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A Legendary Belch for a Soulful Plight
A commission for 
JN1306
Art by
Cynderella
For the past two weeks, Asako the white fox had been feeling neither cheery nor determined. He admired the belching abilities of his friends the snake and Xerneas the stag. He loved the two not only because they treated him with kindness and cuddliness but because they had inspired him to practise his own belching techniques. For a couple of months he honed his skills from observing them and aspired to replicate the length and the thunder of their burps.
Asako had succeeded in belching for about 45 seconds once. But then his belly ran empty, and he gagged and needed to take a breath. As two months of diligent practise turned to three, Asako grew dissatisfied with the speed of his improvement and entertained a doubt. He wondered whether he had the innate capacity to match his peers. His cheeriness dissolved.
Xerneas the stag and the snake, they frowned, for they saw that the Asako they knew and loved was falling under grey clouds. They wished him only happiness, that he may live contentedly and pursue again the betterment of his burping craft, so one day they came to Asako with a plan to uplift his spirit.
Asako was sitting, miserably slouch against a rock. Behind the rock, the serpent slithered toward him with a teasing smile. He silently drove himself to the peak of the rock, then suddenly sprung down as he would spring on a prey, and enveloped Asako in his coils of scale. Asako let out a YIP of surprise, but relaxed after a couple of friendly convulsions of the spiralling grasp of the muscly, toasty snake body. Asako could feel his ribs compressing, not too tight—just enough to put rose on his cheeks and to perk his ears.
He lifted his head, and blinked bittersweet eyes at the snake, eyes that wanted so dearly to cherish this moment but could not quite shake off his skepticism of a brighter tomorrow, caused by the stormy tint of the lenses through which he saw, crafted by the foul maker Depression.
Yet, the snake did not relent. He gave Asako a tender lick on the temple, and Asako could feel the trapped birds in his chest fluttering, seeing freedom. Hope flickered in his heart.
The fiery flicker wasn’t strong enough. Tendrils of cold snatched back the hope within him, so even though the warm coils of the snake had him and he had them, the inmost constriction of Asako voided their temperature offering. The serpent saw that still Asako looked despondent, but he did not back down from trying to cheer him up.
Asako heard whispers of wet hubbub come from the snake’s digestive system and felt the snake-loops shudder. The snake’s long underbelly bloated up, squishing Asako oh so nicely. Ahh—the snake was swallowing air bubbles, sending them down to the innards of his paunch. The big coils around Asako expanded more, and their gurgly conversations gained volume. They teased him with tasty shudders, their scales enlarging, the corkscrews of their owner embracing him tighter in their sinewy hug. Wet gurgles spiked through this length, promising Asako that a belch would arrive soon.
The serpent licked Asako between the ears then yawned open his maw. A froggish hiccup of belch bounced out and splattered succulently against Asako’s face. It gave way to a chain of rumbles and gas, a bone-rattling belch.
“Hurrrrrooooaaaaaawwwwwurrrrp!”
This belch was born with a humble tone. Like a ball of large yarn, it unravelled seemingly without end, clothing Asako in a sonic blanket of acidic smell. Past seven seconds the belch persisted. The unfaltering force crashed over the fox’s fox ears and snout, gluing his ears to his head and his whiskers to his muzzle. Gastric humidity permeated the area—and the wafts of rodents, ursines and cervidae too.
Teasingly did the snake narrow his eyes on the fox. He took the tone of his belch to an even deeper level. Progressing into the twenty-second second of his belch, the serpent furthered his conviction and instigated rumbles of the ground. Cracks spread along the mushroomed grass. Steams of sunlit dust billowed up. Chunks of earth popped up, and skipped up and down around these steams. The potency of this belch put prickles of fur on Asako’s nape, for he had never felt such a belch: one which could reach into his chest and hammer his heart, and snatch at his groin and flare his enjoyment to a high crest. The belch expanded the territory of its tumult, scattering its armies of bass throughout this acre and its neighbors; wrapping its momentous arms of vibration and belly exhaust odors around every bush, branch and beast it crossed. The flora of the woods (for consciousness exists in many things, if not all), they were excited by the belch: And they flourished and secreted sweet pheromones into the air; and creatures far and wide froze and awed, for the echoes drummed in the ears again and again, as though the woods was a cavern that the burp so corpulently engrossed.
Forty-five seconds droned on. A large portion of the gastric sound blast cannonballed into frequencies which couldn’t be heard but could entrance and heighten the senses: isochronic tones which grinded raw pleasure into the bones and hearts and heads of those held captive.
All the inhabitants of the many acres wowed—Asako, even. And yet, as thrilling as the belch was for him, its Truth could not wrench him free from the greedy jaws of Depression, which had cursed him with his doubt and his low-esteem. Their refusal to emancipate Asako outmatched the resolve of the serpent, and thus Depression clung to the vulpine long after the thunderous drumroll of the snake’s eructation.
When the belch expired and became a thing of memory, the terrible jaws slurped down the fox and swallowed him into the stomach of the Shadows: And alas, he was no more free than before the snake behaved to liberate. Again plagued Asako thoughts such as these: Would burping like the serpent and Xerneas never come to him naturally? Never at all?
He couldn’t overlook his setbacks in his belching pursuit. They cast a fog over the light of the progress he had made in the past months. Such a sickening fog—the fog of the breath of Depression itself—it twisted Asako’s innocent admiration of the snake and his belching skills into envy. Then truly Asako was afflicted: crestfallen, filled with suggestions of darkness.
The snake looked into those poor fox eyes, and saw dark ghasts laughing inside them. The snake gasped, for the eyes reminded him of his own from an unlocked memory. With apprehension and a rising panic he gazed into them. He could feel himself falling deeper and deeper into the maelstroms of black. With a hiss of hurt, he flinched away, and then knew Asako’s plight as though it were his own. The pain his fox friend felt had wounded him, and he felt so inept for the cause to help his friend. To the stag Xerneas the snake turned with pleading eyes. Could the stag restore this fox to his former, healthy self?
Could anyone?
Bowing his head of crystalled branches, Xerneas concentrated. He was composing in his mind a belch of the best notes, timbre and personality he could think of. He was also strategizing how to deliver it because he wanted very much to restore Asako to his good welfare. He purged all troubles from his mind. The rainbow shards of his stag horns generated positive energy, pulsating with goodly radiation, vibrating the atmosphere with their cosmogonic magic.
Circlet of shafts of unsoiled light of an otherworld—they sprung from the ground that surrounded him. They speared through the overstory of oaks and elms and linked the mortal world with the heavens—LO! When this link was fastened, pyromantic chains of tangerine beads surged out of the surface of the inmost loam and homed toward his neck with a concave arc. Once the chains did strike, the throat of the stag was supercharged and ready to spill a most splendid belch into his mouth.
The more that Xerneas bowed to the just governance of the Almighty, and focused the magic of its jurisdiction into his stomach, the more that concepts related to belching styles and choreography seemed to him superficial. When he freed himself from the two concepts fully, they became to him wholly unremembered.
Xerneas blanked out. His faith tapped into the manifold chakras of his body and teleported his consciousness from the tangible reality into a higher plane. It was in this plane that the angels, the deities and the strange powers of Eternity inspired him and blessed him with tremendous gases and magics to be soon belched. On the mortal plane the snake and the fox gawked, for the bioluminescence of the stag’s horns grew so strong, they could feel it on their faces. The glow had the toasty tenderness of a matriarchal cuddle. The two horns made manifest angelic, prismatic light and made the air hum and thrum and crackle and fizz. Holy tremors enshrouded the stag’s friends, and slicked every fur follicle on Asako as straight as a pin. Ahh, those harmonizing drones—they impregnated him with hope and anticipation!
The stag’s bear-black stomach blimped out, cramped by many beastly snarls and gurgles and sloshes. The caterwaul of sounds that penetrated the ears of Asako and the serpent rang with monstrous volume and mastered pronunciation, and sounded as though they came from inches away. The hourglass-shaped neck of the stag fell prostrate. Then LO, the sonic gas hydrant of his jaws he laid bare to the world. It began when his herbivorous teeth could be seen gleaming and his tongue doing preparatory flexes. Then, through that chasm of eating erupted his monstrous, mythical eruction facing Asako.
“BURRRRRRRRROOOOOAAAAAAAHHOOAAAAAAAAAAAA—”
HOWL—WHOOP—SNARL—ROAR—POWWW!
When Xerneas unsheathed that bestiary of sound from his belly, there rampaged the most beautiful, most welcome stab of the eardrums the denizens of the woodlands had ever known or witnessed. Just like the colors of the shards of the stag’s octet of horns, the colors of the broad belch splashed over land, over trees, over faces. It delivered unto the lush ecosystem a painterly maelstrom. And who to thank but the owner of that maw, whose torn-apart lips danced with the oomph, the speed and the patterns of light waves?!
Before Asako and the snake could process that they were being belched upon, crags of zags and forks needled across the ground between them and Xerneas. The belch swatted them heatedly against the bole of a great and old tree.
Asako’s eyes splayed open. He was in magnanimous awe. An astral heat embraced his body in that herculean, gastric earthquake. Here thrived a clamor that was a hybrid of lethargic, grousing bears; of battle-wounded barbarians; of rubber balloons being forcibly twisted. This clamor stampeded with its herds of bass and its floods of floral, acerbic stench and its auroral colour palette over the friends of the stag. It roared past 12 seconds. It plunged in tone. It tore away shrubs and layers of earth and then trees. Then came the thirtieth second. Then the cacophonous belch swamped the forest entire in the leviathan murmurs, gurgles and cries expunged from Xerneas’ midriff, as though the forest itself had been swallowed and was thus being smothered in the digestive wafts and internal ruckus within the gut—but NO!
All this was shared with the world outside his stomach: the mythical gases and vocalizations of the world inside. The belch, galumphing powerfully into the fiftieth second, conjured the might of kraken tentacles and chimera jaws and dragon dragonbreaths—LO!
Asako and the snake turned white with wonder and reverence. This belch steamrolled the earth, barking and baying beyond its sixtieth second.
Suddenly, the grasses and the forestry whitened into nonexistence. Neither had been painted or disintegrated, no—no no no. The belch itself ripped a rend through reality, and pulled into another one Xerneas and his friends and the tree against they were pinned. The wondrous, voluptuous, thunderous burst of cervidae belly echoed through the bright white echelon.
“OOOAAAAHHHHHUUUUWWWWWWWWUUUUUURRR—”
The warmth of the caress of a phoenix’s bosom … the embrace of a great snake’s loops … the blurt of a retching leviathan, and the seemingly unending length of one, too: the belch of the stag embodied these concepts. Every sense—the smell/the sight/the taste/the touch/the hearing of Asako and the snake—was heightened. Every independent scale and fur was tickled and molested in the rightest way; every eyeball given a display, of belched vapours, scenic and pornographic; every taste bud confided to the secret of Xerneas’ previous lunch; and every ear-hole made audience to its sweet sibilance, its powerful punch, its endless palpitations.
The stag leaked a tear from his eye. He knew he had abandoned his ego to the good cause and was burping the best he could. He knew, without counting, that he had passed two minutes, and a minute later three. Finally, his belly shrank to its mortal size. The whirlwind of belch ceased—as suddenly as a gopher departs into his or her loam-hole, it departed!
The ribbons of belched colour vaporized around Asako and the snake. The woods materialized around them again; and they fell to the roots of the old and great tree; and they knew with certainty the hope and the happiness of the universal, everlasting Truth.
A tear slid down Asako’s eye. Like an old friend assumed to be dead, his welfare returned to him. His soul had been cleansed of darkness. Once again he knew goodness and confidence. No longer was he an envier of belching talents, but a lover who could both experience and share them. Someday—he knew without a doubt—someday, he would belch a belch of length beyond sixty seconds, of bass beyond his displayed beforehand abilities.
Xerneas sighed a serene sigh. He saw that his work was done. He strode to Asako, then touched his nose to the nose of the white fox. “This is the magic of the stars. But it doesn’t just belong to me or our friend the snake. It is in you. It is always in you. Just don’t forget it is there, my dear friend. Wipe your tear! One day you’ll find it all in you, and you’ll belch just as good as me.” He chuckled. “Even better, I bet.”
Xerneas spoke with untampered light as his aura. Thus, Asako knew the words—in every fibre of his being—to be the Truth. He sobbed harder, not out of sadness but out of happiness. If ever again he lost his cheery demeanor or his determined soul, he would remember this day and let the Light pour into him. In the coming months, he would learn and practise to belch better, and try and try again. Someday, he would belch a belch of legend.
What are your favorite parts? Least favorite? Comments and feedback are welcome!
JN1306Art by
CynderellaA Legendary Belch for a Soulful PlightFor the past two weeks, Asako the white fox had been feeling neither cheery nor determined. He admired the belching abilities of his friends the snake and Xerneas the stag. He loved the two not only because they treated him with kindness and cuddliness but because they had inspired him to practise his own belching techniques. For a couple of months he honed his skills from observing them and aspired to replicate the length and the thunder of their burps.
Asako had succeeded in belching for about 45 seconds once. But then his belly ran empty, and he gagged and needed to take a breath. As two months of diligent practise turned to three, Asako grew dissatisfied with the speed of his improvement and entertained a doubt. He wondered whether he had the innate capacity to match his peers. His cheeriness dissolved.
Xerneas the stag and the snake, they frowned, for they saw that the Asako they knew and loved was falling under grey clouds. They wished him only happiness, that he may live contentedly and pursue again the betterment of his burping craft, so one day they came to Asako with a plan to uplift his spirit.
Asako was sitting, miserably slouch against a rock. Behind the rock, the serpent slithered toward him with a teasing smile. He silently drove himself to the peak of the rock, then suddenly sprung down as he would spring on a prey, and enveloped Asako in his coils of scale. Asako let out a YIP of surprise, but relaxed after a couple of friendly convulsions of the spiralling grasp of the muscly, toasty snake body. Asako could feel his ribs compressing, not too tight—just enough to put rose on his cheeks and to perk his ears.
He lifted his head, and blinked bittersweet eyes at the snake, eyes that wanted so dearly to cherish this moment but could not quite shake off his skepticism of a brighter tomorrow, caused by the stormy tint of the lenses through which he saw, crafted by the foul maker Depression.
Yet, the snake did not relent. He gave Asako a tender lick on the temple, and Asako could feel the trapped birds in his chest fluttering, seeing freedom. Hope flickered in his heart.
The fiery flicker wasn’t strong enough. Tendrils of cold snatched back the hope within him, so even though the warm coils of the snake had him and he had them, the inmost constriction of Asako voided their temperature offering. The serpent saw that still Asako looked despondent, but he did not back down from trying to cheer him up.
Asako heard whispers of wet hubbub come from the snake’s digestive system and felt the snake-loops shudder. The snake’s long underbelly bloated up, squishing Asako oh so nicely. Ahh—the snake was swallowing air bubbles, sending them down to the innards of his paunch. The big coils around Asako expanded more, and their gurgly conversations gained volume. They teased him with tasty shudders, their scales enlarging, the corkscrews of their owner embracing him tighter in their sinewy hug. Wet gurgles spiked through this length, promising Asako that a belch would arrive soon.
The serpent licked Asako between the ears then yawned open his maw. A froggish hiccup of belch bounced out and splattered succulently against Asako’s face. It gave way to a chain of rumbles and gas, a bone-rattling belch.
“Hurrrrrooooaaaaaawwwwwurrrrp!”
This belch was born with a humble tone. Like a ball of large yarn, it unravelled seemingly without end, clothing Asako in a sonic blanket of acidic smell. Past seven seconds the belch persisted. The unfaltering force crashed over the fox’s fox ears and snout, gluing his ears to his head and his whiskers to his muzzle. Gastric humidity permeated the area—and the wafts of rodents, ursines and cervidae too.
Teasingly did the snake narrow his eyes on the fox. He took the tone of his belch to an even deeper level. Progressing into the twenty-second second of his belch, the serpent furthered his conviction and instigated rumbles of the ground. Cracks spread along the mushroomed grass. Steams of sunlit dust billowed up. Chunks of earth popped up, and skipped up and down around these steams. The potency of this belch put prickles of fur on Asako’s nape, for he had never felt such a belch: one which could reach into his chest and hammer his heart, and snatch at his groin and flare his enjoyment to a high crest. The belch expanded the territory of its tumult, scattering its armies of bass throughout this acre and its neighbors; wrapping its momentous arms of vibration and belly exhaust odors around every bush, branch and beast it crossed. The flora of the woods (for consciousness exists in many things, if not all), they were excited by the belch: And they flourished and secreted sweet pheromones into the air; and creatures far and wide froze and awed, for the echoes drummed in the ears again and again, as though the woods was a cavern that the burp so corpulently engrossed.
Forty-five seconds droned on. A large portion of the gastric sound blast cannonballed into frequencies which couldn’t be heard but could entrance and heighten the senses: isochronic tones which grinded raw pleasure into the bones and hearts and heads of those held captive.
All the inhabitants of the many acres wowed—Asako, even. And yet, as thrilling as the belch was for him, its Truth could not wrench him free from the greedy jaws of Depression, which had cursed him with his doubt and his low-esteem. Their refusal to emancipate Asako outmatched the resolve of the serpent, and thus Depression clung to the vulpine long after the thunderous drumroll of the snake’s eructation.
When the belch expired and became a thing of memory, the terrible jaws slurped down the fox and swallowed him into the stomach of the Shadows: And alas, he was no more free than before the snake behaved to liberate. Again plagued Asako thoughts such as these: Would burping like the serpent and Xerneas never come to him naturally? Never at all?
He couldn’t overlook his setbacks in his belching pursuit. They cast a fog over the light of the progress he had made in the past months. Such a sickening fog—the fog of the breath of Depression itself—it twisted Asako’s innocent admiration of the snake and his belching skills into envy. Then truly Asako was afflicted: crestfallen, filled with suggestions of darkness.
The snake looked into those poor fox eyes, and saw dark ghasts laughing inside them. The snake gasped, for the eyes reminded him of his own from an unlocked memory. With apprehension and a rising panic he gazed into them. He could feel himself falling deeper and deeper into the maelstroms of black. With a hiss of hurt, he flinched away, and then knew Asako’s plight as though it were his own. The pain his fox friend felt had wounded him, and he felt so inept for the cause to help his friend. To the stag Xerneas the snake turned with pleading eyes. Could the stag restore this fox to his former, healthy self?
Could anyone?
Bowing his head of crystalled branches, Xerneas concentrated. He was composing in his mind a belch of the best notes, timbre and personality he could think of. He was also strategizing how to deliver it because he wanted very much to restore Asako to his good welfare. He purged all troubles from his mind. The rainbow shards of his stag horns generated positive energy, pulsating with goodly radiation, vibrating the atmosphere with their cosmogonic magic.
Circlet of shafts of unsoiled light of an otherworld—they sprung from the ground that surrounded him. They speared through the overstory of oaks and elms and linked the mortal world with the heavens—LO! When this link was fastened, pyromantic chains of tangerine beads surged out of the surface of the inmost loam and homed toward his neck with a concave arc. Once the chains did strike, the throat of the stag was supercharged and ready to spill a most splendid belch into his mouth.
The more that Xerneas bowed to the just governance of the Almighty, and focused the magic of its jurisdiction into his stomach, the more that concepts related to belching styles and choreography seemed to him superficial. When he freed himself from the two concepts fully, they became to him wholly unremembered.
Xerneas blanked out. His faith tapped into the manifold chakras of his body and teleported his consciousness from the tangible reality into a higher plane. It was in this plane that the angels, the deities and the strange powers of Eternity inspired him and blessed him with tremendous gases and magics to be soon belched. On the mortal plane the snake and the fox gawked, for the bioluminescence of the stag’s horns grew so strong, they could feel it on their faces. The glow had the toasty tenderness of a matriarchal cuddle. The two horns made manifest angelic, prismatic light and made the air hum and thrum and crackle and fizz. Holy tremors enshrouded the stag’s friends, and slicked every fur follicle on Asako as straight as a pin. Ahh, those harmonizing drones—they impregnated him with hope and anticipation!
The stag’s bear-black stomach blimped out, cramped by many beastly snarls and gurgles and sloshes. The caterwaul of sounds that penetrated the ears of Asako and the serpent rang with monstrous volume and mastered pronunciation, and sounded as though they came from inches away. The hourglass-shaped neck of the stag fell prostrate. Then LO, the sonic gas hydrant of his jaws he laid bare to the world. It began when his herbivorous teeth could be seen gleaming and his tongue doing preparatory flexes. Then, through that chasm of eating erupted his monstrous, mythical eruction facing Asako.
“BURRRRRRRRROOOOOAAAAAAAHHOOAAAAAAAAAAAA—”
HOWL—WHOOP—SNARL—ROAR—POWWW!
When Xerneas unsheathed that bestiary of sound from his belly, there rampaged the most beautiful, most welcome stab of the eardrums the denizens of the woodlands had ever known or witnessed. Just like the colors of the shards of the stag’s octet of horns, the colors of the broad belch splashed over land, over trees, over faces. It delivered unto the lush ecosystem a painterly maelstrom. And who to thank but the owner of that maw, whose torn-apart lips danced with the oomph, the speed and the patterns of light waves?!
Before Asako and the snake could process that they were being belched upon, crags of zags and forks needled across the ground between them and Xerneas. The belch swatted them heatedly against the bole of a great and old tree.
Asako’s eyes splayed open. He was in magnanimous awe. An astral heat embraced his body in that herculean, gastric earthquake. Here thrived a clamor that was a hybrid of lethargic, grousing bears; of battle-wounded barbarians; of rubber balloons being forcibly twisted. This clamor stampeded with its herds of bass and its floods of floral, acerbic stench and its auroral colour palette over the friends of the stag. It roared past 12 seconds. It plunged in tone. It tore away shrubs and layers of earth and then trees. Then came the thirtieth second. Then the cacophonous belch swamped the forest entire in the leviathan murmurs, gurgles and cries expunged from Xerneas’ midriff, as though the forest itself had been swallowed and was thus being smothered in the digestive wafts and internal ruckus within the gut—but NO!
All this was shared with the world outside his stomach: the mythical gases and vocalizations of the world inside. The belch, galumphing powerfully into the fiftieth second, conjured the might of kraken tentacles and chimera jaws and dragon dragonbreaths—LO!
Asako and the snake turned white with wonder and reverence. This belch steamrolled the earth, barking and baying beyond its sixtieth second.
Suddenly, the grasses and the forestry whitened into nonexistence. Neither had been painted or disintegrated, no—no no no. The belch itself ripped a rend through reality, and pulled into another one Xerneas and his friends and the tree against they were pinned. The wondrous, voluptuous, thunderous burst of cervidae belly echoed through the bright white echelon.
“OOOAAAAHHHHHUUUUWWWWWWWWUUUUUURRR—”
The warmth of the caress of a phoenix’s bosom … the embrace of a great snake’s loops … the blurt of a retching leviathan, and the seemingly unending length of one, too: the belch of the stag embodied these concepts. Every sense—the smell/the sight/the taste/the touch/the hearing of Asako and the snake—was heightened. Every independent scale and fur was tickled and molested in the rightest way; every eyeball given a display, of belched vapours, scenic and pornographic; every taste bud confided to the secret of Xerneas’ previous lunch; and every ear-hole made audience to its sweet sibilance, its powerful punch, its endless palpitations.
The stag leaked a tear from his eye. He knew he had abandoned his ego to the good cause and was burping the best he could. He knew, without counting, that he had passed two minutes, and a minute later three. Finally, his belly shrank to its mortal size. The whirlwind of belch ceased—as suddenly as a gopher departs into his or her loam-hole, it departed!
The ribbons of belched colour vaporized around Asako and the snake. The woods materialized around them again; and they fell to the roots of the old and great tree; and they knew with certainty the hope and the happiness of the universal, everlasting Truth.
A tear slid down Asako’s eye. Like an old friend assumed to be dead, his welfare returned to him. His soul had been cleansed of darkness. Once again he knew goodness and confidence. No longer was he an envier of belching talents, but a lover who could both experience and share them. Someday—he knew without a doubt—someday, he would belch a belch of length beyond sixty seconds, of bass beyond his displayed beforehand abilities.
Xerneas sighed a serene sigh. He saw that his work was done. He strode to Asako, then touched his nose to the nose of the white fox. “This is the magic of the stars. But it doesn’t just belong to me or our friend the snake. It is in you. It is always in you. Just don’t forget it is there, my dear friend. Wipe your tear! One day you’ll find it all in you, and you’ll belch just as good as me.” He chuckled. “Even better, I bet.”
Xerneas spoke with untampered light as his aura. Thus, Asako knew the words—in every fibre of his being—to be the Truth. He sobbed harder, not out of sadness but out of happiness. If ever again he lost his cheery demeanor or his determined soul, he would remember this day and let the Light pour into him. In the coming months, he would learn and practise to belch better, and try and try again. Someday, he would belch a belch of legend.
FIN
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Category Story / Inflation
Species Pokemon
Size 120 x 120px
File Size 116.7 kB
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