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cecilysass · 1 month

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The Penultimate Partner Episode: Analyzing the Second-to-Last Episodes of Seasons 3-7

So I was thinking about the show’s tendency to do an episode that is explicitly about the Partnership—about the deep abiding bonds between Mulder and Scully—right before the season finale.

This doesn’t seem to happen in season 1 and 2 (the penultimate episodes are Roland and Our Town, respectively, which don’t seem to play the same role). And something different is happening in season 8 and 9, so I don't think they fit as well.

But during the show’s peak popularity, seasons 3-7, the second-to-last episode seems to be setting up baseline emotional stakes for whatever plotline is about to hit. These episodes are giving us the state of the partnership, reminding us how devoted they are to one another. They also tend to have to do with one or both partners having a distorted perception on reality that requires the other partner's intervention in some way. I’m calling them the Penultimate Partner episodes.

So can we look at the themes of each of these Partnership episodes and see development over time? I think yes. It’s gonna be long. I rewatched them all, so buckle up.

Season 3: Wetwired - partnership as trust Season 4: Demons - partnership as loyalty Season 5: Folie a Deux - partnership as shared madness Season 6: Field Trip - partnership as touchstones Season 7: Je Souhaite - partnership as happiness

Season 3: Wetwired (right before Talitha Cumi)

This episode, like several in the Penultimate Partner episode category, involves a X-file that distorts perception. Because Scully can’t trust her own senses due to the mind control, she also can’t trust Mulder, calling into question the key tenet of their partnership. (And by season three, they have definitely established trust as the bedrock.)

Her gradual mistrust of Mulder in this episode is tense and painful; you can see on her face how much she argues with herself about it even as her mind is tricking her. Others who fall victim to this mind control phenomenon wind up murdering their romantic partner, but in the end of the episode, when they’re discussing what happened in the hospital, they both seem pretty unsurprised that Scully’s paranoia focused on Mulder. They both know, late season three, how crucial trust is between them. They understand that it’s Scully’s worst fear that Mulder would betray her. It’s not even news to them.

What Mulder’s worst fear might be is also hinted at, although it’s unsaid. He’s furious that her life is put at risk by the mysterious informant. When Mulder believes Scully may be dead and he’s going to identify her body, his reaction is chilling. He seems to completely shut down emotionally, not even showing any reaction to the Gunmen. Tellingly, when he is offered a choice between getting answers and going to ID Scully’s body, he doesn’t hesitate—he chooses Scully. (Sometimes people claim Mulder doesn’t show this kind of commitment to her until much later, even until Home Again in season 10, so it’s interesting to see it so unequivocal here.)

I want to say that Scully’s anxiety about trusting Mulder in this episode is foreshadowing aspects of the cancer arc in the next season, but I don’t think that’s really what’s happening. This episode seems more like an entirely season 3 cap to the Anasazi / Blessing Way / Paperclip storyline, especially the murder of Melissa. Scully’s paranoia calls back Mulder’s in Anasazi, and Scully explicitly blames Mulder for her sister’s murder when she’s drawn a gun on him. Even just the fact that we're there with Maggie, who has a picture of Melissa displayed prominently, tells me that loss is supposed to be on both partners' minds. (Actually, the interaction between Mulder, Scully and Maggie is pretty amazing in this scene; they’re an emotionally complex trio who seem to be communicating on some other level. I love how when Mulder and Maggie are talking to freaked-out Scully they almost sound strangely unreal, almost like they really are speaking falsely. It allows us to imagine the scene as it looks from Scully’s point-of-view, as a massive betrayal.)

Wetwired is, technically, a mytharc episode, as this whole mind control thing seems to tie back into X and the Syndicate. Personally I think the episode’s ending, emphasizing the mytharc-related plot and X’s involvement and whatever tf was happening there, was a little misguided. For my tastes they would have done better to play up the more personal, character-based themes a little more. But I also think this episode was the first real Penultimate Partner episode, and it was setting some patterns that were going to be expanded on.

Season 4: Demons (before Gethsemane)

From the cold open, we can already tell this is already a more personal episode than Wetwired. Mulder is the one having perception problems now; he wakes from a disturbing dream, covered in blood, muddled memory. This is also technically a mytharc episode, but much more concerned with direct impact on character than Wetwired was.

Scully instantly rushes to Mulder’s aid—walks right into his shower, for heaven’s sake—and absolutely never wavers in loyalty to him, even when he looks real, real guilty and a "rational" person would be suspicious. She is in fierce, must-protect-Mulder mode throughout this entire episode, from the moment she shows up palpating his head with her hands to her back-off behavior with the cops to her badass cold “I know what you do” comment to Dr. Goldstein. She also helps Mulder see through his distorted perception, telling him "this is not the way to the truth" as he holds a gun on her.

In this Penultimate Partner episode, we see something more than simple trust going on, although there’s trust, too. Maybe the word is loyalty or devotion. We see Mulder coming apart and Scully completely and utterly devoted to him. It’s actually very clear foreshadowing for the following week’s episode, Gethsemane. Mulder isn’t stable, and he needs Scully to keep him from “los[ing] his course,” as she says in Demons’ end narration. Gethsemane will follow up on the Mulder losing-his-course idea, and also will explore the idea that Scully’s bottomless support of Mulder isn’t always good for her. (This idea is voiced especially by Bill.)

There are some ways in which this episode is a neat little bookend to Wetwired. In Wetwired, Scully flees to her mother’s house, desperate and paranoid; in Demons, Mulder, similarly unhinged, seeks out his mother at her house. In Wetwired, Scully sees things that aren’t there, and in Demons, it’s definitely implied that Mulder may be seeing things in his past that weren’t actually there. In Wetwired, Scully pulls a gun on Mulder, and in Demons, Mulder pulls one on Scully.

I adore this episode, even though it’s definitely vulnerable to the critique that Mulder acts like a self-obsessed loon and Scully a hopeless enabler lol. Especially because it comes before the Gethsemane / Redux three parter, I wish the episode would have explicitly connected his behavior to the cancer arc, as I feel like that would have made his wild choices seem more understandable. If he felt like he needed to find answers faster because he knew Scully’s time was running out and he saw it all tied together with her fate, then we would get why he was acting so rashly. It would also tie more nicely into Gethsemane, which misleads the audience into thinking Mulder has killed himself, in part, because he believes she’s been given cancer to make him believe. But again, I love this episode. Scully showing up and putting that blanket around Mulder when he’s shaking. Her hugging him at the end when he’s desolate on the floor. This shows a partnership that’s been through Paper Hearts and Memento Mori—that’s moved beyond trust alone.

Season 5: Folie a Deux (before The End)

This is another episode about perception—about one partner seeing things the other can’t. Unlike in Wetwired or Demons, however, in this episode the altered perception actually represents the real truth, something everyone else fails to understand. The episode plays around with the tropes of earlier episodes like Wetwired, at first encouraging us to think that it's a delusion that Pincus is a monster, but then convincing us, through Mulder’s eyes, that the delusion is actually reality.

As other people have observed, this episode ends up being a nice little metaphor for the whole show: Mulder knowing what no one else does, being ostracized and considered insane, asking Scully to find evidence to corroborate him and ultimately convincing her to believe him and see what he sees. Their partnership is, quite precisely, a madness shared by two.

It’s a monster of the week, not a mytharc, so there’s no distraction of elaborate mytharc plot, just characters and monster. And this is a Vince Gilligan operation, so our focus is definitely on character. From the first scene with Mulder and Scully, we sense that we’re going to be talking about the partnership. Skinner gives them an assignment in Chicago that Mulder doesn’t think is worth it, and he complains in a particularly self-centered way to Scully, which she observes (“You’re saying I a lot.”) The episode is going to be very explicit that while Mulder might be monster boy, they are in this unhinged partnership situation together. Another important moment comes later, when Scully is calling the perp crazy for thinking he saw a monster, and Mulder says, “Well, I saw it, too.” Scully’s careful about-face after that, her delicate avoidance of implying she thinks Mulder is actually crazy, is part of the dance they’re doing at this late season five stage of their partnership. She doesn’t quite believe him, but she doesn’t knee-jerk not believe him either.

And the foreshadowing of what’s to come in this one, whoo boy. Most obviously, we must acknowledge that 1013 knew exactly what they were doing when Mulder tells Scully “you’re my one in five billion.” A mere seven days from now, a mysterious beautiful ex who believes his theories is going to show up to immediately cast doubt on that claim. And this episode is also toying with the question of whether Scully actually does always back Mulder up when it’s important, when she has to accept she saw something illogical. At the end, does she tell Skinner she actually saw a giant bug in Mulder’s hospital room? We don’t know, but I think it’s implied she doesn’t. That’s all presaging what will happen in The Beginning coming off of Fight the Future. It’s Scully’s little way of resisting the madness, but it also hurts Mulder and damages the partnership, which will be a problem in season six.

Season 6: Field Trip (before Biogenesis)

Full disclosure: this is my favorite episode. So I’m going to make some big claims about it. This is the ultimate Penultimate Partner episode—the one that best knits together what it wants to say about their partnership and what it wants to establish for the finale. It's a monster-of-the-week episode (another Vince Gilligan ep, with John Shiban) but refers to the mytharc often. It’s also one of the best episodes about their partnership, period.

This is yet another episode about distorted perception. This time, however, under the influence of a giant mushroom, both partners are unable to perceive clearly, to determine what is real and what is a lie. And when they’re confused, they critically turn to one another to help them see what the truth is.

Coming off of season six, the partnership is rocky. Mulder is frustrated that after so many theories of his have borne out, he still can’t get the benefit of the doubt from Scully, something he explicitly says in the dialogue here. Scully has felt like she’s not been trusted or heard, like Mulder has turned to others (Diana Fowley, for example) rather than his partner.

This is an episode about how they absolutely need one another to be able to make sense of the world—that individually each of their points-of-view are not enough. In Mulder’s hallucination, Scully accepts his claims about alien life forms too completely, not applying enough skepticism, not pushing back against him. In Scully’s hallucination, a world without Mulder, everyone is unacceptably unquestioning of the status quo, refusing to dig deeper, lacking Mulder’s critical acumen and drive. Neither partner likes the feeling of being unopposed, and it makes both of them suspicious about the hallucination’s reality. They may think they want their own view to prevail, but they need one another to be a whole person.

The theme of what’s real and what’s not – and needing one another to discern the truth–is exactly what is picked up and developed further in the Biogenesis-Sixth Extinction-Amor Fati arc that follows this. Scully’s skepticism has to stretch to incorporate more of Mulder’s worldview to make sense of what she sees in the Ivory Coast, and of course, Mulder calls on Scully’s worldview to see through his misleading dream world in Amor Fati. In fact, you could argue Field Trip is really about the idea that Mulder and Scully are one another’s touchstones—the people they need to know what’s right and real.

Incidentally, this episode also plays around with some of season 6’s other subtextual throughlines: Mulder and Scully’s anxieties about possibly entering a non-platonic relationship, their unease about what a normal, domestic life might even be for them. For the entire episode they’re directly compared and juxtaposed with the Schiffs, a young married couple who died on Brown Mountain. The Schiffs are a tall man and a redheaded woman. They even die hallucinating lying together on a hotel bed after she asked him to “hold her” (although I do seriously doubt 1013 was intentionally foreshadowing a full year ahead). The last shot is of Mulder reaching out to take Scully’s hand across the ambulance, suggesting a kind of partnership beyond just, you know, partnership. Which takes us to the next season.

Season 7: Je Souhaite (before Requiem)

Truthfully, I don’t think this episode fits quite as well in the Penultimate Partner category. It doesn’t share some of the same traits as these other episodes—it’s not quite as notably about perception, for instance—and it’s not fundamentally about the partnership in the same way. But it does end up commenting on their partnership (even their relationship, really) as part of its theme, so I think we can include it—especially because its position right before Requiem ends up being important.

Je Souhaite (btw, written and directed by Vince Gilligan) has a bit of an unsettled feeling to it because it was kind of treading water, waiting to see what happened with DD and the series. Nothing too monumental could happen with the partnership or the plot because it wasn’t clear to anyone what would happen next with the show: whether it would end or continue, whether DD would be involved or not.

So we have a story about Mulder and Scully making peace with not having a significant impact on the world—e.g. not bringing about world peace, not introducing invisible bodies to science. Instead, they are content to delightfully share a beer and comment that they have made one another “pretty happy” (as Scully says about Mulder). Through the jinni character, they seem to take the lesson that they can enjoy being with one another, accept the simple happiness that their relationship brings them. Rather than wish for success that comes too easily, they take joy in the little things with one another.

Comparing this episode to the Penultimate Partner episodes that come before, we can really see how Mulder and Scully’s dynamic has evolved by season seven. We have a Scully who is much more open to supernatural phenomena, for example, and whose skepticism seems more like a reflex or a defense mechanism now. Scully’s move towards belief is partially reflected in the plot of the episode: the X-file here really isn’t even science fiction. It is just straight up fantasy or magical realism. Aside from Scully's brief mention of a disease to explain what happened to the mouthless man in the cold open, no plausible scientific explanation for the jinni's long life or wishes is really even floated.

Scully is delighted by the discovery of the invisible body, and Mulder is visibly delighted by her delight. He’s also frustrated by her retreat into doubt when the body disappears, of course. But even the reversal into her old skepticism is half-hearted, as she soon after she's engaging in discussion with Mulder about what his final wish was. This is consistent with the overall blurring of the old hardline believer-skeptic dynamic we see in season 7. It’s also peeking ahead to Scully’s coming role as resident basement believer in season 8.

The last scene, with the beers and Caddyshack, is meant to be a callback to djinni Jenn’s comment that she wishes she could “live my life moment by moment... enjoying it for what it is instead of... instead of worrying about what it isn't.” Mulder, we see, is taking a cue from her. (And good for him, as we almost never see these characters do this. Except on rare baseball-related occasions.)

However, this episode’s position right before Requiem—and right before the events of season 8—ends up giving this scene a real bittersweet bite. We know, after Requiem, that they were probably a romantic couple at this time. We know, after Requiem, that this time is going to be their last happy time together for a long while. Later in season 8, we learn that one lingering wish of Scully’s in season 7 is that she wanted to conceive a child with Mulder. And of course we know, after Requiem, that she gets her wish—but with a vicious catch, with a terrible side effect, much like what happens with the jinni’s wishes.

So that’s my academic thesis on that. I know others have pointed out the existence of this type of episode before. What did I miss? Do you think I am wrong to leave out seasons 1, 2, 8, and 9? Why do we think these episodes focus so much on distorted perception? Interested to hear others’ thoughts (if they make it through this lol).

#the x files #x files meta #penultimate partner episodes #wetwired #x files #demons #season 3 x files #season 4 x files #folie à deux #season 5 X files #field trip #season 6 x files #je souhaite #season 7 x files #mulder and scully #fox mulder #dana scully #MSR

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snek-eyes · 3 months

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Do you think Crowley is mean to Muriel? My gf says he is a little mean but tbh I don't see it. He wants everyone gone so he can have alone time with Aziraphale, and Muriel is not a friend. They're sweet and all, but they were happy to spy on Crowley and Aziraphale and rat them out to Heaven, and they adore the Metatron quite obviously. Muriel isn't evil, just incredibly naive and as caught in the manipulative system just like Aziraphale is, in a way, but they work for that system and they seem to do it happily. They did help Crowley in Heaven, but that doesn't make them friends especially since as I said Muriel is clearly pro Metatron or too naive to be against him. If I were Crowley, I'd want them gone as fast as possible, too 😅 And they don't get the hint the first time with Crowley talking about "us time" so he just gets a little more direct, but that's about as direct as he can get with Aziraphale, too, and as he is with Maggie and Nina, and it's never mean or rude, yk? Just grumpy, in his lovable way. That's how I always read it. I'd love to hear your thoughts on it 😁

* fogot to add: it's nothing personal, Muriel's just doing their job and Crowley knows it, they even helped him (more or less willingly) but they're still working for Heaven.

Hey there, really interesting question! or I'd say two questions: A) Is Crowley mean to Muriel, and B) is that justified?

imo, Crowley & Muriel can basically be summed up by this moment:

"Yay, bully for you." *turns away to go back to cursing heaven*

Crowley, well... he is mean to Muriel. But it's in the way you are when you recognize it's not the person's fault you personally find them annoying, and you don't want to actually make them feel bad. He knows! He knows it's not their fault they're such a neon sign of everything he hates about heaven, that they're so brainwashed and ignorant, and cheerful about it.

But the fact is, Crowley manipulates the heck out of Muriel! And he's downright disrespectful about it, doesn't ever bother to give them a good story, he just says confident nonsense, knowing Muriel has no choice but to take his word for it. He takes advantage of their naivete and uses them for his own ends. That's not exactly nice!

^ tell me that's not condescending as hell lmao

But on the other hand... Yeah, Muriel is a spy for heaven! Not only that, but they've been sent here knowing absolutely nothing about earth. Their very presence is an insult! Crowley and Aziraphale have been here for 6000 years, and heaven still thinks that just the baseline of 'being an angel' makes someone good enough to outmaneuver them? Rude af. So, it's not all that out of line for Crowley to give heaven the same level of respect they showed his side.

But that still leaves Muriel stuck in the middle, getting used by both sides.

I think Crowley is intentionally only seeing Muriel as a tool—one of Heaven, but one that he can use to their advantage. He doesn't want to be sympathetic to them—they are a danger, and Crowley's also got his personal issues around how he seems to have only let himself get attached to one other being.

Yet, there's this moment where he seems to sympathize with them, despite himself:

and another one, when Saraqael shows up and it seems like he's gotten Muriel in trouble, he starts to jump in to defend them. That seems kind.

"shh, don't say anything without a lawyer present."

That final bookshop scene is what you seem to be focusing on though, so let's get there.

Crowley has been hyped up on manic energy all night, all week really, and finally all of this is almost but not quite over, he just wants so badly to finally be alone with Aziraphale and re-establish their status quo. He barely has the patience to even be fake-polite to Muriel (especially now they're being bubbly about the Metatron, who's already on Crowley's shit list and just you wait buddy), he wants them to go away. Maybe it also isn't any fun to manipulate them anymore now he's sympathized with them that little bit.

The pretense is paper thin, but Muriel doesn't get it until he drops it entirely:

This is the first time Muriel's fully cottoned on to the fact that Crowley isn't being Nice anymore. And it's possible Crowley feels bad about it, because when Muriel still tries to stay in the bookshop, he gets dramatic about it, but still reigns himself back in for his next attempt.

The really interesting moment comes when Muriel actually asks for something. Asks to take an earth thing with them, asks to learn. That finally gets Crowley's attention, it's the first time he looks away from the window (Aziraphale) for a reason that isn't telling Muriel to shoo. Long enough to not only look at them properly, but give them enough personal thought that he recommends them a book.

Listen, I love Crowley, but he's kind of an asshole! He's impatient and condescending and manipulative... and yet, when it comes down to it, he cares. All of that can be true.

#crowley #muriel #good omens meta #v watches good omens #good omens 2 #vee replies #anon and on and on

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earthnashes · 10 months

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Fitness update time baybeeeeeeeee! I once again had to gather the balls to post the photos here so uh. Ye. :D

Like the last one, more details will be under the cut, but for the TL;DR crowd:

Last Update Here

Current: 177lbs | Estimated BMI: 24-26% | Push Pull Legs split at 6 Days a week

Notes: Training stimulus for this block focused on lifting basics and intensity: establishing a stronger mind-muscle connection and knowing how training to true mechanical failure feels like. Additional challenge: Finding maintenance calories and maintaining weight in the general range of 175-180lbs before re-attempting 1st Lean Bulk attempt.

Results: All lifts have seen an increase in working weight. Noticeably more muscle definition overall over the course of the last two months. Weight largely remained the same; assume maintenance calories has been accurately found.

Sooooooo the last two months have been kinda crazy. I took a look at my past lifting logbooks and found that despite my PRs being higher than the last recorded attempt, my overall working weights for all of my lifts hadn't really moved much. Partially out of fear of injury, but mostly due to the noticeable lack of real intensity in the training.

On top of that I found that my weight wasn't going down or up at the calories I was eating at, but my energy had begun to drop and recovery was suffering. Originally I was meant to be in my first bulk, but my weight never moved, and that ultimately resulted in me switching strategies for my nutrition too.

Basic idea: dial up the intensity, RPE of 8-9.5. Find true maintenance calories.

For nutrition: I used the TDEE calculator for my calories this time. It's supposedly more accurate than most other calorie calculators including MyFitnessPal's calculator, which gave me 2200 calories as my "bulk". Welp, turns out that's wrong; 2200 is my cutting number with my current activity level. And given how long I've been in a cut, it explained why, even in the deficit still, my weight never moved: it's too low to gain weight, and with how long I been in a deficit up until then my body was adapted too much to continue losing fat. So I instead switched focus onto finding my actual maintenance calories by immediately bumping my calories to the number the TDEE calculator gave me (2600 cal) and adjusting based on how my weight trend.

Result is, over the course of 2 months I gained 2 pounds but I'm certain this is almost entirely muscle (based on look, measurements, and performance in the gym); I've otherwise hadn't changed weight wise. This is good to know; it means I can eat more than I initially thought and gives me a stronger baseline for when I do actually go into a real bulk.

For training: First thing I focused on was my legs, which was arguably my weak link. This is largely due to an old injury in my left knee made it hard to reach full range of motion, and the strength discrepancy between my left and right leg because of it was pretty noticeable. Correcting it is one of the reasons why I switched to PPL training split, with Legs being trained first every cycle.

For both my legs and my isolation exercises I utilized unilateral versions of all my exercises; working each limb separately instead of together. I also incorporated a different set program: 2 working sets of 6-10 reps, 1-2 sets taken to true mechanical failure. The failure sets were meant for me to get used to the very uncomfortable sensation of training the muscle to- and past - it's actual limit and not my mental limit while maintaining proper form technique. That shit is rough, but it ensured that I was training with actual intensity and I was taking the muscle to true failure for growth, which in turn would help with building better muscle-mind connection with each muscle bilaterally and unilaterally.

For compounds I didn't take any of the lifts to true failure due to the higher fatigue and recovery toll. Instead I focused on building strength skill, so the set program was: 1 Topset (heaviest set of the exercise) 1-3 reps, 2 working sets for 5-8 reps. Any hypertrophy work for these lifts were always done with machine accessories for stability and safety.

Results thus far has seen my overall strength increasing, my knee is much stronger and stable (tested my squats and I can safely squat my own bodyweight without pain or wobbling, which is a feat due to being unable to do that months ago), and I confidently can say I have better form and idea of intensity.

-------

SO! With all of that said I'd say this block was overall a success after much trial and error. Now that I've gotten a better idea of a few things, my next move right now is to take a deload week for some much needed rest, then structure my next block for a more strength focus alongside my 2nd attempt at an actual lean bulk. The goal is to gain at least 4-5 pounds of muscle by the beginning of next year and make a new maxout for my PRs, so I might look a lil soft the next time I do a progress report but hopefully I'll be much stronger and ready for my second cutting phase.

This shit is hard, but I'm loving it to death man. I'm having a lot of fun learning and going through the journey and now I can confidently say that I'm at the Intermediate stage of lifting! I also think I know the type of weightlifter I am now. I've heard the term "powerbuilding" a few times now and I feel it fits; primarily lifting to build strength, but also throwing in some bodybuilding rhetoric for aesthetics.

Like I said a while back I'm seriously considering recording my workouts and posting those as I go on my Instagram, and I've actually bought a lil phone stand to practice recording and being more comfortable in front of the camera. We'll see how that goes I suppose!

But uhhhhh YE! That's all my yapping for now. Thank you for listening, and if you have any fitness goals feel free to share them with me! :)

#weightlifting #powerlifting #powerbuilding #ash talks #earthsong talks

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vintagerpg · 1 year

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Gods below, I love this book. This is The Complete Thief’s Handbook (1989). I love playing thieves, so of course I love this book. Thieves already, on the baseline, have a bit more mechanical complexity than the fighter, so a lot of this book goes to building the criminal world thieves live in. This is established primarily by character kits. Again, I favor thieves, so these kits seem, more than other class kits, to work better, but I honestly can’t tell if that is because of the way the base thief mechanics work (and thus the ways in which they are modified) or if it is just good old fashioned bias.

Kits are just the start. There are over 30 pages dedicated to creating and running thieves’ guilds, a topic of no small fascination in my middle and high school days. There is plenty of guidance here for a thief-centric campaign, but I have never been blessed with the opportunity to run or play such a thing. The thief seems uniquely suited to this, though — as evidence, check out the delightful Thieves’ Guild RPG from Gamelords in the early 80s.

Finally, there is a lot of space dedicated to the trade of thievery (and their tools). This stuff — rules for ropes, grappling hooks, a page dedicated to the application of different poles and sticks — expands not just how thief players play, but also add to the language of how GMs define game spaces to allow for that play. And a lot of this stuff is codified and re-codified in future editions (and hacks). It’s an important book (and free of the balance issues later installments in the series introduce).

#RPG #TTRPG #TabletopRPG #roleplaying game #D&D #Dungeons & Dragons #2E #PHBR #Complete Thief #Kit

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captainhoers · 3 months

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I realise this is my third thank post in the genre of "quick doodle of the gote being overworked and exhausted" which is maybe a symptom of a systemic issue anyway

January thank post is a little late because it slipped through the cracks while I was in the US for a couple of weeks after HarmonyCon doing the Vol 3 mailouts to the US! I will also say that the last couple of months have been a lot, with the Vol 3 printing and shipping, an animation project for Vanhoover Pony Expo, two panels for HarmonyCon, the bonus mini comic for patrons to make up for the missed postcards in 2023 - oh yeah and I've been doing a comic in between all this!

I think I need to just. Slow all this down a little bit? For March I'm going to be dialing back on these "extracurriculars" and re-establish my baseline. I'm also going to be giving myself room to like... completely mess up if it turns out I just really need the recharging time. If I put out like 12 pages of Stardust in March? Great! If I just end up putting 200 hours into Helldivers 2? That's also fine! The point is to have a few weeks of "normality" - no trips, no projects, no crunching. Y'know, that healthy work-life balance thing.

Anyway I'm going back to bed

#thank

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moraygrotto · 7 months

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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.”

#moray writes #stuffing

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becausethathappens · 5 months

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how how How HOw HOW do Rhett and Link seriously not think they sound so gd polyamorous when they talk about them and their wives. Like they must be so obnoxious to their friends.

On the Howie Mandel podcast Rhett said that Jessie’s favorite person other than him was Christy. Link casually referred to them all as a foursome. Like idk. It’s too much to think about them all choosing each other over and over again and again. And just always loving each other no matter what. Okay. Okay. Bye. ❤️

RE: R&L on Howie Mandel's Podcast

Sometimes you can't see the forest for the trees, anon. You can exist in a way that intrinsically contradicts many stereotypical relationship norms so early on in the cultural conversation and timeline (not to mention originating in religious rural south) that you don't really understand you have more in common with those types of relationships than not. One of the most challenging aspects of those or any relationships is balancing time, money, romance, cohabitation, and power. Those are all the parts they have locked down. That's what's so funny to me.

Polycules don't have to involve sex to be polycules. But honestly, regardless of that, it's like you said: so very lovely that they have such a uniquely cohesive setup where they're all business partners and best friends and spouses, all rolled into one chaotic mess. They've all saved each others lives. They can't exist as they are without one another. Jessie getting them all to therapy. Christy catching Rhett when he passed out. Rhett pulling Link from the river. Link keeping them all humble. They all protect each other. And Link. They all have matching rings. Their dogs and offspring read as siblings. Christy and Rhett have favorite funky cheeses. Jessie and Link don't like the way your cousin's living room is laid out. Everybody has a chronic illness or injury and they're all probably neurodivergent. It's the best. Whether they want it or not, they are like when you watch shows from the 1970s and they're way before their time. Too relatable, too open, too authentic. They think that's all standard practice and it just isn't. They've established a baseline that many people would aspire to and don't realize that part. But you can't force people to see themselves the way you might.

My take has always been: it's an open door in a big house. I, for one, will always want to see what's in every nook and cranny of the place, if I'm living there for a day or a lifetime. Not everyone is that curious. But if you're an optimistic person, at some point, they might be.

#answers #i post at a glacial pace #thank you for your patience #the mclaughlins #the neals #speculation #.txt

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slotumn · 30 days

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Today's 3H worldbuilding thoughts:

What exactly is the in-universe advantage of Crests, if any, aside from status symbols/succession legitimacy? As in, what are its military/tactical advantages?

The most obvious are the Crests effects: occasionally recovering HP or doing additional damage or enemy not being able to counterattack. Which is... nice, but if we assume that it works in-universe how it works in the gameplay, you can't even control when those effects trigger, so when it comes to military strategy, you're probably better off treating that as a nice bonus rather than a key feature to plan around. I've also read the argument that a Crestless commoner who learned a powerful magic spell can very well do the same kind of damage that Relics can, and again, if we assume it works in-universe how it does in the gameplay, that's technically true.

But also, if you look at another gameplay mechanic: the Relics are all E rank weapons. And as long as you have the matching Crest, you can dish out the unique combat arts as much as the weapon durability allows.

In other words, as long as someone has a Crest, they can wield a matching Relic and reliably use crazy-ass techniques with no prior training, as opposed to others who have to study and train far more to master powerful spells and techniques. Of course there are other factors that would determine the outcome of actual battles, but Crest-bearers definitely have an advantange, higher baseline, whatever you call it.

What's interesting, though, is that obviously this only applies to Crest-bearers who have access to matching Relics. For those with Crest of saints, they still need to train and get their weapon rank up to A in order to wield their matching Sacred Weapons— but the Sacred Weapons can actually be wielded even without a Crest as long as someone is skilled enough (weapon rank A). They even get the healing benefits too, although those with matching Crests get more.

I like to think this actually explains how/why the Empire and Saints won against Nemesis and the Elites. The Elites were powerful, yes, and they were capable of superhuman feats, but their military capabilities depended far too much on those few superhumans. With Nemesis' "rule by strength/strong eats weak" philosophy, it's likely that they didn't do jack shit to make their soldiers work as a unit rather than a bunch of individuals competing to kill more people and prove themselves stronger.

Meanwhile, the Empire probably had a more robust infrastructure and training system; maybe there weren't as many "stand-out" individuals, but the overall median skill level was higher because the average soldier lived longer and gained more experience, and operations didn't fall apart over the death of one charismatic warlord-type leader because they were coordinated and organized on a larger scale. The structures established from this era is probably what keeps the Empire a formidable military force in the continent, even with Faerghus and Leicester falling away + suffering from a lot of internal corruption after a thousand years.

That being said, militarily speaking, the Empire post-Faerghan and Leicesterian independence is almost definitely not chill about the Kingdom and Alliance having Relics while they don't. Northern regions must have learned from the Empire's military organization while they were part of it, then they broke away again, meaning that they'd patched up a lot of their previous weaknesses... and also have stupid powerful weapons (Relics) that the Empire doesn't. That, combined with Church seemingly being friendlier with the Kingdom now, would definitely make them anxious.

I think the above also explains why the re-conquest of Fódlan has apparently been an ambition of the Imperial house for a while, according to Hopes. Like, morality of invading and conquering aside, of course Adrestia wasn't happy about losing control over the northern territories they fought a long-ass war to win and of course they don't like the other two having Relics. Once again, moral arguments aside, it seems like a continent-wide shitshow and conquest/re-conquest attempts with Relics and Crests as implicit or explicit cause was bound to happen at some point, even if it wasn't for Edelgard.

Tl;dr Fódlan's politics makes more sense if you think of Crests and Relics kind of like nukes

#fe3h #fire emblem three houses #fe3h meta #meta #fe3h worldbuilding #slotalks #modern version of 3h is just the three countries yelling at each other over who gets to own/develop nukes

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piratecaptainscaptainpirates · 7 months

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I've been trying to get an idea of the timeline in s2. Big caveat before I share my thoughts: s1 had a very loose timeline, too, and I think trying to figure out exactly how many days pass between seasons is a waste of time because this show is powered by vibes. But here's what I'm thinking!

Episode 1 is our baseline - we don't know much time has passed exactly between seasons, but it's enough for Ed to break Ned Low's record and for Stede and co. to get settled in at the republic. I think episode 1 most likely takes place over several days - Stede's section does not clearly establish anything, and Ed says "we've got a record to break" right after he shoots Izzy, meaning the record is not yet broken during that scene.

Episode 2 most likely takes place right after ep 1, at least on Stede's side of the equation - Stede acts surprised about the wake-up call on Zheng Yi Sao's ship and they're all newly assigned roles; it's clearly their first day. I would buy it, however, if Ed's story has a few days between ep 1 and ep 2 - Izzy's leg might have needed some time to start rotting, and it would give some extra time for things to get dire for Ed's crew before the Red Flag finds them if their ep 2 events took place a few days before our timelines catch up.

Episode 3 isn't clear; there's been enough time for Stede and co. to get settled in with Zheng Yi Sao and enough time for Ed's crew to need to resort to hunting seagulls. It's probably not a lot of time; it's likely they didn't have many rations to start with (given they hadn't been returning to land) and it wasn't enough time for Ed to actually die of his injuries.

Ep 4 is easy, immediately after ep 3.

Ep 5 seems like it takes place immediately after ep 4, but personally I like to think there's another day in between. That would give Stede time to talk to the crew and figure out their conditions for Ed's probation and for Stede to write and make Ed memorize that little apology speech (Ed clearly didn't come up with that, Stede is mouthing along and Ed fumbles the safe space ship line). I also like to think Ed gets a day to nap and recover from his many concussions.

Ep 6 is the hard one. Lucius and Pete tell everyone they got engaged during this episode, but I honestly think that's just because there wasn't an episode in-between. Many people have talked about how it feels like there should have been an episode between 5 and 6, and I agree - I think it probably would've started with a "time is passing" montage like s1e6 did. In any case, enough time has passed for Ed to get out of probation (which he and Stede specifically agree would take more than a day in ep 5) and make good progress towards re-earning the crew's trust. The crew are much more comfortable with him in ep 6 and we know things have been calm enough the crew are feeling kinda bored. Personally I think it makes the most sense for there to be at least a week between 5 and 6.

After that, 7 and 8 are easy; they take place immediately after 6 and directly follow each other.

So, depending on how you interpret things, s2 could all take place in about a week or it could take place over a couple weeks. I lean towards the latter; I'd believe anything under about a month.

One thing that makes me lean towards a longer timeline is Ed's makeup. He's got a bruised cheek and a split lip following the mutiny, and given that this show likes to hand-wave injuries when they're not plot-relevant and TV shows don't usually waste time on makeup just for fun, I think that serves two purposes. First, and most importantly, it's a visible reminder Ed survived a suicide attempt not long ago, he's still in a fragile place. Secondly, it lets us know time is passing.

Ed looks like warmed-over shit in ep 3:

Still has visible bruises and a scabbed lip in ep 5:

And by ep 8 he's still got a faint bruise on his cheek but his lip has healed:

Again I know this show is hand-wavey with how injuries heal but I think the healing of Ed's injuries is an intentional enough sign that at least a week has passed between ep 3 and ep 8.

#ofmd #our flag means death #thank you for indulging me in this over-long analysis of the timeline in a show where the timeline barely matters

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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 2 months

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By: Sallie Baxendale

Published: Feb 12, 2024

What happens during puberty? And what happens if we try to stop it? It’s one of the most fraught questions of our time. Given its significance and the vulnerability of the people it involves, you might be surprised to learn that there have been more studies assessing the impact of puberty blockers on cognitive function in animals than humans. Of the 16 studies that have specifically examined the impact of puberty blockers on cognitive function, 11 have been conducted in animals. And most found some detrimental impact on cognitive function when the researchers gave these drugs to mice, sheep or monkeys.

The sheep studies were particularly interesting as they used twin lambs, administering the puberty blockers to only one in the pair. More than one year after stopping the medication, the sheep who had taken the puberty blockers had still not “caught up” with their untreated siblings in their ability to complete a test of spatial memory. It can, however, be fairly argued that we can only extrapolate so much from the abilities of sheep to remember the way through a maze of hay bales. It is really the studies in humans that are of most interest to those considering prescribing or taking these drugs.

Yet such studies are hard to come by. There are only five that have looked at the impact of puberty blockers on cognitive function in children, and only three of these have looked at these effects in adolescents given the medication for gender dysphoria. In one of these studies, the researchers didn’t measure how well the children were doing before they administered the drugs, so it is difficult to know whether the subsequent difficulties they had on a strategy task could be attributed to the medication. A second study established an excellent baseline, and the researchers employed a gold-standard measure to test the cognitive abilities of the children in the programme before they started the puberty blockers.

Unfortunately, they didn’t re-administer these tests to assess the impact of the medication, but chose instead to report how many of a subset of these children completed a vocational education and how many completed a higher vocational education years later. No outcomes at all were reported on 40% of the children who started out in the study. The final study, however, was beautifully designed: the researchers assessed IQ prior to the administration of puberty blockers and regularly monitored the impact of the treatment over 28 months on a comprehensive battery of cognitive tasks. The results were concerning and suggested an overall drop in IQ of 10 points which extended to 15 points in verbal comprehension. But regrettably, this was a single case study, and while alarming, the conclusions we can draw from one person’s experience are limited.

Last year, I wrote a paper to summarise the results of these studies. The paper explained in relatively simple terms why we might think that blocking puberty in young people could impact their cognitive development. In a nutshell: puberty doesn’t just trigger the development of secondary sex characteristics; it is a really important time in the development of brain function and structure. My review of the medical literature highlighted that while there is a fairly solid scientific basis to suspect that any process that interrupts puberty will have an impact on brain development, nobody has really bothered to look at this properly in children with gender dysphoria.

I didn’t call for puberty blockers to be banned. Most medical treatments have some side effects and the choice of whether to take them depends on a careful analysis of the risk/benefit ratio for each patient. My paper didn’t conduct this kind of analysis, although others have and have judged the evidence to be so weak that these treatments can only be viewed as experimental. My summary merely provided one piece of the jigsaw. I concluded my manuscript with a list of outstanding questions and called for further research to answer these questions, as every review of the medical literature in any field always does.

As a scientific paper, it was not ground-breaking — reviews rarely are. But by summarising the research so far, I thought it would serve as a convenient resource for the numerous authorities currently examining the efficacy of these treatments. It also provided key information for parents and children currently considering medical options. Every patient needs to be aware of what doctors do and do not know about any elective treatment if they are going to make an informed decision about going ahead. Doctors have a duty of candour to provide this.

I was surprised at just how little, and how low quality, the evidence was in this field. I was also concerned that clinicians working in gender medicine continue to describe the impacts of puberty blockers as “completely physically reversible”, when it is clear that we just don’t know whether this is the case, at least with respect to the cognitive impact. But these were not the only troubling aspects of this project. The progress of this paper towards publication has been extraordinary, and unique in my three-decades-long experience of academic publishing.

The paper has now been accepted for publication in a well-respected, peer-reviewed journal. However, prior to this, the manuscript was submitted to three academic journals, all of whom rejected it. “Academic has paper rejected from journal” is not headline news. I have published many academic papers and have also served on the editorial boards of a number of high impact scientific journals. I have both delivered and received rejections. In high-quality journals, many more papers are rejected than accepted. The reasons for rejection are usually a variation on the themes that the paper isn’t telling us anything new or that the data is weak and doesn’t support the conclusions that the authors are trying to draw. In a paper that is reviewing other studies, reasons for rejection typically include criticisms of the ways the authors have looked for or selected the studies they have included in their review, with the implication that they may have missed a big chunk of evidence. Sometimes the subject of the review is too wide, too narrow or too niche to be of value to the wider readership.

While imperfect, anonymous peer review remains the foundation of scientific publishing. Theoretically, the anonymity releases reviewers from any inhibitions they may have in telling their esteemed colleagues that, on this occasion, they appear to have produced a pile of pants. When it works well, authors and editors receive a coherent critique of the submitted manuscript, with reviewers independently highlighting — and ideally converging — on the strengths and weaknesses of the paper. If done sloppily, or if the reviewers have been poorly selected, the author may be presented with a commentary on their work that is riddled with misunderstandings and inaccuracies. Requests for information already provided are common, as are suggestions that the author include reference to the anonymous reviewer’s own body of work, however tangential to the matter in hand. I have been on the receiving end of both the best and worst of these practices over the course of my career. However, I have never encountered the kinds of concerns that some of the reviewers expressed in response to my review of puberty blockers. In this case, it wasn’t the methods they objected to, it was the actual findings.

None of the reviewers identified any studies that I had missed that demonstrated safe and reversible impacts of puberty blockers on cognitive development, or presented any evidence contrary to my conclusions that the work just hasn’t been done. However, one suggested the evidence may be out there, it just hadn’t been published. They suggested that I trawl through non-peer reviewed conference presentations to look for unpublished studies that might tell a more positive story. The reviewer appeared to be under the naïve apprehension that studies proving that puberty blockers were safe and effective would have difficulty being published. The very low quality of studies in this field, and the positive spin on any results reported by gender clinicians suggest that this is unlikely to be the case.

Another reviewer expressed concerns that publishing the conclusions from these studies risked stigmatising an already stigmatised group. A third suggested that I should focus on the positive things that puberty blockers could do, while a fourth suggested there was no point in publishing a review when there wasn’t enough literature to review. Another sought to diminish an entire field of neuroscience that has established puberty as a critical period of brain development as “my view”.

In a rather telling response, one of the reviewers used religious language to criticise the paper. They argued that the sex-based terms I had employed to describe the children in the studies — natal sex, male-to-female, female-to-male — indicated a pre-existing scepticism about the use of blockers. They suggested that the very presence of these terms would cause people who prescribe these medications to “outright dismiss the article”, and went on to say that by using these terms the paper was “preaching to the choir” and would do a “poor job of attracting new members to the fold”. However, the most astonishing response I received was from a reviewer who was concerned that I appeared to be approaching the topic from a “bias” of heavy caution. This reviewer argued that lots of things needed to be sorted out before a clear case for the “riskiness” of puberty blockers could be made, even circumstantially. Indeed, they appeared to be advocating for a default position of assuming medical treatments are safe, until proven otherwise.

Yet “safe and fully reversible” can never be the default position for any medical intervention, never mind a treatment that is now deemed experimental by authorities in Europe and the UK. Extraordinary claims demand extraordinary evidence, and the only extraordinary evidence here is the gaping chasm of knowledge, or even apparent curiosity, of the clinicians who continue to chant “safe and completely reversible” as they prescribe these medications to the children in their care. It is not the job of a scientific paper to “bring people into the fold”; it is the job of clinicians to understand the evidence base of the treatments they offer and communicate this to the patients they are treating.

I sincerely hope that any arrest in brain development associated with puberty blockers is recoverable for young trans and gender diverse people, who are already facing significant challenges in their lives. I would welcome any research that indicates that this is the case, not least for the significant insights that would present to our current understanding of puberty as a critical window of neurodevelopment in adolescence. Puberty blockers almost invariably set young people on a course of lifetime medicalisation with high personal, physical and social costs. At present we cannot guarantee that cognitive costs are not added to this burden. Any clinician claiming their treatments are “safe and reversible” without evidence to back it up is failing in their fundamental duty of candour to their patients. Such an approach is unacceptable in any branch of medicine, not least that dealing with highly complex and vulnerable young people.

Sallie Baxendale is a consultant clinical neuropsychologist and a professor of clinical neuropsychology at University College London.

But by summarising the research so far

Therein lies the problem. "Puberty blockers are fully reversible" is an article of religious faith and recited as religious cant. Not a tested, verifiable reality. Proposing to put a spotlight on the evidence - and especially the lack thereof - is a form of religious heresy.

#Sallie Baxendale #puberty blockers #medical corruption #medical scandal #medical malpractice #gender lobotomy #ideological capture #ideological corruption #medical ethics #ethics violations #religion is a mental illness

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