staring at a dark, blank slate. Why does his freedom entail the very same thing?

Wilbur frowns, shifting back up to the ceiling, where Tommy just barely looms over the edge of the couch. A shiver runs through his body at the startle, but ultimately it’s nice to see him, because it was grounding to see another living and breathing something.

“Oh, fuck, sorry—” Tommy murmurs, his hands resting on the back of the couch and pushing the cushion down just slightly to see the tiny better. Wilbur shrugs, looking deeply into the eyes that blink without a rhythm. Tommy is alive.

Wilbur is too.

Tommy’s chest rises and falls and his hair shifts as his head moves just barely so their eye-contact could disperse. Wilbur’s chest rises and falls too, and he can hear his heartbeat that thumps softly against his ears as they sit in utter silence.

“Well, um, I’m gonna go, yeah? You alright here?”

He considered it, and he should’ve said he was. It was on the tip of his tongue, but he’d apparently lost control of his response and blurted out an extremely abrupt: “No, please stay with me. I–I can’t sleep and I really can’t have it be quiet any longer.”

“Oh,” Tommy murmurs, “okay. Yeah, I can do that for sure. Do you want me to sit down?” he asks, already making his way over to the tiny.

The borrower nods, trying not to listen to the voice in his head. Tommy obliges and walks around the edge of the couch, a certain slowness to his movements, and sits down just inches away from the pillow he was on.

Wilbur sits up, sinking slightly in the middle of the feathers, but his next-to-nothing weight, for the most part, keeps him still. Tommy keeps his hands in his lap, nails picking softly at his skin. It’s quiet for a moment, but Tommy speaks up with the inevitable question, “Did you sleep last night?”

Wilbur shakes his head, “No, I couldn’t. Did you?”

“A little bit,” Tommy replies, and Wilbur notices how the hem of the human’s shirt has been caught between his fingers. “Hey, um, Wilbur?” Tommy asks. Wilbur looks up. “Are you feeling alright after that whole, uh…thing?”

Wilbur shrugs, the phantom feeling of being in the bag already fading from his memory, but in the same way never uprooting. He swallows. “I can't say I feel the best, but I'm getting better. Thank you for what you've done, I don't know where I'd be right now.”

“Oh, nah man, you didn't deserve to be there in the first place! Just helpin’ a guy out, y’know?” Tommy flashes him a fond smile, and the human’s humor wafts into his face, the sweet scent of underlying pity burning his throat. He laughs dryly, unsure of where to lead the conversation so that the suffering sound of nothing can’t bother him any longer, because so many of his days had been spent with little but the occasional muffled chime from the store’s door or the hushed chatter from city-goers as they pass in and out.

Tommy looks like he wants to say something, his lips parting with every passing second Wilbur sits with the reminisce of the past. He considers pointing the fact out, but instead he lets them sit in the shared silence before the teenager’s inevitable saving grace would show.

Half a minute has passed and they haven't broken eye-contact.

The gesture might’ve scared past-Wilbur, though post-incident-Wilbur has never felt more thrilled at the contact of another being. And when his eyes drift down to the fingers that still fidget with the cloth anxiously, he can't help but imagine how grounding it would feel for fingers to close over him.

He shudders at the thought, however, because it’s an entirely other scenario to be trapped by a human. It’s a conflicting battle that leaves him absentmindedly shifting closer.

Tommy is quiet.

Wilbur is quiet.

A car honks down on the streets below, startling Wilbur.

Tommy, awkwardly, clears his throat. “I’m going back to London in a few weeks, can’t be long now, uhm, do you want to come with me? I don’t want to force you, but you don’t seem like the typa’ fella to just pick life back up, respectfully ‘n all.” Wilbur considers it, and the silence draws taut.

“That’s a bit last-minute, don’t you agree?” he asks.

“Right, like I said you’re not, like, fuckin’ obligated to or whatever. Just thought it might be nice, givin’ you a heads up ‘n all,” Tommy reassures him. It’s not exactly convincing; Wilbur finds himself wondering how much of Tommy is really okay with him staying here.

Wilbur swallows, running his fingers through the flap of his hair. “I don’t know, and don’t expect an answer. Not anytime soon.”

“Right, yeah, don’t decide right now,” Tommy chirps, leaning against the couch and sighing. “Are you hungry? I could fuckin’ eat right now,” he adds.

Wilbur stares right at him.

Tommy sits, oblivious with his leg bouncing as he awaits Wilbur’s response. Eventually, his eyes shifted in realization when the silence had drawn on too long. “Oh, oh fuck—I didn’t mean it like that, I don’t want anything like that—” Tommy rushes, the words coming out a warp. Wilbur shakes his head, the beginning of laughter escaping him, though drying up at the edge of his throat.

“You’re fine, king, you’re all good. Just a bit jumpy after everything, you get it,” he replies simply.

“I actually don’t really get it,” Tommy argues. There’s another beat of silence, Wilbur staring at Tommy’s hands. “Well, uh, seriously then, do you want food?”

Wilbur nods eagerly.

Food, real food sounded extravagant; his teeth had rotten away over all the times he’d filled up on chocolate.

The taste of something savory over the weeks had often been his imagination while he bit into the bud of candy, pretending easily that it was something different, like, a rather pleasant portion of fruit he’d scored while a human was away or something he managed to buy in his short time of freedom.

Tommy nods, shuffling up off of the couch and leaving him in the lonely living room again, back to sitting with his own thoughts, only this time with a newfound light after the human had flicked it on.

Suddenly, Tommy comes back into view as he gently leans over the back of the couch. So close. Like how he had been when he’d peered into the candy bag—

“Wilbur,” Tommy urges. When Wilbur seems to have blinked out of his memory, the human continues. “What do you want? You allergic to anything?”

He blinks. Alurgic?

“Uh….I don’t think I know what that means,” Wilbur admits.

“Oh, uh, I’ll take that as a no. I don’t have it in me to explain,” Tommy says, smiling at him like Wilbur is supposed to know what that means.

When Tommy takes his expression that grows even more confused by the following silence as a response, he tries to shake it off with a swift: “Can I take you over to the kitchen, then? Or do you think you still could fall asleep?”

“I can’t fall asleep,” Wilbur responds quickly.

Tommy nods. “I’m gonna put my hand down on the pillow,” the human announces. He does—though irritatingly slow. He was unsure about humans, and it seemed both of them recognized that, but Wilbur wasn’t glass.

When Tommy had stopped moving and instead kept his eyes glued to the borrower, he moved with his shoulders slicked back to hide the anxiety of being watched so intensely.

Tommy’s skin was rough under his own as he got situated on his palm.

Memories of being held by other (more resentful) humans fought their way through his archives, but he felt oddly soothed for how loud his head was.

Almost immediately after he had settled in the center of Tommy’s hand, gravity shifted and he watched as the world grew further from him. He wasn’t startled (Prime knows he’s been through worse) as his world shifted with each of Tommy’s movements, in fact he was still as at ease as he could be.

The rest of the apartment wasn’t anything special.

Ahead of them was a kitchen, to the right was the front door, and to the left there were two other closed doors. He couldn’t take the house for anything personalized, so he probably hadn’t been here for longer than a few months. Still, it wasn’t the cleanest thing ever, but he couldn’t expect anything different from a kid Tommy’s age.

(He’s seen it first-hand from the walls)

(*)

Tommy’s muscle memory kept him from wandering into the kitchen counter as his eyes kept a strong stare onto Wilbur.

It wasn't anything particularly different than the other times he had talked or even seen a tiny, but even despite how little they've known each other it still felt more personal. Wilbur had been through a lot and Tommy was getting to help him.

And he’s already cracked the ice, he noted as Wilbur barely reacts when he gently tilts him off of his hand and onto the kitchen island.

He turns his back to him to search the fridge.

There was barely anything there, just a cool-lighted wasteland with a few leftovers that he can't remember packaging in the first place.

An egg carton was nestled between two takeout boxes (had he tried organizing?) and it caught his gaze the second look around the fridge.

“Uhh, we have eggs,” Tommy suggests.

There's silence for a moment, then, barely distinguished from behind him, “That sounds fine.”

Wilbur sounded distracted, if somehow that was possible.

“Great, because I don’t actually think I can make anything except that,” Tommy deadpans, chuckling to himself at his own joke. He watches Wilbur crack a smile and a quiet laugh on his way to the stove with the egg carton in hand.

He flicks on the dial against the back of the stove, turning it to a medium heat before opening a cabinet to pull out a bowl.

Tommy follows the routine of whisking the eggs then pouring them in and waiting. For a minute, Tommy’s attention lingers on what’s stood behind him, but he doesn’t voice his curiosity, nor his concern or sociable desires.

He just stands over the stove, watching the eggs, prodding at them with a spatula as they form into something edible. When they’re decidedly done, he sprinkles salt over them and calls it quits. He figures Wilbur won’t be particular about his culinary abilities when his past appetite consisted of chocolate.

The idea makes his head hurt, thinking about how someone so human, even despite their sharp, obvious difference, could be locked away like how Wilbur had been.

Tommy could only imagine how dark it could’ve been—completely isolated from any kind of outside contact and intended to be thrown away, eaten like a piece of candy.

Must have been difficult.

“Pardon?” a small voice from behind him asks, and Tommy tenses. Had he said that out loud?

Tommy blinks, and suddenly his hand is moving on its own and folding the eggs into themselves to finish the dish.

Prime, he was tired as shit.

He moves to turn the stove off and sets the pan aside on another burner, then opens a cabinet and pulls a plate off of the lower shelf, the ceramic noises like nails on a chalkboard to him. The plate clinks as it’s set down, then Tommy retrieves the pan of eggs and stares at them, long and hard. Not his best work.

Discouragement aside, he pulls a fork out of a drawer and spoons on the helping of eggs onto the plate. Good enough for government work, huh? Wilbur won’t care, anyway.

He takes a fork from a nearby drawer, then spins around, (blinking away the throb in his eyes when the lights hit his face), and sets the plate down on the kitchen island, just a few respectable inches from Wilbur, who stood with his hand on his arm, standing noticeably awkward.

(*)

Food. Actual, real food. Albeit made in no time at all and served by a teenager in a New York apartment, but still something that was an honest, feasible replacement from his past diet.

He stares at it. Tommy’s attention turns away from him, and he still stares at the plate of eggs.

As Tommy was still distracted pulling up a chair from the other side of the counter, Wilbur steps forward cautiously and crouches down, peeling a small portion off of the eggs and stuffing it in his mouth. He swears to Prime that if Tommy were not nearly staring directly at him, Wilbur very well might have considered melting.

The eggs were not seasoned and they were not slow-cooked, but they were heaven. Were he a functioning member of society, (And assuming he was still very much mentally troubled after certain events), and Tommy was his waiter, he would give it a five out of five.

Carefully, Wilbur takes another piece off of the egg and gnaws at it, savoring the unadorned flavor with every aspect of his senses. The feeling of rubber, (Almost), which clashes with his usual expectation of soft-then-syrupy, the bland flavor that was absolutely new to him, and the bright yellow color that contrasted with the black that he always just imagined as color. His void always had been a playground for imagination.

“Thank you,” Wilbur says through a mouthful, to which Tommy smiles weakly and sits down—after much delay, as if Tommy could’ve felt as awkward as Wilbur did right now.

Tommy grabs a fork and grabs a tentative bite, then through a mouthful, mumbles: “No problem, mate.” Through the corner of his eye, Wilbur watches Tommy and tries not to snicker at the forced face the blond makes to push through his disapproval of the meal.

“I’m gonna be honest with you, this shit takes like heaven,” he says, smally but still loud enough for Tommy to hear.

“I think I’ll throw up if I have one more bite of this, It’s completely yours, then,” Tommy says, pushing the plate a little closer to Wilbur for emphasis. Wilbur shifts back on instinct, looking up anxiously at Tommy before calming down. Sorry,” Tommy adds quickly. Wilbur waves him off and takes a smaller piece of egg to chew on absentmindedly.

“The fucking chocolate has been making my teeth rot,” Wilbur says, huffing a bit like it’s a joke. Like one of those things to look back on and laugh at.

Tommy doesn’t seem amused, though. “That sounds awful, man,” he adds.

“It’s not anymore, ‘cause now someone’s gone and saved me,” Wilbur reassures, gesturing mildly to Tommy.

“You’re welcome!” Tommy says, smiling like a child who’s helped with a chore unprompted. His mood changes are unmatched, Wilbur notes duly.

After that, time passed slowly, and for once, there wasn’t dread that followed. Tommy had cleaned breakfast up, and Wilbur kept the silence away while talking about this and that, until Tommy announced he needed to get groceries for his last couple of weeks in New York. Tommy’s plan was to have Wilbur stay back, but he declined, and instead asked to tag along.

For that reason, he rested carefully on Tommy’s shoulder, back resting against Tommy’s neck, completely vulnerable.The thought of that concerned him; to think about how any one of these people could work for that god-awful facility he was sent to, or any one of them could be holding a borrower captive, or how any of these people could absolutely hate his kind, and here he was, out in the open for any of those people to see. It was worrisome, and that had him tightening the grip of the hem of his sweater.

Tommy was pleasingly quiet, though, and it was just the two of them listening to music. (Or as much music as he could hear from sitting under the human’s earbud.)

He would’ve thought it to be harder to stay on someone’s shoulder, but even from the start he was persistent on that spot, only because it would’ve been incredibly difficult for Tommy to reach him without Wilbur noticing first—although he had gotten a little bit on edge when Tommy reached up to fix his hair or adjust his earbud. Sure, the human made him food and had gotten him out of that wretched bag, and had seemed pretty genuine about not eating him, he still wasn’t ready to be hand-held or in his pocket where he couldn't see everything.

Also, it was warmer here. Tommy and his need to linger around chilled foods.

Wilbur looks around, through Tommy’s curls, staring at the variety of foods. They were too far for him to recognize, (Not that he would know any of them by heart, considering he grew up on things he could score on the counter), but it was still so refreshing to see something real.

Suddenly, as his eyes graze over something on a high shelf, someone walks past and locks eyes with him. Wilbur tenses. The lady tenses, stopping abruptly. Unfortunately for him, Tommy also stops to look at something.

The lady gives a curious, almost disgusted look, and Wilbur, not knowing what to do, proceeds to flip her off.

It was not until that motion Wilbur realized he was just caught doing something to absolutely draw attention to himself until he was much too late.

“You!” the lady says, rather loudly—definitely enough for Tommy to turn his attention to her. “Control that thing,” she finishes, a certain type of offensive dripping from her tongue that makes even Tommy tense. Wilbur flinches at her voice, somehow moving closer to Tommy despite being right up against his neck. He crosses his arms, some kind of half-frustrated-half-ready-to-cry feeling washing over him which leaves him stone-faced and unmoving.

Thing. A single word and suddenly he’s back at the factory, being manhandled and thrown into a container with other borrowers, some panicked, some angry, and some oddly accepting. Wilbur was angry, pissed. He had been granted freedom from being cooped up in the walls with nothing to do except get food whenever he ran out. And he finally got a chance to see the world, to walk on pavement made for people his size and be social. And he had, for a week, and then he had made a lucky call when trusting someone and gotten thrown into a bag not a day later, sealed in darkness.

When Tommy had found him, however-long later, he couldn’t say he saw someone with the intent to capture him again. He saw a savior, and maybe that’s why he was so relaxed. Reality felt there again. He felt like he existed, and he didn’t pinch himself every five minutes to check he was really there. His limbs weren’t numb, and he could hum to himself without it feeling like the only thing to do.

Back at the supermarket, blinking his way out of memories, he realizes Tommy hasn’t said anything back, he just scoffs and mutter’s a whispered ‘fucking bitch’, and walks off, right past the woman who murmurs something incoherent to Wilbur. (He still knows it was about him.)

At the very least, Wilbur has walked away from that situation now knowing words can’t hurt anymore in comparison to his situation just barely a few days ago.

“People are awful,” Tommy whispers under his breath.

Wilbur just pats Tommy’s shoulder.

“Aren’t you fucking revenge-seeking or some shit?”

“No. I’m not a child,” Wilbur explains, and Tommy hides his laughter at a low snicker.

“You’re a bitch,” Tommy whispers, turning away immediately at the look he got from a stranger in the aisle. Wilbur laughs whole-heartedly, the sound escaping despite how hard he tried not.

(*)

His head hurts, with thoughts going a mile a fucking minute. The scent of chocolate undoubtedly drifting from Wilbur on his shoulder was making a repetitive thought resurface no matter how much he wanted to shut it up.

Wilbur smelled appetizing. He knew he would taste even better.

But he knows he can’t act on his urges because even if swallowing a borrower was safe, he couldn’t. Not for Wilbur, because he just got off a near-death experience, and he can’t fuck up freedom even more for Wilbur by giving him essentially the exact same experience, no matter how reassuring he thought he could be.

So, instead, he chose comedy over a very real and threatening problem.

(*)

“You reek of chocolate,” Tommy murmurs, opening the door to the apartment and letting it shut loudly behind him. Wilbur flinches, but calms down just as quickly.

“I don’t remember seeing a mini-flat in the, uh, bag,” Wilbur retaliates.

Tommy, playfully, scoffs. “Well, like I think I could fill up a sink or something and you could get the grime off of you,” the blond offers.

Wilbur pauses for a moment. “I guess ..?” he says, slow and uncertain.The idea was more than pleasing, but at the same time, it felt like an awful offer to take up. He would be vulnerable in water, arguably something that he rarely had experience with outside of an unfortunately occasional shower whenever he could score it.

At his approval, Tommy guided the two of them to a bathroom, and carefully drew his hand up to where Wilbur was, not grabbing at him, but letting Wilbur carefully pad is way off of Tommy’s shoulder and onto his laid-out hand, where Wilbur got himself comfortable—while at the same time leaving time to sprint off if he needed to—and waited for Tommy to set him down onto the bathroom counter.

Shifting over to be in front of the sink, Tommy then pushes something inside the sink down, then pulls both handles to the sink forward, and leaves the flowing water gushing for a few seconds before shutting it off and stepping aside.

“That water will either be fucking freezing or room-temperature but I can’t exactly change that, so, uhm, just sit through it, I guess,” Tommy says. Wilbur can’t exactly tell if he was apologizing or not, but he appreciated the warning.

“Don’t have much of a choice,” Wilbur shrugs.

“That’s the spirit!” Tommy laughs, then grabs something off of a shelf, folding it over the counter but letting a corner of it fall into the sink, which Wilbur considers relieving; the sink seemed too deep for his liking.

But, even with the advantage of the towel, he still wasn’t convinced this was something he was looking forward to. From afar, he can feel Tommy’s stare on him. He turns his head that way, and catches Tommy’s strong gaze. Snapping out of some kind of pseudo-trance, Tommy moves closer to him and sets something in the sink.

“I can’t really portion out soap yet, but here’s a spare bar I haven’t opened yet. Should help; you smell so sweet I swear to fuck if you don’t take a bath I’m going swallow you on accident,” Tommy says, yawning. He fucking yawns, meanwhile Wilbur’s whole world halts. He stares up at Tommy, who he had just an hour ago been raving about his trust with.

He had heard Tommy right, no doubt.

“What?” Wilbur asks through his shock.

Tommy wrinkles his brows, then unwrinkles them as they raise high and his face goes more shocked than Wilbur’s.

“Oh—nononononono, Wilbur, fuck. Wil, I’m so tired, I fucking—I didn’t mean to say that,” Tommy backtracks immediately. Wilbur can’t say he buys it. “I didn’t fucking— I wasn’t thinking, fuck, I swear to Prime I don’t want to do that, I’d never—” Tommy makes a choked noise and cuts himself off.

Wilbur swallows, unsure of how to respond. Clearly, he has some kind of high-ground here despite being…well, him.

“I–uh,” Wilbur’s voice runs almost dry. “There’s no reason to lie,” Wilbur says.

Tommy’s face falls. “I’m not lying, I—I didn’t think about what I was saying, I’m a fucking idiot, I am not a..a thinker or whatever the fuck it’s called,” Tommy tries. Still. Persistent motherfucker.

“You’re thinking about that,though, aren’t you?”

“Uhh….well,” Tommy pauses. “As a joke..obv—obviously, you actually think I’d…want to hurt you like that?”

“Swallowing me isn’t going to hurt me.”

Tommy seemed a little taken-aback by that. “Mentally. It will mentally.” Wilbur shrugs at that, staring into the pool of water that’s gotten a little foamy the longer the soap bar floats around in it. “I, uh, think I’ll go. Put away groceries and shit.”

Wilbur watches intently Tommy pick his pace up and walk past him, (Where Wilbur’s attention was nowhere but Tommy’s hands, which remained eerily still), then out of the bathroom with a solemn click of the door.

And now, Wilbur has been left alone, after a particularly jarring comment that leaves him wondering just how much longer Tommy will go playing the good guy. He did have to be thinking about swallowing him to have said it, accidentally or not. It was an intentional thought. He wasn’t that stupid.

Trying to drive his attention away from his inevitable fate, he turns his attention to the sink. The water’s temperature has probably dropped already, so with slight hesitation, he undresses and finds a way into the sink, (Which in the end was trying-to-inch-his-way-down-then-falling-in), then rests with the feeling of water against him. It was an alien feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time. He waved his hand around the soapy water and heard it whoosh around him. That was real. The sink bowl that towered above him was real, and as he touched it, it felt cold and slippery against his touch.

Wilbur looks up, and the light fixture above him burns into his eyes. That was real.

He pinches himself. That was real, and he was still alive, through the world of darkness for only a lonely period of his life that’s over now.

—–—

#mw #brickfic #wilbur chocolate au #cw vore mention #mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #dsmp g/t #dsmp gt #dream smp g/t #dream smp gt #t!wilbur #tiny!wilbur #g!tommy #giant!tommy #WOOHOOoo!!!!! eight months later ^_^#thanks for breaking 100 notes on the other 2 chapters btw !! i am so hype about that :D

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nightmarevore · 10 months

Text

I Get A Craving and I Wake Up For You

4/?

Start Here! | Previous | Next

Once again, Luke belongs to me, Rowan to @wonderful-bellies !

Luke and Rowan Deal with the aftermath.

Word count: 1,127

“He’s just a complicated individual.” Luke’s voice insists. He’s wrapped up in a blanket, legs curling up against him. There’s a mug of hot chocolate on the coffee table in front of him, and the freckle-faced man scrunches his nose out of frustration.

“Luke, he swore at you. Told you to fuck off.” His neighbor replies. Oliver, his loyal friend, as always.

“He was just upset. I upset him by trying to get him to talk to me.” Luke shakes his head, insistent.

“Dude.” The annoyance that seeps through Oliver’s voice is all too obvious. “You’ve always had a terrible taste in men, what makes this guy any different?”

Luke’s nose scrunches at the last comment, and he shakes his head as his eyebrows furrow.

“I do not have a terrible taste in men!” He retorts defensively.

“Oh my god, do I need to remind you of Terry, the high school’s football Quarterback?” Oliver responds, rolling his eyes. At this, Luke’s face flushes a deep red, nearly the color of a freshly ripe tomato. His eyes are wide as he inhales sharply.

“Shut up, shut up! That was…. a different time, shut up!” The size shifter stammers, looking away and nearly laying down on the couch he sat on.

Oliver laughs at him, taking a moment to enjoy the redness in his neighbor’s face. After a moment, he clears his throat.

“Seriously, though. Why are you so insistent with him?” Oliver finally asks.

“Oh… Well… Uh… You see… He’s….” Luke pauses, sits up, and fiddles with the blanket that he’s wrapped in. “You know what a predator is? The human kind. They eat people. Need to eat people.”

“Uh huh….”

“Well, um… On that hike I said I was taking him, he… I guess he needed to eat then, so he ate me. Like, full size. He didn’t wait for me to shrink down. And, uh… We got lost. For a few hours. Almost the whole day. He… Kept me in there for a very long time, and I liked it. It was nice, it was comfortable. I’ve… been thinking about it ever since, and I haven’t been able to sleep because of it.” Luke is squeezing the fabric in his hands nervously, balling it in his fists, avoiding Oliver’s gaze. His voice is quick and gentle as he speaks, beyond anxious and more about the topic at hand. His face is red, and tears gently swell up in his eyes. “He keeps talking about how it ‘didn’t happen’ and yelling at me about it. He ate me again, this time when I was small, and it was just so nice, I finally fell asleep! But he still won’t… I dunno. I’m just being pushy, I think. I just think he needs to take care of himself, he’s gonna starve if he doesn’t eat properly.”

Oliver’s face is still as he listens to Luke’s words, taking in all of this information. Presently, he has no idea how to process any of this. Oliver is aware that predators exist, but for the roommate that Luke just so happens to be crushing on being one? On top of him being obsessed with the idea? He knows Luke. He knows that when he has his mind set on something, he’s not going to stop until he’s satisfied. He’s pushy, and it can be charming at times. It just seems like this roommate of his may not be tolerant of his stubbornness.

“He sounds like a dick, Luke.” Oliver finally responds plainly.

Luke winces at this. It’s like a hot rusty knife stabs into his middle and twists. It hurts. It burns.

“Ollie, I really don’t need to hear this right now.” Luke’s voice is pained, his eyes closed. He looks visibly upset, and it’s clear to Oliver that he went too far.

“… You're right. I’m sorry. I just don’t want him hurting you.”

“I get it.” Luke begins, his voice soft. “But I just… I dunno. I wanna make this work, y’know? He’s different. He said… He said I tasted nice. Like a cherry. There’s something really endearing about that.”

Luke sounds serious and full of emotion. He looks inspired, determined, and like nothing is going to stop him or change his mind. Oliver still thinks that this Rowan person is a dick, and he’s going to punch him if he hurts Luke, but… Oliver sighs.

“You know you’re always safe in my apartment. If you need a break from him, like now, I’m here for you.” The orange-haired man finally responds.

“Thanks, Ollie.” Luke smiles, picking his mug back up and taking a sip.

. . .

At work, Rowan’s stomach growls. He’s hungry again. Getting a couple tastes of his roommate led to being obsessed with eating him, and that’s not normal. He sits at the desk of his workspace, staring at the same cameras that cover every nook and cranny of the mall he works at. The idea alone that he has to rely on eating people makes Rowan’s skin crawl. He hates the fact that he’s a predator, and he wishes he wasn’t one. There’s a way out of this, he thinks. He just has to ride it out.

Despite it all, he imagines the flavor of Luke on his tongue. The feeling of his roommate curled up inside his belly. Letting out a breath and feeling the warm embrace of being full. Feeling like Luke belongs in there, that he should be inside him always. A subtle flutter within his core as Luke shifts inside his stomach. The giddiness it brings, the smile he felt across his lips.

Luke’s gentle, green eyes staring at him most curiously, leaving the predator with thoughts of grabbing him and shoving him down his gullet, into the darkness of his very being.

WHY didn’t pushing Luke away work? Why must he suffer like this? Should he just pack up and move away again? He can’t, not with how expensive the move was. So why is he so obsessed with the idea of holding Luke so close to him?

If… if he just… let himself eat Luke again, would that be so bad?

Rowan’s growling stomach pulls him out of his mind, and drool falls from his lips. The man wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, shaking his head and furiously closing his eyes.

Of course eating Luke would be bad. He can’t force his estranged roommate into a situation like that. No matter how much it hurts. Perhaps he should simply go out into town and bribe someone to eat. It’s a lot less troublesome than eating his roommate and facing the consequences.

Rowan pinches the bridge of his nose.

This is going to be a long day.

#I Get a Craving and I Wake Up For You #size on the side #luke #rowan #sots #vore writing #vore story #mentions of vore #( not depicted but daydreamed about )#rowan continues to pine over luke #local idiot doesn't understand what a crush is #sorry for the shorter chapter!#fluff chapter #soft vore #vore mention #male pred

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twistedtummies2 · 8 months

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Glamour - Chapter 1 (Trade)

This is the first part of a four-part trade story with @hooter-n-company (a.k.a. Rchlis). She is making some very special art for me, and in return, she asked me to write a story to introduce a Twisted Wonderland OC she's sort of had stewing in the background for a while: his name is Taoka Latronis, and he is based on Tamatoa from "Moana." I absolutely LOVE Tamatoa. He's a fun villain, and a surprising crush (albeit a somewhat mild one, for me, personally). Rchlis wanted to create a character for the TW universe based on the big glam crab, and I certainly wasn't going to say no. The advantage of this being a trade, instead of a commission, was I could go and make a much longer and more detailed story, in return for much more detailed and elaborate artwork, without either of us having to pay exorbitant amounts that frankly neither of us could afford. Win-win. XD This was a LOT of fun to make, and Taoka is one of my favorite OCs I've gotten to write for that I DIDN'T create myself, if not my favorite (at least as far as TW goes, I should clarify). Hopefully a lot of you like him, too. ;) Like with other stories of this nature, the other three parts will be uploaded one a day over the coming few days. So be on the lookout! WARNING: THIS PARTICULAR SECTION DOES NOT INCLUDE ANY KINKS DIRECTLY. HOWEVER, THERE ARE IMPLICATIONS OF VORE AND OTHER KINKS SPRINKLED THROUGHOUT THE FIRST THREE PARTS. DON'T LIKE? TOO YOUNG? DON'T READ.

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PLIPP. This was the sound of a gold coin, being flipped deftly up to the water, which replaced the sky in the strange, unfathomable Realm of Monsters. Light filtered down through a tunnel-like portal that led up to the sea above, and into the chamber in which you were now being held captive. “Held,” incidentally, was the most accurate word, for you were quite literally in the grip of one of the most feared and reviled monsters in Lalotai. The Giant Crab smirked down at you, the blue-green eyes filled with malicious excitement and no small amount of vainglorious pride. The pink and purple claw that held you felt tougher than any sea stone, contrasted by the soft, supple-looking flesh visible around the crab’s strangely humanoid mouth and thick, fat neck; you had never expected an arthropod to look plump and pudgy, but this one somehow found a way. You also had never expected one to have a good singing voice…but if there was one thing this creature deserved to be proud of, that was probably it. “Well, Tamatoa hasn’t always been this glam!” the crab admitted, tossing his head with a sneer. “I was a drab little crab once…” The sneer became a grin. You shuddered at the sight of the crab’s huge teeth: they were very square, but also very sharp, like ivory guillotine blades. They were also disgustingly filthy, covered not just in a fine yellowish film, but what appeared to be barnacles. “Now I know I can be happy as a clam,” winked the Crab, and lifted you a little higher as he turned himself about, showing off his shell. “Because I’m beautiful, baby!” While the crab preened, smugly admiring the hoard of gold that had gotten fused to his shell over time, you nervously glanced towards another part of the giant monster’s cave. You saw the Demigod duck down out of sight…but you only just had time to register his presence before the crab’s free pincer - the one not holding you - suddenly swung in and tapped at your chest. Well, one says “tapped,” and to the crab, it probably was just a tap…but to you, it felt like you’d been jabbed in the diaphragm with a bat. HARD. You grunted in a windless, pained way as the crab blithely kept singing, swaying its huge head to a beat only it could seem to hear.

“Did your granny say, ‘listen to your heart: be who you are on the inside’?” the beast teased…then grabbed both your arms with its pincers, and cruelly tugged on them, making you grit your teeth as it felt like it might easily tear each limb from its socket. “I need three words to tear her argument apart: YOUR. GRANNY. LIED.” You yelped as, with newfound energy, the Giant Crab began to spin around, dancing about his lair joyously. You clung desperately to the claw that held you as you were swung about as a result. The light that shone from the water tunnel above caused the golden coins and other treasures upon his shelled back to glisten and shimmer, sparkling yellow light reflecting and refracting onto the walls of the undersea cave. “I’d rather be Shiny!” sang the Giant Crab. “Like the treasure of a sunken pirate wreck! Scrub the deck, and make it look Shiny!” The crab grinned evilly, and drew a claw across his fat throat, making you grimace and shiver. “I will sparkle like a wealthy woman’s neck - crrrk! - just a sec.” The crab then looked up towards the funnel-like passage that led into his lair from above. You looked up as well, and saw the shadowy silhouettes of many silver fish, spiraling around the opening to his hideaway, within a palace of giant, weathered old shells. “Don’tcha know? Fish are dumb, dumb, dumb! They chase anything that glitters!” The crab rolled his eyes as he looked at you with a conspiratorial sort of smile. “Beginners,” he snorted, then looked up again, with eager anticipation. “Oh! And here they come, come, come to the brightest thing that glitters…!” Sure enough, right on cue, the whole school of fish suddenly dived downward…and seconds later, dozens of foolish marine creatures fell through the bottom of the ocean, and into the open space that led down towards the Giant Crab…who awaited them with an open maw and an empty stomach. SCHWOLMPH! In one terrific bite, the giant decapod snarfed up all of the fish at once. It moaned deeply, a look of purest pleasure on its face as its cheeks bulged and it grunted through a full mouth: “Mmmm…fish dinners!” GUUULLLP! You swore you could FEEL the force of that powerful swallow, as the crab-like behemoth gulped down all of the fish in one go. If you looked closely, you could see the ripple-like movements along its neck as it sent all of the swimming things down to its belly… …Then, your blood ran cold, as the crab refocused its attention on you, holding you up high over its head. There was a wild, wicked intensity to its gaze…something unhinged, primal, sadistic…and utterly ravenous. “I just love free food,” the crab crooned. “And YOU look like seafood…”

You shook your head desperately and scrambled to try and escape the claw holding you, as the Giant Crab licked his fat, thick, plump lips with an equally fat, thick, plump, purplish tongue. Then the ghastly mouth of the crab-beast opened. The monster’s maw was mottled purple and pink, the slimy, slippery interior sloping back into a pitch-dark void, from which a terrible rumble came… “N-no! No! NO!” you screamed at the top of your lungs…but if the monster was even listening to your frantic protests, it clearly didn’t care. Or, worse yet, perhaps it did care…because it enjoyed them. You supposed it didn’t matter, for a moment later, the pincer that now seemed like a protector to you opened its grasp. You howled as you plunged headlong into the mouth of the beast, arms and legs flailing as you tried to swim through the air. Nothing could prevent or slow your fall, and your final wail was lost as you were quite literally swallowed up by the darkness- “AH!” You yelped and jolted awake, eyes snapping wide open. Your expression swiftly changed from a slightly red-faced expression that mixed fear with blushing anticipation…to an almost bored look, as you saw the familiar sight of the ceiling overhead. You groaned and ran a hand over your face, mumbling sourly under your breath: you didn’t need to sit up or look around to know you were still in Ramshackle Dorm, and that all you had seen was a vision in a dream. “Well then,” you grumbled, as you quivered with goosebumps from the alarming detail. “I guess not even sleeping pills work anymore…greeeaaat…”

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“Nya…you okay there, Minion?” Grim trotted alongside you, cocking his head. His turquoise eyes showed a rare light of concern as he looked up at you. You could only yawn and shake your head heavily in response as you slumped along through the halls of Night Raven. You could FEEL the bags beneath your eyes. “No,” you droned, and tried to shake off the sleep, but to no avail. Every time you had passed out again throughout the night, you were brought back to the same dream. Each time, you found yourself hovering over the abyss of the monster’s mouth…then shocked away as you tumbled into the belly of the beast. You would have growled like a lion, if you had been anything close to Leona’s level: you weren’t sure what part was more irritating. The fact that the dream had been so confusingly insistent…or the fact it always ended at the GOOD part… You groaned and rubbed at your forehead. You were too tired to even be blushy about that…life freaking sucked sometimes. Seriously. “Maybe we should stop at the cafeteria for some coffee,” smirked Grim. “You look like you’re gonna fall flat on your face! Ha Ha!” “Your concern is touching,” you grunted, then gave a weak smile. “But you do have a point. Maybe some coffee would help, or at least some tea…” Grim grinned and licked his lips, swishing his trident tail. You rolled your eyes; that reaction told you everything: clearly the offer to go to the cafeteria had been given more out of the cat-like imp’s desire to fill his own stomach than any worries he had about you. “Just a quick stop at the cafeteria,” you agreed. “We don’t want to be late for potion-making class, right?” “Fiiiine,” pouted Grim, who clearly had been hoping for a longer stay, no doubt for the sake of more food. The flames that swirled from his ears crackled as he flicked one of those audial receptors upwards and raised an eyebrow. “You have what Crewel told us to bring, right, Minion?” You nodded and patted the breast pocket of your uniform. “Two Lanternblossoms,” you reported. “Got ‘em in here in a bag.” “Be careful not to lose ‘em,” Grim warned. “Getting them wasn’t easy, y’know!” “Of course I know: I’M the one who had to get them, while you just watched.” “Of course! THAT is because YOU’RE the Minion, and I’M the boss,” Grim said, snootily. You shook your head wearily, a tired smile on your face. Some things never changed. Your thoughts were rudely interrupted when, turning a corner of the hall, you bumped into something…or, rather, someone. You hadn’t been hurrying, but you supposed perhaps the other party was, and you were too groggy to get out of the way in time. Whatever the case, you let out an “oof!” (which was matched by the person you’d bumped into), and swayed on your feet, staggering back. The impact hadn’t been hard enough to knock you over, but it was enough to throw you off balance. “Nya! Watch it!” snapped Grim, jumping out of the way, as if afraid one of the larger figures might fall on top of him. “Sorry,” you mumbled out in a slurred sort of voice. “Hey, hey, it’s all good, babe!” the voice of the other party replied. It was a flamboyant, high-flying sort of voice, with a sort of eternal edge that sounded…you searched for a word, and “slinky” was all that came to your sleep-addled brain.

You stiffened suddenly and sharply as the other party suddenly took hold of you, trying to help you regain balance - “Here, lemme get you back on track, heh heh…” - and took a look at the newcomer. They seemed to be of fairly average height and build, and dressed - at the moment - in a typical school uniform. A strange sort of smell, though not an unpleasant one, seemed to surround the stranger: it was like the fine scent of a fresh sea breeze, very soothing and yet somewhat briny. It reminded you of the scent that seemed to surround Azul and his cronies at different times of the day…however, the deep blue-violet hue of the vest and armband the young man wore informed you he was from Pomefiore, not Octavinelle. The blazer was open; the vest was fully buttoned up, and the shirt tucked in, but they wore no tie and kept the top button of their shirt unclasped. In short, their demeanor was not quite as loose as Floyd, nor as uptight as Azul or Jade; it was some new mode in-between. Before their uniform details, however, you first took stock of the student’s countenance. He had dark skin, similar in hue to that of Kalim, but with purple eyes the color of twin amethysts. Purple eyeliner accented the irises, and a matching hue was painted thinly over his lips, giving him a somewhat androgynous, “Glam Goth” appearance. Golden earrings dangled from his earlobes, and his hair was colored the same shade as his eyes; whether it was dyed or simply natural in its unusual coloration was hard to say. It was spiky on top and along the back, but sheared short on the sides and styled with multicolored streaks. Two cowlicks sprouted from the front of his scalp, vaguely resembling antennae. A golden necklace dangled about his throat. On his left hand, he wore four golden rings - one for each hand minus the thumb - and a golden wristwatch. Curiously, his right hand - and only his right hand - was covered by a purple leather glove. This was the hand he used to brush you fastidiously off. “There now,” said the young man, and grinned. His teeth seemed a bit longer and sharper than most people’s, but not quite the shark-like grin certain other students had. “You okay there, babe?” “Uh…y-yeah, I’m fine,” you stuttered, a bit startled by all this, and by the term of endearment chosen. “Sorry for running into you like that…” “Aww, don’t worry about it. Takes a lot more than that to ruin this face,” answered the other student, with an almost teasing smile as he gestured to his dolled-up physiognomy. “Who are you?” asked Grim, curiously. “Name’s Taoka,” the Pomefiore student said, then smirked. “Heh…lemme guess, you’re the duo from Ramshackle? The eels talk about you two all the time. Especially Floyd.” “Should we be flattered or terrified?” you replied blandly. “Try both,” chuckled Taoka, and arched one violet-hued eyebrow. “Y’know, yer cuter than I expected.” “I am NOT cute!” Grim snarled, hackles rising as he stomped one foot petulantly. “How come nobody gets that through their skulls?!” “You’re adorable, little guy, but it wasn’t you I was talkin’ about,” said Taoka smoothly. You flushed as you realized his expression was fixed upon you, a seductive gleam in his purple eyes. “Well, uh…thank you, I think?” you said with a nervous little laugh. “You should thank me. I don’t just call anybody cute, seafood,” said Taoka, eyes half-lidded as he continued to smirk almost seductively.

You felt the warmth in your cheeks increase, even as you felt mild confusion rise. “S-Seafood?” you peeped. “Heh. The Octopus and the Twins aren’t the only ones from under the sea,” winked Taoka in response, then lifted his gloved hand in a placating gesture. “Don’t worry, sweetheart: I’m not gonna eatcha…” He suddenly stepped closer. He wasn’t much taller than you were, but somehow, he suddenly felt like he was towering over you. “Unless you WANT me to,” whispered the strange young man, showing off those sharp teeth once more. You gulped nervously. Grim frowned, looking between you and the teasing new student. With a slight growl, the little monster jogged over and tugged on your pant leg. “Come on!” he urged, crossly. “Or did you forget about the coffee and food already?” “Food?” you whispered…then shook your head, snapping out of it. “Oh, uh…right! Right, um…G-Grim and I have to get to the cafeteria before heading to class, so, uh…see you later, alright?” Taoka bowed his head and stepped aside, letting you pass. You smiled, thinking that perhaps you’d just made a new friend here at the college, as you walked past him with Grim, once more ready to continue on your way… “You may wanna take a detour on your way to Crewel’s, though,” Taoka’s voice called out to you. “Nya? Why’s that?” Grim asked, turning around…then froze. “Hey…HEY! MINION!” You turned fast at the sound of frustrated alarm in Grim’s voice…and the smile fell from your face as you saw what had worried him. Taoka’s smile had become sneaky and almost sinister. He he lifted his ungloved hand…and revealed the familiar sight of a small plastic bag, which contained the two Lanternblossoms. You patted your breast pocket, and quickly realized he had picked it at some point while brushing you off! Scowling, you looked back angrily. “Give that back!” you demanded. “Why?” asked Taoka, oh-so-innocently. “Can’t find time to get more of this?” “As a matter of fact, no, I can’t! Those plants are NOT easy to find!” you exclaimed. “I know. That’s why I want ‘em,” grinned Taoka, and looked at the items in the bag with a strange sort of interest. “Look at the way they sparkle, too…” “You better give them back!” shouted your catlike companion. “We need those for an assignment!” “Not my problem,” shrugged the flamboyant fellow, waving his free hand about airily. “Guess you’ll have to hope Crewel’s in a good mood, babe.” “Why, you…!” snarled Grim, and yowled as he dropped to all fours and bounded towards the sneakthief. He pounced through the air…and at the same time, the purple-haired youth’s free hand stretched out, fingers outspread. He muttered something - an incantation, you presumed - under his breath…sensing trouble, you rushed forward to try and help Grim… …But at that moment - ZAM! - there was a brilliant flash of golden light. You heard Taoka laugh tauntingly as you were blinded by the sudden bolt. You staggered back and fell against the wall; all you could see was a yellow haze, as if the whole world had been saturated with metallic golden sparkles. You felt dizzy, and couldn’t think straight. You clutched your head as you heard the faint yelp from Grim as he - equally blinded - flopped onto the floor uselessly. After a few moments, the world cleared and showed its true colors again, and the swimming sensation that had come over your head dissipated. You stepped away from the wall, and then hurried towards Grim, who was just sitting up from the floor.

“You okay?” you asked. “Nya…I think so,” nodded the cat-like creature, and frowned, looking around. “Where’d that creep go?” “I dunno,” you sighed dismally. “Whatever he did, it distracted us long enough for him to get away…” “Awww, man,” groaned Grim, ears dipping downward. “Does this mean we’re gonna get in trouble?” “Maybe not,” you said, with a hopeful sort of smile. “I mean…it wasn’t OUR fault we lost those Lanternblossoms. Maybe…maybe Professor Crewel will give us a chance.” Grim blinked…then smiled back. “Yeah! He can’t be mad at us for something that’s not our fault!” he cheered, then grinned wickedly. “Heh heh…maybe he’ll even go find that dumb thief and put THEM through the ringer!” You chuckled weakly as you helped Grim to his feet, and the two of you hurried on your way again. You didn’t have the heart to tell him you had a feeling every word you’d spoken was a false hope.

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You were very right: every word you’d spoken was, indeed, a false hope. Yourself and Grim grumbled in chorus as you worked together to sweep and mop up the floor to the alchemy lab. Crewel had NOT been understanding: you supposed you couldn’t blame him TOO much. After all, he had no PROOF that what you said about having the Lanternblossoms stolen from you was true. And even if he had, it wasn’t exactly Night Raven policy to “forgive incompetence.” However, he had given the two of you something of a redeeming opportunity: if the two of you agreed to clean up the lab after classes were done that day, he would NOT give you an automatic zero on the assignment, and a chance to try it again in a week’s time, for a lower grade. Some credit seemed better than no credit at all, so - with the fashionable educator holding you both over the proverbial barrel - you saw no alternative but to agree. “If I ever see that creep with the purple eyes again, I’m biting his ankles,” growled Grim. “Aim higher,” you droned sourly. “You might hit something that does PERMANENT damage.” A soft chuckle interrupted you both. “It’s not usual to hear you speaking so aggressively, Prefect,” a crisp, cool sort of voice observed. “I’m guessing today hasn’t been one of your best.” The pair of you paused to look up at the source of the familiar vocals. They belonged to an equally familiar figure - tall, stately, and slightly androgynous in appearance - with blonde hair that was dyed pale purple at the ends, and eyes similar in hue to the thieving rascal you’d met before. While those eyes had been filled with a sort of hungry, sultry heat…these were just as cold and cutting as shards of colored glass. You stiffened immediately, feeling not unlike a soldier reporting to their commander as the owner of these gemstone eyes strode grandly into the laboratory. “Good evening, Vil,” you smiled politely, then cocked your head. “Do you need something from here? I can help you find it, if you’re working on a new poison or something.” “Just don’t use it on us!” piped up Grim. Vil sniffed. “Please, I wouldn’t waste anything like that on you, little potato,” he responded dryly to Grim’s statement, then looked back at you, crossing his arms. His expression was even and calm. “I actually need your help, Prefect. I couldn’t find you at your dorm, and after speaking to the Headmage and Professor Crewel in the main office, they directed me here.” “I see,” you said, and put the mop you were holding to one side before pulling out a chair and sitting down. “Well, what’s the problem?”

Grim put aside the scrub brush he had been using and hopped up onto the table behind you. Vil remained standing, pacing slightly as he spoke. Once again, his movements were almost militant, reminding you of a captain addressing their crew. “There is a music tournament coming up here on Sage’s Island. Both Royal Sword and Night Raven will be competing, among others. It’s a bit similar to the VDC, except that in this case, it’s being held in one of the towns, not on either campus…and, in this case, I’m not going to be performing for the Event.” “Is Neige going to perform?” you couldn’t help but ask. Vil paused. He closed his eyes and took a deep, steeling sort of breath. “Very thankfully, he is not,” Vil answered through an exhalation, then went on. “As a matter of fact, both of us have been asked to act as judges for the Event, along with an instructor from each school. Professor Crewel has been chosen to represent Night Raven, along with myself.” “And Royal Sword?” “That is not my concern,” Vil answered, his voice slow, deliberate, and clearly emphasizing each consonant. Realizing you had probably hit a nerve somehow, you lifted your hands in an apologetic, placating sort of way. Vil nodded to show all was well, then went on, pacing once again: “The contestants will all be soloists. Some will be playing live music and singing, others will be performing to pre-arranged tracks. Regardless, the four of us will be judging them by a standard rubric, and the winner will receive a special prize, which is to be provided by Royal Sword.” “How come they always get to have the fun?” meowed Grim, petulantly. “Can I take a wild guess as to why you’re here?” you asked, ignoring the not-feline’s complaints. “If you wish,” replied Vil, folding his hands behind his back authoritatively. “You brought up the fact this event is similar to the Voice and Dance Competition. Back then, you and the Headmage assigned us to be the Stage Managers. Do you need us to do the same thing for this Event?” “To put it bluntly, yes,” Vil replied…and a rare flicker of vulnerability flashed in his eyes. “Considering you were instrumental not only in keeping order during the rehearsals and performance, but also in solving certain…ISSUES that came up…” “Like somebody yelling they were the ugliest old hag in the world and nobody should look at them?” Grim mocked, somewhat meanly. “Those kindsa issues?” Vil narrowed his eyes dangerously. “I will feed you to Kingscholar, Grim, if you say anything remotely similar to those words again,” he answered icily. Grim paled and hid behind the table. “Ignore him,” you advised Vil, then smiled. “If you need my help behind the scenes, I’ll be happy to give it to you. Maybe if we’re lucky, Professor Crewel will give us some extra credit for the assistance.” “I wouldn’t count on it,” chuckled Vil, and his smile became mildly grateful. “I appreciate the easy cooperation, Prefect. I was a little worried, after previous incidents, I might have to twist your arm.”

“Please, don’t even use that phrase figuratively,” you shuddered. “I’ve SEEN you twist people’s arms, I’m amazed a lot of them still HAVE arms after that…” Vil’s smile became a proud smirk. “I dunno…I mean, the Great Grim is a busy awesome mage!” meowed your fire-eared friend. “What’s in it for us if we agree?” “Aside from my gratitude, the Headmage has also promised to pay you both for your services,” Vil replied. Grim’s eyes lit up at the prospect of money. Money, of course, meant food. And food, naturally, was really all it took to make Grim happy. “Well, what are we waiting for?!” he almost squeaked out excitedly. “If that’s the case, I definitely don’t see any reason to say no,” you said. “It’s something different in the schedule…and after all, a day surrounded by music and song? What could possibly be bad about that?” There was an awkward silence. “...I might have just jinxed it, huh?” you peeped. “I pray you have not, potato,” intoned Vil, only half-sarcastically. “I pray that you have not.”

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The competition Vil spoke of was called the Sage’s Solo Showdown, or Triple S. As stage manager for this event, your job was to make sure all of the performers went onstage at the right time for their cues, and that the people working the tech booth were on top of things. (Most of them were students from Royal Sword; thankfully, they had much less difficulty working with a Night Raven College member than you suspected the other way around might have been.) Grim had, at first, pouted over how the job seemed boring - just walking around with a clipboard, in his mind - but the reminder of how much tuna you could buy with Crowley’s offer quickly shut him up. The contest would begin in the early afternoon on a Friday. The location was not at Royal Sword, nor at Night Raven; instead, a “neutral zone” had been chosen in a town on Sage’s Island, where many of the locals lived. It was an indoor ampitheater, smaller than anything on either of the college campuses…but sufficient for the purposes of the contest, which was also smaller in scale than anything either campus would likely conjure up. This was why it was somewhat surprising that, on the day of the contest, things were pretty darn packed. With the smaller accommodations, you had expected a smaller turnout. “Nya…I guess this is what happens when you have both Neige and Vil involved,” Grim piped up, as the two of you marched along through the backstage areas, checking on the contestants. Each person participating in the contest had been given their own dressing room. It was still morning, and you were doing routine check-ins on every room. You didn’t know the names of each contestant participating; they had been marked with call numbers, which you would use to check on each participant. It made things more efficient that way, or so Vil said. You trusted his judgment. “I guess you’re right,” you said, in a slightly delayed response to Grim’s observation. “I doubt it’s Professor Crewel getting this much attention…and not to sell the contestants short, but I don’t think any of them would be getting so much love otherwise. That’s probably why they called on them.” Grim just shrugged, the tiny creature just jogging alongside you, swishing his trident tail this way and that as he glanced about the backstage areas, checking the doors to the dressing rooms. “Where to next, Minion?” he asked. You checked the clipboard and named the contestant number and the room they were staying in - the former was labeled as simply 23, and the latter was 116. You had actually checked in on the room earlier, but the competitor who was set to occupy it had yet to show up. It was time to make another quick check, before the opening ceremony, and make sure all was going smoothly. So far, none of the contestants had given you any trouble: some of them were people you knew, others were strangers till that time, but none of them had been problematic. For one thing, they were all focused on practicing and prepping one last-minute time before their performances. As you approached Room 116, you could hear that the contestant within had arrived, and was doing much the same; the sound of a guitar being strummed and tuned up could be detected through the ajar door. You supposed you could have cut things off there and simply made a few marks in your paperwork, but - for formality’s sake - you decided to check in personally. So, you knocked on the door, and called out “Stage Management, is everyone decent?”

A voice from the other side answered, “I don’t know about that, but I’m dressed.” You frowned and glanced towards Grim. His expression matched your own. Both of you thought that voice sounded oddly familiar, but neither of you were sure why. You shrugged it off, pushed open the door… …And soon found out the reason when you saw the figure seated at the dressing room mirror inside. “You!” Your exclamation was acknowledged with a lifted head, and a wicked sort of grin. Two uncomfortably familiar purple eyes gleamed deviously on a dark, heavily made-up face. “Well, hey there, babe!” crooned Taoka. “Fancy meeting you here.” You weren’t sure what to say…partially because you were a bit taken aback by the appearance of the Pomefiore student before you. He looked even more flamboyant than you remembered when you first met him: at the time, he’d still had the purple, madly-styled hair, the golden earrings and bangles, and the dolled-up face, of course…but he’d been dressed in a common school uniform. Which was certainly fancy enough, but NOTHING compared to the wild, vibrant ensemble he was now garbed in. The purple-eyed pickpocket wore a long, golden jacket with plum-colored lining, which stretched down past the back of his knees. Beneath this was what looked like a pink and purple tie-dyed shirt, with the emblem of a crab stenciled upon it. His pants were blue, with strange spiral patterns stitched into their length; a similar pattern adorned his belt buckle: the buckle reminded you of something you had seen in a textbook on magical artifacts, but you couldn’t recall what it was. Some sort of “stone heart,” or something. The buckle was bright and brassy, and attached to a matching metallic-colored belt. Bright purple boots with golden lining covered his feet, matching the purple glove on one of his bejeweled hands. You heard Grim let out a strange sound, and looked down at him. The little monster was scrubbing at his turquoise eyes and blinking them repeatedly. “Something wrong?” you asked. “I think my eyes are about to start bleeding,” Grim blandly replied, referring to Taoka’s arraignment. You would have snickered, but Taoka beat you to it. “I know, I know,” he said with a drawling sigh, running his fingers through his spiky hair, as he put the guitar he was strumming to one side. “It’s hard to take it all in. So much fabulousness in one room MUST be too much for yer little eyes to handle. I’ll give ya a minute to soak it up.”

Grim just growled irritatedly in response. You couldn’t blame him. The smug, supercilious smile the over-glitzed youth flashed was infuriating…partially, you had to admit, because of how handsome he was, and how he had teased you last time. Thankfully, it was easy to look past those points and focus on your annoyance; you had not by any means forgotten how he’d spoiled things for you. Still, you had a job to do, so you tried to stay civil. “Are you contestant twenty-three?” you asked, as politely as possible. “Is this contestant twenty-three’s room?” Taoka returned, with a teasing grin. “It’s supposed to be,” you replied. “Then yeah, that’s me, babe,” winked Taoka, and his eyes roamed over you once more. A rumble came from his chest. “You look even tastier dressed all official like that…” “Remind me to thank you when I don’t have business to focus on,” you replied, as primly as you could manage. Taoka seemed to pout. “Awww, now, no need to get all uptight,” he cooed, and grinned anew as he stood up from his place, hands casually tucked into his pockets as he swaggered forward. “Listen, I think you an’ I got off on the wrong claw…” “The wrong what?” muttered Grim. Both of you ignored him. “...I just can’t help myself when I see somethin’ shiny an’ special,” Taoka went on, putting on his most innocent smile. You weren’t fooled for a second. “Like Lanternblossoms, or coins of gold…” He stretched his gloved hand towards you. “...Or a good meal.” You smacked his hand away. You REFUSED to blush. “Why do you keep calling me that?” you sneered. “Everyone at Night Raven knows who you are, and WHAT you are.” “That being?” Taoka’s grin now showed off his oh-so-slightly-sharper-than-they-should-have-been teeth. “A snack,” he hissed with relish, and licked those chompers just to show off. “I told you, Azul and the Leeches aren’t the only sea monsters around here.” Deciding you had enough of this drivel, you turned to leave the room, planning to head back without a word. You saw no reason to encourage the young man (whatever he really was) with attention. Unfortunately, he seemed to determined to get it; Grim yelped as a booted foot fell into the space between you and the imp, and Taoka barred your path, placing one hand on his dressing room door, the other resting on his wide, well-curved hips. “I’d be happy to put a snack like you in your place sometime,” he whispered. “All you’ve gotta do is ask.” You bit your lip. You knew you were blushing now, but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of making it greater. “I haven’t gotten this far in life, or in school, by just ALLOWING myself to be eaten,” you replied, coldly. “And I wouldn’t be so casual about it here, if I were you.” “Why not?” Taoka asked, raising one eyebrow. He seemed amused. You gave him a daring sort of smirk in return. “Because, as stage manager, if a contestant is causing too much trouble, I can easily have them suspended from the contest at any time,” you replied, smoothly. Taoka’s smarmy smile instantly disappeared.

“You’re bluffing.” “Oh, no,” you said. “Not a bluff at all. All I have to do is tell one of the judges and the coordinator - your Housewarden happens to be both this year - and if they agree with me…” You made a shooing gesture with one hand. Taoka glared. His gloved fist clenched. You glanced down and noticed that one of his fingers seemed to curl slightly less than the rest…a random and minor odd detail you chose to dismiss for now. “I could change into my true form right now and eat you up,” threatened the golden-clad creep. “You wouldn’t be able to throw me out then, would you?” “No,” you agreed, quite casually. “But I think you’d have a hard time explaining where I went to anybody, and if my assistant stage managers found out, you’d still have issues. The way I see it, you eating me causes you more problems than you simply deciding to be civil for a change.” Taoka’s teeth were bared in a snarl. The snarl became a vicious sort of smile. He was fidgeting slightly. “If this competition didn’t mean so much to me,” he whispered dangerously, “You’d be halfway into my stomach right now. You should know that.” You just shrugged with a cheery smile. “As soon as this is over,” he went on, darkly, “I’m gonna make you wish you’d never been born.” You made a show of yawning. “I’ve had to deal with a lion, a hyena, a werewolf, two psychotic eel-men, a greedy cephalopod, an ogre, a naga, an ink monster, a bug boy, and a very loud crocodile fairy. You’re going to need to try a LOT harder to convince me you’re worth getting worried about,” you said, intentionally mimicking the airy tones of the bullying thief. One of Taoka’s eyes twitched. “What makes you think they’re any better than me?” he growled. Somehow, you sensed you’d struck a nerve. “I didn’t say they were,” you replied…then leaned close and whispered vengefully, “But I was thinking it.” Taoka seethed with fury. Grim just grinned. “I’ll send one of the Assistant SMs later to give you your cue,” you said sweetly, and waved as you cheerfully left the room. “Keep practicing, ‘babe!’ I think you’ll need it!” Grim followed you out. He didn’t start laughing until Taoka slammed the door, and angry guitar string plucks could be heard from inside the room.

To Be Continued in Part 2…

#my writing #trade #fanfic #kink fic #chapter 1 #glamour #disney #twisted wonderland #implied vore #oc #taoka #taoka latronis #not my oc #vil #vil schoenheit #grim #tamatoa #moana

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chequered-career · 1 year

Photo

totally on time birthday gift :’)) for the best puzzle piece ever

fanart for chapter 1 of Puzzle’s cat and mouse AU which is SO COOL

#dsmp g/t #giant!techno #giant!technoblade #tiny!phil #tiny!philza #tw vore mention #for the chapter!#life has been a lot but i finally have time to do stuff :D #marque g/t art

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loveandvore · 9 months

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Kemono no Gochisou, Hijoushoku

By TANAKAMORI Yokota

#kemonomimi #boys love #implied vore #male pred #male prey #only one chapter has been posted so far but 👀#it’s cute…

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lizard-shifter-noms · 10 months

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Chapter List of Still Subject To Change (SSTC)

Disclaimer! There will be Vore content on this blog!

this is a chapter list for my Vore story SSTC so it is easier to find and less scrolling is needed.

i will also put art/fanart links at the bottom!

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OLD ARC 1

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NEW ARC 1

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

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ARC 2

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

EPILOGUE

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ARC 3

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 4.5

Chapter 5

Chapter 5.5

Chapter 6

Chapter 6.5

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Epilogue

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ART

THE CAST!

PRIDEE!

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FANART

Skrungly looking Ardua (by @ojayrist )

One Tart long (also by @ojayrist ! ) Jamie! (by @ojayrist )

wet cat (by @ojayrist )

Christmas Tree/Dee (by @blue-bell-icecream )

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FANWRITINGS

Because i loved Still Subject To Change by @vixen525noms

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ASKS

Donovans height

Autistic Robin

Oakleys Family tree

Flowers on Ardua

Robin and Spiders

No spiders in Kamerasca

What if Birds

Robin and a cat

Taste

Drinking water as Ardua

Jamie's Gender

What if Bugs

Possible non Canon fan arc?

Ronan Pouch?

Arthur POV on arc 1

Can Ronan eat people too?

Height Chart

#sstc #SSTC #vore story #lizards writing #soft vore #v0re #g/t story #g/t vore #giant/tiny #extreme cuddling #sfw vore #Chapter list

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astraymetronome · 6 months

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I finished the first chapter the night before this was posted. I'm busy all day today so I can't really take time to post it so I opted to schedule it the night before.

This is a gift for @cyncerity and I do plan to write a few more chapters. It's my own play on their trapped Wilbur au so I hope you enjoy it. I'm calling this Of Starlings and Confines but the tag will just be #Starling AU since it's a little bit of a long title.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Also if anyone wants @'d when new chapters come out. Repost it so I know.

The soft cardigan that draped over his shoulders was enough to tell Tommy he was safe. He had barely managed to make this from Friend’s wool before everything went to hell. It was going to go lay it on the grave he’d made for the ghost but he couldn’t bring himself to do away with it. After all, he didn’t have a chance to see him. Wilbur and Niki had taken the sheep before he even found the sheep’s reborn body.

On top of this the cape techno had left with him had been turned into a cover for his wings. The avian hybrid knew full well that, if given the chance, Dream would try to cut them off in a heartbeat. He brushed his blond from his eyes, narrowly missing the scar that adorned his forehead. His tail swished as he quietly fettled with his khakis and ruined green bandana that was tied around a belt loop.

The 16-year-old knew he shouldn’t be doing this, let alone when Dream was on the loose, but he had to check on Boo and Tubbo. They may not be on the best terms as of right now but he had to know they were safe from that fucker’s greed. He wasn’t going to let anyone else get hurt from the stupid obsession. The dreamon wasn’t going to be allowed to do any more harm to any of them. He stepped from his dirt shack, running his hands through his messy curls before he let his wings spread. The wind blew through each feather, allowing his instincts to sing at the long-abandoned desire for 5 years. He hadn’t brought himself to return to the sky despite how much Philza had begged him.

Flying had sadly become a trigger for his PTSD. He hated it considering flying was once a desired release. Dream had taken it from him by clipping his flight feathers and threatening to remove his wings altogether if he attempted to fly once they grew back. It was an endless cycle of having them retired before he even got to use new flight feathers. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure he could still fly after all this time.

Ignoring his inner dialogue, the blonde let his wings beat almost to the rhythm of a heart before he fluttered into the air. It wasn’t graceful like his dad had once described his flight pattern and instinct, but the sensation of wind and the air brushing under and over feathers was peaceful. He could feel the cape over his shoulders getting in the way of his wings despite being decently pinned. He felt glad he’d done that so at least instead of trapping air or interrupting his flight they instead rested in between his shoulder blades and fell, following the space, past his scapulars.

Each stroke of his pinions brought him closer to his destination and the duo’s home. He knew the husbands would probably be against seeing him, considering Boo didn’t act anything like Ranboo did. Tubbo refused to let him around them since he didn’t want his platonic lover's ghost to disappear. Tommy just needed to make sure they were safe and warn them about the risk Dream opposed to them getting back at him.

No matter how mad he get at that smiling blob of a fucking person he refused to take it out on anyone but him or not at all. Puffy’s therapy had taught him enough to grow healthy coping mechanisms but.. Well of course this had to ruin his weekly visits upon escaping since Puffy couldn’t handle having her son released. The ewe had mixed feelings after he caused Techno to be dragged into Pogtoupia’s beef which led to her youngest child’s death.

Tommy hated going into the rabbit hole of his own thoughts but at least it distracted him from the fear bubbling in his stomach. The nagging fear that bubbled in his abdomen, flooded forward and gave a sensation of nausea that shot through every fiber of his being. He did his best to hide it deep down just like he did with most things. This wasn’t something he could hope or wish away like some of his feelings.

As he got closer, the distant sounds of shouting and seemingly an argument reached his space. Being this high in the air he really shouldn’t be able to hear it but, if they were this loud, something had to be wrong. He broke into a hover, letting his wings slow down into a glide as he made his way down to them. It was hard to get down quickly without just dropping his weight so this was the next best option.

Once his sneakers reached the brush, grass and moss being crushed under his weight, the teen stepped forward. It was rather refreshing to hear Toby even if he wasn’t in a good mood. The ghostly echo that seemed to speak in response wasn’t very surprising considering the connection Boo had still attached to his spouse. Nothing could kill the bond they both had, Tommy wished he could have experienced the same thing even after exile.

“We can’t just let that bastard have our son! Goddamnit Ranboo!” His goat friend yelled out, Tommy could see how Boo kept stepping in front of Tubbo as he yelled towards if not behind the ghost. He sighed moving forward and into view of the couple. He wasn’t surprised as the fellow hybrid looked over the enderman’s shoulder and towards him. The half-blind teen simply glared in his direction before the insatiable happened.

“Tommy! The homeless Teletubby stole Michael!” Tommy could feel his blood run cold at this. He’d been too late to stop that fuckers actions and the choice to take it out on others who no longer had a part in this. He felt a snarl press against his lips and cross his face as he turned.

“Which way did he go.” He found himself mumbling.

“There is no-” Boo began but Tommy refused to let him finish.

“Where the fuck did he take your son!” The blonde shouted, watching as Tubbo’s eyes lit up for a moment, only a moment, as his hand pointed towards the east. Tommy didn’t even take a second to consider his options before he let his wings open and brought himself up above the trees, propelling himself in that direction. No matter how long the two of them planned to hate or dislike him, he refused to let Michael be a victim.

He knew Boo would be mad but he didn’t care. Tommy needed to keep Michael safe when Ranboo would be eager to see him if, no, once he was back from the afterlife. He was quick to rush, his dark wings weren’t well adjusted for hiding in the dark unlike his brother’s. Wilbur’s wings had white slats that had some dark brown or black shading. He thought they were beautiful in comparison to his black primaries and bright red flight feathers. His own wingspan of 7 feet seemed to dwarf his size but it really wasn’t. In comparison to his body, when spread out, they looked proper and reminded him of Phil’s crow-based wings. He wasn’t actually aware of the bird his were based on. He knew the immortal knew but he’d never really gotten to bring it up.

He watched the ground, much like a hawk searching for a rabbit or something along those lines. Unlike a hawk, he was well aware of what he needed to find, not a victim to instincts and a need for food, unlike the well-known predator. Tommy refused to let himself be swallowed up by stupid nature, he wasn’t going to lose himself to it.

He was unaware of how long it took for him to take notice of pink and white. Without another hesitation he dropped, landing roughly and accidentally causing the small child to scare. The moment the three-year-old’s white eyes landed on his form, the small snort that left him as crying started caused his heart to lurch in panic. He couldn’t believe Dream would consider harming this angel.

“Hey, Big Mike.” Tommy whispered as his arms wrapped around the child’s body, his wings moving to hug him as well. He refused to let him go as the pigling squirmed to be held higher. He tucked the child on his hip, listening as he muttered something in enderspeak. He wasn’t proficient in the language, unable to learn more after Ranboo’s passing.

“Scared. Taken. Green. Blob.” It honestly made no sense to him but he knew what Micheal meant by the green blob. He could feel a growl forming in his throat as he carefully juggled the toddler's body. His hands held him protectively as he moved the cape, uncliping it as he used it to slightly swaddle him. He knew the small boar would like the texture considering he remembered how Techno used to wrap him in one of his own capes.

Tommy heard something, his slightly pointed ears swiveling as he glanced around. His grip grew more possessive and protective as he looked for the cause. He had this sneaking feeling it was going to be who he thought it was. Dream had no reason to back up or leave. The avian had no armor or weapons on him and he was sure that he would at least need to survive long enough to get Micheal to Tubbo.

He shook as he glared before his sharp eyes took notice of the small white form on the floor. He wasn’t used to seeing Dream’s blob form. He knew the dreamon was well versed in transformation magic but… this was different. The asshole never entered this form unless he was around George or Sapnap. Tommy lifted him up, with some hesitancy, before hastily dropping him into his pocket and making his way towards the small piglin’s home. He had to get him home before he could take care of this.

His interest was peaked and, if Tommy was honest, having a chance to take the dreamon back to prison for once and for all, was too important to give up.

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pitposter · 1 year

Text

#kid icarus #kid icarus uprising #twitter repost #rest easy knowing pit doesn't get ACTUALLY vored in this chapter #pitposter

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nightmarevore · 9 months

Text

I Get A Craving and I Wake Up For You

5/?

First | Previous | Next

Rowan belongs to @wonderful-bellies , Luke belongs to me.

Luke wants to go on another hike. Rowan doesn’t react well.

“Hey, uh…. you’re Luke’s friend, right?” Rowan asks the man in front of him. He’d just knocked on this man’s door moments ago, and the ginger looked familiar.

“Yeah, who’s asking, who are you?” Oliver responds, raising an eyebrow. Subtle, suspicious anger builds up inside him.

“My name is Rowan, I’m Luke’s rooma-“ The predator’s words are interrupted by the impact of something slamming against his jaw, throwing him off. With no time to react, Rowan stumbles and nearly hits the wall. He stumbles over his words, raising his voice. “What the hell, man?!”

“Sorry, that was… Sorry, what do you want?” Oliver takes a deep breath, pulling his hand back and shaking it. Rowan’s jaw hurt his knuckles a bit.

“It’s about Luke.” Rowan’s voice is riddled with slight panic. “He’s… tiny?”

“Yeah…?” The ginger’s stomach feels like it empties as he’s filled with dread for whatever else Rowan has to say. “He’s a shifter.”

“Yeah, I know. He just… went tiny, and now he’s unresponsive.” Rowan tenses up, spotting Oliver’s fist aim for his face once again. He’s fast enough to move out of the way, and the expression across Oliver’s face is pure rage. His face is red, and he looks as if he’s ready to murder the predator in front of him.

“What the HELL did you do?!”

***

Luke takes a deep breath, sitting at his computer. He finds himself researching more into predators, this time more into this “Hunger Fugue” that he’s heard about a few times. Of course, he just wants to figure out what’s going on with Rowan so he can help him. It seems like the predator is struggling, so maybe if he knows about what it exactly means to be a predator, they can start somewhere?

… Why does he even care? Why is he so desperate to try and get Rowan to open up to him? He didn’t have an answer to Oliver when he asked.

No, he cares because he wants to. There’s nothing wrong with that.

Something about giving people the benefit of the doubt rings through his mind in Oliver’s voice.

He shakes his head at this, acknowledging that he’s not giving Rowan the benefit of the doubt here, he just wants to figure out what’s going on with him. If he figures out what Rowan’s deal is, maybe he’ll finally open up to him.

Oliver would argue that he’s only doing this for Rowan’s looks, and it may be the case, but he has to try something. The shifter finds it hard to sit by and pretend his roommate, the man who helps him pay rent, doesn’t exist in any way, especially with what’s already transpired between the two. The hike… When they spoke when Rowan ate him, he opened up to him. Rowan’s voice was soft at the time. He opened up to Luke and shared his feelings. He talked about himself… That was so nice.

Rowan is a good person, deep down. He’s just… complicated.

With a deep breath, Luke turns to a few more web pages online.

It’s most interesting, some predators can get fugues more often than others, and their level of awareness varies from person to person. Most often, predator’s have no recollection of events that transpire while these occur. Their instincts and hunger take over any semblance of a personality that they may have had before. They can last from hours to days, and sometimes they even seek out a specific person to eat to sate their hunger.

This prey can be enough to knock them out of the fugue. It may take a while for them to come to, though.

It sounds a lot like when Rowan ate him when he was shrunken down. That could be something to ask him about, but does he have the courage to?

Either way, this time, Luke is prepared for the next time they go on a hike. He wants to make another attempt and at least offer himself to be eaten before they leave so they don’t have another lost or awkward situation during the hike, or in case Rowan desperately needs to eat him out of the blue again.

It’s been far more informative looking into preds himself than trying to get anything out of his roommate, and he figures it’s going to stay like this for a while.

Almost on cue, Luke hears footsteps behind him. He turns in his chair, spotting his roommate. He looks tired, wearing one of his tank tops. His hair is a bit messy, and it looks like he may have just woken up from a good sleep. He wore one of his tank tops, and Luke couldn’t look away at the way it folded against his chest.

Rowan goes to the gym often, and his figure shows it. Rowan’s pecs sometimes strain against his top, his biceps folding when he bends his arms. He imagines himself holding Rowan’s arm, and Rowan lifting him up with ease as his vision is overshadowed by the darkness of Rowan’s throat. Feeling himself slip down his insides and into the space of his stomach—

“Why… Why are you looking at me like that?” Rowan’s voice snaps Luke out of his trance. The predator takes note of where Luke was staring. His eyes traced his torso, then landed on his mouth. His fucking mouth.

Luke must’ve been thinking of how horrifying he is. How unnatural it is to need to eat someone.

“Ah! S—sorry!” Luke panics, turning to his monitor and turning the screen off before jumping out of his chair, his face red. He claps his hands together out of determination. “Listen! Rowan! I was thinking of some things.”

His voice is determined, and the sudden clap and tone of voice widens the taller man’s eyes.

“Some… things?” Rowan replies, hesitant and curious.

“Yes, things. I wanted us to go on another hike trail. I—I know our first hike didn’t really go as planned, and I want to make that up to you. I kinda screwed us up there, y’know? I think I have a better idea of this next trail so we don’t get lost. It’s one I’ve been on before, unlike the one we went the first time. I was also thinking that since….….”

Rowan’s brain tunes out Luke’s words. Another hike. Luke mentioned another hike. Luke keeps trying to talk to him and spend time with him; WHY?

( why is luke so fucking intent on talking to him? on getting to know him? doesn’t he know that the further away he stays from rowan, the better? the less of a chance he has to get hurt? )

Rowan grinds his teeth together, his hands balling into fists. His gaze looks to the ground, and he grows frustrated and angry as Luke’s muffled voice across the room fights its way through his thoughts and into his head. He doesn’t want to talk about this. He doesn’t want to think about this. He DOESN’T want to get close to Luke. He SHOULDN’T get close to Luke.

he wants to eat luke. he wants to hold him inside his stomach and never let him out.

Teeth begin to show through Rowan’s lips as a subtle growl turns into an all out bark. He throws his fists down, one foot stomping on the ground.

“SHUT UP!” Rowan suddenly yells out, interrupting Luke’s words. Luke’s eyes widen, and whatever gesture he’s making with his hands freeze in place.

Luke feels his heart sink as his body tenses up at the man raising his voice.

“But—”

“SHUT UP! All you do is just… TALK. You never fucking listen!” Rowan snaps, stomping forward towards the shifter, rage in his eyes, and teeth showing. He snarls, closing the gap between him and Luke. “You need to stop fucking trying to be friends with me, you need to stay the hell away from me! Why are you so insistent on trying to hang out with me?”

Luke takes a few steps back, shaking his head at Rowan’s sudden anger. This… this isn’t something he expected. At all. Horror and dread take him over. What did he do wrong? Why does Rowan hate him now?

“I—I was just…”

“Just NOTHING. I didn’t ask for a friend. I never said you and I could be friends. I just need someone to help me pay rent. I am not and will NEVER be interested in any kind of friendship you have to offer me, so stop trying to get to know me. Do you understand?” The predator’s face is angry. He’s growling loudly, glaring into Luke’s eyes as he’s backed up fully against the wall.

Rowan stands tall above the shifter. Luke hugs the surface behind him, trying to make himself flat against it. What… What caused this? Why is Rowan mad at him? Why does Rowan hate him? His breathing picks up and hitches in his throat. The pit in Luke’s stomach deepens.

He’s so small. He’s nothing. Luke is nothing compared to the rest of the world. To nobody. He doesn’t want to be here, he’s not here. This isn’t happening, he’s not crying, he’s going to be okay, he’s not here. He did everything right, it’s okay. He’s small, he’s nothing. He’s going to—

( he’s not here he’s not here he’s not here he’s not here he’s not here he’s not here he’s not here )

…

Luke stares down the eyes of his tormentors. Squishing him between their disgusting hands and putting just a little too much pressure on his body. A yelp of pain escapes the tiny boy, tears streaming down his cheeks as he cries and begs for anyone to help him. To save him.

Poked and prodded, Luke felt wrong in his own skin. Every squeeze overwhelmed him, every laugh overwhelmed him. Everyone around him pointed and laughed. Made fun of him for not being able to control his shifts. Making fun of him for being so weird, for being the outlier of everyone else.

“Your hair makes you look like a girl.”

“Why are you crying? You know boys aren’t supposed to cry. You’re so weak compared to everyone else.”

“Look at this, if you squeeze him, he cries even harder.”

Laughter booms around him, banging against his eardrums and becoming the only thing he can hear. He’s shaking as he lets out another scream in pain and agony. Nobody is going to save him.

He wishes he didn’t exist. He wishes he was never born.

…

To say that Rowan expected what just happened would be an understatement. Luke was there, and then he wasn’t. He fell silent, frozen, eyes cold and still with horror, anxiety, and silence. His lips moved, but no words escaped them. His eyes teared up, but they wouldn’t dare fall. Then, he shrunk. Down, down, down, and onto the surface of the floor.

Rowan’s eyes widen, and he takes a few steps back as he blinks. He stares down at the ground, to the tiny figure of Luke, frozen and curling up on the floor.

Dread hits the pit of Rowan’s stomach as he begins to panic. He kneels down, trying to get close. The color leaves his face. What is going on?!

“Luke?” Rowan speaks up with an expression of panic. No response. He doesn’t understand, why is Luke reacting like this? Why freeze up? Why is he not talking? “What the hell is happening?!”

Luke is silent, yet tenses up and curls into a ball at Rowan raising his voice. He covers his ears, his legs sticking to his chest like glue as he presses himself up against the wall.

Rowan’s heart beats out of his chest so hard it feels like his chest is going to explode. Luke has a friend, right? The neighbor, Oliver.

( he can help, right? he knows luke more than you do. you know nothing about this man, and you wanted to keep it this way. so, get someone to help. )

Pick him up! That’ll help. Carry him to Oliver.

No, no. Just leave him. You don’t want to get close to him, right? You’re not his friend, you don’t owe him that.

But it’s the right thing to do, isn’t it?

Rowan can't move. His legs won’t respond.

Why is Luke reacting this way?

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!!

Should you eat him?

His breath hitches in his throat. Rowan feels like he’s going to throw up. He feels as if his airway is closing. Instead of turning over and throwing up whatever sat in his stomach from the night before, Rowan’s legs move on pure instinct, abandoning the tiny and running out the door. His body took over his mind, and he couldn’t stop heaving.

His hand balls into a fist, knuckles white and his fingers locked. He slams his knuckles against the wood of the door, unsure of what he’s doing.

He can’t think, he doesn’t know what he’s doing. Why did Luke react the way he did?

***

“You just left him there?!” Oliver’s voice echoes angrily through the silence of the hall.

“I didn’t-“

“Didn’t WHAT?!” Oliver’s anger is justified, and Rowan feels small. The enraged man steps out into the hall, closing the door behind him and walking towards Luke and Rowan’s apartment.

“I didn’t think! I don’t understand, why did he shrink down?” Rowan begins to follow Oliver, panic still in his voice.

“He didn’t tell you? Of course he didn’t….” The ginger’s voice fades out.

“What? What is it?! What the fuck is happening to him?”

Oliver rolls his eyes, sighing out of frustration.

“He’s got Thumbelina Syndrome. If he didn’t tell you, it’s because he didn’t want you to know. He never tells anyone anything of what he goes through, because he’s stupid.” Oliver opens the door to Luke and Rowan’s apartment.

“What? What’s that? Thum…Thumbelina?” Rowan’s eyebrows furrow.

“He gets stuck at random sizes!!! It happens when he’s stressed or something happens to him, so good fucking job, Rowan. You really aced that, you’re such a good roommate.” Sarcasm spews from Oliver’s voice as he walks over to the living room, looking around and spotting the shrunken man curled up against the wall.

Rowan stops in his tracks, expression blank. He watches Oliver gently approach Luke, keeping a quiet, soft voice.

Luke… He’s a shifter, and this Thumbelina thing has to do with that. Something he hid from Rowan, just like he tried to hide the pred thing from Luke. There’s something that Luke had to hide, too. It seems almost out of a coincidental nightmare. He can’t believe that Luke also has something his body does against his will, and it makes him freeze up as he watches Oliver kneel down to where Luke lay on the ground.

He stands over Luke, letting him know he’s there and telling him he’s going to pick him up, gently. Rowan can’t process much more of what’s going on. His mind is still so overwhelmed from the sudden panic. He didn’t understand why Luke had to… react in such a way, and he didn’t know how to handle it. Rowan isn’t good with people, and it’s why he’s vowed to stay away from them.

Before he knows it, Oliver is holding the shrunken Luke close to his chest, and he glares straight into Rowan’s eyes, seemingly straight into his soul.

“For Luke’s sake, you’d best think of a good way to apologize to him. You were being an asshole, and I can't believe you can’t see how hard he’s trying to make this work with you. The way I see it, you don’t deserve it.”

Then Oliver walks through the door.

And Rowan is left alone in the quiet of their apartment.

#I Get a Craving and I Wake Up For You #luke #rowan #size on the side #sots #vore story #no vore in this chapter but luke does day dream about it AGAIN so #vore mention

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twistedtummies2 · 9 days

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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.

When will chapter two be done? Probably next month. Till then, keep your eyes peeled, boys and girls...and don't worry! More stories are on the way. ;)

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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…”

-----------------------------------------------------------

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…

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