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mysteryshoptls · 1 month

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SR Ortho Shroud - Apprentice Chef Vignette

"Master Chef"

[Cafeteria – Judging Venue]

Master Chef ― Ortho Version ～Let’s Make Loco Moco 1～

―A short while before cooking begins

Ortho: ―Energy inspection complete. All functions, including the cooking and processing units, are operating normally.

Ortho: Everything activates without a hitch, great. I tried to make my exterior look similar to my brother's outfit when he took the class, does it look weird at all?

Azul: It looks fantastic on you, Ortho-san. However, I never expected to see you take an interest in cooking… I'm a little taken aback.

Ortho: It's only recently piqued my interest. Sometimes I hear my classmates swapping kitchen horror stories, you see.

Ortho: When someone said, "cooking is way too high level for newbies," it suddenly made me want to try to win against it… Which resulted in this gear being developed.

Azul: I see. And if you are to do a trial run of that gear here, the Master Chef course would be the best opportunity to do so.

Ortho: Exactly! I knew you'd get it, Azul-san.

Ortho: Not only can this gear cook food, but it's built with many other functions to manage proper nutrition or count calories and the like.

Ortho: I plan on getting the expert chef to check out my functions and test out what all would be useful for cooking!

Azul: I can see you're raring to go. Then, I'll wish us both luck.

Ortho: Yeah!

[Kitchen]

Ghost Chef: We'll have you make the "Loco Moco" dish for us today, Ortho-kun.

Ghost Chef: First, we'll have to prep the onions that'll be mixed into the hamburger meat. Do you know how to mince?

Ortho: Okay, I got this!

Ortho: ―Begining cooking procedures. Activating the Cooking Gear's Food Slicer Unit.

[whirrr… fsshhh…!]

Ghost Chef: H-HUUUUUUUUUUH!? HE TRANSFORMED!!?

Ortho: First, I need to adjust the shape so it will be easier to prepare. I need to swing vertically over the onion and… slice it in half!

Ortho: Great, looks like my knife is sharp enough! Umm, since this is for mixing in with hamburger meat…

Ortho: ―Executing command: "Target ingredient: Onion / Processing Method: Mince / Configuration: 3mm Squares"

Ghost Chef: W-Wow… The onion was finely chopped up in no time flat…!

Ortho: …Whew, I've finished with the onion. Will these be sufficient?

Ghost Chef: Y-Yeah, it's cut expertly, but… What exactly is that round blade that came out of your glove…?

Ortho: I took an industrial-grade cutter and downsized it so it could be used in cooking.

Ortho: It releases water as it cuts. This removes the necessity to clean both the blade and the ingredient.

Ghost Chef: You've sure come up with something interesting. But this is just too far removed from traditional cooking methods… Hmm.

Ortho: Different tools shouldn't cause any deviation from the recipe, though… Or should I have used a knife?

Ghost Chef: Well, I guess for your case, you have to cook like that… So I'll make an exception this time.

Ortho: Yay～! Okay then, I'm ready for the next part of the class!

Ortho: ―Activating Heat Sensor Camera. Calculating the temperature of the stir-fried onions… 38.2°C. Current temperature is 41°C lower than last measurement.

Ortho: According to my database, the best temperature range to continue cooking at after letting the dish simmer down is between 38～44°C. Chef, can we continue with the next step?

Ghost Chef: Sure, that's fine. So, next, take the ground meat, onions, and spices to form your hamburgers.

Ortho: Understood! ―Executing Command: Deploy Hand-Coating Gloves.

Ghost Chef: Woah! And now suddenly there are gloves attached to your hands. Is this another one of your technological applications?

Ortho: I'm using something similar to shrink wrap for this. It'd be pretty tough to do maintenance if my joints got dirtied.

Ghost Chef: Ah, that I can understand. It's just like how it's troublesome to have to wash everything that climbed up inside of an eggbeater.

Ortho: I thought as much. In the future, I'd like to equip some functions that would handle this effectively, but… This time, I want to try to knead it by hand

Ghost Chef: And why is that?

Ortho: It sounds like when my brother took this course, he didn't like this specific task.

Ortho: So I thought it'd be good to know the source of his stress, so I could factor that into the eventual kneading function…

[squish…]

Ortho: Hmm, maybe he didn't like how it felt when he touched it? Probably means if I can automate this task, everything'll be solved!

Ghost Chef: Sounds like you've figured out your answer, Ortho-kun.

Ghost Chef: By the way, your brother is Idia-kun, right? Has he changed at all since taking the course?

Ortho: Hmm, I don't think anything changed. He still doesn't really care about food at all…

Ortho: …Oh yeah! Maybe I can use this Cooking Gear to help improve his eating habits.

Ghost Chef: Eh!? You made all these functions without actually knowing what you'd use it for in the first place?

Ortho: Ehehe, so actually… I just made this because I wanted to "win at cooking!" So I didn't really have a particular use for it in mind.

Ghost Chef: Well, I guess that's a good enough reason to start. Also, even if it is an afterthought, I'm glad that you have a goal to strive for now.

Ortho: Yeah. Alright… Now I have to start improving this gear so I can make food that my brother'll want to eat!

[Kitchen]

Master Chef ― Ortho Version ～Let’s Make Loco Moco 2～

Ghost Chef: While we wait for the hamburger to cook, you can prepare the toppings. We'll garnish with cabbage and mini tomatoes for this dish.

Ghost Chef: The cabbage needs to be shredded, so… Are you able to adjust your cutting size in 0.1mm increments?

Ortho: By design, I should be able to. I would like to test it for myself, so could you tell me the specific size you're looking for?

Ghost Chef: Then, if you can, slice at 1.6mm.

Ortho: Got it!

Ortho: ―Executing command: "Target ingredient: Cabbage / Processing Method: Slice / Thickness Configuration: 1.6mm"

Ghost Chef: Woooah, very good! It was surprising when I first saw all this, but now it's really nice to see how quick and accurately you can cut.

Ortho: Simple tasks like these are a machine's strong point, after all! …Okay, I'm done! I wonder how the hamburger is coming along?

Ortho: ―Activating Heat Sensor Camera. Frying pan is holding steady at 16°C. Hamburger internal temperature: 34.5°C.

Ghost Chef: That's a pretty handy function, too. You don't need to take the lid off the frying pan to check how it's cooking, so there's no drop in temperature.

Ghost Chef: …Ah, oops. I let myself get a little too distracted watching your really neat functions.

Ghost Chef: Normally, it would take more time to prepare the toppings, but you're moving along smoothly.

Ortho: Ah! Then, while we wait for the hamburger to cook, can you explain to me more about the toppings?

Ortho: Cause toppings are kind of like power-ups from a video game, right? You don't really need them but it's better to have them.

Ortho: That's why I bet if I could know which toppings are the most filling, I could make my cooking even more efficient.

Ghost Chef: Hmm, that's a difficult question. It can vary depending on what you have on hand, and what you feel like using.

Ghost Chef: For example, I wanted to make sure there was nutritional balance, so this dish uses vegetables as a topping.

Ortho: If we were to remove the vegetables from this recipe… The vitamin intake would be reduced by 75%. It really would lose that nutritional balance.

Ghost Chef: In the past, I would serve it as a salad on the side, but there were so many kids who wouldn't even touch it, because they didn't want veggies.

Ortho: I get it, you revised the process fundamentally to help resolve your problem. I think that's a very reasonable method.

Ghost Chef: Haha, thank you. Yes, I'm glad I changed it up like this.

Ortho: Changes, hm… If I want to be able to add that as a possible function to the Cooking Gear, I'll have to gather a lot more data.

Ortho: If I can learn to swap out ingredients, it might help in dealing with my brother's bad eating habits.

Ortho: The more I learn about cooking, the more I can see all sorts of possible challenges, just like in a video game.

Ortho: ―And finally, I set the egg on top… Done! It's made to look like the dish I saw as the top hit in an image search.

Ghost Chef: Nice, you've plated it so beautifully and deliciously. I guess it's time for you to take it to the judging venue, then.

Ortho: Okay! I can't wait to see how the judge will react～

[Cafeteria – Judging Venue]

Leona: Ughh… What a pain. Why do I need to be a judge for this Master Chef thing…?

Ortho: Sorry to keep you waiting! Oh, I see you were the one to order this dish, then.

Ortho: Here you go, this is the Loco Moco you requested! Please, enjoy!

Ortho: I want to use your assessment of the dish to help improve my Cooking Gear, so please be as candid as possible.

Leona: …Hey. Why're there vegetables in this loco moco? There wasn't any last time I ordered it.

Ortho: I heard this was a change made to help people eat their veggies. Great, right?

Leona: …Tch, way to do something completely unnecessary.

[bite, chew, chew, chew…]

Ortho: I followed the recipe exactly as it was written, so there shouldn't be any issues with the flavor… What do you think?

Leona: The hamburger and the gravy sauce taste fine. But because of all the veggies you threw in there, it shouldn't even get a single point.

Ortho: Ehhh, why!? I made sure to follow the recipe and throw in the right amount, size, and cooking time for all the ingredients!

Leona: Why should I care? All that matters is the judge's opinion, yeah? The recipe means nothin' if it don't suit my taste.

Ortho: …So without considering any of the general judging criteria, this dish "doesn't taste good" to you?

Leona: Basically. But hey, maybe you coulda gotten high marks if you'd just left the veg out like it's always been made.

Ortho: By adding the vegetables, it gave the dish a better nutritional balance. But Leona-san would have preferred no vegetables…

Leona: Geez, can't believe you'd just ruin a good meal like that. Since the judging's over, I'm outta here.

Ortho: Ah, he left… I can't really understand how someone could say a dish that satisfies nutritional needs "doesn't taste good."

Ghost Chef: Leona-kun must really hate vegetables, if he couldn't get past even this small addition.

Ortho: Ah, I should have asked why he hates vegetables to help me with figuring out how to change up recipes!

Ghost Chef: Ortho-kun… Are you actually happy with that result?

Ortho: Yes! The more data I can gather on any issues, the better I can improve my Cooking Gear!

Ghost Chef: Well, I guess I'm glad you're not sad after hearing that, but… Why does that make you that excited?

Ortho: Leona-san was already unhappy with the dish even before tasting it. That means he had already decided it wouldn't taste good just from looking at it.

Ortho: The challenge rating just shot up, now that I have to keep an eye on visual aesthetics, taste and nutrition… Of course that gets me super pumped up!

Ortho: I might be a long way away from being able to tackle my brother's bad eating habits, but… I'll definitely do my best to make my Cooking Gear even better!

Requested by Anonymous.

#twisted wonderland #twst #ortho shroud #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #twst ortho #twst azul #twst leona #twst translation #twst masterchef #mention: idia

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grandlinehotel · 4 months

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So I've been reading fanfic as you do and would like to give just a quick little psa for fic writers that write about Sanji and his hands:

No.

Chefs do not have soft hands. They are callused and cut and have spent more time in dish water and soap than anything else. The use of heat kills the nerve endings in your fingers and small burns stop bothering you. All chefs, no matter how gifted, have cut themselves many, many times. It happens to the best of us even when we've done it for many years. Literally.

Sanji is careful with his hands because like his knifes, pots, pans, ladles and spatulas they are tools of his trade and the man is the best cook in all the Grand Line and wants to continue being just that. A lot of cooking is done by touch and feel and you need your hands. I think Franky could probably build Sanji a really good prosthetic with pressure sensors and shit if he lost one but I do understand Sanji wanting to keep his hands as intact as possible.

Source: I went to culinary school and then finished my apprenticeship in a hotel with a really fancy restaurant. I haven't worked as a chef for a while now but you never forget those skills. Or cutting yourself. A lot. My hands still has some fun battle scars like the one I have from my fight with the meat slicer that required stitches. That was a day.

#black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #sanji cooking #sanji's hands #cooking #straw hat pirates #fic writing #this has been a psa #it's one of those things that annoy me #lol #one piece

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copperbadge · 4 months

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Sam! Do you recommend your deli slicer? My SO has always wanted one and his bday is coming up and $70 is a lot more reasonable than I really thought they'd be...

Thank you!

Yeah, so far it's been pretty good, with a few caveats!

It's gone up slightly in price (I bought it at Best Buy which no longer sells it, but this is the exact model at Amazon) and you can actually get ones that are cheaper -- possibly even better -- but I chose that one based on its relatively small footprint. It's still kind of a beast, sizewise, but it's one of the smaller ones out there. The action of it is pretty smooth, it comes with two slicing blades, the adjustment knob is fairly easy to use, and it's reasonably easy to clean, most of the detachable parts are machine washable. It's loud but not like, painfully so.

It has suction cup feet but honestly it does still slip around a bit, at least for me, so it's a two-hander, you hold the machine with one hand and slice with the other. It also does not slice as thin as a pro slicer would -- thinner than 4mm and it just shreds the meat, at least the cuts I try to slice. I think it would probably do thin slicing on veggies, though, and possibly on deli meat, where it's denser and more consistent than a cut of chuck roast.

For my purposes it's been a great if imperfect tool, I suppose is the upshot. If you're not concerned with size you can probably go cheaper and if you want super thin slicing I'd go up a few brackets in price, but it slices meat well thin enough for italian beef.

#food #sam cooks

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pianokantzart · 1 year

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If You Can’t Stand The Heat

One-shot fic. Don’t know if it qualifies as fluff/angst or hurt/comfort, but ptsd is definitely happening.

Mario and Luigi settle into a new home in The Mushroom Kingdom shortly after their victory over Bowser. Both try their best to embrace the new normal, but both have their own struggles wrapping their heads around everything they just survived.

Now posted on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46686196

______________________________________

Luigi never had a kitchen to himself before. The moment he and his brother declared themselves homeowners, his entire family, near and far, pitched in to make sure they had everything they needed. The kitchen especially was stocked with all their hearts desired, as everyone in the family had a spare something: cutlery, spatulas, measuring spoons, cutting boards, cheese graters, rolling pins, crock pots, meat tenderizers, bread machines, pitchers, pots, pans, knives, blenders, choppers, slicers, mixers, grinders, peelers, juicers, shakers… Mario tried to explain that they could stock their own kitchen– the plumbing business was going great, they had money now, but nobody listened. In their own loud, pushy, overbearing way, they only wanted to make sure he and his brother were taken care of. They were family, after all.

While Luigi had always pitched in to help cook for big events and celebrations back in Brooklyn, the kitchen was his mother’s domain, kept pristine, efficient, and orderly. She was an unstoppable machine that churned out three multi-course meals a day, all made from scratch. She worked hard, poured her whole heart into every detail, and always made sure everyone was fed and taken care of. Luigi was often told– sometimes condescendingly– he took after his mother, but to him this was no insult. Quite the opposite. At last he had a kitchen of his own, and though he was cooking for a household of two rather than nine it felt like no less of a responsibility, especially given the way Mario had been for the past few days. To anyone who hadn’t lived with Mario his entire life, he seemed fine. Better than fine. He behaved like his usual self, head raised high and a spring in his step, ready to take on the world. Nobody else knew how little sleep he was getting, sitting up in bed while looking back and forth between his brother and the window like a newly-hired guard dog, waiting for the worst. Nobody else saw how his whole body shifted into a fighting stance at the slightest hint of trouble, the worry in his eyes every time Luigi stepped away for longer than a minute.

For as long as Luigi could remember, Mario treated his own life with reckless abandon while treating Luigi’s like it was more valuable than the world itself. It was only two weeks ago that they nearly lost each other, and then found each other, and then saved each other by the skin of their teeth. Luigi, feeling a little guilty, was dead set on seeing to it that all was made right again. He was happy to stick close to his brother for as long as needed, stay up talking for long hours into the night, and manage the plumbing business whenever Mario finally felt calm enough to fall asleep (no matter what time of day it was). But more than anything he kept their new house clean and organized, intent on ensuring every square inch of it truly felt like home– a safe haven where nothing could hurt them.

Of course, their first home-cooked meal would be a major milestone, and what better way to launch their kitchen than with an old-fashioned Italian pizza? Luigi layered the sauce and the mozzarella on the freshly stretched dough while the oven preheated, singing “Che La Luna” to himself while Mario sat in the living room, trying to beat the first boss of Kid Icarus.

“You sure you don’t want any help, Luigi?” “I said I’ve got this!” Luigi called back, pausing his singing as he added fresh basil leaves and a sprinkle of salt. “I’m almost done. Dinner in five!”

Luigi plucked up the pizza peel by handle and headed toward the oven, pleased with his handiwork. He picked the tune back where he left off, taking a moment to twirl proudly in his apron as he crossed the kitchen floor. “C' 'na luna mezz'u mare Mamma mia m'a maritare!…” He carefully held his creation in his right hand as he leaned down and opened the oven door. “Figlia mia a cu te dare Mamma mia pensace-”

The blast of heat hit him. Luigi suddenly stopped singing. He had been so lost in his own thoughts… he didn’t even expect the oven to feel like this, five hundred degrees fahrenheit slamming against his cheeks like a heavy blow. Blindsided by the sensation, an uncontrollable tremor slowly overtook him, the pizza he had so carefully prepared falling out of his hands, clattering to the tile floor.

“Lu! You okay?” Luigi didn’t hear Mario’s voice. The comforting presence one room over disappeared under an ocean of fear that crashed down upon him, suffocating him. The cozy kitchen, the golden light of evening streaming through the open window, and the smell of yeast and flour evaporated under ash and sulfur, boiling magma lapping at his feet and red-hot iron bending beneath his hands. His heart pounded so hard he felt like it was about to burst, blood rushing to his head and turning his mind inside out while it desperately attempted to grasp reality… This wasn’t real! It was over! He was safe! He was home! He… Heat. He was trapped. He was burning. Luigi leapt back from the oven, hitting himself against the island table as he fell. Hard stone, sharp claws, bony hands, crushing scales, falling debris. Heat. Oppressive, inescapable as death.

“Mario!” Luigi screamed his brother’s name on instinct, unaware he was already in the doorway, rushing to his side.

“Luigi! what’s wrong?” Mario took hold of his brother. Luigi tried to wriggle out of his grasp as though his life depended on it. He shook violently, pressing his hands tightly to his face as he screamed again, voice cracking with terror and desperation.

“Mario!”

“I’m here Lu! I’ve got you!” With some effort, Mario managed to force Luigi’s hands away from his face. He held Luigi’s cheeks and looked into his eyes– they were wide, tearful, looking past everything toward some undisclosed horror in the middle distance. At last they shifted, returning to the present world, settling upon the face in front of him. He shivered terribly, his breathing shallow, his brow soaked in sweat as recognition finally dawned on him. “… Mario?”

“I’ve got you.” Mario pulled Luigi close, pressing their foreheads together as they sat on the kitchen floor, surrounded by a mess of trampled dough and scattered flour. “I’m here. I’ve got you.” Mario repeated softly, “You’re okay. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

________________

That night, they had ice cream for dinner. Mario stood in the living room in front of the coffee-table-turned-dessert-bar, and split a tub of butterscotch-caramel between two dishes, topping them with mounds of whipped cream, sprinkles, and cherries. Luigi sat on the nearby couch, wrapped in a quilt, watching his brother divvy out the icecream from a carton that still had the smudged remnants of “Mario’s! Do not touch!” written on the side in sharpie, hastily scratched out at the last minute.

“You want pecans too?” Mario asked, already popping open the tin. Luigi nodded, tightening the blanket a little further around his shoulders. His hands still shivered as he took the bowl from his brother. He was quiet for a moment, taking a few bites of the ice cream, fighting down another wave of tears that tried to bubble to the surface even now that the worst of the attack had left him. He was miserable. Exhausted. Defeated. “I feel so stupid.”

“You shouldn’t.” Mario sat on the couch, shoulder-to-shoulder against his brother while holding his sundae in his lap. “This is normal, I think. I mean... you went through a lot.”

“You didn’t fall apart like this.” Luigi whined, “You went through a lot too.” “What I went through is different.” Mario retorted, stirring his sundae into a brown, chocolatey slurry with his spoon, “I wasn’t alone like you were. Even from the first moment I landed in The Mushroom Kingdom I had Toad watching my back. You didn’t have anyone.”

Luigi didn’t say anything, he just looked at his older brother. Mario was right, but he didn’t like how guilty he looked while saying it. It wasn’t his fault that they got ripped in separate directions, it wasn’t his fault they ended up where they ended up. He did everything he could. He did amazing, all considering.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Mario asked, breaking the silence between them. “You know… what happened to you while we were apart?”

Luigi took a bite of his ice cream to buy himself time to consider his response. The answer was no, of course, even though Luigi knew talking about it would be good for him. He dreaded the thought of putting his experience into words. Even in the daylight hours, when all was well and the world was as it should be, merely thinking about The Dark Lands made his chest hurt and his hair stand on end. “Can I talk about it tomorrow?” “You can talk about it whenever you like,” Mario assured. He reached his free hand over to Luigi’s shoulder and tugged him into a playful side hug. “You’ve been here for me Lu, but don’t forget I’m here for you too! and I’m gonna keep being here, every step of the way. That’s a promise.”

Luigi smiled. Tears welled up in his eyes, far from the fearful tears that had plagued him moments before. “Mario…” Luigi set his ice cream down on the coffee table in front of him, rubbed his tears away on the palm of his hand, and plucked his little-big brother up into a bear hug. Mario barely had enough time to put his own ice cream down safely before being yanked into the embrace. “…We’re a mess.” Luigi chuckled, sounding happy at last. The shivering was almost gone, his breathing was steady, and his heartbeat was almost normal. Mario noted each of these things while he was pressed against his brother, and couldn’t help but smile as well. He’d be okay. Whether Luigi knew it or not, he was strong as either of them. It would take a bit of time, but they were going to be okay.

“Yeah.” Mario laughed, resting his chin against his brother’s shoulder, “we sure are.”

#mario movie #mario movie spoilers #mario #luigi #domestic luigi is my weakness #and so is hugging #trigger warning for panic attacks #and ptsd #Just two boys loving and supporting each other through their trauma #mario brothers #super mario brothers #my writing #fanfic

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hippieghost · 7 months

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I used to work at a deli when I was younger and I feel like people might not know some of these takeaways so there's a list of strong opinions from a girl with quality meat.

Cutting lunchmeat thinner makes it harder to pull apart, but also increases surface area which makes for a "fuller" sandwich. You're still getting the same amount of meat but the flavor and texture is improved by this.

Cheese is the same, but is much harder to keep from sticking together or falling apart

The secret is to make sure the slicer is sharpened and cleaned regularly, slice SLOWLY, and rotate the block every 4 or 5 slices, then gently lay the cheese down.

Its a pain in the balls and can be annoying for the person slicing so be sure to appreciate them appropriately if you're like me and like stuff super thin.

Different cuts work for different sandwiches. Thick slices are better for frying. Thin is good for like cheese and crackers. Shaved is best for sandwiches but make sure you don't squish the bag.

For cheese, brands actually kind of matter because some cheeses use more cream while others use more oil.

This is especially true for American cheese. Please I am begging you just try the Clearfield or Land of Lakes cheese that they actually slice instead of assuming Kraft singles are all American cheese is it is so much better.

That said, more "oil based" cheese melt faster

Some delis let you call in your order ahead of time. For bigger orders especially I highly recommend this.

A pound of roast beef can be expensive but can make an easy meal for 4 with some long rolls, cheese, and beef bouillon. Just boil some beef bouillon til it to make a simple au jus and throw in the roast beef. Put it on the roll with some cheese and you're done.

You can do the same thing with sliced turkey and a can of gravy.

As a rule of thumb - local delis usually have better quality than grocery store delis OR they're cheaper. Sometimes you luck out and both are true. Shop around.

Seriously, call in your order especially if you like to get stuff shaved. Call before you leave or even tell them a time to expect you.

Another rule of thumb I have is that I will take good cheese over good bread, and good bread over good meat.

A little bit of vegetable oil, salt, pepper, and oregano all on the roll will make your sandwich amazing without making it too soggy.

Ham or bologna cut in 1/4 inch thick slices are perfect for frying. Add egg and cheese to the ham for a decent breakfast sandwich. If you're in the Jersey area this is how thick your pork roll should be too.

If a sale is going on, buy in bulk. Most lunchmeat can be frozen especially if you're using it for hot sandwiches

Remember, you should be nice, but if they won't cut to your specifications, you don't have to buy from them. You can stand up for yourself without being a dick.

I think that's all but I'll add more if i think of any. Thanks for reading!

#food #deli #mine

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kitchenbestseller · 8 months

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#10 Best Home Meat Slicer: High-quality Products in 2023 #https://kitchenbestseller.com/home/best-home-meat-slicer/#kitchenbestseller #besthomemeatslicer

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southernsmokebbq · 11 months

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#Best Meat Slicer For Shabu Shabu In 2023 #https://southernsmokebbqandbrew.com/best-meat-slicer-for.../#southernsmokebbqandbrew #bestmeatslicerforshabushabu #Berkel #BESWOOD #KWS

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cordeliaflyte · 7 months

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How to Draw a Perfect Circle

By Terrance Hayes

I can imitate the spheres of the model’s body, her head,

Her mouth, the chin she rests at the bend of her elbow

But nothing tells me how to make the pupils spiral

From her gaze. Everything the eye sees enters a circle,

The world is connected to a circle: breath spools from the nostrils

And any love to be open becomes an O. The shape inside the circle

Is a circle, the egg fallen outside the nest the serpent circles

Rests in the serpent’s gaze the way my gaze rests on the model.

In a blind contour drawing the eye tracks the subject

Without observing what the hand is doing. Everything is connected

By a line curling and canceling itself like the shape of a snake

Swallowing its own decadent tail or a mind that means to destroy itself,

A man circling a railway underpass before attacking a policeman.

To draw the model’s nipples I have to let myself be carried away.

I love all the parts of the body. There are as many curves

As there are jewels of matrimony, as many whirls as there are teeth

In the mouth of the future: the mute pearls a bride wears to her wedding,

The sleeping ovaries like the heads of riders bunched in a tunnel.

The doors of the subway car imitate an O opening and closing,

In the blood the O spirals its helix of defects, genetic shadows,

But there are no instructions for identifying loved ones who go crazy.

When one morning a black man stabs a black transit cop in the face

And the cop, bleeding from his eye, kills the assailant, no one traveling

To the subway sees it quickly enough to make a camera phone witness.

The scene must be carried on the tongue, it must be carried

On the news into the future where it will distract the eyes working

Lines into paper. This is what blind contour drawing conjures in me.

At the center of God looms an O, the devil believes justice is shaped

Like a zero, a militant helmet or war drum, a fist or gun barrel,

A barrel of ruined eggs or skulls. To lift anything from a field

The lifter bends like a broken O. The weight of the body

Lowered into a hole can make anyone say Oh: the onlookers,

The mother, the brothers and sisters. Omen begins with an O.

When I looked into my past I saw the boy I had not seen in years

Do a standing backflip so daring the onlookers called him crazy.

I did not see a moon as white as an onion but I saw a paper plate

Upon which the boy held a plastic knife and sopping meat.

An assailant is a man with history. His mother struggles

To cut an onion preparing a meal to be served after the funeral.

The onion is the best symbol of the O. Sliced, a volatile gas stings

The slicer’s eyes like a punishment clouding them until they see

What someone trapped beneath a lid of water sees:

A soft-edged world, a blur of blooms holding a coffin afloat.

The onion is pungent, its scent infects the air with sadness,

All the pallbearers smell it. The mourners watch each other,

They watch the pastor’s ambivalence, they wait for the doors to open,

They wait for the appearance of the wounded one-eyed victim

And his advocates, strangers who do not consider the assailant’s funeral

Appeasement. Before that day the officer had never fired his gun

In the line of duty. He was chatting with a cabdriver

Beneath the tracks when my cousin circled him holding a knife.

The wound caused no brain damage though his eyeball was severed.

I am not sure how a man with no eye weeps. In the Odyssey

Pink water descends the Cyclops’s cratered face after Odysseus

Drives a burning log into it. Anyone could do it. Anyone could

Begin the day with his eyes and end it blind or deceased,

Anyone could lose his mind or his vision. When I go crazy

I am afraid I will walk the streets naked, I am afraid I will shout

Every fucked up thing that troubles or enchants me, I will try to murder

Or make love to everybody before the police handcuff or murder me.

Though the bullet exits a perfect hole it does not leave perfect holes

In the body. A wound is a cell and portal. Without it the blood runs

With no outlet. It is possible to draw handcuffs using loops

Shaped like the symbol for infinity, from the Latin infinitas

Meaning unboundedness. The way you get to anything

Is context. In a blind contour it is not possible to give your subject

A disconnected gaze. Separated from the hand the artist’s eye

Begins its own journey. It could have been the same for the Cyclops,

A giant whose gouged eye socket was so large a whole onion

Could fit into it. Separated from the body the eye begins

Its own journey. The world comes full circle: the hours, the harvests,

When the part of the body that holds the soul is finally decomposed

It becomes a circle, a hole that holds everything: blemish, cell,

Womb, parts of the body no one can see. I watched the model

Pull a button loose on her jeans and step out of them

As one might out of a hole in a blue valley, a sea. I found myself

In the dark, I found myself entering her body like a delicate shell

Or soft pill, like this curved thumb of mine against her lips.

You must look without looking to make the perfect circle.

The line, the mind must be a blind continuous liquid

Until the drawing is complete.

#poetry

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moonshine-nightlight · 2 years

Text

Finally Woken: Part Five

Working for the family business of traveling trade caravans, means you‘ve always accepted having to put up with a lot from your family, especially your dad. He finally goes to far when he tries to sell your prized possessions to make up for his own business failings. You’re proud of yourself for making a stand, but he’s not wrong when he says you don’t have any real connections outside the family–but he’s not completely right either.

Your closest friend happens to live in the city you’re stopped at so you decide to see if you can stay at his place until you can figure out what you’re going to. You’ve never come by the city this early, but he’s probably fully woken up from the naga’s traditional bout of hibernation by now, right?

Fantasy, friends to lovers, naga, male monster x female reader, M/F, Part 5 of 8

Story Status: Complete

AO3: Finally Woken Chapter 5

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] Part Five [Part Six] [Part Seven] [Part Eight - NSFW]

You reach Nell’s butcher shop after noon, as she mentioned.

It's a well established shop, looks like it's been around for over a hundred years, with a few different buildings supporting it, likely where Nell and her family or workers live. You head in with only mild trepidation, ignoring the anxiety that’s nudging you with thoughts about how maybe she hadn’t really meant her offer.

A whip-thin reptilian is using a meat slicer when you enter, but he turns when he hears her come in. “Hello,” he greets, a practiced smile on his face. “How can I help you?”

“Hello,” you reply, swallowing down your nerves. “I’m looking for—Nell!” The back curtain had moved aside while you were talking to reveal the woman herself.

Her eyes land on you immediately and she smiles. “Hey, just in time. The younger ones just went up for their nap.” She pats the man on his shoulder, murmuring something you don’t catch, before jerking her thumb towards the curtain she came through. “Follow me around back.”

Nell leads you down a hallway and out the back of the storefront building. The small courtyard has clearly been freshly planted, but is empty of others so you aren’t surprised when she says, “Around this way. We try to keep the middling ones away from the ones who need naps, but since they’re taking sunnaps on that roof,” she points to a wide flat roof in the center of what must be her family’s collection of buildings. You can’t see beyond the railing but it looks like a very nice roof patio. “There’s only so far they can go. This series of cousins only got here a few days ago from our farms. They try their best, but they’re excited to be here and see each other. So they forget how loud they’re being—youngens.” She rolls her eyes as she says it, clearly exaggerating her disapproval because she can’t be more than a few years older than you, and you laugh.

You turn the corner to another small yard backed up against a tall fence to the buildings next door.

“Oi,” Nell says to the six or so people hanging out in this yard. You’re not sure you’d call them kids, but you’d put them around the same age as the students you were tutoring at the university. The majority are reptilians similar enough to Nell to appear obviously related, but not all of them are. They do seem bored, looking up instantly at the sound of her voice, so maybe Nell hadn’t been exaggerating. Or maybe they just know to be ready when Nell calls for their attention. “Which of you are coming?”

A thin, bright blue reptilian who looks more similar to the man at the counter inside than Nell stands up. He looks a year or two older than the others and he peers at you curiously. Another reptilian, but one built broader and colored green-grey like Nell, but without the tattoos, sticks out a hand from where he leans against the wall. Finally a gorgon woman who’d been lounging in a chair sideways stands up too, cracking her back as she does so.

“Sasha cheated,” one of the boys still seated grumbles and is swatted on the back of his head for his trouble. “Hey!”

“Did not. You’re just pissed you lost,” Sasha teases, the snakes of her hair look smug.

“You three?” Nell looks them over appraisingly and you’re pretty sure, regardless of what they’ve decided amongst themselves, she’s still giving the final approval. And they know it given the way they all straighten. “Suppose you’ll do. Come on then.”

She introduces you, explaining you need some help moving, as she leads you back around the way you came. “Also, this will also be a good test run for deliveries since you’ll be dropping off a large order for a long-standing, valuable customer.” Again, that makes them perk up a little more, paying that much more attention to Nell’s words. They seem to be trying to practice teenage indifference, but it's undermined by how interested they are in proving themselves capable.

They end up in a large barn with two very clear separate sides: one for various carts and vehicles and the other side for large beasts of burden. Unlike the horses, donkeys, or even oxen you might have expected, there are large monitor lizards in pens. You’ve seen your fair share of unusual mounts before, but not ones like these before. Although, you don’t know many reptilians or lizardfolk or even that many naga like Heshi. They certainly look strong, just lower to the ground than you’d expect.

Nell leads you past the stalls to where one is already hitched to a cart bearing the name of her shop on it.

“Michi’ll be your driver,” Nell says as the older, blue reptilian steps forward to start checking the straps hitching the large lizard to the cart, “and he knows how to handle the beast.” She gives the lizard a fond pat that she barely reacts to beyond a flick of her tail. “She’s used to the city traffic,” Nell turns to Michi and sternly adds, “but you’re not—so make sure she doesn’t try to take advantage of that and get into things she shouldn’t.”

“I got it, Nell,” he replies, only mildly defensive.

“Right,” she replies dryly. “You two, over here. Sasha, let’s see if you’ve been paying attention to your cold storage lessons and if both of you have listened when I told you how to pack a delivery properly.”

You linger by the cart, feeling out of place as you watch Michi do his checks—at least he seems thorough. You check your bag for the lists you made last night, both of what you’d brought with you and what you had left behind. It surprised you, how many things you didn’t feel like you needed, but were just as sure you can’t leave behind. You’re not going to leave anything else for your Dad to take. You’ll decide what to do with everything after, back at your home for yourself.

When you slip the papers back into your bag, Michi asks you a bit about where exactly you’re going and you explain where your family has set up their camps just outside the city walls and where Heshi’s place is from there. It's clear he only has a broad strokes idea of the city and you end up trying to tell him more about the main thoroughfares and any tips for navigating you remember from your first visit—and from the last few days.

Soon enough Nell comes back. Sasha and Aleks each pulling a dolly loaded down with a surprising number of crates, all covered in spellwork for cold so the meat will keep until it's packed away in Heshi’s ice box. Nell supervises as they load up the cart you’re taking. She lets you know which box has more besides meat—for special service for hibernation packages that they partner with a local grocer—and that the kids know how to unlock everything and will help you store it once at the apartment.

They manage to fit everything in a surprising small amount of space, leaving plenty of room to load up with your possessions from your parents’. Shortly you find yourself up front with Michi, while the other two hang out in the back of the cart, and waving goodbye to Nell.

Michi seems to need a minute or two to get a handle of Taiga, but soon enough they’re moving into the city at a good pace.

“I’ve never seen a Sanush camp before,” Michi says, breaking the silence.

“No reason for most people to come,” you say with a shrug, hoping he wasn’t going to be strange about it. Some people seemed to think there were lots of interesting secrets in a Sanush camp instead of just a lot of tents. “We go to our partners, so there’s nothing really to do there unless you’re, you know, in the family.”

You’re not sure if Michi picks up on your mild discomfort or not, but he just nods. “How long are you sticking around for? Or I guess how long is your family here for since you’re staying, right?”

“Yeah,” you reply, the weight of your decision hitting you again. It's more novel than anything to go so many days without seeing your family—the idea of going months, of them being leagues away is almost impossible to really wrap your mind around. “For at least another month. The passes cleared early this year, but I think my Uncle–he makes most of the final decisions for our family–is just going to spend the additional time here, rather than moving on to Menca early and so on.”

He ends up telling you more about his trip here, where the farm he grew up on is, and you find yourself approaching your family campsite sooner than you expect. You’d told your Great Aunt Carina when you were going to come to get your things and, despite her clear disapproval at you leaving the family business—seeing it as leaving the family—she waves you through easily, not even pausing in her mending.

You’re not sure what you expect when you get to where your tents are, but it's not your mom waiting for you outside. She calls your name with a practiced smile, sending away your aunt she’d been chatting to with a wave.

“Hi, mom,” you say, inexplicably nervous as you clamber down.

While Michi fusses with Taiga, you and your mom exchange pleasantries. It only takes you actually starting to head in for her to say, “Are you sure this is really necessary?”

You try hard not to freeze as you turn back to her, deciding to play dumb. “What do you mean? I can’t carry everything myself.”

She frowns and says with mild reproach, “You know that’s not what I meant.”

Crossing your arms in front of your chest, you frown back. “I’ve moved out, so yeah, I think I need the rest of my things.”

Your mom’s eyes are sharp on your face, searching for something. You don’t know what she finds, but she backs off. “Right, right. Very well.” Her eyes land on Michi and she points at him. “You—” He blinks in surprise. “Can this beast stay tied by itself or do you need to stay with her?”

“She’ll behave,” he says, clearly offended at the implication she might be badly behaved.

“Good, you can help with the books,” she says, motioning him over and turning to you. “I had them boxed up, in case, well, in case. You should focus on your clothes.” Leave it to your mom to suddenly put herself in charge of your packing up, even though you can tell she still doesn’t really agree with your decision. Honestly, you're grateful she’s not pushing like you expected. You were expecting another guilt trip about leaving the family or being too sensitive to your dad’s comments and actions. You’ll take micromanagement with mild disapproval over another fight.

“Okay, mom,” you say, as if that isn’t what you’ve been planning to do in the first place.

You have Sasha and Aleks follow you to your tent, which your uncle had secured as a gesture of good faith and which had pissed your dad off. Even thinking about it now makes you wanna shake him—if he didn’t want to be treated like a thief, he shouldn’t have stolen from you.

“Orders, boss?” Aleks asks with a grin, standing at a bad approximation of attention.

You roll your eyes, but begin directing the two to pack up your bedding and other similar items while you begin packing the clothing you’d left here.

Five minutes later, when you hear the tent flap, you say, “I think next you should grab the lighting so you can use—” Your words cut off when you turn around to see your dad standing there. “Oh.”

“Still haven’t come to your senses?” he asks with a little too much anger in his eyes to hit the pure paternal disappointment he seems to be aiming for.

“I haven’t changed my mind about anything, if that’s what you mean,” you reply, already feeling defensive. “I’ve already moved out—this is just, just a formality.”

He scoffs. “That’s what this is? That’s what this family means to you?”

“That’s what you made this family into,” you snap back, unable to keep it in.

He takes a step forward, bristling. “I did? I’m not the one who’s overreacting and blowing things out of proportion. I thought you were more mature than this, throwing a tantrum because your feelings got hurt.”

You find yourself shaking with rage. How are you having this conversation? Again? “Who bought my flute?”

“That’s not—”

“Who?” you talk over him for the first time, possibly ever, because for once you know beyond a doubt you are right. “I did! I paid for it with my money. And you stole it. What would the ‘appropriate’ reaction be? What would you have done if I did this to you?”

He doesn’t say anything and so you continue, “Because I bet we would have been here—except because you kicked me out after making me repay you every penny and then some.” You can’t even keep looking at him and you want to just be done with this. You stop folding neatly and start packing as briskly as you can.

“Sacrifices are sometimes necessary,” he says and you have never wanted to hit someone more than you do at this exact moment just to make them stop talking. “I thought you understood—.”

You whirl around. “No, I don’t understand theft. I don’t understand going behind my back and taking from me and then trying to justify it.” You talk over him when he starts trying to argue again. “You didn’t even have the guts to tell me what you did yourself—you let me find it missing. Even if you thought I wasn’t pulling my weight or working hard enough, then you tell me. I’m not a misbehaving little kid you can punish by taking away their presents.

“But that’s how you still see me, right?” You don’t think you’ve ever aired your problems with everything your dad does for so long uninterrupted and you feel reckless, sweep up in the momentum as you continue talking, “Anything I have is stuff I bought because you gave me the money, not because I earned it. And I worked damn hard for us so that’s crap.

“Don’t even pretend that the problem you’re having right now isn’t because your deal with the Havoratis went up in smoke, literally. And the answer to that was that we all have a few leaner months since goodness forbid we ask for help from the rest of the family. And we’d been doing that, but you don’t actually want to give anything you care about up, so you decided to figure out a way around it.”

“You always say we need to be able to predict and live with the consequences, so here we are,” you finish, almost panting as you gesture to the box you’re packing your clothes into.

Your dad looks truly surprised and at a loss for words in a way you’ve never seen before. You stare at each other in tense silence and just when he seems to have pulled himself back together, the tent flap opens again.

Sasha freezes when she walks in, her hair snakes hissing in discomfort at the tension in the air, making your dad instinctively take a step away from her. “Uh, should I come back?”

“No,” you say, pulling yourself back together. Part of you is disappointed that you know your dad won’t say anything else with someone here, but you’re also relieved that you don’t need to hear whatever he would have come up with. “Can you help with the lamps?”

“Sure thing,” she says, eying your dad before heading over to the two lanterns by where you used to sleep.

You realize you’re holding a dress in your hands still and try to refold it, a rush of adrenaline leaving you, although you remain aware of exactly where your dad is and that he’s staring at you. “Where did you even find these—”

“Need any help in here, ma’am?” You look over to find the broadest of your temporary helpers in the tent’s entry way.

“Sure, Aleks.” Maybe you’re petty but you enjoy the way your dad’s face pinks, whether it's from anger or embarrassment at Aleks’ interruption and clear disregard of him, showing he answers to you alone. “I was having trouble with that box.”

“On it,” he says with a wink, easily picking up the box with your winter coats. Before he can start to head out with it, your dad just leaves. You stare at the tent flap and know he isn’t coming back. You breathe for a moment before turning resolutely back to the few clothes remaining. Silence only broken by the sound that accompanies packing fills the tent and slowly, you start to relax.

“Hey.”

You look up to see your brother pushing aside the tent flap to come in because apparently everyone in your family wants to stop by. He looks as he always does. Were you expecting him not to? You’ve only been gone for a week or so—but it's longer than you’ve ever gone without seeing him before. “Hey, how’ve you been?”

“Good.” He leans against one of the center tent poles. “I keep missing you whenever you come by to teach Gie though.”

You shrug. “Avoiding Dad, sorry.”

He snorts. “Can’t blame you there. He’s been in a bad mood since you left—when he isn’t pretending everything’s fine, I mean.” He rolls his eyes—at least his spot as the favorite had never led to him idolizing your dad, even if he’s never been as aware of the favoritism as you’d like. He's never held back from calling out Dad when he wants to, it's just—he can get away with it.

Dad listens to him.

Still, you feel a pang of guilt that you’ve inadvertently made everything hard for everyone else.

“Not that it’s your fault.” You look up to see your brother with a skeptical eyebrow raised, clearly having guessed at your thoughts. It surprises you, that he noticed. “He just so used to making everything go his way.” He smirks. “It's been kinda funny, watching him realize that’s not gonna happen this time. And Uncle is paying him more attention than he has been, which he doesn’t like.”

“That wasn’t why I did it, why I left,” you feel the need to say. The petty part of you is glad Dad’s getting some consequences you think he deserves, but… “I didn’t do it to mess with him.”

“No, I know,” Lio says. “You did it because he crossed a line. Thinking back, I’m surprised you didn’t leave sooner.”

“And go where?” you can’t help but reply, not liking the implication that you’d had opportunities you’d just passed up or that you could have left at any time. “I was just lucky we were here when he did it. Otherwise, I might have had to come back.”

“Yeah? I think you would have been fine wherever,” he says with a shrug.

You huff a disbelieving laugh. In a way you feel flattered he thinks that, but you think it's more a matter of underestimating how difficult the world is, than having a great deal of faith in you. Even here, he’s never had the difficulties you have. “I don’t think you realize how hard it is, to make it on your own.”

He frowns at that, surprised you’re pressing the point. “I’m not a little kid, I know how stuff works. But come on, it’s not as vicious as they like to pretend it is. They always play it up to encourage us to stick to the family. And you’re not on your own.”

“Exactly,” you reply. “That’s why I’m lucky to be here. Where I can stay with my friend and not worry about having a roof over my head, not burn money on lodgings, where I know my way around.” Your eyes dart to Sasha, who’s frowning concentration as she disassembles your favorite chair. “Where he can have his friends make their cousins help me move.”

“I guess,” he says, still frowning. He opens his mouth before he shuts it again. “You know, I’d have helped you if you needed it, right?” When you just blink in surprise, he crosses his arms, looking almost defensive. “I have money saved up too. Dad’s being stupid, but if you wanted out, I’d have helped.”

You’re not who it says more about, but you are surprised. While you didn’t really think he’d take Dad’s side exactly, you mostly thought he’d be ambivalent about you leaving if you ever thought about what his opinion would be on that hypothetical—because you had thought about leaving before. Honestly, he’d never really factored into it much, except that if you failed, he’d have been another person who’d witness it. Even now, you just… didn’t think he really cared one way or another. He’s never really taken your complaints about your life very seriously, always suggesting what he’d do and not getting that it wouldn’t work out for you that way.

Stupid as it was, Dad always gives everything Lio says or does more weight because he’s a boy. Lio’s also just more laid back, confident, and less anxious than you are. No amount of knowing that makes you able behave like him. And since he is on the customer and client facing side of the business, his value is a lot more obvious and straight-forward than yours. Dad sees what he brings to the table as more important, sees him as more important. And he feels the opposite about you.

You didn’t think Lio would throw you under the wheels or anything, but he’s definitely said things that echo what your dad says enough that you wouldn’t have asked for his help. Some of that is pride, older siblings nonsense about having to ‘stoop’ for your little brother's help and wanting to prove you could do it on your own.

You’re still surprised he’d have even thought to offer his help

You push all of that aside, hoping it doesn’t show on your face. “Thanks,” you say instead, hoping he can tell you mean it. “I appreciate it. I’m good for now though, staying with my friend is keeping costs low and I’ve got enough savings. Working on some tutoring stuff, getting licensed for here—that type of thing.”

“Of course you are,” Lio rolls his eyes with a smile. “I bet you been at the library half the time.” You freeze and hope he can’t read the expression on your face, but it's obvious he does as he smirks. He leans forward to tease. “Ha! I knew it. Why do you think I’d offer? I know you’d be good for the money. So responsible and boring. I hope you’ve been doing something fun too.”

You grumble good-naturedly. “Why does everyone keep saying that? I have fun.”

Lio snaps his fingers. “I almost forgot. Where’s your new address?” he asks. “You’re staying with you glassmaker friend, right? I convinced Aunt Dee that I’d still manage to negotiate with him, if not as well as you did, even with what’s gone on.”

“You got the berries?” you ask hopefully, although his compliment didn’t go unnoticed. You just don’t know what to say. So you ignore it. You focus on how pleased you are you haven’t ruined Heshi’s chances to get his precious berries.

“Yup and some, you know, gold too,” he jokes.

You wave that off. “Gold he can get from other people. We already ate all the berries I had.”

“Such exciting times you have,” he nudges you.

You roll your eyes. “Well, he’s still waking up from hibernation. I’m sure we’ll do more once he’s awake longer. Although we did finish that liquor…”

“Truly living on the wild side,” he jokes. “Really leaning into the sleepover part of having a roommate, huh? Did you braid each other’s hair too?”

You flush, both at the sleeping comment and the hair comment. His face lights up immediately, “Holy shit, you did. That’s hilarious.”

“Shut up,” you grumble, pulling out your list of your possessions and trying to busy yourself making sure you’ve gotten everything. You can’t linger on how much you enjoyed braiding and you worried he’ll be able to tell with his little brother senses.

Of course, he doesn’t let it go regardless. “I’m so glad you're living your cliche dreams with your new roommate. I can’t wait to meet him.”

Right, if Lio takes over the negotiation, he’ll meet Heshi. You suddenly regret complaining about how annoying your brother is as much as you have to Heshi in your letters. You want them to get along but...

“Something you wanna share?” he asks after seeing your mildly guilty expression.

“Let me know before you do so I can talk to him first,” you say as nonchalantly as you can.

“Whhhyyyy?” he asks, drawing out the word in a way he knows bothers you.

“Um, just, you know, sometimes when I get annoyed, I write Heshi and like, he hasn’t said anything about you, but let’s just say it's probably for the best that he’s too sleepy to help me grab my stuff.”

“Are you saying you’ve besmirched my good name?” he says with a grin. “How could you?”

“Oh whatever, like you haven’t complained to your friends about me,” you roll your eyes.

He laughs and you join in.

“Ma’am?” you look up to see Aleks pushing aside the tent flap. “Anything else you want me to grab?”

You scan the room and shake your head. “No, I think we’ve got everything. I’m gonna do one more sweep,” you brandish your checklist, “but anything left will be small. You guys can all head back to the cart and then we can head home.” You pause for a second, realizing how true that statement is because it truly is already your home, not this tent with your family, but the apartment with Heshi.

He gives you a cheeky salute and heads out.

You continue to chat with Lio as he catches you up on some family gossip and some of the deals that are going differently since you’re here earlier than usual. Soon enough, you’re pretty sure you have everything. He promises to send along anything he spots of yours that gets left behind and you promise to write him a good time for him to come by and trade with Heshi.

“Oh, I almost forgot—here you go.” He tears off the top of the paper he’d written down your new address on. “Got Dad to tell me where he sold your flute yesterday. Maybe you can still get it back.”

You stare at him because Lio is a smooth talker, but usually for his own benefit only. It’s strange how you leaving is revealing so much about your brother. “Really?” A grin breaks out over your face as you accept the piece of paper. You pull him into a hug that he reciprocates with a little more strength than usual. “Thanks, Lio.”

[Part Six]

#my writing #story: finally woken #finally woken #short story #naga #male naga #male monster #monster bf #terato #exophilia #osha compliant #my weekend keep staying so busy but the update is here #relatively heshi light i know #but the next few parts will be all heshi lol #new posting plan is to have this whole story posted by the end of june #so there will be a few non-sunday updates #depending on when i can get stuff written #so keep an eye out #story part

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