The O’rangers had themed the league around sand, cacti and tumbleweeds, but Orlango was more than that- it was the meeting place of ocean, desert, field, and swamp. The O’Marbles farmed the flat and fertile lands, but while the orange groves had a lot of charm, they weren’t exactly flashy. Pinky Winky found Billy relaxing in the sun on one of Orlango’s rare hills, overlooking the presently fenced-off O’Raceway in the distance.
“Looks nice. Mind if I join you?”
“…Sure. Congrats on the win.”
Pinky Winky flopped on the soft green grass and let out a blissful sigh. Warm, dry weather and butter-soft yellow light made the summer sunsets in Orlango perfect. A gold medal made them even better.
“This view must be pretty nostalgic for you, right?”
“Hm? …Yeah, I suppose so. I’ve never looked at it from this angle, though.”
“More used to the top step of the podium, aren’t you?” Pinky Winky teased.
Visibly flustering, Billy began to deflect. “I’ve only won twice… Er, but you raced here once, didn’t you?”
Pinky Winky smiled fondly. “Good catch! My first ever race. I did pretty decent, too. Sixth, or something..?”
“Fifth,” Billy corrected. “You actually beat me.”
Pinky Winky smiled. “Yeah, that’s it! Always wished I didn’t have to stop racing. Hey, remember when we were on the podium together, too?”
“Domino Bowling, 2022.” Billy barely had to think about it, the look of recognition in their eyes instant and confident.
“Amazing! Eh, with a memory like that, no wonder they picked you for Maze.”
“Technical events suit me, I guess. I even let Mallard take Sprint so I could focus on this… But that kind of thing is your whole teams’ specialty, right?”
Pinky Winky sat with the notion for a moment. Perhaps that was true- what the Pinkies lacked in the triple crown they made up for where tactics mattered. “I guess we are more of a thinking team. And you know what that means?”
“…No, sorry,” conceded Billy apologetically.
Pinky Winky nudged them playfully, meeting with a surprised squeak. “Bowling, Rafting, Water Race- we owe a bit of our victory to your team for giving us the events we needed to win!”
(Art Credit: Toffeeshop)
–
Underneath the sweltering Orlango sun, it was hard to tell which was the wound and which was the salt: the zero, or the DNF that had earned them the zero. Where once it would have reduced them to a sobbing mess, now it simply compounded the emptiness inside them, just one more crushing failure on the list of crushing failures that defined them.
“I’m sorry,” was the only thing they had to offer upon returning to the locker room.
Royal gritted their teeth. “Azure, don’t you dare. It’s going to be okay, got it? If anyone says a bad word against you, I’ll…I’ll…”
It brought a hollow smile to their face. “It’s nothing that hasn’t happened to me before. I’m used to it.”
Royal’s worry only flared harder. “Hey –”
“You’re a good captain, Royal. I’m glad you’ve grown so well into it.” Through their shaky vision they could see Smokey standing at a distance—even the thought of tonight’s debriefing made the locker room feel unbearably stifling. They shoved Royal away. “I have to go.”
“Azure, wait!”
Truthfully, the corn wasn’t planted too densely—it explained how marbles like Sheep had simply mowed straight through—but it was still dense enough to block out most of the sunlight. Azure sprinted through the stalks in the dark until the world blurred in black and green, a phantom voice chanting inside their head.
Useless, stupid, dead weight, failure –
In the dark, they missed the bump in the soil. Azure shrieked as they crashed into the dirt, the voice cackling at them all the way. A flock of crows burst out of a faraway patch of corn.
Failing to advance into the top half today hadn’t been enough, failing to finish at all in the loser’s round hadn’t been enough, limping back to the lockers by themselves hadn’t been enough, the eyes in the stands boiling with disgust and schadenfreude hadn’t been enough, but now, covered in dirt and alone in the fields, Azure began to cry.
“I’m sorry,” they sobbed to the open air. Below them, patches of dust dissolved into mud.
All that time and energy and kindness and sacrifice everyone had spent on them, all the opportunities they could ever want, and what did they have to show for it? A trail of broken promises and humiliating failures, each one dragging them all down even harder. Every chance they got, they let it go to waste. They only had themself to blame.
“I’m sorry…”
But only the crows circling overhead could hear them.
–
As the Limers marched out of the athlete’s waiting room and into the arena, bumping themselves and yelling their chants, Stinger trailed to their space by the exit and leaned against the wall. Bumble, Honey, and Hive all followed suit, but they were already fading into the background as Stinger drifted away from the stadium, back to the orange grove a week ago.
“Yeah but, you’re like, such a Bumblebee now.”
Stinger had frowned, a stark contrast to the lopsided smile on Wasp’s face.
“What?”
“I’m just saying,” Wasp shrugged, “you’re a Bumblebee now. You practice on the Honeydome and talk about Swax like you’re old friends.”
Stinger spluttered. “Well—”
“Forget it, cap.” Wasp chuckled teasingly. “Let’s go. We’re meeting the Gorbs for dinner, aren’t we?” Then, they had stood up, trailing off behind Vespa and Hive before Stinger could say another word.
What Wasp had said bothered them more than it should have. You’re such a Bumblebee now, with the wry smile plastered across their face. Like being a Bumblebee was a bad thing. Stinger knew it wasn’t, yet Wasp’s smirk made something inside them flare up in shame.
The truth was, they were a Bumblebee now. There was no point denying it—in fact, that had been the goal ever since the fateful day the Hornets sent in their resignation letter. And now, after two years, they were finally at peace with it.
But sitting at that quaint little table in the O’rangers’ orange grove with the Hornets had sent Stinger spiraling into confusion and doubt. The way they talked and laughed together so naturally, the way they still called them “cap”, like nothing had changed.
Through the haze, Honey and Hive’s chatter blurred in and out. Wasp was right—they looked like old friends. But they were still Hornets, Stinger was still a Hornet; even though the Hornets were long gone, even though Stinger was now a Bumblebee, and they had lost their true team—
“Stinger, what’s wrong?”
Bumble’s face pulled Stinger back as thunderous cheers erupted from the stadium behind them. Stinger looked up, and their gazes met; Bumble’s eyes were as calm and soothing as waves.
“I’m just…nervous.” Stinger stammered.
“Why? We do marathon training and you’re scared of a meter-long beam?” Bumble chuckled. “All you have to do is stay by my side.”
Stinger blinked. “Yeah…”
“Hey.” Bumble rolled closer, nudging against Stinger’s surface. “We’ve worked hard for this. And we can do it. I promise you.”
“Yeah.” Slowly, Stinger nodded. “Yeah, we can do this.”
“And, in a way,” Bumble smirked, “balancing works out better for us.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, Swax is off having burgers with Ruzzy, so… it’s just us four. Two of us, two of you.
We’re perfectly balanced.”
(Photo Credit: Jelle’s Marble Runs)
–
Theme parks were supposed to be fun. But Orlango in the summer was somehow even hotter than Sotsevsa, and Limelime was rapidly growing impatient waiting in an unshaded line for It’s A Magnificent Marblearth.
“This place sucks,” they protested in between brief nudges forward in the line. “Why did we come here again?”
Sharing their position in the apparently endless procession of marbles was Goolime, halfway through a novelty popcorn bucket and donning the park’s iconic Non-Descript Mascot Animal ears, who had no such complaints. “Sublime did say we’d go to the Non-Descript Theme Park if we won an event.”
Limelime let out an impatient huff of protest. “I thought they were joking! One time Sublime said they’d get me a puppy if I got an M1 podium, but it was actually a rat in a costume… I miss Squeaky.”
“I miss Squeaky too. But you’re not seriously complaining that we’re at ‘The Most Non-Descript Place on Marblearth’, right?” replied Goolime. “Let loose! Have fun! I’ve always been so jealous of you getting to visit Orlango for M1, and this is precisely why.”
Limelime remained uncompelled by Goolime’s appeals. “I don’t win events for the privilege of queuing up. Don’t they let famous marbs skip to the front anymore?”
Goolime stammered. “Er, well, there’s the QuickPass system, but you’ve got to-”
“Whatever. I’m outta here,” replied Limelime, hopping the barrier with an athlete’s perfect form and rolling off. “Have fun with the dancing robots. I’m gonna go find cap.”
Meanwhile, across the park, Lemonlime and Slimelime had found and queued for the park’s least popular ride- a small orange-themed coaster- just to be spotted and brought to the front anyway. Limelight had been too wary of them exhausting themselves to let them visit during M1, but now Sublime was around to overrule them, they were finally getting their chance.
As the pair of heat-tired attendants fastening them inside the train withdrew, Slimelime smiled promptingly at Lemonlime, who’d been mysteriously quiet for a while. “Woo! You know, I feel bad for reaping the rewards without actually being in the event, but this is fun, right?”
“Yeah…” replied Lemonlime quietly.
Slimelime pouted. “Everything alright?”
“I have to confess something, actually…” Lemonlime squeaked, drawing as close as they could get to Slimelime with the seatbelt wound around them. Their gazes met, filled with emotion, as the carriage rode higher.
“Y-yes?”
Lemonlime’s stammer only worsened. “I… I’m… Uh…”
“It’s okay. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
Scrunching their eyes shut, Lemonlime whimpered gently through the sound of metallic clanking in the background. “I’m… I’m terrified of roller coasters! And I get sick really easily when they go fast!”
Slimelime went pale. “Wait, what?”
“I’m sorry! I just wanted to spend time with y- aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”
–
Montoya had hoped their own event would be some small redemption in the eyes of their fans, and it had. Yet neither a good performance nor lifting the Stars from the clutches of relegation were much comfort to Montoya themself, and they left the post-event celebrations somehow more sombre than they’d entered.
Without any destination in mind, they rolled slowly across the O’Marble family fields and towards the horizon, dwelling so intently on their thoughts that even the vast form of the stadium eventually vanished out of sight. Rolling and rolling and rolling, until they rolled into a small sunken pool of yellowish sand; the remnants of a long-dried-up pond from an era where swampland stretched across Orlango. When they finally looked up, Montoya saw Pinky Toe sat meditating in the centre, surrounded by finely-raked and impossibly-neat concentric ripples of sand… which they’d just broken with their carelessness. Ugh!
Shyly, Montoya backed off and settled at the tufted ridge where the grass dissolved. It was an odd situation; both leaving without apologising and interrupting Pinky Toe’s meditation were unforgivably rude, and so they were stuck.
For a while they studied the circles in silence and wondered if they’d been noticed. Was Pinky Toe simply too in the zone to have even heard them, or was it a conscious choice to block them out? The more they sat and waited the more Pinky Toe’s perfect concentration seemed to rub off on them; they began to stare at the circles, mind emptying, eyes flickering shut.
Eventually, they awoke to a darkening sky and the sound of Pinky Toe’s voice. “You’re Panther’s friend, right?” they asked, apparently done with their focus state.
Oh yeah. As if it couldn’t get any more awkward. “Uh… Yeah, I know Panther. Sorry about your circles. Seems like you need them for something.”
Pinky Toe was surprised, but not perturbed, to see the disturbed outer circles. “Nothing to worry about. They’re of no use to me once I actually begin meditating.”
Montoya sighed, deflated. They weren’t exactly sure what they’d expected to happen, but Pinky Toe was taking it remarkably well. “Um… Then why do you make them?” they ventured.
“To put myself in a place where I can abandon all thought.”
“That sounds nice. I can’t stop thinking. It’s like a machine in my brain just… whirs and whirs on forever. Uh- that’s not your problem, though.”
“What is it that you’re thinking about?”
Montoya had to consider that for a moment. What felt inescapable internally was surprisingly difficult to articulate to someone else. “Um… I screwed up Sand Rally really badly, my team DNQed- you know this bit- and now I get to ‘enjoy’ a good Sand Moguls result while Diego handles an event they’ve never done before. Which makes me feel great.”
“Hm… How much can you do about any of that now?”
“None,” Montoya conceded with a frown. “And that’s the worst part.”
“And that means you can move on,” countered Pinky Toe. “It’s beyond your control. Support Diego the best you can, then let everything else go.”
Montoya pouted. They sounded so confident, and for what? “It’s not that easy, though.”
“I know.” Pinky Toe approached them gently, the rest of the circles in the sand breaking as they rolled forward. “But you’re doing your best.”
(Photo Credit: Jelle’s Marble Runs)
–
In a break from tradition, the 2025 Marble League had designed its athletes’ village so that the coaches were kept separate from their teams. On one end, it restricted impromptu meetings to the locker rooms, but on the other end, it meant that the coaches were exempt from the chaos caused by squeezing 160 marbles into the same space. Last year, the fire alarm had been tripped at least twice by an athlete wanting a midnight snack.
At least it means most of the evenings are quiet, Smokey mused as they poured hot water into two cups. As the tea leaves unfurled, they put away their notes for the day – handwritten, of course, even if Gnome complained that digital versions were superior in every way. There were still Collision strategies to review, but that could wait. They had a guest tonight.
“My apologies that it’s taken this long for a proper conversation.”
Hazy shook their head, accepting the tea their former coach offered them. “I don’t mind; you looked busy. How’s Cerulean?”
“Pleased.” They’d handled the medal as preciously as they would have for a family heirloom.
“I can imagine.” Five years ago, Hazy had stood on the podium themselves, also with a silver, and under the same guidance. “The Kobalts…it’s like you’ve breathed new life into them.”
It was textbook flattery, but even Smokey knew there was truth in it. The Kobalts’ resurgence had not gone unnoticed, whispered in corners and commented directly to their face alike.
“They always had the potential. Sapphire was right to see that in them.” Smokey sighed. “Not to mention at least nine years of experience and access to state-of-the-art equipment at a moment’s notice. Sometimes I wonder…no, never mind.”
“You could win.”
And there was the ugly truth, that they could win. Years of imagining they’d win with the Hazers, and here the chance laid with the Kobalts; with Zuro, not with Mt. Huaze. Of course they would try to deliver the Kobalts to victory, but…
“I suppose so,” Smokey said instead. Hazy tilted their head at them, as if trying to read their mind.
“We wouldn’t begrudge you for it,” they offered softly.
Outside the window, the crickets and cicadas had stopped their chirping for the night.
“You’ve done well,” Smokey said, trying to change the subject. Plenty of bronzes. “Adapting to an event change, and out of relegation with Block Pushing handicapping you? Be proud of that.”
Hazy took a sip of their tea, obscuring their face with steam. “I had a good teacher.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Smokey warned dryly, bringing their own cup to their mouth.
“Yes, Coach.”
“I’m not your coach anymore, Hazy.”
Hazy looked out the window, where a tiny orange speck on the horizon belied the stadium’s torch. “…I know, but…” They faced Smokey again. “No matter how much time has passed, or how far away you are, you’ll always be Coach to us.”
To that, Smokey appeared to be at a loss for words. Eventually, they relented, closing their eyes with a sigh.
“As you wish.”
–
“Welcome, team, to tonight’s debriefing. If any of you have upcoming plans scheduled for tonight, rest assured. This meeting will be a short one.”
Orbit swallowed, gazing out at the sullen faces of their audience. They gazed back at them, dull and despondent. Orbit continued.
“As of today, we are confirmed to be relegated to next year’s Showdown. We will not be participating in the 2026 Qualifiers.”
Dwarf and Saucer were huddled together in dual misery next to Sulfur, and Blast was blankly staring ahead. A fourth place finish – twelve points – hadn’t been enough to save them.
“But we will go down with our dignity intact. Pointless as it may be, I pledge that I will not give up at the starting line of the Sand Rally.” Their breathing was speeding up, hitching, getting shakier. “When this tournament is over, I, Orbit, as your captain, will take full responsibility for what transpired here this season of the Marble League.”
Saucer looked as though they wanted to say something, but Orbit made a gesture, and they fell silent again.
“I want you all to know that this is not the fault of any one marble. I want you all to know this is not the end. We will return next year, stronger than before, and show the world that we are one of the top thirty-two teams in all of Marblearth.”
Deep breath. Calm down. Don’t…don’t cry.
“Meeting adjourned.”
–
(Photo Credit: Jelle’s Marble Runs)
Rango liked quiet nights on the O’Marble property. Their first night on the farm so many years ago was the first time in their chaotic life they’d ever heard it- the complete and utter silence of nothing and nobody around for miles. With the entire population of the League on-site at the nearby athletes’ village those nights were long gone, but having the final few events in sight had apparently put a damper on everyone’s appetite for late night and noise, so now things were at least tranquil.
Most of the athletes stuck around the village, but occasionally some would slip over to the farmhouse proper, either to snoop or just because they were lost. Usually Rango gently redirected them, but when a green-and-brown marble showed up wandering by the porch the night after Collision, Rango knew exactly who they were and why they were there.
“Hey, Minty Hint. Wandering around at night for any reason in particular?”
“Er, nope. Went for a walk and got lost again.” It sounded like a half-truth, but Rango wasn’t in the business of judging. They’d been expecting a house call like this from their old friend for a while.
“No worries, I’ll show you back to the coach’s building.” Rango had their own room there, but it rarely saw any use. Either way, they could roll there blindfolded.
Minty Hint grinned. “Thanks. Feels like I never get used to new stadiums until the moment we leave for home… Sorry we haven’t talked more recently, by the way.”
“Don’t worry yourself about it, Hint. We’re all busy.” As they rolled down the dirt path Rango noticed Hint lagging behind. Clearly they wanted to talk. Rango slowed to match their pace.
“Still, I should’ve congratulated you earlier. Must’ve been fun getting to put the hurt on the other Fruit Circuiteers, huh? Berry was complaining for an hour.”
Rango shrugged and laughed the notion off light-heartedly. “I liked the medal too. No complaints about the team unity, either… The Tangerin stuff’s still sore, but we’re building our resilience.”
“It’s showing! You really have your momentum back.”
“That’s the O’Rangers way.” Rango took a deep breath, still hemming and hawing over how to stop beating around the bush. “How about you?”
“Bad,” Hint replied curtly. “We had this… meeting earlier, me and a few of the other Showdown coaches. And the whole time I kept thinking about how what happened in 2023 felt like the worst thing that had ever happened to me, then I got bailed out, and now I’m here doing it all again.”
Rango only realised they’d stopped still on the path when they began to speak. “I’m sorry, Hint. Promise I didn’t mean for your time here to be so rough on you.”
“It’s not your fault. I’m trying to look on the bright side- did you know how funny Palette is? I thought we were about to have a serious conversation about it being one or the other between our teams, and the whole time I was cracking up.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhm. And what’s even funnier- you know who’s taking it the worst?”
Rango grinned, eager to hear. “Afraid not.”
“White Eye! Pouting in the corner about not being able to win. You know, I hate to put it like this, but some of us have actual problems.”
Rango nodded in amusement. “Can’t say it’s out of character. What about Splint?”
“Confident the Sliders have it in the bag. Rolling around on cloud nine.” Hint shrugged. “At least someone’s having a good time.”
“That’s the Sliders for you…” Even as they joked about, sadness and apprehension clung to the mood like a dark fog. Rango appreciated the Orlangan habit of long-winded politeness, but sometimes Quickly was right- you had to rip the bandage off. “Hint?”
Hint stiffened, sensing the return to formality. “Yeah?”
“I respect you. Whatever happens. There’s not enough tribulation on the whole of Marblearth to get coach Minty Hint and the Minty Maniacs down and out, y’hear me? And that means I won’t stand to see it get to you.”
Perhaps it was some comfort to Hint; perhaps not. Their expression betrayed nothing but wistfulness, eyes looking onwards to the horizon where the coach’s building sat. “Thanks. But you can just say it- we’re getting relegated,” they murmured, quiet. “I should go.”
“‘Course. Take care of yourself.” So rarely was Rango lost for words that Hint’s uneasy early departure stunned them into silence. All they could do was watch with an odd pang of regret as they vanished back into the darkness and left them to the light.
–
As Momo stepped off the podium, silver medal glimmering proudly in the sunset, it came as no surprise that Mimo was waiting for them. It seemed as if Mimo’s beaming smile could outshine their new medal; it wouldn’t shock Momo if their assumption was right.
“Way to go!” Mimo cheered with a bump to their captain. “Good show you put on, we needed that bad.“
Momo chuckled. “You said it, not me.”
A laugh from Mimo followed before they turned their attention to the silver medal. “Imagine being able to go back in time and tell ourselves in 2021 this would happen,” they said to nobody in particular. “That we’d finally have something to show for in an event that had just cost us in the fight of our lives.”
When Momo looked towards Mimo, their expression had fallen considerably. “Hey, it’s alright,” Momo assured. “That year is in the past now, remember?”
Mimo didn’t respond. They wanted to speak, yet nothing tumbled out of their mouth aside from wobbly exhales and hollow sobs. They’d been so cheerful just a moment ago – what was going on?
“Mimo, are you okay?”
An uncomfortable beat of silence came and went before Mimo squeaked out, “you’re so amazing, you know that?”
Momo froze. They heard things like that all the time now – the high praise and flowery declarations had started two years ago after their unlikely victory in Marbula One, and they were borderline unavoidable these days with a Marble League championship to pair with it. Even now, amidst a struggle of a title defense, it was nothing but blind admiration and praise, even if they barely deserved it.
Yet in spite of being so exhausted with praise, the words pulled at their heart. “…I’m amazing?”
“You’re the one who won it for us in this same event last season, and you’re the reason we still have the slimmest chance of something amazing… how could you be anything less?” Mimo took a deep breath before continuing, “I don’t care that you didn’t win. You don’t need to win to be as amazing as you are. Now let’s finish the season strong, okay?”
Momo’s gaze fell to their medal, where the silver reflected the deep orange of the sunset. It was undeniable that it’d been a hard season, one that at times hardly resembled the one that came before it, but for a moment, all those worries were silenced in the presence of someone who meant more than a medal and a final standing.
Let’s finish this season strong.
–
Sixteen teams, sixteen events, eight thrilling weeks- Marble League 2025 is finally coming to an end. On Wednesday, the best marble sports teams in the world will compete on a winding Sand Rally track for the final points on offer in Marblearth’s biggest and most exciting marble sports tournament.
Six teams are still able to win the championship title; four more have a shot at a lower rung of the podium. The Kobalts, considered the year’s miracle qualifiers, have made it to the head of the pack under the guidance of ex-Hazers coach Smokey, followed closely by 2018 runners-up the Oceanics and 2018 champions the Midnight Wisps. Slightly behind the Wisps are two more ex-championship teams, our hometown hosts the O’Rangers and 2022 champions the Pinkies, both of whom will need to pull off a stunning Sand Rally showing in order to pip the top three to an all-important AQ slot. With an outside shot are Mellow Yellow, who’ll need to win just to be in with a chance at the championship. Each of these teams will be giving it their all on Wednesday, but their competitors lower down the rung aren’t down and out yet- in a remarkably tight League so far, 25 points can still make all the difference.
Also being decided on Wednesday is the ML Showdown title, where the 16 non-qualified teams will duke it out not only to win the Showdown title but to avoid relegation. It’ll take some catching up for ex-SD champions Team Plasma and the Indigo Stars, or 2022 runners-up Shining Swarm to pip the currently-dominant Turtle Sliders, who’ll be looking to overcome their weak Sand Rally record and finally seal an SD win. Meanwhile, with the Purple Rockets already relegated to next year’s Showdown, the Minty Maniacs, Team Primary, Rojo Rollers, Solar Flares, Thunderbolts, and Gliding Glaciers will all be fighting to escape the drop zone too.
Who’ll make their dreams come true come Wednesday, and who’ll have their hopes crushed? It’ll all be decided here in Orlango.
Credits
- Writers: Io Twelve, Millim, Momoikkai, Toffeeshop
- Copyeditors/Editors: GhostDM, Io Twelve, Millim, Phoenix
- Artists: Toffeeshop
- Reference: Marble League 2025 Events 11-15
- Release: 26/08/2025
Project Marblearth 