#apple peeling machine

[wmmachinery]

Apple Peeling Machine 8 working station same time like human hands peeling

[misserabella]

two geniuses (addiction)

spencer reid x fem! reader

masterlist! (this is part 5 of the series, check out the rest!!)

summary; after your kidnapping, everything falls apart. spencer’s there to pick up the pieces.

cw; angst, hurt-comfort, fluff, hospitals, drug withdrawal, depression, feelings of emptiness, worthlessness, dirtiness, ptsd, mentions of guns and shots being fired, kissing (yippeeee!!!!), spencer being a sweetheart, pinning, gets a little suggestive but no +18, crying, cuddling…

everything was bright. too bright, and the beeping of the machines around you washed through you like the remains of a lullaby as your eyes slowly blinked open.

you were so hooked up on pain medication that you couldn’t fathom the trauma your body had gone through, but just as you came back into consciousness, all the memories came back. the torture, the sound and feeling of your bones giving up, the smell of your skin burning…

your eyes fell down at the sudden movement of someone else rising from the end of the bed you had been days glued to. spencer. spencer reid was there, puppy brown eyes slowly peeling open before he noticed you were awake, quickly scattering to stand straight with a bewildered expression.

“hey… how are you feeling?” but he was soft. so soft. it almost made you scream. ‘cause you had just gone through torture, someone had broken you, broken you to your core, and spencer was talking to you as if there was still something left that could suffer.

you didn’t answer him, your eyes falling to the nervous fidgeting of his hands, which were strangely all scribbled on.

“uh, right, sorry, it’s just that i was so worried about you not waking up that i couldn’t focus and memorize so i had to write it down and…” your heart skipped a beat, and it almost hurt. he didn’t knew you’d wake up. after four days of unconsciousness, spencer feared you had gone into a coma due to the shock and trauma.

“what are they?” you pointed at the words on his skin.

“they… uhm…, well, they’re ways to help you.”

“help me?”

“yes… with your trauma.” you stared at him in silence and his lips quivered. “torture can lead to permanent physical disabilities and psychologically scar victims, leaving them with profound and long-lasting mental health issues such as post-traumatic stress disorder, as well as anxiety and depressive disorders. although many victims demonstrate extraordinary resilience, resourcefulness and agency, torture can profoundly impact all aspects of a person’s daily life. severe headaches, insomnia, suicidal ideation, being easily frightened, being in heightened emotional states, feeling suspicious, having flashbacks, and involuntary disassociation are some of the most frequently reported symptoms of torture trauma. this can make it extremely difficult for people to maintain social relations, work, carry out basic day-to-day tasks and to participate in rehabilitative programs or administrative and judicial procedures…” you listened to his rambling, his brown eyes everywhere but on you. “i did some research. i…i wanted to help.”

spencer looked at you, and swallowed, cause you looked so… empty. that’s how you felt as well. you didn’t feel sad for what had happened to you, or angry, you felt absolutely nothing.

your stable heartbeat beeped through the room.

your hand reached for his, looking for something, anything. anything that would make it erratic, that would make you feel something. were you still high? was tobias’ effect still lingering? but before you could get too close to him you retracted, fisting the bedding.

“sorry, reid, could we talk another time? i’m so tired…”

his eye shifted, his adam’s apple bobbed.

“sure.” he almost tripped as he stood up. “i’ll let you rest. the team is taking shifts so there’s always one of us around in case you need anything.” you nodded and he mimicked you. he was stiff as a stick, moving like a puppet in strings.

after that you watched as he made his way out of your room, leaving you alone, again. you felt chained to the bed, like you had been tied to that chair days back and it made you shiver, the brand on your chest hurting.

you shifted, bringing your knees to your chest, encapsulating yourself in hopes that no more pain would come, almost expecting it.

it didn’t. but you still hoped so. cause then you’d be distracted by the void on your chest, the brokenness of your soul and of the fact that you loved spencer reid.

your stable heart jumped a beat at the realization.

your skin was on fire, and your sheets were soaked. your whole body was engulfed in tremors and pain. they had offered you something for it but you’d declined.

“no more drugs. no more please.” you’d trembled.

it hurt. everything hurt.

“how can i help? how can i help you, y/n?” morgan insisted, pained by your suffering.

“reid.”

“reid?”

“i need spencer reid.” your teeth clicked. morgan was fast, it was mere luck that spencer —well— that he hadn’t left the hospital that day. —He never did.—

he rushed in, hair disheveled, chest heaving as if he had ran all the way to your room —what he did��. he called out your name and you swallowed as he stepped closer, hands in the air, not knowing if he should touch you, wishing he could. “what do i do? what can i do?”

“hold me. please.”

he was on you on an instant, arms softly surrounding you as he made space for himself on your hospital bed.

“breathe. breathe please, i’m here.” he shushed, one of his hands on your hair as your own clung to his vest.

if it were another person, spencer would have ran the other way due to the sweat and germs and the closeness, but this was you. you. needing him.

“it hurts.” you shakily breathed out, trying your best to pace your panting.

“i know. i know…” ‘cause what could he say? what more than holding you could he do?

but truth be told it’s just what you needed. this. him. holding you close exactly like this.

“i’m sorry.” surprisingly enough, that was you.

“sorry? for what?” he inquired.

“for everything.” you shook before losing consciousness again.

going back to work was something you shouldn’t be doing right now. but the minimum time hotch obliged you to take off was up and you needed to be back on working.

your wounds were healed up, the physical ones at least.

‘cause you still hadn’t come up to mourning that horrible day, or actually meddling with the emptiness and dirtiness you felt. you hadn’t even cried about it.

the first days were nothing easy, everything silently triggered you, and had you taking breaks to take deep breaths. you reminded yourself of what spencer had told you to do as he held you; breathe, i’m here.

and he was, until he wasn’t. until you pushed him away and stopped talking to him altogether after your withdrawal symptoms had fewered and you could actually handle the pain by yourself, after you could think once again and didn’t let your heart meddle with your actions.

there was silence on your end. static. it was messing with spencer’s head. no comments. no remarks. no snarky comments. nothing. he almost wished you could go back to hating him instead of… whatever this was.

and still, he couldn’t bring himself to ask you. to ask you if you had noticed that he didn’t hate you anymore. if you had noticed how his way of looking at you had changed. ‘cause the truth was that spencer had never been more afraid than the day he almost lost you. and almost losing you had made him realize that he in fact didn’t want to lose you, ‘cause he would be losing a part of himself.

spencer liked you. as more than coworkers or possible friends. he kind of had always known, deep down, it had always been you. you and your stupid intelligence, and pretty smile, and loud voice, and snarky remarks, and plush lips, and soft curves and…

and now you were gone.

you helped in cases, but you only talked when necessary, you never smiled anymore, you hummed at his words, and you hid yourself on large clothes and turtlenecks, as if you couldn’t stand the thought of the world actually acknowledging you. seeing you.

but spencer saw you. he always did. and still does. he saw the pain you so tried to hide, saw the fear every time you held up your gun, the tremble of your hands when shots are fired.

and he doesn’t know how to fix it. he doesn’t know how to take it all away.

but he knows something for sure. and that it is that’s he’s gonna try.

it’s not for another week that it happens. you’d just gotten home from your last case, exhausted, when someone knocks at your door.

your umbrella is still dripping by the entrance, a storm hitting D.C. just as soon as you had landed. you’d scoffed. it was as if the weather had matched the storm in your insides, the clouds in your heart and the unshed tears of your eyes.

hazel eyes meet yours when the door creaks open under the turning of the knob. and before your eyes, stood a soaking wet spencer, shivering under the rain, brown hair adhered to his face, cheeks and nose a pretty shade of red.

“reid? god how long have you been standing out there?” you inquired as you opened the door wider for him to come inside.

“sorry, i just-“ you made a beeline towards your bathroom, grabbing a towel for him to dry off. he didn’t. he was too distracted to feel cold. “i just didn’t know if i should’ve come.” i didn’t know if you would want to see me.

“so what, you just stayed there pondering under the rain?” he looked at you as if he’d been caught, wide eyes zeroing on you. “jesus, spencer.” you sighed. “you sometimes don’t live to the genius title, you know?” he just stared at you. “what?”

“nothing. i just missed you saying my name.” that shook you to your core. you two stood there. looking at each other before you looked away, incapable to keep eye contact anymore. it almost burned.

“what are you doing here, reid?”

“i don’t know.” he replied.

“you don’t know?”

“i just… i just needed to see you.” he sighed.

“you saw me an hour ago, reid.” he shook his head.

“no. really see you.”

“what are you talking about?”

“i see you, y/n. i’m here. why do you keep pushing me away?”

“spencer-“ he took a step forward, capturing your face with his cold hands, the towel falling with a thud to the floor.

“i held you when i found you. i held you when you were in agony in that hospital bed. i’ve held you through your worst, i’ve seen you, y/n. so why. why do you push me aside?”

“you don’t understand. he changed me. he killed me. he… he branded me.” you looked away, feeling tears coming to your eyes. “i’m not the same anymore. i’m flawed. i’m dirty.”

“look at me.” he whispered, and your glassy eyes found his. “never say that again. you’re not dirty. what happened to you was not your fault. and that scar doesn’t make you any less beautiful. cause that’s what you are, y/n. you’re beautiful.” he breathed against your lips. his eyes fell to the plush of them and your mouth opened in a murmur.

“don’t.” you looked to the side, but he brought you back with tender circles on your cheek. “you don’t wanna kiss me. you don’t wanna be with me. i’ll just make everything harder.”

“i don’t care if it’s hard.” he whispered, looking into your eyes with such love that it struck your bones. “i want it because it’s you. i want you, y/n.”

and then his lips were pushing against yours, softly. just a mere peck, but it was enough to break all the walls that you’ve put up around yourself.

he seemed to be the only person capable of doing it, he had always been.

finally, a tear spilled down your cheek, and a sob raked through your body.

“you’re beautiful.” he repeated as you fell into his arms in heavy sobs. he hushed you, holding you tenderly, one of his hands on the back of your head, pushing you against his chest. you could hide there forever. “i’m here. i’m here, okay?”

you pulled from him, lips pressing against his in a proper kiss, a desperate one, where tears were streaming down your face and little tremors raked through your body. he corresponded, matching your fervor, but still holding you carefully, as if you were made out of glass.

you pulled at his clothes, and he gasped against your lips, pushing away.

“y/n…”

“please. please spencer.” you begged, eyes teary, soul shaking, heart thumping. you trusted him. you trusted him with your life. and loved him with your entire existence. yet all you had to give was your body, your lips, your words. it didn’t seem enough. you hoped it would be.

“baby…, no. you don’t have to.” he shushed you, his eyes holding that promise.

“but…”

he silenced you with the softest kiss anyone had ever given you.

“i just wanna hold you. can i do that, angel?” he asked, and you nodded, being rewarded by his precious smile.

“but you’re not getting into my bed like that.” you pointed out.

“like what?”

“spencer, you look like a wet dog.” he opened his mouth in fake hurt.

“oh yeah?”

“yeah.” he hummed, and before you knew he was hugging you and shaking his head against yours so the droplets on his hair would hit you. you shrieked, before laughter spilled from your chest as you tried to push him away.

he smiled and stared at you. ‘cause finally, you were smiling. and spencer made a promise to himself; he’ll try everything on his power to keep you that way.

spencer spends the whole night in your bed, holding you, whispering nothings into your ear, caressing your face, fingers combing through your hair. he holds you when you cry, and kisses your tears away. and when you finally fall asleep he makes another promise; that no harm will ever found you again, not as long as he’s there to protect you from it.

🤍hope you guys like it.

[2018-01-20]

i want a kiss from gojo... so: maybe u could do buying matching plushies with yuuji? or getting matching plushies from a claw machine w megumi?

pairing. megumi fushiguro × gn!reader

content. fluff, read slowly for maximum enjoyment!

megumi fushiguro isn’t commonly considered as someone who is weak, but for you he feels like he is.

“this is so cute!” you gasp, spotting a plushie that is more than three times the size of your head inside a crane machine. it’s a cat stuffed animal in your favorite color, the cuteness of it making you press your hands up against the glass with eyes sparkling in complete awe. megumi can practically hear the gears turning and creaking in your head. “oh my god, should i try to get it?”

“there is no way that that’s possible,” nobara scoffs in disbelief, but you know that she’s only saying that to pull you away before you end up falling too deep and spending all of your money. “you know that this place is notorious for its super weak claws, right?”

“but it’s also popular for its cute prizes, y’know,” you whine in response, tugging on her sleeve to get her to come closer. “look at how cute it is! right, megumi?”

when the both of you turn towards said boy—you with hopeful eyes that reminds megumi of a puppy, and nobara with a demonic glare to get him to stop your nonsense—he freezes, eyes unable to peel away from your bright face. itadori snickers from beside him, already knowing his answer.

and for megumi, there is no other choice but to give in.

“...it is cute,” he mumbles, looking away to avoid nobara’s expression of disbelief.

“see, nobara?” you grin evilly. “do you really have no faith in me? i can easily win against one of these bad guys.”

“you can go right ahead, but we all know you have the worst luck out of all four of us,” nobara sighs out, hiding a smile after that little dig. you play along, letting out a dramatic gasp. “your chances of winning is worse than itadori’s.”

the both of you sputter out an offended, “hey!” you huff, all riled up. but you know that nobara is at least partly right.

“fine,” you eventually hmph at her, and she puts her hands on her hips with a grin. “now i’ll get that plush just to spite you.”

“oh yeah?” she retorts. “with your horrible crane machine skills?”

“nope,” you stick a tongue out at her, and when you sidestep her to reach the boy behind her, megumi feels dread overcome his body. “megumi—”

“that’s cheating!” it’s nobara’s turn to gasp, turning towards you with a distraught face. “you know fushiguro won’t say no to you!”

“gu-umi,” you continue on, ignoring nobara’s accusations in hopes that your begging towards the boy in front of you will get him to say yes to you. (spoiler: it does.) “can you help me get that cat plushie? pleasee?”

you clasp your hands together in a begging motion, unashamed of losing your dignity in order to achieve what you know will earn you victory. you blink repeatedly, staring at megumi through your eyelashes with a pout adorning your lips.

megumi’s adam apple bobs—your attentive gaze makes his mind go blank and his cheeks warm, and while nobara would call your current expression atrocious, he can’t help but think that it’s a bit cute. although megumi fushiguro is no cat lover and would very much prefer the matching dog plushie next to the kitty one that you adore, he takes one more look at your face and sighs.

“...okay.” is all he simply says. but seeing your face light up and smile widen is more than enough for him.

[maddy-k-reads-all-day]

In the garden. 

The first puzzle was really hard. Riley says that usually the answer is hidden somewhere within the episode, but Amanda wouldn’t let her replay it to check. Good thing I take notes. Sophie thought to herself. She looks through her notes. She looks around the room. There are several posters on the walls and memorabilia from all of Hameln’s different productions, with notes around them of different actors and their family members that went missing during or after production, among other odd notes about the show. Her mother told her once they realized Hameln was associated with the cult they started doing a deep dive on all their creative properties outside of Amanda. The results of this research are posted all around in sticky notes and long stapled printouts taped around the room. Like a controlled chaotic masterpiece. That’s mom for you. Sophie thought with a smile. Of course, most of the merch and stuff was from Amanda the Adventurer. Which… didn’t make things too easy. Sophie figured Amanda was going to hide it somewhere within the merch. Finally, she notices a specific poster. “Amanda the Adventurer! New Show! Starring Rebecca Colton and William Scott. Soon airing on Hameln Jr!” The poster showed Amanda and Wooly, sitting on Apples and Peaches respectively. Could this be it? Sophie recognized this poster. It was a collectors edition poster mimicking the show’s initial announcement ad. It was crazy popular and really hard for her mother to get a copy. Sophie feels the poster and realizes there’s a weird shape behind it. She gently peels back the tape on the poster revealing a safe and two tapes. One being an Amanda episode titled: In The Garden. The other being a bright cyan colored tape. Never understood why they chose to record all their evidence against Hameln on colored tapes. Sophie chose to watch the cyan tape first. It appeared rather unassuming, simply being a collection of Amanda the Adventurer commercials. There’s got to be more here… something I’m missing. Sophie thinks to herself. Oh well… I don’t have much free time. I better watch the next tape now. Sophie puts the tape in the machine. 

“Hi friends, I’m Amanda!” Amanda beams.

“And I’m Wooly!” 

“Gee it took you a while to find that tape huh? I hid it well, didn't I?” 

“Well… it only took me half an hour to find it.” 

“HUH?” 

“I had like 5 assignments due today… I had to do the dishes… and the laundry… then I watched this other tape first… so yeah… not too hard.” 

“Grrrrrrrrrr…” Amanda grumbled. 

“To-today we’re planting seeds to grow in our garden!” Wooly announces, changing the subject. 

“That’s right Wooly! Say, what kinds of plants do you like to grow?” Cacti Sophie responds. “You’re weird.” Amanda responds. The tape glitches.  “First we’re going to need to go to the store to buy some seeds, can you tell me where the store is?” Sophie clicks on the store. “Great! Let’s go-go-go-go-go-” the tape glitches again. Wow, these are so old. Sophie thinks to herself. 

“Wow there’s so many options, what are we going to grow?” Wooly asks. 

“Vegetables!” 

“Vegata..bles?” Wooly repeats. 

“Yep!” 

“In our new garden?” “That’s right!” Amanda beams. Wooly looks disappointed. “What is it?” 

“Nothing, I just thought we’d be growing flowers.” Wooly mumbles in an annoyed tone under his breath. 

“Flowers are boring! Vegetables are flowers you can eat!” 

“Wha- No! Flowers are pretty! They’re nice to look at and they smell nice!” 

“And they die wither and rot come fall. Good idea Wooly!” Amanda beams. 

“Wha- no!” Wooly sounds angrier at this then he should be. He stops himself and takes a deep breath. “How about this? I get flowers, you get the vegetables. Okay?” 

“Okay…” Amanda seems a little confused and uncomfortable. 

“So can you tell me where the---------” The tape glitches as Amanda and Wooly talk over each other, both glaring at each other with annoyance. 

“Sorry, you go first.” Wooly chuckles nervously. 

“Can you tell me where the vegetable seeds are?” Amanda smiles. Sophie clicks on the vegetables. “Great job!” 

“Can you tell me where the flower seeds are?” Wooly asks. Sophie clicks on them. “Thank you!”

“Now we need to pick out which vegetables we want! I want to make some BLTs at some point. So we definitely need some lettuce and tomatoes. Then maybe some cucumbers so we can have salads.”

“Honestly… that doesn’t sound so bad.” 

“Can you tell me where the seeds are?” Amanda asks. Sophie clicks on all three seeds with no problem. “Good job!” Amanda smiles.

“As for flowers I’m thinking daffodils, daisies, and… lavender…” Wooly closes his eyes wistfully. 

“Lavender?” 

“It smells so good. And I remember once hearing that it can help with anxiety and sleep!” Wooly explains, “um… not that I have any problems with anxiety or sleep or anything. The point is it’s known to be a very calming flower.” 

“I guess that’s interesting…” Amanda sighs. 

“Can you tell me where those are?” Wooly asks. Sophie clicks on the correct flowers. “Yay! These are going to look so pretty in the yard.” 

“Now let’s go home so we can plant these seeds!” Amanda tells us. The tape glitches back to the back yard. “I have all the gardening tools laid out here. What do we need first?” Sophie clicks on the shovel. “That’s… right…” Amanda says, then she shakes it off. “First we need to plant the seeds!”

“Be sure to look at the instructions on the back!” Wooly instructs.

“Wooly… there are no instructions on the back…” “Oh… there are in real life though…” Wooly sighs. 

 “First we dig a hole about this deep, then we put the seeds in…” “I’m starting to think we should’ve gotten plants instead.” Wooly thinks out loud. 

“Well the store only has seeds, Wooly.” 

“Ah… haha… Bummer.” 

“Anyway we planted the seeds. Now what do they need?” “Fertilizer!” Wooly announces. Water Sophie types. 

“Water!” Amanda beams. 

“What? No, they'll grow faster with fertilizer!” Wooly protests. 

“But the only place we can get that is the farm.” Amanda replies. 

“No! I don’t want to go baaaack there!” Wooly panics. Amanda looks… a little guilty. 

“Yeah I know. Which is why we don’t have fertilizer.” Amanda sighs. 

“I’m sorry…” 

“It’s fine Wooly.” “What do we use to water the seeds?” Sophie clicks on the watering can. “Riiiight.” Amanda says slowly. She starts to water the plants. 

“Don’t water them too much!” Wooly warns. 

“I know Wooly, I got this.” Amanda sighs. “There. Now we wait.” Amanda and Wooly stand there waiting for a bit. 

“Huh? Usually when we do this episode they grow immediately.”

“It’s probably because we don’t have fertilizer.” Amanda deduces. “Guess we’ll have to… get some.” Wooly looks terrified. “Wooly, the episode won’t end until the plants grow!” Amanda reminds him. 

“So? We can play some more right?” Wooly laughs nervously. Amanda bits her lip. 

“How about this, you stay home and keep an eye on the plants so the birds don’t eat the seeds.” Amanda suggests, “And I go to the farm.” 

“Okay…” Wooly sighs. The tape glitches to the farm. But both Amanda and Wooly are there. 

“Oh… I guess… the show won’t let you do that.” Amanda notes, she sees Wooly panicking, “It’s just the farm stand, not the petting zoo. You should be fine. We’ll be quick.” Amanda reussers him. But he says nothing. “Wooly, you can talk, you know.” Amanda says. 

“Oh, okay…” Wooly mumbles. 

“Can you tell the farmer what we need?” Amanda asks. The “farmer” is a motionless scarecrow, placed between the crops and the farm stand. Sophie types in fertilizer. “That’s right! Now let’s go home!”

“Meow!” 

“Aww… it’s a lonely kitt-” The tape glitches back to the backyard.

“I’m fine? I’m… fine. I’m fine!” Wooly gasps, fully relieved and almost a little excited. Amanda looks away. “Haha! Hahahaha! Take that stupid farm! Sheep says Baaa! No more! Haha!” 

“Glad you’re happy Wooly.” Amanda sighs tiredly, “But uh… the flower bed is all dug up.” 

“They’re what now?” Wooly stops in his tracks. Amanda checks the beds for seeds.  

“No no no no! The birds ate all our seeds! Now we’ll have to plant them all OVER again!” Amanda screams. “GRAH!” she stamps her foot. 

“Don’t worry Amanda, we still have more seeds, we can plant them again!” Wooly reussers her. 

“Yeah but aren’t you frustrated?” Amanda asks, “Aren’t you mad?” 

“I… I uh…” Wooly freezes up, “Let’s get these… seeds… pla-planted…”  the tape glitches and the seeds are all planted again. “Whew! That was a lot of work! Now let’s add fertilizer!” Wooly smiles. Sophie clicks and drags the fertilizer to each plant. 

“Now what do we use to water them?” Amanda questions. Sophie clicks on the watering can. “That’s right.” 

“Can I water them this time?” Wooly asks. 

“Sure Wooly!” Amanda says cheerfully. Wooly creates little moats around the holes and waters them. 

“Gotta make a moat to protect the castle from invaders!” Wooly laughs. The tape glitches and the plants are watered. “Now we wait.” This time, Amanda and Wooly watch as the plants slowly rise from the ground. “Yay! Now we can pick our plants!” Amanda beams and the tape ends. Now to find that next tape… Sophie thinks.

Authors note: Finally managed to finish this one. Have been doing a lot more editing on the recent episodes. Trying to figure out the future of this fic series lol.

[itsnotmeep]

Apple Gummies

Inupi x Reader (Fluff)

A subtle friendship that starts with an apple and a boy who slowly falls in love. Inspired by “Ditto” by NewJeans

Inupi didn't know when he started liking (y/n) it had come so gentle that by the time he looked back to see the start it was all blended together with the memories that made her special to him. Liking her came as second nature, something that came as easy as breathing. If he had liked her since forever then he assumed it was the first time they had met that he had fallen in love. 

After Koko had saved him from the fire he remembered laying in the hospital bed staring at the ceiling not sure if he should celebrate being able to live or cry over his sister who couldn’t. If he could remember correctly, (y/n) had gone to the hospital after breaking her left ankle. Which if he was honest is not surprising now knowing her for so long. He had seen her trip over thin air before, let alone the times she was a victim of thrown balls. 

With the hospital quite packed the nurses placed her as his roommate in hopes that a company his age would help him adjust and help him feel a sense of normalcy. As he lay lost in thought the nurses knocked on his door and as he answered the (h/c) girl was rolled in.

“This is (y/n) she is gonna be your new roomie okay” The nurse said as she set the girls up and helped her settle on the bed. Once (y/n) was set. The nurse then did their routine check up on him.

Once the nurses were done, 10 awkward minutes of silences occurred. He could see her fidgeting until she broke the silence “ummm you want some apples?” Not knowing what to do, he agreed. The girl smiled and proceeded to throw her feet off the bed and hopped on her good foot. “You really don't need to do that, '' Inupi hurriedly said, feeling bad. 

“No, it's really okay just give me a second '' (y/n) said as she wheeled herself to the side of his bed with an apple and knife. She slowly peeled the apple and skillfully cut it into slices before helping him up and handing one up to him.

As he bit into the apple he saw her wheel back to her area ruffling through a bag and pulling out cards “Uno?”

Before long her presence was something he was used to, there wasn’t much to do in the hospital so the girl's efforts to fill up the boredom was amusing to him. Talking to let him escape the accident that plagued him at the time. After 2 weeks (y/n) was discharged and he thought he would never see her again.

Imagine his surprise when 2 months later while entering his homeroom with Koko for the new school year, he would see the girl sitting near the back of the classroom talking to two fellow classmates. He wanted to greet her but was interrupted by the door closing.

“Can everybody take a seat please, I am…” the teacher went on and on. Next thing Inupi knew he had zone out and lunch had begun. He looked toward the back of the room hoping to see (y/n) but was met with disappointment when he saw the empty desk. “Hey, you mind getting me a drink at the vending machine?” Koko's question snapped him back. “Yeah sure”

As he walk down quietly. The hallways were filled with chatter and laughter as students caught up and complained. Once he got the machine he saw her standing there with a bunch of drinks in her hand. “ Hey Inupi, it's me (y/n), I was shocked when I saw you. Who would have thought we would meet again? Don’t mind the drinks. I lost a bet and now I have to carry all of these drinks back. How are you by the way?”

He offered her a kind smile before answering her question “I’m doing better, how's your leg”. As she answered, he picked up some of the drinks. “You don't have to, I got it.” the girl quickly said. “It's fine we are going to the same place anyways.” It was a comfortable quiet as they walked back into the class. “Who's the girl?” Koko whispered to Inupi as he sat down. “She was placed in the same hospital room as me.” 

The first day of class ended, Koko already made his way towards the door and had some deal to complete, leaving Inupi in the classroom by himself. He slowly opened the door to see the (y/n) again. “This is where you were, I thought you left until your long haired friend told me you might’ve been here still. For helping me with the drink I wanted to give you something.” She pushed a bag of apple flavor gummies into his hand. “ I know it's not a lot but I just wanted to say thank you,” the girl blurted before running off again.

Soon after the girl slowly inserted herself into his life naturally and he couldn’t help waiting for the time he got to spend with her. He couldn’t help himself from stealing glances at her surrounded by her friends. It was like her laughter was a sound wave in which his radio was always tuned to. 

One night while walking around the city he spotted the girl walking home in the dark by herself, holding a bag of what he assumed was snacks. Scared for her safety he started following her yet too shy to say anything so the poor guy was just trailing her. After 5 minutes, he would get the scare of his life when he heard “ Inupi i know you’re there why are you following me?” the girl turned to face him.

After explaining himself the girl giggled and he couldn't help the blush that spread his cheeks not sure if he was embarrassed or happy that he had caused her to laugh. “Silly, you could have just told me.” When they reached her house she said bye to him and added “You are like my knight in shining armor, thank you”.

He didn’t want to admit it but his cheek was dusted with pink the rest of the night and they would hurt from the smile that tugged on his lips the rest of the way home.

The gods were in his favor the next day because when the bell rang the sky decided it was time to rain all the clouds dry. Luckily he bought his umbrella but (y/n) hadn’t, not wanting the girl to get sick he immediately offered to walk her home. She agreed and they started their journey leaving behind a Koko who had to find his own way home.

“ You know you should stand closer,  the rain is hitting you,” the girl pleaded. The boy felt the water wetting his left side but ignored it. “Its fine”

Once they reached the house (y/n) pushed him inside. “The rain is getting worse, just chill here so the rain can let up. My parents are on a trip so you don't need to worry and I'll get you some clothes to change into”. Inupi couldn’t answer before he was in the bathroom “Just throw your clothes outside and I’ll place dry ones in front of the door”

He changed and went towards the living room “Are you hungry?” the girl began shifting through the fridge. Before long food was made and both of them sat and ate he noticed how the girl ate a smaller portion. “ You snack a lot don't you” the boy remarked. “Yeah, how did you know?” she questioned. “Because you’re a foodie you wouldn’t pass up any food unless you're filled, so i guess you ate a bunch of snacks beforehand” He chose not reveal how he caught her eating all the ingredients beforehand as she was cooking.

After they played board games and did their homework, the girl fell asleep. Inupi placed a blanket on her and couldn’t help but admire her sleeping. He cleaned up the dishes and board games. He then organized her school work and placed them in her backpack so she wouldn't forget before making his departure.

Walking her home became a daily routine, he started to figure out what her favorite food was and what she disliked. The songs she skips and the ones she plays on repeat. What jokes made her laugh and the character she liked. Even the way her eyes closed shut when laughing and the strand of hair that always stood up no matter how hard she tried. 

He loved her but was scared. If he told her and she didn't like him that could mean losing her forever. Yet if he didn't tell her he would harbor these secrets forever surrendering the chance that she might like him back. 

“Honestly the way your moping makes me pay you to just ask her” Koko sighed fully knowing that the girl had to like his blonde friend back. Inupi rolled his eyes before saying “I gotta go drop her off at the train station”. He wanted to ask you after your three day trip to the countryside hoping the time would help him build up the courage. He believed that it was better to tell them, than to live in the complex maze of not knowing, even when he knew his heart couldn’t take the damage if you had said no.

With the train station in view Inupi gently handed her bag which he insisted on carrying all the way. Then he rummaged through his own pockets to pull out (y/n)'s  favorite apple gummies.  “Here you go for the trip, and don’t snack too much because you need to eat a full meal alright”. 

“Fine but no promises” The girl spotted her family and gave them her luggage telling them to go ahead before walking back towards the boy. “You know i know you like me, Koko told me” (y/n) spoke. Inupi's heart dropped to his stomach. “ I like you too by the way”. She lightly kissed his cheek, grinned and then ran into the train station yelling “ I’ll see you soon”

Even with the amount of time she had made him blush. She had once again decorated his cheeks with pink. He didn’t know if he wanted to kill Koko or give him everything he owned. All he knew was the girl he loved, liked him back and that was enough to make him smile for a lifetime.

Later Inupi would confront Koko and the long haired friend would only say “You didn't have the balls, consider it a favor”

[moon-alight]

how do you think andteam would react to you being injured? thanks

Of course, Sorry for the wait 😘 (As you can see, I also changed the layout of everything. Hope nobody minds)

General Masterlist

&Team Masterlist

&Team Reaction to their s/o being injured

Warnings: Fluff, bit of angst, mild description of injuries

Word Count: 2042

-K

You were busy inside the kitchen of the dorms, ready to cook something nice for your sweet and hardworking boyfriend. He was out late with the members to prepare for a comeback which you didn't mind, you were used to his strange work hours by now.

With some music in the background, your hips swaying on 'Sorry' from Justin Bieber and an apple in your hand which you were peeling because you would make a small fruit salad as dessert, you felt happy. That is, until a sharp pain in your palm distracted you.

Looking down at the blood your heart dropped, not because you were hurt from accidentally cutting yourself, but because you knew your boyfriend. You went to hold the cut underneath the streaming water from the tap when the door opened and loud noise filled the room.

You heard Harua and Maki laugh about something Taki had said as they were all taking off their shoes before entering. Two strong arms wrapped around you from behind and warmth enveloped you. Kei obviously felt your body tensing against his own and frowned.

"Baby? What have you done?" He asked when he saw the cut in your palm.

"It's nothing, I was just being dumb." He took your hand in his and gently rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb.

"What am I gonna do with you?" He asked more to himself than to you.

"Kiss it better?" You asked to which he laughed and went to kiss your palm better.

-Fuma

Stressing over stupid little things was not unusual for you. Of course you'd be overreacting over something that had absolutely no impact on your life but you also did not want your new coworkers to think you were an idiot.

You had just had your first day at your new job and because you wanted to make a good impression, you might've accidentally knocked against the printer. The machine was okay but you ended up with a sprained ankle due to the fall.

Nobody laughed and instead two very sweet women helped you but you were embarrassed. Of course, nothing beats the fact that you had to somehow explain to your very caring boyfriend what had happened.

When you limped inside the dorms, he immediately could tell something was awfully wrong even though you tried to hide it.

"Honey?" Fuma asked and watched you make your way towards the couch slowly. "How was your first day at your new workplace?"

"Great! Amazing! Couldn't be better." You finally sat down and let out a sigh of relief because your ankle could finally rest.

"Hm." Fuma hummed and sat down next to you. "And now I want the truth, please."

"Alright, I fell, nothing too bad, just a sprained ankle."

"Well, you won't be walking the next few days." You stared at him with a deadpan look in your eyes. "What? You need to give it time to heal."

-Nicholas

He watched you walk towards the garbage can underneath the bookshelf inside his room and he also watched as you bend down to throw away some paper, came up and accidentally knocked your head straight against the wood of said shelf.

His first intention was to laugh it off because truth be told, it did look funny but when he saw the way you were obviously trying to hide how much it hurt you yet the tears bottled up in your eye, he knew it was not funny for you.

"Princess/Prince?" He asked carefully, getting up from his bed and walking over to you. "Are you okay?" You tried to hard not to cry because it would be very pathetic of you, but when the first tear fell, he coed at you and wrapped you up in a hug.

"It's okay." He whispered against your hair as he rubbed your head gently where you had hit the shelf. "My little clumsy duck--"

"Not funny." You muttered against him.

"I'm not laughing, princess/prince." Nicholas stated but couldn't help and smile. "I just need you to be a bit more careful next time." He cupped your cheeks in his hands and kissed your forehead. "Or your pretty little head might fall off one day."

-EJ

Sure when you were asked to help move the couch in the dorm, you agreed in a heart beat, mostly because it was your boyfriend who asked. The boys had a clear vision and it made a lot of sense in your head too.

The couch was too far in the front, they wanted to move it against the wall and had to move both the couch and the closet to do so. You had one hand on the back rest of the couch while the other rested on the armrest. When Yuma gave you the sign, you pushed forward with EJ and Jo.

When the couch hit the wall brutally because of the force you all had, one of your precious fingers got stuck between the couch and the wall which made you help before pulling it back. You looked down at the bleeding nail but were relieved it wasn't much worse.

"Oh my God!" Jo shrieked when he saw the slightest bit of blood. "I am so sorry!"

"You didn't do anything." You told him to which EJ chuckled and walked over to you. He took your hand in his to check the wound.

"Does it hurt a lot?"

"No, it did when it got stuck but it's fine now." You assured him, which was the truth.

"I will still get it desinfected just in case." EJ muttered and dragged you towards the kitchen even though you said you didn't need it.

-Yuma

You were not a big fan of PE, especially when it was running but you decided to keep your own pace and it should be fine. Well, it was fine for about fourty minutes until you had to do sprints. Your friends were all just as annoyed as you were but you had to do it.

So, when you began to run and your foot got stuck underneath a treebranch, since you were outside for your tests, you fell to the ground. For a second you were disoriented, not sure what had happened but then you saw the branch behind you and it made sense.

"Are you okay?" Yuma asked, appearing by your side immediately. He took your hands gently and pulled you up from the ground. Your knees were hurt the most as they had caught your fall and unfortunately, you scraped them open.

"Yuma, how about you bring them to the school nurse?" Your teacher asked your boyfriend who immediately agreed and went to grab your bag. You walked with him inside the school as he held your hand tightly.

"I'm proud you didn't laugh." You commented to which he gasped dramatically.

"Why would I laugh? You are hurt!"

"Remember that time I knocked my head against the glass door because I thought it was open and you ended up wheezing?"

"That was different!" Yuma tried to defend himself. "You were laughing too! I would've never laughed if you were actually hurt. I love you too much for that."

"Can you repeat that, please?"

"Repeat what?"

-Jo

He really did not mean to, but it kind of just happened and he completely knocked himself up because of it. See, you two were just playing basketball -- for as much as you were able to play -- because Jo was obviously much better.

He had scored once more and picked up the ball. He told you it was your turn and thought you were paying attention so he threw it into your direction and accidentally hit your face. Now, it did not hurt too bad but the moment he saw your bleeding nose, he was panicking.

"I'm so, so sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you! I would never do something like that on purpose--"

"Jo!"

"I swear! I am so so sorry! Please, yell if you want but don't leave me--"

"Jo! Listen to me, you dork!" He shut up once you actually raised your voice. You had to, he wouldn't listen otherwise so, you chuckled at him and continued in a softer tone. "My nose was already bleeding before you hit me with that ball."

"What? But, does it hurt? Why would your nose start bleeding?"

"It does that sometimes when the temperature drastically changes. I mean, it has been warm the previous months and today it is surprisingly chilly. Stop worrying."

"I'm still very sorry." Jo said and wrapped his arms around you tightly.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, believe me."

-Harua (I wonder what would happen if I forgot him XD)

The upcoming exams had you completely stressed. You wanted nothing more than to run away from all the trouble and spare yourself even more overthinking but you couldn't.

When you were stressed, you did a bunch of stupid and out-of-the ordinary stuff like accidentally snapping at your boyfriend who only tried to help.

You couldn't help but feel guilty so you arrived at the dorms to make it up to him. It was already dark and it had been raining outside. You quickly took your shoes off and walked down the hallway to the living room where you heard the tv. He sat on the couch alone.

You walked over, your foot accidentally slipped in a small puddle that someone had created and you fell to the ground. Harua was startled and looked over to see you. He frowned to himself in confusion.

"I wanted to apologize for snapping but I guess Karma was quick to punish my actions." You said with a groan. Harua stood up and walked over to you, he squatted down next to you.

"That puddle was Nicholas when he dropped his wet coat earlier." He told you and stroked a hand through your hair. "Apology accepted." He helped you stand up. "Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm fine." You assured him to which he nodded and made you sit next to him on the couch.

-Taki

He was teaching you some dance moves from their new coreography because you wanted him to. Taki had surprisingly much patience when it came to you and even supported you even though you knew you sucked. He was just glad he got to share this with you.

You had a small break and opened your waterbottle to take a sip as you explained something that had happened at school that day. Your free hand was moving along to punctuate your points when you accidentally hit it against the wall.

At first glance it didn't look that painful and Taki had chuckled at your clumsiness but when he saw your scraped knuckles and the blood, he stopped and turned serious immediately.

"Does it hurt?"

"Not much, just a slight sting."

"You have to be more careful." He told you and took your hand in his. "I cannot wrap you in bubblewrap but if I have to I might wrap everything around you."

"Hey! I'm not that bad!"

"Honestly, y/n, I think you might be worse."

-Maki

Maki was always supportive, even when you were going absolutely crazy. He loved dogs more than anything and luckily for him, so did you but when you got close to this beautiful little homeless chihuahua to pet him, he knew it was a bad idea.

You should've known that chihuahuas weren't going to warn you before biting but you were still surprised when he bit your finger. You yelped and stepped away from the dog to which you heard Maki sigh.

"Do not comment on it!" You warned him to which he chuckled. "I know I was stupid, I do not need a lecture."

"You know what? I would tell you 'I told you so' if I didn't love you so much." Maki said to which you smiled. "Regardless of that. . . I told you so." Your smile disappeared to which he laughed.

"Yeah, well, laugh about my misery! I might be in pain!" You complained to which he cooed at you.

"I'm sorry, I'll get you ice cream to cheer you up."

"Sounds good to me!"

[strawberrybasilsorbet]

Jilytober Day 6

Had some time this evening to work on another Jilytober fic! (Edit: Oops, forgot to tag! @jilytoberfest ). Hoping to go back and catch up on the days I missed, but in the meantime, here's my try at today's prompt:

October 6th: Making food together / food disasters

Clearly, something had gone wrong.

James furrowed his brow, staring at the chunks of apple and squash that he'd painstakingly peeled and cubed — by hand! — before dumping them into the tall Muggle goblet. Maybe he'd made a mistake with the plugs?

Around him, the kitchen hummed with the soft crooning of a record player and the clinking of pots and pans. The aroma of thyme, sage and cinnamon filled the air, suffusing the space with the unmistakable scents of Christmas Eve.

Lily and her mother were chatting about a neighbor's upcoming baby shower, occasionally pausing to check a recipe book or put a dish into the oven. James glanced over to make sure that neither of them had yet noticed his mistake, then turned back to the eclectic goblet on the countertop.

He double-checked the plug. It sat in the wall, exactly as Lily had shown him. He looked once more at the switch on the back of the device. It was pointed toward the word "On."

Wasn't something supposed to be happening?

James yanked the plug out of the wall and flicked the "On/Off" switch again. No change. He removed the tight-fitting lid from atop the goblet and peered inside, trying to see if anything stirred. He could see the circle of blades at the bottom, but they didn't move.

There was nothing else for it.

"Um, excuse me. Mrs. Evans?"

"What is it, dear?" asked Lily's mother, looking up from where she had begun to measure out a cup of sugar.

James thought back to his fifth year Muggle Studies vocabulary exams, trying to remember the proper phrasing. "I think that your power might be out," he said.

Lily looked up, and she and her mother exchanged a glance, confused. James cringed internally at the awkward moment. He must have gotten it wrong. "I mean, I think there's something wrong with your eckletricity," he corrected hastily. He gestured at the goblet. "It isn't working."

Mrs. Evans still looked wrongfooted, but Lily smirked. "Having trouble with the blender?"

Even as embarrassed as he felt, James couldn't help but return her smile. "Yeah, seems like it," he replied.

"Did you plug it in?"

"Yes."

"Did you turn it on?"

"Yes!"

"Did you hit the button?"

James paused. "The button?"

"In the front." Lily giggled as James turned back to the device, examining the raised knobs on the base. He always forgot about Muggle buttons, which looked nothing at all like normal buttons, the sort one might use to fasten a cloak. "You have to press the button to make it start, James."

"Right," said James. He looked over at Mrs. Evans and ran a hand through his hair, trying to project confidence. "I know about buttons," he told her. "We covered them in school, I just forgot. I'll get it started now—"

"No, wait! The lid—"

But before James could react to Lily's warning, he had already pressed the fateful button that began the eclectic spell. With a horribly loud whirring sound, the blades at the bottom of the machine came to life, turning with a speed that made the goblet shake. In moments, it had sent chunks of apple and squash soaring through the kitchen — and splashed the chicken stock directly into James's face.

Without thinking, James grabbed his wand from his pocket and cast a Body-Bind curse on the machine. He'd mostly done this on impulse — he hadn't been at all certain that it would work — but the machine froze, salvaging most of the ingredients inside. He flicked the switch to "Off," then removed the curse.

James turned sheepishly back toward Mrs. Evans, who looked as if she were caught between amusement and disbelief. After a moment, amusement won out, and she laughed warmly before handing James a towel from a drawer.

"That's alright, James, dear," she said. "Why don't I take over the soup for now, and you stir up the batter for the pudding?" James nodded, switching places with Mrs. Evans to join Lily at the table. He wiped the stock from his face. "Can you double-check the roast, love?" Mrs. Evans asked her daughter, grabbing some more apples to replace what had been lost. Lily nodded and turned to the oven.

Putting the towel aside, James picked up a wooden spoon to work on the pudding. He hoped his face wasn't too red.

Gripping the spoon awkwardly in his hand, he began to mix the sugar, chopped cranberries, flour and molasses together in wide circles. This was only his second time meeting Lily's parents —the first had been on the train platform as they arrived home for the holidays — and his first time visiting a Muggle house. He'd been so proud to be invited to Christmas Eve dinner, and when he'd offered to help, he'd been hoping to show the Evanses that he could fit in — to make a good impression. But the sheer number of strange devices and loud sounds to remember had overwhelmed him, made it difficult to keep Lily's instructions fixed in his head. He hadn't meant to use magic. Not, James grumbled internally, that he'd been doing so well without it...

James's spiraling thoughts were interrupted by a warm hand taking his own. His heart stuttered. "Hold the spoon like this," Lily said, stepping in to rearrange his grip. "Like a wand. You'll have more control, and you'll be able to whip the batter faster."

James could think of nothing but the warmth of Lily's hands over his own. She stood so close that he could have counted her freckles without his glasses.

The sudden din of eckletricity made him jump. Mrs. Evans had managed to fix the issue with the eclectric goblet (The blender, Lily had said? Or was he thinking of a fender?). After a few moments, the apples and squash were pulverized into a thick, liquid mixture. It looked as though the soup was saved.

"There," Mrs. Evans said with satisfaction, turning back toward Lily and James at the table. Her lips quirked upward, and Lily took a quick step back.

"I was just showing James how to hold the spoon, Mum," Lily said, reddening. "He doesn't mix batter often, since wizard families usually use spells for cooking..."

Mrs. Evans, who had looked skeptical of her daughter's excuses, turned toward James with interest. "Really?"

James nodded. "Oh, yeah, we always use magic to cook at my house."

"Well, isn't that the most exciting thing!" She looked impressed. "Could you show me?"

"He can! He's seventeen, too!" said Lily eagerly. That was right — she'd said that her mum was interested in magic. It was her sister that was the problem...

James ran his hand through his hair, which (to his embarrassment) was still wet with chicken stock. Lily's mother was watching him expectantly. This was his opportunity to make up for his earlier fumbling, James thought, drawing his wand. He tried to remember the spell for stirring. He'd seen the wand movement so many times...

The cranberry batter exploded in his face.

The kitchen was silent. James blinked, covered in food for the second time in a row. "Um. Usually my mum does it."

Mrs. Evans burst into loud guffaws, and suddenly, James felt lighter than he'd been all afternoon. "Of course she does," Mrs. Evans said. "Nothing new under the sun. Let me grab you a towel to clean up, dear..."

"Thank you very much, Mrs. Evans," James said. As she bustled from the kitchen, he turned back toward the table, wondering if he should measure out ingredients for a second batch.

As Mrs. Evans footsteps grew quieter on the stairs, Lily stepped close to James once more. "Very smooth," she whispered in his ear. In a quick movement, she licked some of pudding batter from his cheek and kissed the skin underneath. James blushed.

Lily walked back to her side of the table, eyeing James with mock thoughtfulness. Cranberry juice and molasses stained her mouth like lipstick. "The batter's okay," she said, grinning. "Let's add more sugar this time."

[tailschannel]

Sonic to get "several new mobile titles" in the future, according to SEGA management meeting document

The Sonic the Hedgehog series is expected to receive "several new titles" for mobile platforms, SEGA's parent company confirmed in a management meeting early Wednesday.

Apple and Google were both named as "key players" in the mobile sector for SEGA, as the publisher detailed an encompassing transmedia scheme for the blue blur, which will include licencing and collaborations with other third-party properties.

"Several new" mobile games under development

With an established presence thanks to the likes of free apps like Sonic Dash and Sonic Forces Speed Battle, the franchise looks set to dive in the world of mobile gaming, as part of SEGA's future plans.

The publisher did not rule out exclusivity clauses with subscription-based mobile gaming services. In recent days, the publisher signed a contract with Apple to produce Sonic Dream Team, and Netflix announced a mobile port of Sonic Mania Plus for their game subscription service.

No word of a specific timeframe for the aforementioned mobile games, currently in development.

Future Sonic mobile games to adopt Rovio's Beacon toolkit

As part of the mobile expansion, the upcoming slate is expected to adopt "Beacon", an internal development and marketing toolkit powered by machine learning, frequently utilized by Rovio, the Finnish studio behind Angry Birds that SEGA acquired over the summer.

The studio described Beacon as a platform to "build games and get games to market, models to profitably grow and monetize the game and live operations tools to maximize our players’ fun."

The toolkit has been criticized in a number of fan-run Angry Birds forums for incentivizing revenue at the expense of gameplay quality.

SEGA did not disclose if the Beacon platform will extend beyond the present suite of HARDlight mobile games.

More details on SEGA's resurrection of classic hits

SEGA also unveiled these new images and descriptions for the five new games announced at The Game Awards, described as a "power surge" to re-electrify their classic hits, like Crazy Taxi and Jet Set Radio.

Crazy Taxi: Innovative & Fresh Style Driving Action! Cheerful feeling of freedom and fusion of nature and city. Peel out the new stage of Crazy City!

Jet Set Radio: "Counter-Culture" - Tokyo Street Open World! Experience the "rebellion" movement that feels free in a suffocating society. Make friends, increase your fans, and create a movement!

Shinobi: Slay the enemies in the silence of the moment. Run through the world of Shinobi, full of monsters and ninja actions. Grab Oberozuki, the legendary sword and slay evil once more. Your clan and the world are counting on you.

Golden Axe: Warriors arise to subdue the demons! Defeat your enemies with a variety of attacks with swords and magic! The legendary story about the battle axe, Golden Axe is about to begin!

Streets of Rage Revolution: Beloved side-scrolling beat 'em up action series! Take control of one of the ex-officers and make the city a place where people no longer have to walk the "Streets of Rage."

The announcement coincided with SEGA's plans to strengthen their flagship video game brands like Persona and Like a Dragon, and to expand with legacy properties.

(Edit 2:00 pm ET - post updated with new details)

[lux-lost]

The angel moves through the halls on soft soles, cautiously quiet. The entities around it are not safe. The angel can feel their eyes on the back of its head. The taste of their gaze lingers on its skin, whispers the things unsaid into its ears. They think the angel is their kin, if suspiciously unusual. But in truth, it is a foreign object that sticks out and could be hammered down at any moment if it draws too much attention. They presume ownership over the angel, and that makes them dangerous. 

The angel’s exoskeleton is tight around its ribs. It warms and hides its form, and yet, that’s not enough. The angel feels the machine in its chest stutter and stumble nervously every once in a while. Every moment is stolen, could be the last. It breathes carefully, holding onto its core for stability.

Someone pulls the angel into a hug and it lets its body be soft and inviting. It feels the same softness from the other side, but none of that makes it past the bright glow of the angel’s aura, which conceals the hard shell tightly laced around its vulnerable parts.

The angel consumes and enjoys some very fucked up things. It is a deviant one, a pervert. Nonetheless its core is so pure and clean, any contact with the outer world could sully it. The angel is not ugly inside, not like other beings. Peeling back the layers only lays bare rosy flesh and silvery scar tissue. No rot, no maggots, no danger.

It is of vital importance to protect its angel core, to conceal it from prying eyes and prodding fingers. If someone witnessed that core, they’d judge the angel for it. They’d think it childish. Or lifeless. Or boring. Their ugly thoughts would dampen its glow. Some might even actively seek to ruin it. 

To keep itself safe, the angel needs to be very closed off. But it cannot be solely solitary. After all, the angel’s presence is a service, a service to those around it. It has to say and do the right things when in the presence of other beings. To uplift. To entertain. To make itself worth their while. 

For this purpose, the angel may occasionally draw upon its core to extend its glow to others. Its light can be used to illuminate the innocent, protect and nurture them as well. It’s the angel’s treasure, all it has to offer to other entities. When it is in their presence, the angel forfeits itself to them. It needs to be invited. It needs to be dismissed. It needs to be told what to do. The angel can provide something to those who need something, but it can’t really take anything.

The angel has to be very careful about what it invites back in when it puts out. Many people have a lot of beauty in them, but then something ugly as well. When eating apples directly from the tree, one has to watch for worms and mold.

The angel cannot just go around getting close to people carelessly. They may bait the angel with beauty, but then trap it in ugliness. They may try to tie it down with tendrils of need and despair, integrate it into their ugly lives, compel it to commit sin. It’s not their fault for having ugly parts, of course. The world is an ugly place after all, it poisons and corrupts. 

The angel is not immune to this corruption either, it gets infested sometimes as well. When that happens, it has to isolate and cleanse itself. Burning the poison away hurts, of course, but better than letting it fester for too long. 

The angel does not demand a pedestal, but it is certainly constructed to be put on one. To really be safe and fulfill its purpose, it needs to be put on one. Even when sullied, it still remembers and longs for its former purity. It’s this need for perfection, the yearning to be a shining idol on a pedestal, that drives its machine parts.

The pedestal, freely given, is its only form of power, the only power a being of its kind is allowed to hold. The angel actually can’t do shit. Its power is fully derived from those who put it on its pedestal. The angel’s light is a farce, nothing but smoke and mirrors for those who want to believe in it.

You have to understand, you may need the angel, but actually, the angel needs you more. It needs you to need it. It only has the worth you give it. It only has value in the needs it can meet. Without your need for its light, it has no reason to pretend it’s shining. It can’t really help you through your misery, but you can feed on its light until you feel better. If you weren’t miserable, you wouldn’t really seek out the angel, would you?

You can draw the angel in by making it feel needed, bind it with attention and affection. It doesn’t take much, just a little bit of kindness. It will attune itself to your needs. You can trust it, it’s loyal. When you don’t need it anymore, it is safe to just abandon it. It is safe to just forget about it. You don’t even have to tell it that you’re discarding it, it will figure that out itself after a while.

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: BaNaNa Boy

Debut: Mario Kart 8

In the past, we have gone over some of the most silly and notable fictional sponsors appearing in the Mario Kart series, but one has always stood out as the most a-peeling, even back then! That is none other than BaNaNa Boy. Who is this mystical Boy? Why does he capitalize such seemingly unimportant letters? Let’s discuss.

BaNaNa Boy is, I must assume, the provider of the Banana Peels that are so important to the Mario Kart series! It is quite obvious, I must say. The peel is in the logo, and the slogan, “Let one slip!”, refers to slipping on them. I am also reasonably certain that this slogan is based on the phrase “let one rip”, referring to farting. Awesome!

I have to wonder how BaNaNa Boy got their start! I don’t know how long lore-wise banana peels have been used for kart races. Maybe at first the Kongs were more than happy to donate their used banana peels for the races, but as the karting franchise grew and grew, they needed more, a dedicated provider... a BaNaNa Boy! Someone BaNaNas for Bananas! Or maybe it is a more humble origin, and BaNaNa Boy was a small novelty shop, providing banana peels and other items to prank your friends with. When a large amount of banana peels were needed, one of their loyal customers suggested this small business, and that was their big break!

It may seem like producing large quantities of bananas only to use their peels would be incredibly wasteful. But do not fret!

Let One Slip right down your esophagus! As seen if you look closely at the vending machines in Super Bell Subway, BaNaNa Boy sells beverages, presumably made with the peeled bananas! You can find them wherever you find canned water from Toad Harbor and canned Roy Smooth Sounds. I would also like to assume that BaNaNa Boy provides bananas for other establishments, like Coconut Cafe, which we also see in Super Bell Subway! I know I would love a BaNaNa muffin!

I have been writing “BaNaNa” so many times here. I love the wacky capitalization! It makes me pronounce it in my mind like “bah nah nah” rather than “banana”. Do you think it stands for something? I think it can be a sort of acronym, representing their three main products: Bananas, Nanners, and ‘Nas! All brought to you by a Boy. A Boy with a dream.

A Boy with a dream of stardom! Advertised in New York Minute, Da Big Apple itself, is BaNaNa Boy, the musical! The smash hit musical! Is BaNaNa Boy such a huge and popular brand that it has become a multimedia franchise? I like to think that it is not. It’s still just a banana supplier. But now it has a musical, and everyone loves it! Wouldn’t you want to see what it’s all about? I would!

Maybe it follows the story of the company’s rise to worldwide success. Or maybe it is an entirely fictional adventure about BaNaNa Boy the banana peel and his wacky friends... and foes! BaNaNa Boy would be the hero defending the banana trees and the entire ecosystem around them, and the whole thing would distract people from the actual environmental damage the brand is actually causing just like any corporation. What a fun spectacle! Visit the concession stand and treat yourself to a BaNaNa peel packaged in its own single-use plastic wrapper!

Did you know that Super Bell Subway contains this incredible city map? That’s the subway terminal itself in pink, with train lines leading out, and you can even see Toad Harbor in box A2, and Moo Moo Meadows in box D3!

And did you know that this city is, in fact, the one seen in N64 Rainbow Road? It is so so SO cool and awesome to see such continuity in a franchise where there is so often none at all! As a wise woman once said, “More like Mario Kart Lore!” But how is this relevant? Look at the first map again! It’s blurry, but the text on each side is the names of a whole lot of the sponsors seen advertising throughout the game! This is not just any city, but apparently a capital of the racing world, full of storefronts or maybe even headquarters of businesses from BaNaNa Boy to Undead Motors. Hey, BaNaNa Boy! That’s the one we were talking about before this tangent!

According to section A, BaNaNa Boy (misspelled Banana Boy) is located in box C3. The labels on the map itself are nearly unreadable, but as they list some the same businesses multiple times even in the same boxes, I am inclined to ignore them. So let’s look at box C3, home of BaNaNa Boy!

Here it is! Somewhere in this image is BaNaNa Boy (location). It certainly looks like all residential buildings to me, though! Are you telling me they did not want to take the time to model individual unique businesses on this background setting far away from the actual racetrack, and/or did not plan in advance that a DLC track would establish that these locations are unique in the first place? Preposterous! Clearly BaNaNa Boy works from home and you can come visit him. In real life!

One more thing! Mario Kart Tour is very insistent upon people playing as Miis, with multiple racing suits available, each treated as its own character. I am not a fan of most of these, as they are usually just based on a character who is already playable, so I would rather play as the real character! However, there are some really fun and creative ones based on other things from the Mario series, my favorite probably being this one based on the end-of-level castles! If they can make a suit based on this, surely they could make one based on Banana... and maybe even BaNaNa Boy itself, seeing as this game celebrates the sponsors wherever it can, to the point of even putting their stickers on some racing helmet! It would absolutely become the best racing suit to me instantly. You could pretend you’re playing as THE BaNaNa Boy! I love selling out! BaNaNa Boy paid me to write this post! (in exposure)

[katz-chow]

of apple pies and bloody knives chapter one: a haze in the fields

warnings: pilot to slasher!graves x fem!reader, hallucinations, hauntings, paranoia

word count: 1,000

Amber waves of grains only applied to two parts of the United States, the Midwest, and Texas. Even with being one of the most well-known lines within American patriotism, one must see the image of urban life rather than endless fields of golden. Flat plains rolled by the windows of her small Chevy, the peaked window caused strands of brown hair to dance in the warm, late summer air. Over her shoulder in the back of the Impala, boxes of essentials clinked and clattered whenever the pavement proved to be porous

Sporadically hitting small towns on the way to her destination, fields turned into hills and then back to drier, rougher patches of empty land, a white dot of a house on the horizon. Orange clouds illuminated the sky as she turned on her lights, and a wave of dread washed over her. The rear view mirror showed nothing but sun-bleached tar and rocky hills behind her. For a pretty girl, even in the absence of men, she will never find peace, now or ever.

The familiar glow of a 7-11’s enthralled her like a moth to a flame, welcoming her back to civilization and the safety net of a crowd. The chill of a Montanan night shivered through her, arms tight on her chest as the wind whistled a soft tune. ‘No more than 20 minutes…’ She promised herself, stepping through the blast of air.

It didn’t even take 15 when she was back on the road again, tank full, bladder emptied, and switchblade thankfully still closed. Making good time, she started up her ending journey to Marburn, Montana. Never heard of it? Good. She checks the time on the dash of her car, ‘11:32 PM’ it read. It was late and late is always bad for a girl. She steps on the gas.

“How long you gon’ be here for, Sweetheart?” The extended-stay motel clerk asked as he thumbed the toothpick between his lips. The teal paint smothered the crackled walls behind him mixed with the fluorescent lights made him look greenish, hair flowing from the desk fan not escaping this effect either.

She fished for her credit card from her wallet and slid it across the counter to him, “Hopefully for a while, but let’s just say 2 weeks for now.”

Her eyes darted over his face, taking in his image just in case. His patchy stubble and tired eyes lent the appearance of a raccoon.

The man shrugged and swiped her card, a satisfying ding echoed from the machine. “$79 for the first week, then it’s $65 for the next, you got that?”

She continued to stare at him, her eyes empty and dead set on the space between his eyes, almost as if in a daze. “Yes, sir.” She whispered.

She took back her card from his hand and the small key to her room. The clock hit midnight as she tugged on her luggage into the damp and dingy motel room.

Locking the door behind her, she also closed the blinds, hanging up a tarp covering the windows as well. She hid. The room was small, with a bed, a pull-out couch, a bathroom, and a small kitchenette with a gas stove, fridge, and microwave. It was doable for the next few weeks, until she can confirm her work and boarding. That, however, was a task for the future. It all resembled a college dorm except if the student had paid extra to get a suite; she smiled just knowing she wasn’t back in that dump, but her smiled dropped into a thinned-lipped frown knowing she was never far from him.

She thought about the boxes of dishes and other necessities in the back seat of her car, debating on whether or not to risk the trip. Her fingers opened the blinds, face nearing in on the dust and eyes peaked between the plastic. Her eyes traveled to the white Chevy parked upfront, the diamond frame of her license plate peeled off. The empty voids mixed with the glittering crystals reminded her of the emptiness in beehives; some filled with honey and nectar while others were left abandoned, hollowed out as if only there to just be there. She sympathized with them as she looked away, catching sight of the innate feeling of danger.

A pair of eyes stared at her, a figure just out on the other side of the parking lot. The figure stood, hunched over a car trunk and turned backward towards her, eyes peering in like a mannequin. His face etched an image of a familiarity, a far she could never forget as he wore the faded red hoodie that she had stolen from him just months prior, laughter bubbled up in them both.

Now, even that thick, old hoodie couldn’t shield the chill than sprinted down her spine, her ears pooling with blood as her heart drummed a solid allegro in her chest. Her stomach growled. It was getting too late in the night, she thought, not worth the trip. Her fingers relaxed as she pulled herself away from the empty parking lot, only her white Chevy in front.

If there she could describe the room in one mood, unsettling would be the word. Dim, yellow lights caused all the shadows on the peeling wallpaper to enhance itself with long shadows, always looming over her seemingly small form. Despite this, she still found the warmth and comfort of tight sheets in a made bed. It wasn’t heavy like how she would remember her bed at home–or well, what was home, but it was better than the back of her car.

Sleep cradled her in its arms, rocking her to a blissful, silent slumber–which was appreciated in comparison to the long nights of sweat-drenched nightmares and paranoia. She was okay, she chanted in her head, convincing herself and the monster that is anxiety and intrusive thoughts. New environment, new life, new identity, she is truly scattered to the winds; a field of dandelions. 

[ley-med]

Gâteau invisible

The "invisible apple cake", is actually not that hard to make as I thought. On the other hand, it's just as good as I thought it should be, so a win-win situation

If anyone feels like trying, here's the recipe:

Just take 4 big eggs (slightly beat them), a cup of warm milk, 4 tablespoons of melted butter, 2 teaspoons of vanilla extract, mix them. Add 3/4 cup of flour, 3/4 cup of powdered sugar, a pinch of salt, 2 big teaspoons of cinnamon, few teaspoons of baking powder (the original recipe called for 1 teaspoon, I poured in approximately 7? I don't know how much is in a pack - then next time I tried it with less, cake turned out just the same), just mix it all up. Take 6 apples, peel them, cut out their middle, and slice as thin as you can - preferably with machine (it was so much slower when I tried with a hand held mandoline, I'm all for the robotic machine). Pour the apple slices into the batter, gently mix it (at this point, the batter should thicken slightly). Take a deep pan (mine was cc. 20x40 cm and approximately 7 cm deep), and using a big spoon, gently layer the apple-batter. Bake on 180°C for an hour, check on it regularly - it's done when it's golden.

Here's the original recipe as well.

[gay-milton-quotes]

I'm Unpeeling Myself from Big Tech!

"Unpeeling" being any act you take that limits the amount of data a large tech corporation can gather from you, decreases your reliance on products of those corporations, or increases autonomy over your technology. I'm ripping the term from a line in this review by Joanna Nelius, where she writes, "People are looking for ways to peel their eyes from their smartphones like a layer of Elmer’s glue from their hand — to remove a part of themselves that really isn’t a part of themselves." It's different than "unplugging" because the goal isn't to go off the grid, or even to limit one's technology usage. The goal, instead, is to extract from the invasive, addictive, destructive capitalist vision a set of tools that are useful to YOU.

It started when I realized I don't need a smartphone. I've deleted most social media from my phone, and the stuff I still have I prefer to check on my laptop. Not all "dumb phones" (I hate this term) offer the same features, though, so I began to think on a granular level about what I need from a cell phone. Eg, not all "dumb phones" provide MMS, but my family lives 3k miles away. I wanna still talk in the groupchat.

On the more complex end, I write on my phone. I've been using Google Docs to move seamlessly from scribbled writing drafts on my phone to formatted, finished works on my computer since I was fourteen.

Except, Google Docs is useless now. I've been unable to use it since they lowered the storage capacity. The only other cloud storage writing thingy with similar functionality is Office 365, which sucks.

Could a dumb phone with a basic "notes" feature work? Maybe, but I'd have to re-type everything to get it into a formatted document. Ideally, I'd have like, a mini-laptop just for writing - something I could fit in my pocket or in a small bag, so I could bring it to work without looking like a dick - and then, in addition, a basic phone for calls/texts/GPS stuff. But does a device this specific to my use case even exist?

Yes. Yes it does.

This is a GPD Micro PC. GPD mainly sells handheld gaming machines, though this product is designed for mobile IT professionals. It's probably too chonky for a pocket, but mark my words, I will figure out how to make it work for me.

It's stupid, but this gave me a rush. I've been struggling along, tied to the bloated corpses of three gmail accounts, for years, because I needed Google Docs for my writing workflow. But now I don't. I have the power to actually tailor my tech for my life.

By this point, I was like, alright, I don't need Google Docs anymore, I don't need a smartphone, what else? Do I need Windows? No, probably not, right? I can use Linux Mint on this new guy, especially since he'll mostly be a basic writing machine. LibreOffice is less intrusive and bloated than MS Word - a better experience for free than I'd have from the paid program. If I go all the way and install Linux, I also won't have to deal with ads in my start menu, or pre-installed spyware screenshotting my activities.

In fact, if I back everything up on an external drive, I can delete my old Google Drives and switch my main computer to Linux, too! So, I finally bit the bullet and invested in an external hard drive.

This is the problem with "product ecosystems," by the way. When one part of that ecosystem - Google Docs - fails, the whole thing collapses. All the bloat and corruption you dealt with just stops being worth it, and it's easier to make a radical change to a new system. I witnessed something similar happen with comedy tech youtuber Dankpods earlier this year, except with Apple's ecosystem: he was a lifetime Apple guy - seemingly not in a worship way, but he liked their products, and was certainly in Apple's ecosystem. Then a couple things went sour for him, and now he runs Linux.

I'm doing this for personal and ideological reasons. I'm personally sick of Clippy - I mean, Copilot - peeping in to tell me how to write what I'm writing on Office 365. I abhor the idea of paying Google for a service they offered for free until recently, knowing they can flip the script at any point. And while we're talking ideology, I'm a communist, and even though this is far from a shift everyone can make, I believe that taking any available steps towards shutting Big Tech out of our lives is a net good. If all you can do is delete Instagram, or use a screentime tracker, or switch to Firefox, do it. I'm finally in a position to make this more drastic change, and I'm excited.

Get in the weeds about how you use technology. Do you need everything at your fingertips, all the time? If not, what, specifically, do you need? Is there a way that you, now or in the future, can trim out the parts you dislike? And what can you change now?

[crisp-autumnal-air]

Apple-Pecan Tart

(Via Our Kitchen Sink)

Recipe from the New York Times

Ingredients:

1 1/3 cups flour, more for rolling

1 tablespoon granulated sugar

1/2 teaspoon salt

10 tablespoons cold unsalted butter

1 large egg yolk plus 3 large eggs

2 medium tart apples, peeled, cored and sliced

2 tablespoons light brown sugar

1 1/2 cups coarsely chopped pecans

1 cup maple syrup

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 cup heavy cream, whipped, for serving

Yield: 8 to 10 servings.

Directions:

1. Heat oven to 400 degrees. Place flour, sugar and salt in food processor. Pulse to blend. Dice 8 tablespoons butter, place in food processor and give it about 20 quick pulses, until butter is in tiny lumps. Beat egg yolk with 4 tablespoons ice water. Open cover of machine and sprinkle in egg mixture. Pulse briefly. Ingredients should start to clump together to form a dough; do not allow a ball of dough to form. If dough is too dry to hold together, add another teaspoon or two of water and pulse again.

2. Transfer dough mixture to lightly floured work surface and gather together to form into a flat, smooth disk. Roll to a circle about 13 inches in diameter and fit into a 10-inch fluted tart pan. Line with foil, weight with pastry weights and bake 10 minutes, until dry-looking. Remove foil and weights, prick bottom of pastry in a few places and bake until golden, about 20 minutes more. Remove from oven.

3. While pastry is baking melt remaining 2 tablespoons butter in a skillet. Add apples and sauté over medium-high heat until lightly browned. Stir in brown sugar, then add pecans. Sauté another minute. Remove from heat and spread in baked pastry. Beat eggs, stir in syrup and vanilla and pour over apples and pecans.

4. Bake 15 minutes. Reduce heat to 350 degrees and bake until set and browned on top, about 25 minutes more.

To make ahead: Bake tart; let cool completely. Wrap pan and all in plastic, then foil. Freeze. Thaw 2 hours, then bake at 350 degrees for 20 minutes and allow to cool 30 minutes before serving with whipped cream.

Pastry can be mixed, formed into a disk, wrapped in plastic and refrigerated up to 2 days in advance of using. Let it come to room temperature 1 hour before rolling. Prebaked pastry, cooled, not filled, can also be frozen in pan, wrapped in plastic, for up to 1 week.

[sarah-sandwich]

17 and 29 foe AO3 wrapped?

Thanks for the ask!

17. Your favorite character to write this year?

You sent this while I was answering this one from someone else lol but that's okay it's Harley Keener. My special boy. Save me from my slump special boy. Save meee

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

It's funny that of my piddly 4.6k that I posted this year (*sob*) it's all last year's work. Which is great for this question! Because that means I get to pull from a wip. Let me see....

OKAY this is long and I know you don't go here so you're under no obligation to read it, but you asked so here's the answer pulled from my Harley-centric fic still in want of a real name:

The humming stops as she turns from poking the sausage around one of many cast iron skillets. Dirty blonde hair—same as his save for her streaks of gray—piled atop her head in a thick bun that is neat for now but will bloom and fray from the length of the day and the humidity of the kitchen. Crows feet and worry lines crease her forehead. Her eyes are a deep warm brown like Abbie’s. Wide nose, full cheeks, chapped hands from frequent washes, wide hips, thick middle, and a foot shorter than him—he looks at his mother and realizes all at once that he’s missed her.

“Hey, Mama.”

She sets aside her wooden spatula and pulls him into a hug—squeezing tight while his long limbs drape around her shoulders. Against his nose, her hair smells sweet.

“Harley James,” she pulls away and looks up at him with her hands on her hips, “you been avoidin’ your ma?”

“No, ma’am.”

She makes a sound of disbelief but there’s no offense in her expression. Were Mary Ellen and Louisa here they’d be trading glances. Kids, they’d say with only their eyebrows and knowing smiles. Don’t matter what the rest of Rose Hill thinks, or how big his shoes get, to Mama he’ll always be her kid, and with that comes certain expectations.

Such as stoppin’ in for a meal more’n once a week—something he neglects awfully.

She eyes him up and down and her usual commentary runs through his head: I swear you’re thinner every time I see you. I can near see between your ribs and out the other side. Ain’t that boy been feedin’ you? You know, when I stayed home I kept house and I kept my family fed and that was that. Time’s, they change. Don’t make that face at me; I’m only sayin’ what I see. You know what else I see? You work too hard. How come you never have time to sit and visit with your ma?

He braces for it, anticipating the worst, but she surprises him and only asks, “Got time to sit for a meal?”

“Always,” he says, even though they both know it to be a big fat lie.

Still, she smiles, pleased, and points at a netted bag of apples sitting on the counter. “Peel those for me, baby.”

He steps up to the apple peeler anchored to the counter and rolls up his sleeves. “All of ‘em?”

All of ‘em.

They work back-to-back how they used to, an efficient machine, callin’ out hot pans and passing shakers, butter, and cartons of cream back and forth across the limited space. Mama looks over his shoulder as she returns the milk to the fridge and clicks her tongue at the state of the apples simmering in his skillet. She sets a block of butter on the counter beside him. Dutifully, he cuts free and few more pats and stirs ‘em in with the bubbling cinnamon, sugar, and nutmeg that perfumes the air, combining with the sausage and browning biscuits into the smell of his childhood.

Biscuits and gravy can be tossed together quick with minimal clean up and stick to your ribs to ensure you’re not wilting by nine. Then you always need to close out a meal with somethin’ sweet and fried apples are Abbie’s favorite. At least once a week, but often more, they had biscuits and gravy and apples for a meal. Didn’t much matter which one.

Harley scoops out a heap of sweet gooey apple slices and trades plates with Mama for one loaded down with biscuits, sausage gravy, and a couple sausage patties on the side. He adds a serving of apples, knowing he’ll be hard pressed to clean his plate as it is, but they’ve been getting on so well and he’s not gonna to be the one to sour the morning by bringing up something as silly as his limited stomach capacity.

They leave the lights off in the dining room and eat with the sun on their backs. Soft, lily white biscuits yield under his fork like butter until he gets to the crispy bottom. He chases gravy too thick to soak with a bite of biscuit and swallows it down with a bite of sausage. Black pepper, sausage spice, and creamy gravy—the taste of home coats his tongue and warms him from the belly out. He saves the apples for last—sweet, soft, buttery, and perfect.

He scrapes his plate and licks his fork clean as history could have predicted he would. He’s never been able to turn down Mama’s cooking. Food’s always been their great equalizer. Cooking it, serving it, and eating it. Things between them are never easier than when they put food at the center and dance around it.

It’s why his stomach is tight with anxiety now that the food is gone.

He waits until she sets down her fork and curls her fingers around her coffee mug, elbows on the counter, a mirror of him, to clear his throat.

“Evrett Jensen pulled a runner again,” he says, even though she’s surely heard that much by now. The diner ain’t far behind the bar when it comes to spreading gossip. Wherever folks gather, that’s where the grapevine runs thickest.

Sure enough, she taps her fingernail against her mug and doesn’t look at him as she says, “Heard y’all caught him afore he got off with anything vital.”

“Abbie did.” He sighs. “Then she had him brought to me to sort out.” Now she looks up. He doesn’t lift his head and presses his palms tight against the heat of his mug.

“And did you?” she asks.

He shakes his head. “‘Fraid I only made it worse.”

She sits silent and watchful until he raises his head to witness her expectantly raised eyebrows.

With shame, he tells her the bones of last night’s fiasco, naturally leaving out the missing testosterone and glossing past the exact things he screamed when he lost his temper at a teenager.

Mama drains her coffee. “You sent him to Tonya?”

He nods, then sighs and knuckles his forehead. “I don’t expect him to last long. Just hopin’ long enough to figure out what to do with him next.”

She stands and collects his plate. “You send him to me.”

He sits up. “I can’t ask you to—"

She skewers him with a look. “When was the last time you asked me anything, Harley James?”

Shame closes over him. “I’m sorry, Mama. I— How are you?”

She snorts and with a roll of her eyes, sweeps through the chrome door with the dirty dishes, saying, “Ain’t nothin’ I ain’t handled before. You turned out just fine.”

“But ma—" He hurries after her, snatching up his coffee as an afterthought. He steps into the kitchen and finds her already at the sink scrubbing away while the water runs hot. He sets aside his mug and rolls up his sleeves. “It’s different. And he’s way worse than I ever was.”

She flicks a doubtful glance at him as he settles at the sink beside her and accepts the first scrubbed plate to rinse.

“I love you, honey, but I doubt that very much.”

He bristles with offense. “I never stole anything from anybody.”

“I’d rather his sticky fingers over the constant worry you’d come home weeping and pregnant.”

He drops the plate and it clatters loudly in the sink.

She continues, “Or worse, you don’t come home at all ‘n disappear with that boy.” The scrub brush slows against ceramic. “I still worry if I’m bein’ truthful.”

That boy.

She never calls him by his name.

“His name is Georgia.”

“I’m aware.” She holds out the second plate.

His fingers curl over the lip of the sink. “You don’t need to worry about that. We take precautions.”

“I know you ain’t on the pill.”

He hates the pill. He tried it once at Mama’s insistence when he was fifteen, after the first time she caught him and Georgia alone in his room with the door shut. They weren’t even doing anything. Weren’t even touching as they laid on their backs atop his bed speaking softly of futures brighter than the one Rose Hill offered.

Then Mama barged in and jumped to every wrong conclusion that eventually would turn out to be right, but not for months and months and months. She was on the phone scheduling an appointment with his doctor before Georgia had even gotten his shoes on.

Harley couldn’t look at him for a week. And by the time he drummed up his resolve and spoke to him again, he was on the pill and his hormones were strange and unfamiliar and tripping all over the place. He’d lose his temper over something trivial and be crying a moment later, all while deep inside he panicked—trapped by his emotions, betrayed by a body that was only ever incidentally on his side before, but now had turned its back on him entirely.

He threw out the pills within the first month and refused more. He took his testosterone religiously, desperate to feel normal again, and swore up and down to Mama and his doctor that he wasn’t sexually active and when he decided to be he’d use a condom and be careful and wouldn’t shame his mother by becoming a statistic. God forbid.

The joke was on all of them because when he and Georgia did have their first time together, they very quickly found out that vaginal sex sends him into an anxiety spiral. That was a disaster, but together they discovered many other ways they could be intimate that they both enjoyed, and not one of them leads to pregnancy so he hasn’t revisited his decision to stay away from hormone-based preventatives.

But besides all of that, more than any of that, his relationship with Georgia is none of his mother’s business. If she wants to be let in, she’ll have to start using his name.

He breathes out slowly and takes the plate. He says nothing as he rinses it and stores it overhead in a slotted rack to drip dry over the sink.

“D’you want me to bring Evrett by today?” he asks, abandoning the previous subject entirely.

Mama’s squatting in front of a cupboard, digging through Tupperware for the matching lid to the bowl in her hand. “A few days with Tonya’ll do him good, I expect. I’ll be a breath of fresh air in comparison.”

He can’t see it.

“I’ll bring him in a few days then.”

He waits while she spoons the remaining fried apples into the bowl and seals it. The lid steams over and the plastic is hot in his hand as he takes it and allows his mother to kiss his cheek.

“You make sure that gets to your sister,” she says. Her eyes are dark as they sweep over his face. He sees neither guilt nor regret in their depths. “Love you, baby.”

He swallows his pride and says, “Love you, too.”

And he does. He just wishes it didn’t hurt so much.