#an unfurled measuring tape

[bleaksqueak]

for the Halloween costume thing.... I keep having visions of willow in a banana costume. idk if that's anything but i keep seeing it when I close my eyes

also Lyra would go nuts w a spiderverse doc ock costume but it probably doesnt fit chronologically. I do think her costume would be some out-veil pop culture reference tho

Everything about this is so wonderful in every horribly great way... This is also the *second* request for Willow dressup i've gotten, so here's what i'm thinking. if I do a silly /cute picture, Weasel Fashion Week is definitely what needs to happen but if I do a more serious image, willow has to be there (and in the halloween spirit), because she's proven to be the star request. (Also you're right, Lyra has likely on more than one occasion dressed up as some pop culture outveil icon she loves and absolutely lived for the moment anyone might recognize her costume. One year that just so happened to be Barbarella. That was though probably before Audric....)

[nasa]

Setting Sail to Travel Through Space: 5 Things to Know about our New Mission

Our Advanced Composite Solar Sail System will launch aboard Rocket Lab’s Electron rocket from the company’s Launch Complex 1 in Māhia, New Zealand no earlier than April 23, at 6 p.m. EDT. This mission will demonstrate the use of innovative materials and structures to deploy a next-generation solar sail from a CubeSat in low Earth orbit.

Here are five things to know about this upcoming mission:

1. Sailing on Sunshine

Solar sails use the pressure of sunlight for propulsion much like sailboats harness the wind, eliminating the need for rocket fuel after the spacecraft has launched. If all goes according to plan, this technology demonstration will help us test how the solar sail shape and design work in different orbits.

2. Small Package, Big Impact

The Advanced Composite Solar Sail System spacecraft is a CubeSat the size of a microwave, but when the package inside is fully unfurled, it will measure about 860 square feet (80 square meters) which is about the size of six parking spots. Once fully deployed, it will be the biggest, functional solar sail system – capable of controlled propulsion maneuvers – to be tested in space.

3. Second NASA Solar Sail in Space

If successful, the Advanced Composite Solar Sail System will be  the second NASA solar sail to deploy in space, and not only will it be much larger, but this system will also test navigation capabilities to change the spacecraft’s orbit. This will help us gather data for future missions with even larger sails.

4. BOOM: Stronger, Lighter Booms

Just like a sailboat mast supports its cloth sails, a solar sail has support beams called booms that provide structure. The Advanced Composite Solar Sail System mission’s primary objective is to deploy a new type of boom. These booms are made from flexible polymer and carbon fiber materials that are stiffer and 75% lighter than previous boom designs. They can also be flattened and rolled like a tape measure. Two booms spanning the diagonal of the square (23 feet or about 7 meters in length) could be rolled up and fit into the palm of your hand!

5. It’s a bird...it’s a plane...it’s our solar sail!

About one to two months after launch, the Advanced Composite Solar Sail System spacecraft will deploy its booms and unfurl its solar sail. Because of its large size and reflective material, the spacecraft may be visible from Earth with the naked eye if the lighting conditions and orientation are just right!

To learn more about this mission that will inform future space travel and expand our understanding of our Sun and solar system, visit https://www.nasa.gov/mission/acs3/.

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[lilacxquartz]

JJK x Reader: What they would do for your birthday

included: sukuna, uraume, kenjaku & mahito

tags/themes: drabbles, fluff, slightly suggestive, slight body horror for mahito, 500-1000 words per character

ao3 link • masterlist • mdni

a/n: levelling up this month so why not a lil drabble post 💥 i’ll write one up for the other chars next time

Sukuna

You had been officially with Sukuna for about a year now and have lived together with him for about half of that duration.

Therefore, it was only a matter of time before you ended up spending your birthday with him.

Or so you thought.

Waking up, you were surprised to find the bed completely empty and utterly devoid of his presence. Instead, Uraume stood in the doorway with a neutral look on their face, entirely unphased by you being partially undressed with the covers only concealing half of your otherwise bare body.

It took you a while to adjust to their unwavering stare before you noticed that they were holding onto something.

At first, you couldn’t help but consider the possibility that perhaps Sukuna had arranged for a gift to be dispensed at their hands rather than to deliver it himself. However, the longer you both stared each other down, the less likely that seemed to be the case.

Stepping forward, Uraume snapped open a roll of measuring tape in their hands, the object making a tight whipping sound, “Your measurements, please.”

Blinking, you tried to process their request.

“It would be wise if you could cooperate with me,” they added, piling onto your strained silence.

“Hold on a sec,” you murmured, “let me just get dressed—“

“—I really don’t mind,” they replied stiffly, “nor do I care.”

“I care, a-alright?” you partially stammered, feeling your face warm up under their eyes. Curse Sukuna for requesting that you sleep unclothed. “Just step out for a moment. …Please?”

With a weary eye roll, Uraume complied with your request.

Quickly slipping into a tank top and a pair of underwear, you awkwardly cleared your throat a couple of times to signal that you were ready.

As they walked back inside, they swiftly manoeuvred around you, looping the measuring tape around your arms and waist with calculated precision as you stood there with slowly building discomfort.

“S-so… what’s this for?” you asked.

“For lord Sukuna,” they quietly replied while taking a step back, their eyes closing for a moment as though to make a mental note, “a request of his so that I can make some… adjustments.”

You nervously laughed in response in an attempt to lighten the mood, “You make it sound so ominous.”

Uraume however did not reciprocate, leaving you alone in the bedroom where you were left to gather what remained of your throughts for a good couple of hours. In that time, you chose to take it as easy as possible in fearful anticipation for what Sukuna might have had in store for you.

When the time finally arrived for him to make his grand appearance, you were sitting in bed half awake against the headboard, sleepily browsing your phone.

Sukuna’s footsteps were methodical as he approached you, holding onto what appeared to be neatly folded fabric. His pointed fingernails lightly threaded around the cloth, seeming careful not to tear through the material.

Warily, you sat up and steeled yourself, unsure as to what to expect all the while he extended his arms, offering you what you were certain to be a gift.

Before you could say anything however, he promptly cut you off with a disapproving tone, “You will refrain from getting sentimental at my offering. I’m doing this out of pure etiquette.”

You blinked at him with a confused arched brow as your mouth slightly hung ajar. Thinking nothing of it, you carefully unfolded the cloth, unfurling the creases and gently spreading out a robe similar to the one he often wore.

Unable to resist a smile, you couldn’t help but ask in a teasing tone, “Did you just give me a matching kimono? Are we really matching? That’s so adora—“

“—cease, the rags you otherwise wear are simply… unacceptable, that’s all,” he huffed in a curt response, seeming displeased with your remark. “This is more so to please me than it is for you to enjoy.”

Your smile continued to grow as his words went right over your head. No matter how much he would continue to deny it, he got you something personal—something purposefully commissioned for you to wear that matched what he had.

Attempting to further taunt him for being soft, you opened up your mouth to tempt the idea. However he quickly grabbed your wrist and yanked it towards him as a playful threat, his voice low and full of warning, “Don’t push your luck, brat. You’ll try this on and let me see how it sits on you.”

Stifling your mockery for now, you quietly obeyed his word without further question to which he released you to do so. You punched one arm at a time through the kimono while he helped you ease into it; his eyes fixated intently on how you wore it, silently judging how you adapted to wearing the cloth.

“Perfect,” he whispered under his breath, although the annoyance he felt prior was steadily returning the longer you stared at him with that irritating smile, “again, don’t mistake this gift as an act of kindness. I’m simply ensuring that you dress the way I’d prefer.”

“Sure,” you replied with a sarcastic undertone.

You couldn’t lie though, the material was perfectly soft against your skin. It felt like wearing weightless silk that both cooled yet somehow warmed your body.

And despite the coldness that he continued to deliver you with his pointed stare, there was a flicker of something else in the depth of his eyes. Perhaps it was care, no matter how much he denied being unable to feel such an emotion.

Or perhaps it was longing… or a subtler form of affection that you didn’t quite understand.

Whatever it was, the gift was a token of his claim towards you—for you to wear something he did too, to present to the world that you were in fact truly his.

Which in his eyes was the most meaningful gift that he could ever give.

Uraume

Your interactions with Uraume were always a hit or a miss, at least initially. Slowly, you grew to appreciate their company over the last couple of years and during more recent times, the pair of you had blossomed into a relationship.

Taking such a big step forward was a challenge for you both, but you did come to value the way they showed affection—no matter how subtle it always was.

Together, you lived on a property not too far from Sukuna’s residence. They were always available at a moment’s notice for his every whim and need, so often times you were left to spend the evenings alone and when your birthday finally rolled around, you didn’t expect anything less.

However, much to your surprise, Uraume seemingly got off much earlier than you had anticipated, arriving home just before it was too dark. Just before you were too tired to stay up for their company.

“You’re home early,” you said, greeting them with an acknowledging nod as they lingered in the doorway—both hands clasped onto a box that they held onto for dear life.

As they nodded back, you became curious about the contents and gently placed your phone onto the sofa to inspect what they were carrying. Carefully, you trailed off to where they stood, looking down ever so slightly while they figured out how to address you.

“…Today is a significant day for you,” they spoke up at last, their hands slowly extending as they attempted to part with the box.

You grabbed onto it, securing it at parallel ends.

“Correct,” you slowly nodded.

A moment of silence had passed before Uraume continued on with what they wanted to say, “As such, I have brought you something as a gift. Please open it carefully.”

Nodding once more, you heeded their request and placed the box onto the breakfast table, sitting on a chair and began to open up the box. Slowly, you unloaded a fine china tea set with a delicate touch.

“Is it acceptable?” Uraume asked.

“Wow, this is beautiful,” you whispered, carefully inspecting each and every single fine detail, seemingly hand painted onto the dishes.

“I used to have a similar set, way back then,” they added, “although I couldn’t find the exact original.”

“You have incredible taste either way,” you complimented.

Uraume’s lips curled slightly, looking away for a second as you praised them,

“Is it… acceptable?” they asked you again, wondering if it was a gesture that you enjoyed or not. Uraume didn’t like it when things were sugarcoated, preferring a blunt or clear response instead.

“Yes,” you replied, “I love it.”

For Uraume to not only consider your interest but to also add a personal flair and also locate something potentially rare and nostalgic to them was an incredible gesture to you.

Seeming pleased, Uraume continued, “I could prepare you some tea then, if you’d like. You should be sleeping soon, so a cup might be nice.”

“I’d love that,” you replied.

“Then please sit tight,” they smiled, “allow me to treat you as you deserve.”

Kenjaku

Going to sleep at Kenjaku’s side and waking up alive the next day was a miraculous accomplishment each and every single time. It was such a relieving feeling, that you almost found yourself feeling thankful that on your birthday, you woke up feeling perfectly fine without a hint of unwelcome surprise.

No suspicious incisions, no missing organs—you were fine, all fine. Just fine…!

Yet as you left the bed and saw a note sitting at the doorstep to the entrance of the bedroom, you couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy.

You warily picked it up, scanning over the surface of the paper:

‘Happy birthday. Your gift awaits.’

As you then unfolded the note completely, you found that there was more written on the inside; an unnamed address without any context.

Taking a deep breath, you braced yourself for whatever it was. You didn’t want to go anywhere unnecessary today, yet here he was, directing you somewhere potentially strange.

Chucking on your usual outfit—something lazy for running errands, you inputted the address into your GPS app and began to march towards the mysterious direction.

You supposed that you were lucky to be dating this man during the modern times, where you at least had modern technology to accurately guide you to wherever it was he directed you. Had this been just decades earlier with a paper map, you might have genuinely lost the single shred of sanity that you had left.

And upon reaching the address in question, you stepped inside what appeared to be an old antique shop. Inside stood an old man who trembled as he asked for your name, seeming equal parts nervous and relieved as he handed you a note with a key folded inside.

Sighing, you thanked the man and parted the key from the paper, reading more of his forsaken words:

‘Unlock compartment #51 and retrieve the contents.’

Doing just that, you asked the man if he knew what the note was talking about and with a strained nod, he led you to a small room filled to the brim with small drawers dotted with little key slots. You supposed that this antique shop somehow doubled as an old post office perhaps, given the worn state of the lockers.

You braced yourself for whatever you were about to find in the allocated compartment, frowning as you retrieved a small box wrapped in paper. Inside, was an even smaller box, although completely metal with a cap on it and to your lacking surprise, another note.

“Oh for the love of—“ you muttered as your eyes focused on the new piece of paper:

‘Return home and loudly close the door. Break the seal of the case and place it onto the counter.’

With an almost exasperated groan, you stormed back to your shared home and did exactly as he instructed—feeling genuinely unsure as to why you were torturing yourself on what appeared to be a scavenger hunt for what gave him the audacity to do such a thing.

You stared at the activated case with a narrowed gaze, half expecting the damned thing to blow up. It was surely not too promising as smoke seeped through the narrow ventilation slots and as a loud beeping noise played, but then you smelled something pleasant.

Kenjaku then materialised seemingly out of nowhere, jolting you with unanticipated surprise as he swooped in to disassemble the case, unveiling a small cake of some kind that he then took a bite out of, without offering you a single crumb.

“…Excuse me?” you asked, staring at him in disbelief.

“I haven’t had one of these for centuries,” he replied, his mouth slightly muffled as he chewed.

You continued to stare at him, “And why did you make me go through all of that?”

Initially he curiously hummed but then smiled upon finishing up the confection, “So that I could give you a gift that you wouldn’t forget. A pleasant memory.”

“I didn’t find it very pleasant…” you sulked.

Kenjaku simply continued to smile as he patted your head, messing up your hair in the process, “But it was definitely unforgettable, right?”

“I… I guess so?” you reluctantly supposed.

“Then, consider that to be my gift to you,” he replied, “a day of intrigue, but also enrichment.”

“T-thank you?” you replied in a state of quickly growing confusion; completely unsure of what was even happening.

Seeming satisfied, Kenjaku retreated from you as he slinked back into what was his study, “You’re welcome,” he sang before disappearing into the room.

All the while you could do nothing but simply stand there, confused yet also… somehow fulfilled?

Mahito

You weren’t sure how, but you managed to find yourself entangled in Mahito’s personal web. You weren’t sure as to why this strange cursed spirit seemed to spare you, but you were starting to wish that he hadn’t, given how often he popped into your own home.

You tried just about everything to keep him out, but he was just too damn determined. It was on a nightly basis that he made it into a routine; somehow breaching your barricaded doors and boarded up windows to routinely appear in your bedroom.

You could always tell when he was there, too.

Initially he gave you the creeps as he lingered in the shadows of your dark bedroom, but slowly he became something to simply just expect.

And with the all too familiar tapping of his knuckles against the wall, you couldn’t help but feel annoyed as he paid you yet another visit against your will.

Flashing on the lights, you bathed the once dark room in a blinding glow and there he was; stood idly up against your wall, waiting for you to notice him.

“Miss me?” he asked, leaning ever so slightly forward which caused his silver locks to sway.

You groaned into your pillow, turning away from him, mumbling something just coherent enough for him to parse, “I’m about to go to sleep. Go away.”

“Sleep? How boring~” he mocked in a jovial tone. “Especially on such a special day.”

You reluctantly acknowledged that it was indeed your birthday, choosing to push down the curiosity you had in mind with how on earth he managed to obtain such knowledge to begin with.

“Correct,” you begrudgingly replied, “so can my present be for you to leave me alone?”

Mahito simply laughed in response, a shrill and mocking sound escaping his lips. It always bothered you how expressive his features were yet how vacant his eyes seemed to be.

“Silly!” he exclaimed. “That would be rude of me, now wouldn’t it?”

“…The opposite, actually,” you mumbled.

Mahito pushed himself off of the wall and made his way to sit by your side while you were still in bed. He made a point of pulling off your blanket away from you and throwing the pillows off to the side—forcing you to whether you wanted to or not, to acknowledge his existence.

However, before you could react any further, his bare fingers brushed against your forehead with a strange, almost alien sensation that followed.

It felt like a headache of some sort but you couldn’t quite figure it out just yet.

Something was simply just… off.

Warily, both of your hands felt around your scalp, feeling something pointed and sharp spearing out of your head. In an attempt to get it off of you, you seemed to make the pain worse.

Such a realisation that he might have altered your body filled you with a deep sense of dread and that wasn’t a feeling you were particularly ready to accept.

“W-what did you just do…?” you asked with a trembling voice.

Mahito clapped his hands together in delight, seeming thoroughly amused at the sight before him. His eyes gleamed with pure excitement as he traced the air with a pointed finger, drawing an outline of your figure.

“Just a little something to get you into the party spirit,” he hinted with a sense of excitement that was just barely contained, “why not look into the mirror and see for yourself?”

Albeit reluctantly, you got out of bed and padded your way to the standing floor mirror that you had in the corner of your room. You weren’t quite sure what to expect, but upon seeing a literal organic mass spearing from the top of your head, it certainly wasn’t that.

The longer you stared at it, the more uneasy you felt.

The very sight of it alone made you feel nauseated.

“G-get it o-off…!” you barely choked out, the volume of your voice croaking out as nothing more than a whisper.

Mahito’s grin then grew wider, “Not yet, birthday girl. How about some gratitude for your very own built in party hat?”

Surrendering to his terms under the implication that he would undo such a ridiculous alteration to your body, you managed to sputter out that could have resembled coherent words.

“Th-tha-thank y-you, Ma-mahito.”

Yet, the patch faced spirit didn’t seem satisfied with your attempt at all, tilting his head off to the side as though to indicate disappointment.

“Let’s try again,” he requested with a feigned sulk, “with a little bit more enthusiasm, perhaps?”

“Th-thank you!” you blurted out, although still sounding more horrified than grateful.

“That’s better,” Mahito cheered on, his personality rebounding in a split second, “but still not quite good enough,” he added on, “one last time with the right amount of passion? Unless you’d rather I keep it permanently like that?”

“Thank you for this incredible gift, Mahito!” you exclaimed, practically shouting as your both your voice as well as your dignity left your body.

Seeming genuinely pleased, Mahito ran his fingers by your head once again before returning you back to your original form. Not only were you right as rain, but he also gave you a good minute to compose yourself, waiting for you to scold him.

“What was that…?” you huffed.

“A magic trick for your birthday party,” he beamed, charading the flick of a wand, “a gift to get you into the birthday mood!”

“Oh, I’m in a mood alright,” you sighed.

“Not to worry,” he announced after yet another moment of painful silence, his sudden movement jolting you, “I’m going to leave you alone for now. So goodnight, better be thankful or else I’ll bite tonight~!”

Your eye twitched as he continued to taunt you with the almost burdening reminder that regardless of his promised absence, that he would come crawling back into your life the very next day.

Perhaps however, you should be thankful that he only seemed to want to rile you up rather than to torture you.

So maybe that much was a gift in itself than anything else.

>>> more birthday jjk drabbles

[cloudcountry]

NRC'S PAINT CHIP PROJECT! — lavender lace

"soothing and elegant. soft and gentle."

The package on Ramshackle’s front door makes you pause.

You don’t usually have mail, and you know for certain that you didn’t order anything. The soft purple gives you an idea as to whom it may be from, and so you pick it up (thank the Great Seven it’s a light package, you’re too tired to deal with lugging this and your various textbooks into your dorm) and carry it inside.

Unsure of what’s inside, you set it gently on the couch and throw your jacket next to it. The Octavinelle crest on the corner of the package captures your attention, and right beside it in flowery script the name Azul Ashengrotto is written.

You tilt your head in confusion, snatching it up and shaking it gently. The action does make you feel a bit childish, especially when you hear nothing inside.

Azul wouldn’t send a stink bomb or something, right?

You make your way to the kitchen and take the closest thing you have to a box cutter (a bread knife, unfortunately) and saw the tape off. The top flaps pop open and you waste no time pulling open the next set of flaps, revealing violet wrapping paper. A small, creme colored note sits on top.

Dearest angelfish,

Enclosed in this package is the outfit I expect you to be wearing tonight. Although I am not familiar with two-legged fashion, I believe you will be pleased with my selection. I have also taken the liberty of supplying you with one of those golden seashell necklaces your people adore so much. I’m sure it will look stunning on you.

Best Regards,

Azul Ashengrotto

You feel your face grow warm at his flattery and set the note aside. You gently peel back the tissue paper to reveal the most stunning outfit you’ve ever seen. The light lavender color shimmers like the ocean, and as you lift the beautiful clothing out of its box it unfurls just like the waves. You gape at the seashell details and the seashell necklace nestled at the bottom of the box. For someone with supposedly no knowledge of “two-legged fashion,” Azul Ashengrotto could put together a pretty outfit.

…How does he know your measurements?

[moraygrotto]

Chapter 2 of Xiè Lián's story!

Many, many thanks to @askbloatedbellyblog for commissioning this fic!

This is a stuffing, bloating, measuring, and referenced vore story featuring Xiè Lián from TGϹF with some HuāLián. It's also a direct sequel to this fic, so please open this link to read it first !

Enjoy! 🍁🧡

~🍁~

Xie Lian’s meals thereafter were all rather large. By almost a full week later, he had not had another proper training session like his first. No tables were laid out entirely with food for him, but he made sure that every time he ate, his stomach was always left packed full. Often, his fullness came with Hua Cheng’s aid, for the demonic devotee seemed more eager than ever to serve his beloved prince.

For Xie Lian’s part, he found it odd that daily meals were now part of his training. In his life as a quasi-member of the newly re-established Heavenly Court, he spent much of his time training his spirit and muscles to address concerns in his territory, and then came home to share hearty meals with his husband.

He still worked out now, still paid due attention to his strength and stamina, but each meal had now become a challenge, a thrilling new avenue for struggle, strain, and personal growth. His human worshipper and their strange request occupied his mind; he became devoted to them as could be.

Hua Cheng provided more food than ever, often in opposition to Xie Lian’s pleas to let him cook, fastidiously making sure his god was well-fed.

“I am arranging another training feast for you,” he told him at one of such meals, lounging on his side before the low table. “How would Your Highness feel about tomorrow?”

“I’d be happy to,” Xie Lian said, mouth full of a bite of chicken. “I think I’m seeing growth, but it’s hard to tell.” After swallowing, he laid a hand on his belly, and was greeted only by the six firm rises of his bulky abs. Being an active martial artist and so well in shape, he could gorge himself all he wanted at regular meals, and it would still be difficult to tell that his stomach was expanding. However, this ever-so-regular dinner had just begun.

Hua Cheng blew on a spoonful of soup. “How would you care to take a measurement tonight, and use that as a baseline?”

A measurement? He must mean of the girth his belly reached after eating. “But this isn’t an intense feast,” Xie Lian blurted out. “I’m not sure it would accurately reflect my true capacity.”

“That’s certainly true,” said Hua Cheng, after gulping down his bite of soup. “I’d promise, though, to keep the measure between you and me. The world doesn’t need to know such details about Your Highness, and if they do, it should be a number reflecting your belly’s size at its most godly.”

Hua Cheng, in all his Ghost King’s self-assuredness, was letting himself blush. Xie Lian could not help but find him cute. 

“Alright,” he replied, “we can take one little measurement. Let’s do it again after tomorrow’s training, though. That reading will be a bit better, yes?”

“Of course!” Hua Cheng chirped, and drained his bowl before standing up.

“I’ll still eat well tonight, though!” Xie Lian assured him, digging into his food as Hua Cheng went to the shelves across the room.

With lightning precision, Hua Cheng selected a drawer. After sliding it open, his gentlemanly fingers extracted a long, soft tape measure, white with its units printed on in red. He then returned to sit by the table, unfurling and curling it, looping it idly around his fingers as he gazed calmly at Xie Lian.

“Bored?” Xie Lian said, lifting a mouthful of rice to his lips.

Hua Cheng shook his head rapidly. “I could never be bored watching Gege eat,” he replied.

It took a while, at Xie Lian’s deliberate pace, to finish his food. As usual, he felt pleasantly stuffed, the pressure of the large meal inside him like the burn of well-worked muscles after a good session of exercise. He pressed a comfortable, gut-rumbling burp into one fist, and smiled up at Hua Cheng. “San Lang,” he said at last, “I’m ready.”

“Gege’s words are like music to this devotee’s ears,” Hua Cheng said. He waved his hand, and in a flurry of demonic magic, the dishes stacked themselves at the corner of the table.

Xie Lian swigged down the last dregs of tea from his cup, feeling the liquid sink into the already bloated space within him, and placed it atop the table. “Shall I stand up?” he asked.

“However you prefer,” Hua Cheng replied, “though standing up would grant this humble San Lang more of His Highness to touch and adore…”

Stretching his work-weary thighs, then, Xie Lian rose. “Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he said. “What a needy boy I have for my partner.” He then stretched his arms up, shoulders cracking pleasantly, full belly jutting out for Hua Cheng to admire as the latter stood and walked over to Xie Lian’s side.

“But of course I’ll oblige him,” Xie Lian said softly, scritching a hand through Hua Cheng’s fine hair. “After all, I must ever strive for magnanimity.”

“Your Highness, so noble,” Hua Cheng simpered, voice muffled as he nuzzled into Xie Lian’s shoulder. “So handsome, too, and with a stomach so big… It was hardly this big before dinner, Your Highness. You must have eaten sooo much…”

“You wanted me to eat!” Xie Lian said, raising his arms as Hua Cheng touched and caressed all around his middle. He was about to chide him further to quit teasing and take out his tape measure already, but fell silent at the touch of something cool and smooth at his silk-clad abdomen. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, stroking Hua Cheng’s back. “But, I think you might need to lift up your head and look to see where the widest part of my belly is to measure, San Lang.”

Hua Cheng, Xie Lian’s very own Ghost King, gave a little groan, then pulled his head away reluctantly. “I’ll be good for Gege,” he said.

As Xie Lian stood with his arms raised patiently, Hua Cheng knelt, tall figure sinking to the level of Xie Lian’s abdomen. With careful hands, he snaked the tape measure around his post-meal gut. He began making small adjustments to its height and positioning, and he looked so studious, Xie Lian could not hold in a laugh, making his belly jump and disrupting Hua Cheng’s work. As was often the case, Hua Cheng’s entire attention was trained on Xie Lian.

Xie Lian was a god of martial arts. He could stay still. It was, nevertheless, difficult, with Hua Cheng so restless. “San Lang,” he whispered, “your carefulness is appreciated, but your fingers are so cold. They tickle!”

“Ah!” Hua Cheng said, and paused. “Please forgive this San Lang!”

It took Xie Lian a moment to realize that Hua Cheng had made his fingers warmer. “That’s better,” he said through a chuckle of mirth, “but I really meant hurry up!”

Hua Cheng laughed as well. “As you wish,” he said. His hands made one smooth, full circle around Xie Lian’s abdomen, then came together at the spot where the tape measure met its other end. “Impressive,” he cooed.

“What is it?” Xie Lian asked.

“A perfect forty cun,” he replied in a glowing voice. “Your Highness expanded so much.”

“Only forty,” Xie Lian said pensively.

Worry flashed in Hua Cheng’s eye. “Does Gege not feel satisfied with that number?”

“No,” Xie Lian said, placing both hands on his belly and examining himself ruefully. “It is a person I’m training to eat, after all. I want my physical form to be as capable as it can be for the task, and unfortunately, where I’m at won’t cut it.”

Hua Cheng frowned.

Xie Lian knew Hua Cheng. He was probably thinking of ways to obliterate Xie Lian’s discontent, ideas cartwheeling over each other through his mind as to how he could stretch Xie Lian’s stomach for him, wielding the full might of his supernatural power if necessary.

Smiling down at him, Xie Lian shook his head. “This is something I need to improve for myself, San Lang. I’m so grateful for the help you’ve given me so far, and I hope you’ll continue to be with me every step of the way.” As the tape measure fell away from Xie Lian’s middle and through Hua Cheng’s fingers, Xie Lian leaned down over his own paunch, and gave Hua Cheng a kiss on the forehead. “Like measuring my belly,” he said softly. “You’re doing such a good job. But this progress can only come incrementally. Do not worry for me. I am a martial artist; I am used to hard work.”

Looking up at Xie Lian, Hua Cheng took one of his hands, and pressed a reverent kiss to its back. “As Your Highness wishes,” he said after breaking away. “You have all my devotion. If there is anything you need, at any time during this process, do not hesitate to ask me. I will do all I can for you.”

Xie Lian chuckled, and petted his hair. “Half the time, you know what I need even before I do, and are there in the blink of an eye!”

Hua Cheng beamed.

“So, perhaps,” Xie Lian said in a soft, babying tone of voice, “San Lang would like to come cuddle with Gege before bed? I have a big day tomorrow, after all.”

“Absolutely,” Hua Cheng said, voice dripping with solemnity.

“Besides,” he added, continuing to play with his soft hair, “you will need to familiarize yourself with a forty-cun belly on me now, if you hope to at all!”

Immediately, Hua Cheng pressed his head against Xie Lian’s side, brazenly squishing his hands into his postprandial bloat. “That’s right,” he said dreamily. “Gege is mighty; Gege will improve, and improve, and improve…”

“And Gege will get bigger, and bigger, and bigger,” Xie Lian finished for him. “But right now, he would like to lie down. Okay, San Lang?”

“Okay~”

As night fell, the pair turned in together, cuddled up in bed, sharing warmth amidst the deepening autumn chill. Hua Cheng pressed himself close to Xie Lian, as if he, too, wished he could become part of him, no doubt seeking contact with every curve of Xie Lian’s body, memorizing its shape, fighting fruitlessly against time while it digested back down to its usual lithe muscularity.

Soon, Xie Lian sank into a deep, comfortable sleep, grateful for his Hua Cheng and his godly metabolism.

The next morning, Xie Lian was awoken by the sound of his own stomach, whining with piteous want. He cracked his eyes open, and looked around the room. Hua Cheng was nowhere to be found. Slowly, he sat up, and stretched, then ran a hand down his tummy. All of the previous night’s bloating was gone, leaving behind only his firm abdominal muscles—he was lithe as ever again, thanks to his hardworking digestive system. He smiled. A day of stretching himself to new limits was ahead of him.

“San Lang!” he called. “Where have you run off to?”

“Your Highness,” came the voice of Hua Cheng from outside their little room. The quality of his voice sounded different, but Xie Lian could not place how.

Nevertheless, the mere reminder of Hua Cheng’s presence made him brighten up. “Good morning, my love!” he called back. “Give me a moment to get ready, and then I will come find you!”

In spite of how he planned to spend the first half of his day, Xie Lian performed his morning stretches carefully. He figured that if he were really going to stretch himself to the limit, it followed that his body needed to be stretchy. What was more, a stuffed enough tummy might have him stuck in place for a while, and if any of his muscles stiffened or even cramped while he was sitting, feeding, and digesting, he would sorely regret not having attended to them with the usual care.

Centuries prior, he would have cringed at the thought of eating so much he could not move. Now, knowing that he and his godly status were safe under Hua Cheng’s care, he allowed himself to indulge in the idea, the sheer vulnerability of it. At his previous session, in the little cabin on the beach, he had felt so good being full, especially as his belly began to digest, and Hua Cheng had rubbed him attentively. He was a new and different man from his past self. This Xie Lian could welcome moments of softness with open arms.

Smiling, he then began to change into his day clothes. 

Frowning down at the belt around his waist, he thought about how tight it would become in the span of one morning. If he could fit as much inside his tummy as he hoped to, then the fabric would no doubt need to open; he would be in pain otherwise.

He tied his belt somewhat low on his body. The amount of cloth that made it up was simply not long enough to accommodate his desired waist size. He would have to tie it all the way beneath his belly, if he were to expand to a size fit for swallowing people. Such an arrangement did not fit his aesthetic sense, but he supposed, tying it now around his hungering middle, that he would have to settle for it. Cutting a different physical form meant making adjustments, and Xie Lian was nothing if not well-acquainted with change.

After tying his hair up into his graceful half-bun, he slid open the bedroom door. What greeted his eyes froze him in his tracks.

Instead of the cozy study which had before lay on this side of the wall, the space was wide open, with high, palatial ceilings, and distant, red-painted walls. Silver decorations hung all around, and stood atop a veritable sea of sturdy, round tables. At the far end of this space which could only be called a banquet hall, there stood a stage, where a clutch of dancers in flowing robes swayed to quiet music. To Xie Lian’s side, near the wall, sat a massive, jewel-encrusted chair, heading the biggest table of them all.

Before Xie Lian had the chance to call out to him, Hua Cheng was by his side. “Your Highness,” he said softly, snaking a hand around Xie Lian’s waist, “how do you feel?”

Xie Lian gazed at the huge nearby table, and saw several plates of food steaming atop it. Footsteps and chattering lost to the room’s spacious echo, a few servants bustled about, laying the neighboring tables with a few dishes each.

“Oh, San Lang,” Xie Lian said.

“Is Gege pleased?”

He took another moment to take in his surroundings, and nodded. “I’m reminded of you everywhere I look.”

Hua Cheng smiled, and, with the slightest pressure at his waist, guided him to the immense, sparkling throne. “Then,” he said, “you should see a lot of yourself in here, too. I take my inspiration from only one source, you see.”

Xie Lian could not hold back a chuckle. It was sweet that Hua Cheng could think of him as so grand, even when he was still bleary-eyed from bed, and dressed in his old white clothes. Guided by Hua Cheng, he let himself take a seat in the chair.

He sighed, somewhat entranced by the dancers as he relaxed into his seat. The smell of incense hung faintly in the air, and silver tableware, furniture, and decorations gleamed every which way he looked.

Suddenly, he was startled by the touch of something on his stomach. Hua Cheng’s long fingers were walking all around the still-flat area, pressing a little, getting a feel for the chiseled muscles below.

“San Lang,” Xie Lian whispered, “that tickles…”

Hua Cheng muttered a droll apology, and smoothed his hand to caress gentle circles with his palm. “Your Highness,” he said, “are you ready for a deliciously wholesome breakfast?”

“I believe I am,” Xie Lian replied sweetly, squeezing his hand in his. “The next time you touch here, it will be much, much more full.”

“I have no doubt,” Hua Cheng said, then snapped his fingers.

At once, the bustling servants rushed to Xie Lian’s table, filling his plate with food, pouring a silken stream of what appeared to be oolong tea into his cup.

“Thank you,” he said, making those demons closest to him giggle and smile. In their delight, they actually splashed some tea over the edge of his cup. 

They froze, eyes going wide.

A noise came from Hua Cheng, his very spiritual presence at Xie Lian’s side turning stormy, but Xie Lian held up his hand.

“It’s alright,” he said, picking up the teacup, and using a corner of his sleeve to soak up the liquid clinging to its base. He took a sip, and smiled. “Mmm,” he said, “it’s perfectly brewed. Everybody makes mistakes sometimes, and it would be such a pity for Lord Hua to punish a fellow in his employ who is so good at making tea, right?”

Nodding diffidently, the demon scurried off.

Hua Cheng took Xie Lian’s wrist in his hand, and in a moment, the sleeve was completely clean and dry. “You know,” Hua Cheng said, “the demon who poured the tea might not be the same one who brewed it.”

“They’re all trying so hard,” Xie Lian replied, patting his hand lovingly. “All for you and me. It pays off to treat one’s servants nicely, my dear.”

“I suppose,” Hua Cheng sighed. “Then one of them might ask their lord to consensually eat them.”

Xie Lian laughed. “Exactly.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Xie Lian spotted a squat demon carrying a large bowl over to him from a neighboring table. Quietly, he breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed like, similarly to how Feng Xin and Mu Qing had fed him last time, Hua Cheng and his servants would help him decide what to eat. There was so much before him and all around that he would have trouble choosing on his own.

Hua Cheng seemed to notice, and ran a hand through Xie Lian’s hair. “All you need to do is relax,” he said, and Xie Lian could hear the smile in his voice.

“Yes, Lord Hua,” Xie Lian teased, and leaned back into the chair.

As the cool, flaxen pillows upon its silver back sunk perfectly to the contours of his body, he saw that the bowl was filled with rice porridge, a breakfast food he had eaten much of throughout his life. However, this bowl was swimming with meat, beans, vegetables, and spices, altogether nothing he would have ever dreamed of while living in poverty. Secretly, he gave thanks for how committed Hua Cheng was to treating him like a prince. Some pleasures simply could not be matched.

Hua Cheng eyed Xie Lian’s comfortable posture up and down, raised one eyebrow, then sank onto the arm of the throne. He balanced there perfectly, the image of servile grace as he spread napkins over Xie Lian’s lap and chest, and a less godly corner of Xie Lian’s mind fixated briefly on the evident strength of Hua Cheng’s core muscles beneath his ruby robes.

In his distraction, he failed to notice a spoonful of porridge in Hua Cheng’s hands, until it was right before his face.

“Your Royal Highness,” Hua Cheng purred, “let this servant feed you.”

“San Lang,” Xie Lian chided, “you’re already my husband. You don’t have to be my servant, too.” He looked up to Hua Cheng, who was pouting, and sighed. “I will let my beloved feed me,” he said, and opened his mouth. “Aaah~”

Miraculously, despite how the bowl steamed before him, the porridge was the perfect temperature. It warmed his mouth as he lapped it off the spoon, and he could feel its heat sinking all the way down his gullet and into his belly, never once scalding him.

“Mmm!” He placed a hand on his tummy, and could already feel how warm it was inside. “This is perfect!”

“I’m so glad,” Hua Cheng said, and fed him another spoonful.

Quickly for the serene vigor of the morning, Xie Lian sunk into a comfortable, trancelike state, breaking his eyes from the undulating dancers on the distant stage only occasionally to reach for his teacup or shoot a grateful smile up at Hua Cheng. As the soothing weight of rice began to settle in is stomach, he ruminated that this porridge alone would be an excellent preparation for a big workout—the carbs would fuel his initial stamina, the vegetable pieces would replenish his vitamins and ensure quick metabolism, and the protein would keep him going until the time came to eat a much heartier meal that would truly nourish his burning muscles. As the sound of porcelain on porcelain signalled the end of the dish, however, he reminded himself that today was a day for a very different type of training.

He thumped his chest with one fist, let out a deep burp into the other, and felt his stomach shifting around, making ready for much, much more.

Hua Cheng gave an adoring little whimper, and stroked Xie Lian’s arm. “How does Your Highness’s belly feel?” he asked.

Xie Lian took a moment to appraise him. His legs were crossed; he looked so submissive in spite of his huge stature. “Perhaps you would make a good servant,” he blurted out.

Hua Cheng blinked.

“And my belly feels wonderful,” he replied, giving it a little squeeze. His stomach gurgled in response, turning over the porridge inside. “I am quite ready to continue this training session.”

“As Your Highness wishes,” Hua Cheng said at once, and snapped the dish nearest to him up into his hands, a little plate of pan-fried bok choy. “Here,” he said, and in a flash of chopsticks, offered him a bite. “Please eat, Your Highness.”

“Thank you, dear,” he said, and opened his mouth to accept it.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” he replied warmly.

Hua Cheng called him Your Highness often, but this seemed gratuitous. It was clear to Xie Lian that he loved feeding him, loved lounging by his side and doing all within his power to help his belly grow. As Xie Lian chewed, he smiled. Hua Cheng was so easy to indulge, it made his heart sing.

In what seemed like no time at all, the vegetables had vanished into him, and his belly barely felt any tighter, much less visibly round at his waist.

“San Lang,” he whispered, “have you got anything… a little heavier? …Fluffier, perhaps?”

Giving a little purr, Hua Cheng squished his belly with his fingertips. “Anything your heart desires, I can have ready for you,” he said softly. “Would you like something… with a little more starch?” He gave a loving prod. “Something that’ll fill you all the way up? Or something a little richer? Oilier?” His fingers wriggled under Xie Lian’s belt, utterly shameless in front of the multitude of serving demons still scuttling around and sneaking glances at the couple. “Something,” he said, voice low and smooth in his ear, “that will slip and slide inside Gege’s tummy, sending effervescent little bubbles of gas up to his lips, going around, telling all the other foods inside him to join together, and make him big and round?”

Xie Lian giggled. Hua Cheng’s fingers on his stomach were making the food inside shift and glorp, and every word coming out of his mouth sounded appealing, silly though they all were. He pressed one impeccably polite little burp into his finger, then smiled. “I’ll let you decide, San Lang.” An idea struck him, and he closed his eyes, shutting out the vision of the glittering room and endless sea of food. “Here,” he said, “I’ll let you surprise me.”

A pleased hum came from Hua Cheng’s direction. “As you wish,” he said. “But only… if Gege promises not to fall back asleep.”

“Oh, believe me, I couldn’t!” Xie Lian replied. “I’m fully in training mode right now, as comfortable as this training may be.” He paused. “I’ll eat everything you give me, San Lang; you have my word.” Xie Lian did not give promises lightly, but he trusted Hua Cheng. He opened his mouth, and waited.

A delicious smell hit him before the first bite of food landed on his tongue. Rich and savory, something smooth and soft entered his mouth, opening easily between his teeth to release tender chunks of meat, egg, boiled vegetables, and cellophane noodles. It was a boiled crystal dumpling, salty, and, as Hua Cheng had promised, oily.

“Mmm!” he said as he chewed and swallowed. “Excellent choice, San Lang!”

“I am so happy to hear Gege say that,” Hua Cheng replied. “There are many more here, all for my Gege.”

“Yay!”

Over the gentle music, he could still hear himself chew and swallow, as Hua Cheng fed him dumpling after dumpling, what could no doubt be multiple steamers full of them. He was grateful for the relative quiet; with his eyes closed, he could immerse himself fully in eating, in feeling his insides grow gradually more full.

After what seemed to Xie Lian an unnaturally long time spent eating dumplings, he stopped, and held up a finger. “San Lang,” he said, eyes still closed, “could you please give my back a pat?” He leaned forward for him, and placed a hand on his mouth. His belly felt overly full, stuffed with oily dumpling skin and noodles.

Somehow, Hua Cheng knew the perfect amount of force to dislodge a hefty belch from Xie Lian. At the strike to Xie Lian’s back, it pushed its way up his throat, inhumanly loud, seizing his whole body with its greasy, thick vibrations.

His stomach, liberated from the pressure of the gas, felt so good. He should be embarrassed of the sound; there were others around, after all, but all he could feel was relief. “Haah,” he sighed, placing one hand on his belly. “Excuse me.”

“I would never excuse Your Highness, because Your Highness can do no wrong,” Hua Cheng replied in a singsong voice.

As he groped his belly, Xie Lian realized that he still felt constricted, the room freed up by burping notwithstanding. “San Lang,” he said, “I’m going to open my eyes, and try to adjust my clothes.”

The moment he opened his eyes, however, he was distracted by what he saw. The table looked much different than it had before he had begun to feed on the dumplings; several of the dishes were empty or missing, and a few he recognized from the other tables had been shoved in their places. Only when he saw a dish that he knew had previously contained a whole roast quail did the realization dawn on him.

“San Lang,” he said to Hua Cheng, “did you use your powers to transform the other dishes into these dumplings, just because I said I liked them?”

Hua Cheng’s face split into a mischievous grin, tensing up like a child who had been caught stealing candy, until his whole bearing buckled, and he leaned in to press Xie Lian’s head with a kiss. “Gege has found this San Lang out,” he whispered. “This San Lang will accept any punishment that—”

“No, no, no,” said Xie Lian, gently swatting his arm. “San Lang was just being considerate.” He smiled. “This Gege is beginning to fill up, though. If you don’t mind, I’ll take a moment to adjust my belt.”

“Of course, Gege.”

Even with Hua Cheng by his side, Xie Lian still felt awkward untying his belt in front of strangers. Luckily, only Hua Cheng was looking right at him; only he paid close attention as his fingers worked the cloth. At the moment his belly sprang free of the restricting material, however, thoughts of all else blinked out of Xie Lian’s mind.

Moments prior, he had tried to shift his belt lower, until he realized he had shifted it as far as it could comfortably go, and still felt tight. His stomach was pushing out on his robe; more of his chest had begun to show in a smooth, flesh-colored triangle beneath the white, and almost by instinct, his fingers fiddled with the belt now hugging his hips, keeping the robe that contained his belly in place, until it was undone, and the round dome of his gut practically popped out before him.

“Aaaah…” The sigh was flowing from Xie Lian’s lungs involuntarily; he felt so much better. His throat shifted, and the noise deepened into a long, delicious burp, ten thousand times as rude as his previous one, but right now, he could not bring himself to care.

As he panted softly for air, he looked down at his exposed belly. It was so round already, bigger than it had been last night, fully hiding the waistband of his pants, crowned with the shadow of his navel.

“Please pardon me,” he said softly to Hua Cheng. “I will admit, though, that this feels much better.”

“Your Highness,” said Hua Cheng, voice no more than a breath.

“Hm? What is it?” He gave his belly a pat, loving the way the food-filled flesh bounced under his touch, and the feeling of digestion already taking place inside him. He smiled at Hua Cheng. “Is there something you want, my love?”

“Only what Your Highness has to offer,” Hua Cheng said solemnly.

He chuckled. “Well,” he said, “I can offer you a touch, before we move on to more food.” He took Hua Cheng’s hand. “I hope you understand that I am far from finished.”

“Yes, this servant understands,” said Hua Cheng, and, with Xie Lian’s hand as his guide, gently touched his belly.

His hand was cool, but immediately warmed up again, as if to correct himself. Xie Lian let go, and Hua Cheng began to gently caress, gaining a feel for its full expanse.

“If you like,” said Xie Lian, “you may keep rubbing while I eat some by myself.” He gave his arm a reassuring pat. “That way,” he said, “you can quite literally feel my belly fill up. How does that sound?”

“...Is Your Highness sure—”

“Oh, San Lang!” Xie Lian burst out, “of course I’m sure! You’re welcome to all of me, my dear.”

Hua Cheng blushed.

“Besides,” Xie Lian continued, “your hand feels sooo wonderful on my tummy. If you don’t mind, though, I'm going to keep training myself. That roast duck looks just too yummy!”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Hua Cheng replied.

For the first time, then, Xie Lian picked up his own chopsticks, and ate.

The food was fantastic, and even those dishes that had been out the longest were still hot, thanks no doubt to Hua Cheng’s mystical care. He ate as princes ate, with no thought of scarcity, allowing himself to banish every trace of hunger from his body. Best of all, Hua Cheng did not stop rubbing him for a single second as he fed, gentle hand seeming to always find the place on his belly most in need of care. With all tension in his digestive organs prematurely eased by Hua Cheng, each bite Xie Lian swallowed settled magnificently down, and little burbling sounds chimed from within his stomach now and then, letting the world know that digestion was at work.

Belly free to the open air and Hua Cheng’s sublime caress, Xie Lian felt awash in comfort as he ate. Thus, the feeling of overfullness crept stealthily up on him, and before he himself realized he was doing it, he had set his chopsticks down, and was thumping his chest, seeking any release of pressure from his insides.

He let out a short, sickly burp, his stomach giving an accompanying whine, and Hua Cheng paused, looking at him with concern. “Gege,” he said, using his free hand to give him a few pats on the back. “What’s wrong?”

Xie Lian gave a shallow sigh, and looked up at him. “This belly is getting a little bit full, that’s all.”

“Oh, no,” said Hua Cheng. “But Gege has so much more food left to eat.”

The music hand stopped; the dancers were likely taking a break. Both of them looked out at the table. Though all of the food had now been consolidated onto the one table before them, several hearty dishes still remained. 

“That is my concern, too,” said Xie Lian. “I want to train to my fullest capability, and I would prefer no food to go to waste.” He sighed once more, and gave his tummy a tender pat. “Say, San Lang,” he said, “would it be too much trouble for you to feed me the rest of the food yourself? That way, I can think only about chewing, swallowing, and digesting it.” He shot a sheepish look up at Hua Cheng’s adoring face. “I do promise that sometime soon, I’ll be able to consume a whole feast’s worth of food in one go. Unfortunately, though, I think I still have some training left to do before I reach that point.”

“My love,” Hua Cheng said, using his thumb to wipe a fleck of food off his cheek, “I do not mind at all. Here, why don’t you lay back for me?”

Xie Lian obeyed, letting his body go slack into the cushions of the chair, and his belly at once thanked him for the pressure relieved when he relaxed his abdominal muscles. Just like before, he closed his eyes, and let his mouth fall open wide, willing, a ready receptacle for food that could only bloat him bigger, stuff him tighter.

Feeding him, Hua Cheng was achingly caring. Once or twice, he even moved his jaw, helping him chew around a chunk of meat or glob of rice that would be unwise to swallow without properly chewing first. He rubbed his belly, too, soothing all his tenderest spots.

The food was good, but Xie Lian quickly lost his palate. Hua Cheng’s tender touch atop his belly soon devolved, to Xie Lian’s senses, to just another source of pressure on his overtaxed guts. He belched whenever he could, no longer bothering to excuse himself, and willed his digestive tract to take from his stomach, shift the food’s weight lower, in spite of how dearly he did want to stretch his stomach.

Eventually, he clamped his mouth shut. The mass of food within him was enough to make him nauseous; every burp came up wet; the very skin of his belly felt stretched taut. “San Lang,” he slurred from between ajar lips, “I think… that’s enough…”

“Please, Gege,” Hua Cheng said, voice coming soft through the still air. “Just eat a little bit more.”

Xie Lian licked a crumb off the corner of his mouth, then let it sit there on his tongue. “Heh… San Lang, do you want me to burst?”

“Gege,” Hua Cheng urged, “there are only a few bites left.” Then, quieter, “I know in my heart that you can do it. You are the mightiest man I have ever known.”

At this, Xie Lian could only let out a thin, quavering breath. 

“Alright,” he said. “for you, San Lang… I’ll eat…”

“Thank you,” Hua Cheng said. “Dear, wonderful Xie Lian… Open your mouth, and bite down, my beloved.”

Xie Lian’s jaw opened as far as it could. He fought back the urge to vomit, not by retching, but merely by allowing the reflux of overeaten food to flow from him. The urge passed, and something soft touched his lips.

A bun, he realized. Silly San Lang. He was so bloated as he was, there was no room in his belly for carbs. 

He bit down anyway.

Something sweet, delightfully refreshing, hit his tongue. Read bean, he realized, and he tore a bite off and slowly chewed. In spite of his fullness, it was delicious.

He swallowed.

“Good,” Hua Cheng said. “Ready for another bite?”

“Mm-hm…”

Xie Lian took another bite, chewed and swallowed, then took another, ate, ate, until there was nothing left but the tips of Hua Cheng’s long fingers.

“That was pretty good,” he confessed.

“I’m blessed to hear you say that.”

Xie Lian tried to shift in his seat, lean toward Hua Cheng, but pain lanced through his belly. “I think,” he said, “I need to lie very still for a while.” He cracked one eye open to look at Hua Cheng. “Will San Lang keep me safe while I rest?”

“It would be my sacred duty,” Hua Cheng replied, and kissed the back of Xie Lian’s hand.

Pinned to his chair by his own mass, Xie Lian relaxed as best he could. It felt good to be so still; this was a much needed rest after he had crammed himself to the brim with food.

Through the quiet, he could hear footsteps once more bustling around his table, and the sound of porcelain softly clinking, as well as the burbling of his own belly. The Ghost City demons who served Hua Cheng were usually much more boisterous than this; they must have special orders from their lord to maintain Xie Lian’s peace and quiet. Silently, he thanked Hua Cheng, and slipped into a food-dazed torpor.

He was not sure how much time had passed when he felt the touch of something cool atop his middle. With a start, he realized he had never checked to see how big he had grown by the end of the feast, and he snapped his eyes open.

The vast, dish-filled table was nowhere to be seen, and in its place knelt Hua Cheng, eye twinkling up at Xie Lian, his tape measure in his hands.

“Gege!” he said brightly. “You are awake! I hope you do not mind my taking the liberty to measure your growth now. I wanted to check before you’ve had too much time to digest, while your tummy is still at its peak.”

“Not at all!” Xie Lian replied, and the broader tones of his voice were still cut off by the pressure on his lungs. “To be honest,” he said, “I had forgotten about it myself. Please, San Lang, measure away.”

As Hua Cheng snaked the tape measure around Xie Lian’s back, Xie Lian finally took a moment to admire the size of his own belly.

Hua Cheng had stuffed him well. He looked absolutely enormous; occasionally Hua Cheng’s head dipped entirely beneath the mass of it all. He had never been this engorged before in his life, and he felt it, too. Barely mobile atop his shining chair, unable to even think of swallowing another bite, he felt like a stuffed pig on a silver platter.

But nobody would take a bite out of Xie Lian, of that both he and Hua Cheng would make sure. In fact, quite the contrary would take place soon—Xie Lian almost felt as if he had eaten an entire human figure.

Hua Cheng’s fingers shifted and slid, inching all around Xie Lian’s middle as he adjusted the tape measure. Surely, this had to be enough. He could train in perpetuity, but at some point he must be able to stretch enough to fit his dear little worshipper.

The white tape ran over the tan skin of his bloated abdomen like a bridge of divine light, pleasantly cool to the touch, bearing the weight of his fate.

Finally, Hua Cheng looked up at him, smiling gently. “Your Highness’s belly is seventy-three cun in circumference,” he said.

Xie Lian let out a breath. “Whew! Seventy-three!” A moment later, he glanced down at Hua Cheng, and raised an eyebrow. “Do you think, San Lang… that seventy-three cun is big enough for my purposes?”

Hua Cheng paused. “In truth, Your Highness,” he said softly, “that might be the absolute minimum needed. You could… perhaps digest a little old man at this size.”

Xie Lian thought back to his worshipper. They were not tall, but nonetheless burly from working the fields. “...Ah.”

Hua Cheng shook his head, and ran a soothing hand over Xie Lian’s belly, below the line of the tape measure. “You’ve done so well this morning, though, my love. All this means is that you have a little training left to do. Nobody else could improve this fast. Nobody.”

“You’re right,” Xie Lian replied softly. “There’s nothing wrong with putting in more work to improve. Of course not.” He gave a little hiccup, belly hitching. “For now, however… I unfortunately must rest some more.”

“That’s perfectly fine,” replied Hua Cheng. “I will be here for you. If you’d like assistance with anything at all, I am at your command. You need only call.”

“Thank you, San Lang.” He gave his head a pat, and his fingers skidded gracelessly away, falling down upon the expanse of his giant gut.

A few hours later, Xie Lian felt well enough to rise, and, belly still bloated as ever, he trundled back to his bedroom, where bright sunlight now streamed through the curtains. Unsteady from the weight of his massive meal, he fell upon his bed, and was immediately grateful for the softness of the blankets, the pillow cradling his head. Although he had tasks to do that day, he knew how important rest was as a part of training. He fell willingly into the temptation of a midday nap, letting the heaviness of his gut keep him securely in place, and the lingering trails of food-coma drowsiness wash over him.

Having devoted his life to caring for all creatures, and spent much of it eating sparingly and sharing his meager findings with others, Xie Lian was not very familiar with the feeling of being a predator, of glutting oneself with the fruits of one’s conquest, then basking in utter satisfaction, secure in the place as master of one’s meals, with the whole world as platter.

The last thing he felt before sinking into sleep was a tingling excitement to swallow his willing prey.

By late afternoon, he was possibly energized again, and, though still bloated, felt euphoric inside. All thoughts of hedonistic indulgence were gone from his mind; he had duties to complete, which he could not ignore. Rising to his feet, he managed to fit his robe around his middle, and tie it with his belt. More of his chest than he was entirely comfortable exposing in full dress peeked through, as well as much of his belly; there was no denying to an outside eye just how much he had eaten that day.

Nevertheless, he was a god, and a god must serve his followers.

As usual after waking up, he performed a few stretches, trying valiantly to keep his clothes modest, but ended up needing to tie them down again after his belly sprang out from them in its entirety, bouncing out free and round.

Finally ready, then, he set out the door, and through the massive hall which Hua Cheng had constructed.

That afternoon, Xie Lian planned to check up on a few of his shrines, answer prayers, and, if he felt at all more mobile by evening, spend some time training his body in the more conventional sense. His plans were interrupted, however, by an all-too-familiar sound outside the vast hall’s main doors.

“I told you, he’ll skin us alive, and bejewel our hides to use as doormats! It would be insane to just—”

“What’s insane is standing here until the sun blinks out of the fucking sky. I say we—”

“Of course General Nan Yang wants to slam through the first unguarded doors he sees, regardless of—”

“Say that one more FUCKING TIME, Mu Qing!”

Xie Lian had wanted to be quiet, wanted merely to peep out at the commotion, but as he cracked open the doors, their hinges gave a brash creak.

Silence fell on both sides. Both Feng Xin and Mu Qing faced the door, eyes wide as saucers, but when Xie Lian’s face came into view, both of them relaxed in comical unison.

“Thank fuck,” Feng Xin said under his breath.

Stepping out into the afternoon daylight, Xie Lian clucked his tongue. “I could hear you from indoors,” he said. “The two of you were not discussing anyone I know, correct?”

Feng Xin and Mu Qing looked at each other.

Xie Lian shook his head. “You two must not have been standing out here for long, afraid to come in for fear of Hua Cheng. Certainly not, because neither of you has reason to fear him; my San Lang would never—” He stopped himself. However he thought to finish that sentence, he could only concede that Hua Cheng would. He shook his head again. “It’s no matter,” he said. “As always, it is lovely to see you two.” 

He opened the door wider, and gestured inside. “Please, come in; don’t worry, it’s entirely safe here. Have either of you eaten yet? There is no doubt tea somewhere, if you’re thirsty, and I’d be happy to prepare some myself, but as for food, I’m afraid I—HIC!” Interrupting himself with a hefty hiccup, he laid a hand on his tummy, and looked sheepishly over his shoulder at the two former deputies now following him in. “I’m not entirely sure I can cook right now,” he said apologetically. “I would need to track down San Lang.”

“I… wouldn’t take you up on either of those options if I was about to die of starvation,” Mu Qing said flatly.

“Sorry,” Feng Xin muttered.

“No worries,” Xie Lian replied, affectedly pleasant. “Here, take a seat—” Reaching around his own inhumanly stuffed middle, he drew two chairs out from a central, yet unused table, before flopping down into a chair of his own. “Pardon my sluggishness,” he said, giving his tummy an apologetic pat. “I trained again today.”

“I can tell,” replied Feng Xin. His eyes were roving freely over Xie Lian’s body, as if he were unable to tear them away.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Mu Qing said gruffly. “Um, Your Royal Highness, we…” He trailed off, then hissed at Feng Xin, “You explain it.”

Feng Xin startled, then assumed a cordial expression toward Xie Lian, before clamping his mouth shut once more, and taking a moment to study him further.

“Take your time,” Xie Lian said sweetly.

Feng Xin shook his head hard, like a dog shaking off water, and crossed his legs beneath the table. “General Xuan Zhen and I,” he began, “have agreed on something.”

“I’m proud of you,” Xie Lian chirped, folding his hands atop his belly.

“Yeah, it’s about you,” Feng Xin continued. “We both support your training, and support you, and since all three of us are now important heavenly officials, well—”

Feng Xin looked pained. Mu Qing looked worse; he was not even looking at either of them. Talk of women could make Feng Xin act this way, and talk of wealth could thusly fluster Mu Qing, so whatever they were dancing around either had to do with both those topics, or one scruple the two of them shared—their pride.

Xie Lian smiled. “People remember that the two of you used to be my deputies,” he supplied. “So, you want them to know just what a happy, prosperous family we made, and how well all three of us are doing now.”

Feng Xin seemed to melt. “YES!”

“So you can’t go around dressed like that,” Mu Qing burst out immediately. “Like, seriously, your belly looks like it’s about to to explode out of that old outfit. You’re Prince Xian Le; it’s in your damn name; you have no reason to pretend you can’t do better than—” He gestured at Xie Lian.

Xie Lian blinked.

“This is just a travesty of what you’ve actually had to do to get to this point in your godhood. Come on.”

Running a hand down a hem of his robe, Xie Lian smiled. “I’m not entirely sure what you want from me, Mu Qing, but I am always happy to listen to your frustrations.”

“I’m not—” began Mu Qing, but Feng Xin interrupted him.

“I believe what he means to say,” he said, “is that both of us want better for you. He’s just terrible at expressing that.”

Mu Qing did not reply, only huffed.

“And,” Feng Xin continued, “we both agree that you deserve better. Which is why—” He stopped, and raised an eyebrow at Mu Qing.

“We thought we’d bestow an offering upon you,” he sneered.

“Well, thank you,” Xie Lian replied. “I will gladly accept any offering. May I ask what it is?”

Mu Qing snorted. “You idiot,” he said, “it’s clothes. General Nan Yang and I commissioned a robe which can be let out to a total girth of two hundred cun, or drawn in to a smaller size. It should be able to accommodate even your most intense stomach capacity training, Your Highness.”

He pulled a white bundle of shimmering silk out from a bag at his shoulder, and handed it with stiff decorum to Xie Lian, as if he were still a prince’s deputy in the High Court of the heavens.

“Please,” he said, voice somber, “we would be much obliged if you tried it on at your earliest convenience.”

“What he said,” added Feng Xin.

Xie Lian blinked, then accepted the parcel. It was soft in his hands, and much lighter than he would have expected. The silk was a pure and glossy white, and from within the folds, he glimpsed shimmers of gold trim.

“Okay,” Xie Lian said after a moment of admiration. “Thank you; this is very kind of you. How about if I try it on now?”

It was Feng Xin’s and Mu Qing’s turn to stare silently.

To the awkward silence, Xie Lian raised an eyebrow.

“Can’t stop you, I guess,” said Feng Xin.

“Lovely!” Xie Lian cheered.

Rising to his feet was not as easy a task as it usually was for Xie Lian’s spry and strapping body. Even as his belly happily digested its charge, it still took up space and weight upon his lap, and hence mobility. Gripping the table, he rose to his full height, and the girth of his middle loomed before Feng Xin and Mu Qing, who stayed seated.

Watching Xie Lian slip his outer robe off to reveal the bare expanse of his globelike gut, Feng Xin furrowed his brow and pressed a finger to his mouth, and Mu Qing faintly blushed.

“I know, I know,” Xie Lian said amiably, draping his old clothes over the back of a nearby chair. “Shameless old Xian Le, back at it again.”

“Just keep your pants on,” snapped Mu Qing. “We didn’t get you any new ones of those. Sorry.”

“I promise,” Xie Lian said.

Setting the silken bundle on a tabletop, he had to crane over himself to unwrap it. Nevertheless, he did so meticulously, glad for his clean hands so as not to stain the fine white cloth. After unfolding the garment, he shook it out before himself, watching its expansive folds billow through the air. He had never thought much of fancy clothes back when he wore them regularly, but something about this one warmed his heart.

It was absolutely massive, the size of a small room—though, as he draped it gracefully over his shoulders, he was surprised at how much of it was needed to cover him up.

The fabric fell light and soft atop his arms, and the fine gold patterns embroidered on the collar shimmered down his chest. After he had pulled the silk around his entire self, he felt blanketed in coolness, his belly enveloped in its gentle caress. He would feel like a king, draped in majesty and worship, if he could figure out how properly to wear it.

As Mu Qing had promised, there was much extra fabric around his chest and belly, falling atop him in big, rippling folds. Somewhere lower, more gold embroidery was stitched into some sort of pattern, and something that might have been the ends of a belt hung down at his sides. He frowned.

“Here,” Feng Xin said, rising to his feet, “if I may—”

Feng Xin approached Xie Lian, stepping before him to take the robe’s lapels into his hands, and carefully folded them into an attractively crisp pattern.

“Thanks for that,” Mu Qing said, crossing his arms.

Xie Lian smiled. “How wonderfully clever.”

“Yeah,” replied, Feng Xin. “We figured you’d need something that could continue to fit you, even as you… as your training sees better and better results.”

“How thoughtful!”

Feng Xin’s callused fingertips were careful as he smoothed the folds over Xie Lian’s still-sensitive belly. “And you tie it like this,” he said, and knelt to reach a spot below his belly’s mass. “Hopefully,” he said from beneath, “it won’t ever be uncomfortably tight.”

“You two have put a lot of care into this, haven't you?”

As Feng Xin emerged from tying his clothes, Xie Lian struck a feminine little pose, reminiscent of his days as a street performer, in spite of how different he looked here and now. As he attempted a twirl, his stomach sloshed, and he almost lost his balance, but steadied himself on the back of a chair. “Hehe, sorry.”

“Well,” said Mu Qing, “I’m glad you’re happy.”

“Likewise,” said Feng Xin. “I hope this will benefit your training.”

It sounded as if the pair of them were far more interested in Xie Lian’s unique training regimen than they let on. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but I’ve already had my big session for today. While the pair of you are welcome to come by for supper tonight, I’m afraid it will only be an average-sized meal.” He gave his tummy a pat. “You know what I always say about rest as a part of training.”

Both Feng Xin and Mu Qing rolled their eyes. “Yes,” they said in unison.

Xie Lian brightened. “But,” he said, “I do have some errands planned for this afternoon, upon which I would be tickled if you decided to join me.”

Feng Xin snorted.

“Errands?” Mu Qing said. “Your Highness, please. We’re not your servants anymore, remember?”

Xie Lian grinned. “Very well,” he said. “If your pride outweighs any desire to relive old times, I shan’t spite you for it.” He cocked his head apologetically. “I do have to go, though. I am so happy to see you two here, but my tasks for the day are waiting for me.”

“It’s not a problem,” said Feng Xin, forcibly averting his gaze from the bloated Xie Lian now clad in gold-trimmed silk. “This is all we really came here to do.”

“Yeah,” said Mu Qing, “we’re done. Both of us are our own gods, and have better things to do than sit here and ogle our old Crown Prince.”

This made Xie Lian smile. “Very well,” he said. “I’m off to check up on a few of my new shrines, then. Thank you again for these wonderful clothes.”

Turning with nothing more than a little nod, Xie Lian left his old clothes behind, knowing that Hua Cheng would find them later, and put them away with the utmost care. After picking his hat up from where it hung by the doorway, he stepped out into the fresh air.

The day outside was divinely temperate. Cool breezes blowing through the sunlit air just barely penetrated his feather-soft new robe. As a powerful god, it needed not take him more than a few moments to reach any location, but he moved slowly both to be gentle on his belly, and to enjoy the weather.

Along the way, he passed several small houses and settlements. At first, they were populated mostly by employees of Hua Cheng who had come from Ghost City to look after Xie Lian and their lord. These motley creatures, when they caught sight of Xie Lian, gazed reverently upon him, and a few even dared to wave. Xie Lian, of course, waved back cordially to every one of them, now and then stopping to make conversation. He spoke about his unusually bloated shape with forthright honesty, thanking those he recognized from the morning’s feast, and happily regaling others with the reason for his belly’s size. Every one in Hua Cheng’s employ was a friend, of this Xie Lian was firmly convicted.

As he traversed the land, however, human villages began to crop up, accompanied by the usual handfuls of people spending time outside their houses. Many of them stared as he passed by.

Xie Lian offered waves and greetings to all, in the way of the sometime fallen prince that he was. Even around those who froze in shock and made hushed whispers with their fellows, he made no effort to hide his belly, sometimes even cradling it as if he were a mother expecting a baby, and not but a very gorged martial god.

Amidst the lively people, gentle breezes, and happily digesting tummy, Xie Lian was forced to admit that he felt good.

At last, he came upon a shrine. It was one he was very fond of, small and rickety, though made up all of fresh-cut wood, defiant in its optimism, much like Xie Lian himself, and his own Puji Shrine.

Inside, a young maiden was busily sweeping what little dust and dirt she could find on the floor, all of it gathering into a central pile at the behest of her broom.

“Good afternoon!” Xie Lian called out to her.

The maiden turned, and went stock-still. She was more slight than the farmer who had come to Xie Lian with the request to be eaten. The look in her eyes, of pure wonder upon seeing her god in the flesh for the very first time, was nevertheless a perfect match for the other’s. He was reminded, fondly, of how Hua Cheng looked when he was a child—all his followers seemed to share some spark of mystical devotion, and for that Xie Lian felt divinely grateful.

“I cannot thank you enough for your upkeep of this place,” Xie Lian said, giving a little wave. “Everything you do is a help.”

A blush was quickly rising to her face. “Your Royal Highness Xie Lian,” she said faintly.

“A pleasure,” Xie Lian replied. “And might I have your name?”

The maiden’s broom was quivering in her hands. “Oh, Your Highness,” she said instead of answering him, “you look so majestic.” She steadied the broom, then picked it up, pressed it to her body, and bowed low to him.

“Well, thank you.”

Her voice came up in a squeak. “Would it… be… impertinent of me to ask…”

“Please,” Xie Lian said, “keep your chin up, miss. And whether it would be impertinent to ask, I cannot know without first hearing the question, now, can I?”

Slowly, she rose, and held the broomstick close to her, as if she wanted to hide behind it. “Have you,” she said, “...recently consumed a worshipper?”

Xie Lian looked at her scarlet face, then down at his belly, and laughed out loud.

She flinched. “I’m sorry—”

“No, no,” Xie Lian said. “In fact, I’m pleased that this was your impression of me.” Leaning on the wooden wall, he gave the maiden a rakish wink he never would have dared when he was still actually single. “While I will keep my general feeding habits a secret for now,” he said, “I will answer your question with honesty. Inside my belly right now, there is only food. No people, much less any living ones.”

“...Oh.”

From far away, some shouts came across the breeze, of farmers calling to each other over a field, and birdsong came in distant twitters, a cheerful prelude to the coming sunset. Within this shrine, however, all was silent, save for the gentle creaking of the wooden wall supporting Xie Lian’s weight.

“I promise, though,” he said, “that never would I eat you without your asking me first.”

The young woman did not reply.

“I am closed for inquiries right now, though,” he said, and drummed his fingers playfully atop his belly. “As you can see, I am already very full.”

[notsocheezy]

Brain Curd #112

Brain Curds are lightly edited flash fiction - practically first drafts - posted daily (haven't missed one yet!) and sometimes written with the express intention of being terrible… but, you know, in an endearing way. Please like and reblog if you enjoy - the notes keep me going!

It was dark and windy, and there was no sound but the rustling of the trees and a faint whisper of shovelfuls of dirt hitting the ground.

Bongo wiped the sweat off his forehead and stuck his shovel into the soil so he could lean on the handle. “Hey boss, this deep enough?”

Don ‘Rigatoni’ Leo approached the side of the hole and looked down into it. “Is it six feet?”

“I think so, boss.”

“You think so? Hey Danny boy, this guy thinks he’s dug us a six-foot deep hole.”

Danny put down his Playboy and chuckled. “Oh, he thinks so huh?”

Bongo held out his arms. “Come on, guys, how am I supposed to know how deep it is?”

His question was answered with a tape measure that only just barely missed his head. Bongo unfurled it and measured the wall of the hole.

“Ha! Six feet, two inches! Help me out!”

Danny approached the edge and held out his hand. “Here, give me the shovel first.”

Bongo handed it over.

“And you better give me that tape measure, too.”

Bongo threw it up to him and he caught it.

“Thanks, pal.” Danny put on some gardening gloves and took hold of the shovel.

“Hey, hey!” Bongo shouted. “Whaddaya doin’?!?”

Danny shoveled a few loads of dirt onto Bongo’s head, and he spit it out, trying to cover his face.

“It’s not funny!” Bongo protested, though the Don and Danny were laughing their asses off about it.

“Alright, alright,” Don Rigatoni said when he managed to catch a breath. “Hand him the ladder, will ya Danny?”

Bongo climbed out of the hole and brushed himself off, glaring at the other two men and shaking his head. “Youse got a lot of nerve.”

The Don slapped Bongo’s cheeks. “Tell ya what, Bongo, to make it up to ya, I’ll let you sleep in the pizza oven tonight.”

“You’d let me do that, boss?”

“For you? My favorite idiot? No question. Just take a damn shower first, ya bozo, ya look like you’ve been sleeping with the worms.”

Bongo shook his head and walked back to the car.

“Alright, Danny boy,” Don Rigatoni put his hand on his shoulder. “It’s time. We finish this job, and we go home for lasagne. My mother’s gravy recipe is to die for.”

Danny smiled and nodded, and they unlocked the trunk of the car.

“This fuckin’ piece of shit…” Danny said as he looked into the trunk. “We shoulda done this a long time ago.”

“Yeah, well, it’s done now.”

“They’ve seen too much, Don! Too much!”

“Will you fuhgettaboutit and help me dump the bag into the goddamn hole, Danny?”

With a heavy heave-ho, the two sent the burlap sack tumbling into the grave, and it spilled out to reveal the contents: all the Ring doorbells from their neighborhood.

The Don dusted off his hands and nodded. “I’ll be in the Cadillac.”

Danny began shoveling the dirt back into the hole and angrily muttered about police surveillance - easily one of his biggest pet peeves.

[bigasswritingmagnet]

Whatever it is People Go Away For Ch 7

Rating: M Fandom: What We Do in the Shadows Summary:

Did you ever see the 2006 romcom smash hit The Holiday, with Jack Black and Kate Winslet? This is that, but with vampires. Except they're human. Laszlo is a musician who can't remember how to make things for himself. Guillermo has a cheating ex-boyfriend he can't let go of. They both need a break from their lives, and swapping houses with a stranger sounds like just the ticket.

AO3 link

“Now,” Nadja said, hiking up her skirts to get her underwear on, “we must do something about your clothes.” 

Laszlo looked down at himself, in his usual dark jeans and collared shirt. 

“You only popped a few buttons.” 

Nadja frowned.  

“Laszlo, I can tell you are very smart so stop thinking like an idiot. Look at you, and look at me. I look like a sexy mistress of the night born in ancient Greece several hundred years ago. You look like you are late to give a presentation on how many paperclips it takes to build a cubicle. Which of us belongs in this night club?” 

“Oh.” 

“Yes, oh. Finish putting your dick away and follow me. We will find you an appropriate outfit.” 

Nadja took him to a clothing shop. It was small, looking squeezed between the two much larger buildings on either side. And yet, somehow, you couldn’t fail to notice it. The sign over the door said The Barony in curly red letters, underlined by a twirling measuring tape tailing a golden pair of scissors. 

There was a musical jangling of a bell overhead when Nadja pushed open the door, and Laszlo stepped back in time by at least two hundred years. The walls were lined with bolts of fabric and lace and brocade dangling across the shelves, soaking up the sound. Mannequins were dressed in decadent, gorgeous outfits that he’d only ever seen in history books and museums. 

A curtain twitched and a man emerged. Tall, thin, with long-white blonde hair, dressed in a sumptuous red coat with the most intricate embroidery Laszlo had ever seen. When he saw Nadja, his face lit up, his mouth twisting into an almost avuncular smile. He stretched out his arms, impossibly long fingers unfurling like the fanning of a peacock’s tail.  

“Nadja,” he crooned, and Laszlo immediately scratched the ‘avuncular’ descriptor. There was nothing even tangentially familial about that hug. 

“Afanas, this is Laszlo. He will be performing at my club tonight, and he needs to be properly attired.” 

“Yes, I can see that,” Afanas said, dryly. He circled Laszlo, humming critically. Then, with no words but a twitch of his elegant fingers, he glided back behind the curtain. Here there was a changing room in one corner, next to an angled mirror, and everywhere neat stacks and hanging racks of clothing. Afanas plucked a few items from their homes and dropped them unceremoniously in Laszlo’s arms. 

“Go forth,” he said, mildly, gesturing in a wide sweep for Laszlo to enter the changing room. With only a brief uncertain look at Nadja, Laszlo went forth. 

The door was not very thick, and anyway didn’t entirely reach the floor or ceiling, so Laszlo could very easily hear when Afanas whispered. “He does not seem your usual type.” 

“I promise, he is not as boring as he looks. Very good at following instructions.” 

“Really? Intriguing. How is he on his knees?” 

Laszlo immediately focused on getting dressed, doing his best to tune out the conversation discussing him as if he was breeding stock at the county fair, lest it cause interference with the fit of the trousers. 

The cravat was giving him a bit of trouble, so he turned to check in the mirror. And saw–and he was–the clothes were–

He felt…harpsichord, with violin accompaniment, woodwind section alto only. Four-four time–no, three-quarters, a waltz, but a quick one, the kind where you couldn’t think, only move. No crescendo, but a soaring finish that ended sharply rather than fading to quiet. 

A song you could listen to every day, every damn day, over and over and never be sick of it. 

But he didn’t like the cut of the jacket. It was too trim at the waist, he wanted something straighter. And he didn’t want the coat buttons to be so bright; he wanted the coat to be the accessory, not the statement piece, he wanted to wear it with different waistcoats that had patterns and colors and when had he ever thought the phrase “statement piece” in his fucking life? 

When had he ever thought about what he was wearing beyond “it fits and it won’t embarrass me in public”? When had he ever cared enough to have an opinion? 

When had he ever cared at all? 

“Laszlo, are you alive in there?” Nadja called, cutting through the maelstrom. Laszlo tied the cravat with shaking fingers, breathing hard, blinking away the heat in his eyes. 

“Just a moment.” He stepped out from the changing room. “Little trouble with the cravat,” he said. 

“Aha!” Afanas said, eyes lighting up. “ Now I see it.” 

Nadja nodded approvingly. 

“Much better. What do you think?” 

“I look like me,” Laszlo said, and was as horrified to hear the words as he was the wobble in his voice. He tried to flee back into the changing room–what he thought he was going to go when he got in there, he wasn’t sure, but away and out of sight was all that mattered. 

Nadja caught his wrist in a grip like a vice, but her voice was casual when she spoke. 

“Afanas, perhaps another outfit to try?” 

“Of course,” he said, as if nothing had happened or was happening.

Laszlo muttered something about the buttons, but wasn’t sure if anyone heard him. Only when Afanas had glided from the room did he feel a fingertip under his chin, tilting his head up. He kept his eyes averted, not wanting to see her expression. 

“Tell me, ó fílate ,” she said. “And do not say ‘nothing’,” she added sternly. 

His throat was too tight, he could barely breathe let alone say anything. 

“Laszlo,” she said. “I will not find it funny. I will not think less of you. Speak.” 

“Have you ever recognized yourself in the mirror?” Laszlo asked. “Looked at yourself and actually seen you, not…not someone else? Yes, that’s me, that’s what I look like. That’s who I am.” 

“Yes,” Nadja said. 

“I haven’t,” Laszlo said, barely more than a whisper, and forced himself to raise his eyes. There was no pity, no laughter, no derision, not even exasperation. 

“Agapité,” was all she said, when she wrapped her arms around him.  

Three hours later, Laszlo stepped out of the store in a canary yellow waistcoat, a long dark overcoat, fitted trousers, button shoes, and holding a top hat in his hand. 

“I think I just spent more money on clothing than I have the entirety of my life put together.” 

“How would you know? You signed the receipt with your eyes closed.” Nadja adjusted his cravat and smoothed her hands over the waistcoat. “Worth it, I think.” 

“Very much so. What time do we need to be at the club?” 

“I need to be there at 6, you go on at 8.” 

Laszlo checked his watch–maybe he should buy a pocket watch–and nodded. Then he twirled the top hat and set it on his head.

“Well then, my darling, we had best be off.” He offered Nadja his arm. She took it, giggling, and led the way back towards the club. 

For the first time in years, Laszlo couldn’t wait for the performance to begin. 

[sorugao-bandgeek]

AN: I was watching my dress up darling and it hit me that I had been talking with @romancedeldiablo awhile back about how Reborn would make outfits for him and his significant other. None of that actually happens because reborn decided to do his thing

Reborn x Reader

XXX

You watched him walk in with more bags than usual. 

“Do you -” before you could finish offering to help him, he had dropped the bags on the couch, making his way over to you. 

He cupped your face, pressing a quick kiss against your lips, “I got an idea.” 

“I can tell,” you hummed, reaching up to grasp his hands and pull them gently away from your face. “Will you tell me what it is?”

His eyes were bright, a grin curling his mouth as he pulled you closer, “Can I surprise you?” 

“Of course, I always like surprises,” he rolled his eyes at your words, already knowing that as much as you liked being surprised, your need to know what was happening was stronger. 

“Great, amazing,” one of his hands slipped out of your hands, wrapping around your waist and he began to guide you to the couch. “Stay here, I need to get the measuring tape.” 

He left to grab that, leaving you with the bags which you couldn’t help but sift through. There was some black fabric, a pretty burgundy lace that felt soft to the touch, and other things that you weren’t exactly sure what your husband was planning. 

“Reborn, how much did you buy?” 

“Enough!” you heard him answer, looking up when his footsteps were louder. “There was a sale.” 

“Ah,” you nodded in understanding, watching as Reborn began to unfurl the measuring tape. “Did you get an idea?” 

“Many,” he gestured for you to step forward, so he could move around you. 

You waited until he was finished to ask him about his day, not wanting to interrupt his concentration. He beat you to it, because once he was done, he tucked the pencil behind his ear, “How was your day?”

“It was fine,” you answered, looking at his notebook where he had taken your measurements. “Surprisingly calm day at the clinic, what about yours?” 

“Better now that I see you,” he answered, winking at you when you gave him an unimpressed stare. “Also definitely better after shopping, do you know how much that lace was going for last week?” 

“Too much, but today that sale,” he kissed the tips of his fingers, “Magnifique~”

“And,” he drawled out, a smirk curling the corners of his mouth. “I cannot wait to dress you as you deserve to be dressed,” his gaze darkened slightly, his other hand trailing down your side before resting on your hip.

“If you put me in something -” you began to wave your finger at him, but he quickly grabbed your hand, bringing it to his mouth, where his lips barely brushed against your knuckles. “Reborn.” 

He gave you a knowing grin, the hand at your hip pulling you against him, “I kid, I kid…or do I?” He chuckled as you lightly hit his chest, “I’m just happy I can put you in anything and only I’ll be able to take it off.”

“I can’t with you sometimes,” you huffed, letting your forehead rest against his chest to hide how flustered he was making you feel. 

[eonian-nightmare]

I told my (m21 w ADHD) brother to wrap up my sewing- tape measure and put in the box. He proceeded to get his electronic drill and use it to wrap it up so he had and excuse to throw / unfurl it at others without having to sit there for ages and wrap it out. He smirked hitting me with the tape measure then pressed his drill to wrap it up and did it again. His makeshift weapon kept him entertained for 20 minutes but now he wants to make better things.

This is how villians are made, now to power that energy into conquering the world.

[firelightfables-arc]

sorry kaz, you can’t keep jesper away, @affcgato, plotted starter

Voices echo and bounce through the studio, the hustle and bustle of the shoot in full swing even as the sunrise yawns its way through the windows. Jesper had been here since before the sun rose, overseeing the steaming and shaking out of the contents of the carefully cradled garment bags. Each zzzzch of the zipper revealing something new, something gorgeous, something unfurling its way into the morning air like they knew it was their time to blossom. Like a gardner, Jesper had weeded and pruned. Stitching in holding stitches until collars stayed as their god intended.

Said act of fate was currently, however, downing a shot that had found its way into his hand by the only oracle Jesper had ever needed. Eyes glittering, he’d murmured a thanks to Clary before watching her hustle off, fingers flying over her phone. Surveying the room, pleased, Jesper still felt the flutter and twitters of shoot day. A nervous, excited energy that combined with his own inherent restlessness until he was moving again. Wending and winding his way through the thick of things until he paused.

He knew that camera almost as well as he knew the face next to it. Oh, he’d known Kaz Brekker would be here, but to see him in the flesh was another thing entirely. Skin prickling, hand smoothing back his hair, Jesper moved forward like a man on a mission. Espresso shot handed off to someone without a thought as he moved forward with long, easy strides. His fingers played with the end of the tape measure draped over his neck. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Mr. Brekker himself.” And his smile turned bright, eyes crinkled, because it was tradition, after all. “I’d ask when you’re going to let me get you in one of my coats, but I’m not sure I could handle explaining to my models today why they’re only second best-looking.”

[inkimpcosplay]

Right now I'm working on a human version of Mitzutsune from the Monster Hunter series. I plan on having a folding fan that has bubble wands on the ends that will release a tide of bubbles when I unfurl it. I needed something to hold the fan in though, but thankfully some lovely coworkers saved this shipping tube for me.

I thought for a bit about what design I wanted to do, and settled on having a tint Mitzutsune winding around the tube on a purple fabric background.

I wound a measuring tape around the tube in roughly the path I wanted Mini-Mitzu to take, then used those measurements to make a rough pattern of what I wanted to wind around the fan case, then taped saran wrap over it.

I used foam clay, which was something I've never tried before. It's got a nice long work time but its a little hard to melt seperate pieces together smoothly (a little water helps though).

Added a crystal into his eye socket for an extra bit of sparkle.

It took me about four hours to finish, but here's the unpainted version:

I left the legs off to attach them later (because I wasn't entirely sure my plan would work.)

In the meantime I glued a layer of craft foam around the shipping tube and taped saran wrap over it. The plan is to wrap the foam clay around it, paint it, then slide it off the tube using the saran wrap so that I can then put on the fabric cover and reapply the foam clay. I didn't feel like trying to paint this on fabric. >_<

Good news is, it worked!

More to come soon...

[readtilyoudie]

“How did you know where to find this shop?” she asked, suspicious. “Did you follow me?”

“I am a duke. Of course I didn’t follow you. I had you followed. It’s an entirely different thing.”

She shook her head, unfurling the measuring tape. “And yet no less disturbing.”

The Duchess Deal (Girl Meets Duke, #1) by Tessa Dare

[shrutiramlingaiah]

Practice: in transitional space

This project presented at the Students' Biennale an exhibition platform and educational initiative of Kochi Biennale Foundation in collaboration with The Foundation for Indian Contemporary Art(FICA) and Foundation for Indian Art and Education(FIAE) that runs parallel to the Kochi-Muziris Biennale.

This part was part of a larger intervention by 15 curators entitled, Later the atelier ate her.  All are coming together from December 2016 to March 2017 through exhibitions and activated spaces at the Kochi Students Biennale. It was spread across seven venues at the Jew Town in Fort Kochi. This curatorial text comes from my research site visits, discussions with students, and intervention at three art schools in the western part of India – Mumbai, Goa and Surat.

The explorations finds ground in art institutions around practice as something shifting, moving in and out and making alluring connections. It focuses on making, on processes that evolve in-between places. Here practices explored are ever-changing, experimental and transitory in places like classrooms, studios, dwellings, shops and kitchen.

The curatorial process unfurls after many conversations, and intuition to some extent, sifting through exercises and seeking signs of technical dexterity among student works at Surat School of Fine Art, Surat and Goa College of Art, Goa. On the other hand, a sustained workshop becomes the curatorial mode at Sir Jamshetjee Jeejeebhoy School of Arts, Mumbai.

Milan Padasla, Linescape, interactive sculpture- glass, plyboard, drawing and print on paper

What emerges is everyday material that constructs visual narratives in various mediums. Linescape an interactive sculpture developed from glass panels with overlapping tapes at equidistance are measures to create a make-shift to a functional thing. This idea of the appearing and disappearing movement of grid patterns passing by a farm leads to this work that allows viewers to turn it around as a playful relation to co-exist with design. The evidence of place and time in the work The Skull by Binita portrays a connection to crafting moulds by pressing ink imagery with stamps made of rubber. Referentially, Marching Moulds by Sanika Khanvilkar points to power structures that go unnoticed in a quotidian exercise in a mechanics shop. Repetition finds cohesion in diligently systematic implementation.

Manashri Pai & Rajaram Naik, installation view paint on ply, PVC pipe

The vernacular for cotton candies in varied regions gets transformed and engaging in this suspended installation. Rather manipulated cotton dipped in food colour establishes meaning as it provokes the viewer to interact, snatch, pull and share stories from memory. A confrontation to perception and reality is delineated in trick of beguilement.

Pooja Mehta, Untitled (2016), cotton, food colour, drawing on paper

Whilst probing at length a workshop activity, ‘Practice: in transitional spaces’ at the Sir Jamshetjee Jeejeebhoy School of Arts, Mumbai confines looking, observing and engaging as exercises to chart dialogues, collate from memory, extract biographies, critique on the city’s development, growth and demolishment and decay. A divide that precedes colon implies relational imparting to explicit sharing between individuals. The transitional sets departure for making work and unleashes subtle distinctions and dialogues in localities. It seeks to assimilate what it means to be negotiating in a local. An intervention is laid between individuals- bakery, tea stall, cobbler, bag repairer and many more. These works travel from the Western part of India from three art institutes in Goa, Surat and Mumbai.

 Practice: in transitional space also a workshop with the JJ School of Art, Mumbai students Mumbai supported by Sher-Gil Sundaram Art Foundation and FICA, Foundation for Indian Contemporary Art, New Delhi and mentored and guided through the tenure by the artist Sudhir Patwardhan and art historian and researcher Amrita Gupta Singh with the curator in the months that followed between students and collaborators alongside recce, works, talks, sharing and exchange of ideas.

[super-fast-safety-nets]

Easy Practice: How to Install a Cricket Net at Home

Installing a cricket net at home can provide a convenient and enjoyable way to practice your cricket skills. Here's a simple guide to installing a cricket net at home with the help of Super Fast Safety Nets in Bangalore:

Materials Needed:

Cricket Net: Measure the area where you want to install the net and purchase a cricket net of appropriate size from Super Fast Safety Nets.

Poles or Frames: You'll need sturdy poles or frames to support the cricket net. These can be made of metal or PVC pipes.

Net Clips or Ties: You'll need clips or ties to attach the net securely to the poles or frames.

Ground Anchors: Ground anchors or stakes will help secure the poles firmly into the ground.

Tools: You'll need basic tools such as a hammer, drill, screws, and a measuring tape for installation.

Installation Steps:

Choose the Location: Select a suitable location for your cricket net, ensuring there's enough space for batting and bowling practice. Ideally, choose a flat and open area away from any obstructions.

Set Up the Poles or Frames: Install the poles or frames at the desired location. If you're using metal poles, drive them into the ground using a hammer or mallet. If using PVC pipes, assemble them according to the manufacturer's instructions and secure them in place.

Attach the Net: Once the poles or frames are in place, unfurl the cricket net and attach it securely to the poles using net clips or ties. Make sure the net is stretched taut and extends to the desired height.

Secure the Net: Use additional ties or clips to ensure the net is securely attached to the poles or frames at regular intervals. This will prevent it from sagging or coming loose during use.

Anchor the Poles: For added stability, anchor the poles into the ground using ground anchors or stakes. Hammer the anchors into the ground near the base of each pole and secure them in place.

Test the Setup: Once the cricket net is installed, test it to ensure it's securely in place and can withstand batting and bowling practice. Make any necessary adjustments to the net or poles as needed.

Safety Precautions: Always ensure the area around the cricket net is clear of obstructions and that there's enough space for safe practice. Consider using protective gear such as helmets and pads, especially for batting practice.

Maintenance:

Regularly inspect the net and poles for any signs of damage or wear and tear.

Clean the net periodically to remove dirt, debris, and bird droppings.

Store the net indoors during inclement weather to prolong its lifespan.

By following these steps and using quality cricket nets from Super Fast Safety Nets in Bangalore, you can create a convenient and safe practice area for cricket enthusiasts of all ages.

[getyourhomedecor]

Laying Your Perfect Artificial Grass

Dreams of a lush green lawn, free from the constant battle against weeds and the demands of watering, can become a reality with artificial grass. Unfurling a roll of artificial grass offers the potential to transform your outdoor space into a low-maintenance haven. But before you get carried away with visions of a green paradise, tackling the installation process is crucial. 

Understanding Artificial Grass Rolls:

Artificial grass, often sold in convenient rolls, comes in a variety of styles and qualities. Understanding the different types and their features will help you choose the right role for your project:

Material:

Nylon: An affordable option, but less durable and can lose its shape over time. Ideal for light-traffic areas.

Polyethylene: Offers a good balance of affordability and durability with a more natural appearance. A popular mid-range choice.

Polypropylene: The most expensive option, but boasts superior durability and a luxurious feel. Ideal for high-traffic areas.

Blade Length:  Shorter blades (around 25mm) are suitable for play areas and putting greens. Longer blades (35-50mm) offer a more realistic look for lawns.

Pile Height:  The pile height refers to the overall thickness of the artificial grass. Thicker piles provide a more cushioned feel but cost more.

Drainage Backing:  The type of backing on the artificial grass roll plays a vital role. Perforated or channelled backings allow for better water drainage.

Planning Your Artificial Grass Installation:

Before diving into the installation process, careful planning is key. Here's a step-by-step approach:

Measure Your Area:  Precisely measure the area you intend to cover with artificial grass. Factor in curves, edges, and obstacles. Purchase enough rolls to cover the entire space, with some extra for cutting and potential mistakes.

Gather Your Tools and Materials:   Assemble the necessary tools like a utility knife, tape measure, gloves, tamper (for compacting the subbase), edging materials (metal spikes or plastic edging), broom, and a stiff bristle brush. You'll also need your chosen artificial grass rolls, underlayment (optional), and infill material (sand or recycled rubber).

Prepare the Subbase:  The subbase is the foundation for your artificial grass. Remove any existing vegetation, roots, and debris. Ensure the ground is level and free from dips or bumps. Compact the soil thoroughly with a tamper to create a firm base.

Optional: Install Underlayment:  Consider using an underlayment for added benefits like improved drainage, weed prevention, and a more cushioned feel. Choose an underlayment compatible with your chosen artificial grass.

Laying Your Artificial Grass Roll:

Unroll the Grass:  Carefully unroll the first roll of artificial grass, ensuring the blades lie flat in the desired direction. Leave some extra material at the edges for trimming.

Seaming Multiple Rolls:  For larger areas requiring multiple rolls, you'll need to seam them together seamlessly. Overlap the edges of the rolls by about 3-4 inches and use a sharp utility knife to carefully cut a straight line through both layers. Join the two pieces using seam tape specifically designed for artificial grass. Apply seam adhesive according to the manufacturer's instructions and press the two pieces firmly together, ensuring a seamless connection.

Cutting and Edging:  Use a sharp utility knife and a straightedge to precisely cut the artificial grass to fit the edges of your designated area. Secure the edges with your chosen edging material like metal spikes or plastic edging. This step ensures a clean and finished look while preventing the edges from fraying.

Infill the Grass:  Spread the chosen infill material (sand or recycled rubber) evenly over the entire artificial grass surface. Use a stiff bristle brush to work the infill material down between the blades, ensuring proper drainage and a more natural feel underfoot. The amount of infill material required will depend on the specific product and pile height of your chosen artificial grass. Refer to the manufacturer's recommendations.

Finishing Touches and Maintenance:

Brushing and Final Touches:  Use a stiff bristle brush to brush the artificial grass blades in an upright position. This will enhance the overall appearance and ensure proper drainage.

Addressing Seams:  Pay particular attention to the seams and brush them thoroughly to ensure the infill material fills any gaps and the blades stand upright.

Initial Watering (Optional):  Some manufacturers recommend a light initial watering to help settle the infill material. However, this is not always necessary and depends on the specific product. Check the manufacturer's instructions.

Maintaining Your Artificial Grass Paradise: 

While significantly reducing maintenance compared to natural grass, artificial grass still requires some occasional upkeep to maintain its beauty and functionality:

Regular Brushing:  Brush the surface regularly (once a week) with a stiff bristle brush against the grain to maintain blade direction and prevent debris buildup.

Removing Debris:  Periodically remove leaves, twigs, and other debris to prevent clogging and drainage issues. A leaf blower can be a helpful tool for this task.

Hosing Down:  Occasionally hose down the artificial grass to remove dust and dirt. Allow the surface to dry completely before using it again.

Addressing Pet Waste:  Promptly remove pet waste to prevent odour and staining. Rinse the affected area with water afterwards. Bio-enzymatic cleaners can be used for more thorough cleaning.

Seasonal Maintenance:  During fall, pay particular attention to removing leaves to prevent drainage problems. In hot, dry weather, hosing down more frequently may be necessary.

Troubleshooting Common Laying Issues:

Here are some common issues that can arise during the artificial grass-laying process, along with solutions to address them:

Uneven Subbase:  An uneven subbase can lead to bumps and dips in the finished surface. Ensure the subbase is thoroughly levelled and compacted before laying the artificial grass.

Improper Seaming:  Poorly joined seams can be unsightly and allow weeds to grow. Use seam tape specifically designed for artificial grass and follow the manufacturer's instructions for a seamless connection.

Insufficient Infill:  Not using enough infill material can lead to the blades lying flat and a less realistic feel. Use the recommended amount of infill for your chosen artificial grass and ensure it's evenly distributed.

Drainage Problems:  Improper drainage can lead to water pooling and potential mould growth. Choose a well-draining subbase and use artificial grass with a perforated backing for optimal drainage.

Safety Considerations When Laying Artificial Grass:

Wear protective gear:  Use gloves and safety glasses when handling tools and cutting the artificial grass rolls.

Be mindful of underground utilities:  Before digging for the subbase, contact your local utility companies to locate any underground lines to avoid accidental damage.

Work in safe weather conditions:  Avoid laying artificial grass during extreme heat or rain. Hot weather can make the rolls difficult to handle, while rain can disrupt the subbase preparation and infill process.

Proper lifting techniques:  Artificial grass rolls can be heavy. Use proper lifting techniques to avoid back strain or injury. Consider enlisting the help of a partner for larger or heavier rolls.

[purityran]

“My therapist will tell me that it’s best to let it be, but I wanna light fires, I wanna explode.” - @slateir said.

⸻ Measuring tape unfurls like a young girl's first time holding a ribbon baton; it's more to distract the other, to allow her words to fall without there being too much attachment to them.

❝ One sec, angel. Let's get a good look at that wingspan; I think I wanna make you a duster. ❞ Mariana speaks in monotone; clearly more focused on the task at hand. However, as she moves out of sight to get a measurement behind her, she feels more comfortable sharing an emotion-- sharing unpleasant thoughts about the past always felt like putting on an itchy sweater for the approval of someone in the room.

❝ I want that too, Reese. God, you have no idea how badly I wanted to destroy everything, just to feel normal again. [...] Some forest fires, they happen naturally. Y'know, to improve the soil and stuff. Some days, I want to light a fire. And other days, I guess I want to be the fire. Uh, move your arms out like a little kid pretending to be an airplane for this one. ❞ Another beat. It was okay to empathize, so long as she didn't make things too personal. She jots down the measurement she talks, but hangs back. She doesn't want to look her in the eyes if she was gonna give some bullshit advice she was pulling out of her ass.

She still wasn't sure why anyone confided in her; maybe it was because she didn't gossip. Not that she knew enough people to gossip to anyways. It was hardly a noble thing if there wasn't another option. Yeah, she was just ... a person.

❝ Have you ever thought about, uh, I don't know ... writing everything down and burning that? We could go to the beach and have a fuckin' bonfire or something. Nobody gets the cops called on 'em for roasting marshmallows over messed up memories. And, uh, if it's really bad ... we'll just burn something no one'll miss. Like, someplace abandoned. Or something. I don't know, I'm bad at this. ❞