#but also not all grocery stores are created equal

[sawthatmountainburn]

fun fact about me is that I loved going to kaufland basically until I was like 19. idk it just felt like an adventure every time. so much food!

[alwerakoo]

''Dream about me''

ROTTMNT Leonardo & Michelangelo - centric Post-krang roadtrip AU, 5k words

After stopping an alien invasion (of the world-ending kind), a road trip across America feels like the most logical next step. A brilliant idea, as far as Mikey is concerned. His siblings still treat him like particularly fragile glass statue, Leo refuses to look at him, and there's a deep knot, constantly tightening somewhere inside of his chest. But the views are nice, at least.

(Art by @nerdy-turtle-enthusiast)

Read on AO3

------ “That's not going to close.”

Donnie, carefully trying to balance a third suitcase on top of two others, leans back to look at April.

“Maybe it would, if one of you actually tried to help.”

Raph and April, both equally invested in the task of trying to look busy, quickly avoid his gaze.

He's not looking at Leo, because it would probably cause him to say something like: 'You think this is a three-arm job?', which would make Donnie's face turn into that deeply and unexpectedly sad expression, which would make Leo feel so guilty he's shaking with it, and it's just a little too early for all that.

“You're doing great,” Mikey says, just to be encouraging.

He's not really doing anything either, but Donnie doesn't look at him.

He was supposed to paint the side of the minibus because he said he would, but the brush felt frail in his soft grip, the lines coming out shaky and uneven, and then he knocked over the paint bucket and almost started crying.

He's sat on the floor now, with a fresh, bright orange stain on the concrete next to his feet, a few ugly scribbles on the car, and a deep knot in his gut.

Which is stupid, really, because that's what he wanted to do, and getting upset over it makes him feel like an inconsolable child.

“Do we really need all this?” Leo asks.

The fact that he's responsible for at least half of their luggage seems to escape his mind at the moment.

“If we run out of food,” Donnie takes a slow step back, like he's trying not to startle the game of Tetris he created out of their bags, “we're eating you first.”

“We're not going to run out.” Leo rolls his eyes, rocking on his feet. “You know, there's this thing called 'grocery stores'? You go in there and you can exchange money for items. Crazy things that humans come up with.”

Donnie looks at him.

“Are you being annoying on purpose?”

Leo huffs, like he's taking great offense to that, but doesn't say anything else.

Mikey's not sure which of them is right. He's never been on a road trip before.

The idea was sudden and spontaneous, like a spark that quickly turned into a blaze, until it was all any of them could think about.

“I want to get out of here,” April said one evening, lying flat on the couch, her legs thrown over the armrest. “I feel like I'm going crazy.”

And that was that.

By the next Monday, Leo had drawn out a thin line in red ink over a map, cutting the country in half. On Tuesday, Mikey spend excruciating hours convincing their father that they were well equipped to deal with far worse dangers than dehydration, high gas prices, and white vans full of potential kidnappers. On Wednesday, Raph came home carrying every tourist guide he was able to hold in his arms, which was a lot.

By the next Sunday, Donnie had the car ready.

A minibus, to be precise. It was a new and shiny thing, with rows of seats, sliding doors, tinted windows and many other possibly illegal modifications. Mikey was also almost certain none of the steps his brother took in order to obtain it were quite lawful, but his excitement quickly outweighed his already brittle moral compass.

He wonders, now, if with a bit more of a foresight, Donnie would've opted for something with a bigger trunk.

Carefully, Donnie pushes the back door of the car closed.

Inside, their suitcases rattle to the floor.

He sighs, resting his forehead against the metal.

“Hey, Leo,” Mikey tries, pushing himself upwards. He's already feeling restless. “Wanna help me make lunch?”

He doesn't need help, and if he does – he doesn't want it.

But he wants Leo, the opportunity to talk to him.

“Nah, I'll help Donnie here before he pops a vein. But Raph has been reading the same page for twenty minutes now, so I'm sure he'd be happy to help.”

Quickly, Raph closes the little booklet in his hands, cheeks pink.

Leo turns to smile at Mikey, almost on instinct.

But then his gaze falls on the car, his face drops, and he turns around awkwardly, like he's not sure what to do with himself for a moment.

Mikey wants to grab and shake him until he finally tells him what's wrong.

He thinks they might be fighting, which is strange, because he has no idea why they would be.

It took him a moment to realize it at first.

The first few weeks after the Krang were spent on mending old wounds, ripping out new ones, and it felt like years and years of things held back, never spoken out loud, spilling out all at once.

Mikey can recall the one time Leo found him making pancakes at four in the morning. Or attempting to, because his hands started to bleed again, and Leo held his wrist in place under the faucet, washing his palms with cold water and screaming himself hoarse.

And then Leo yelled: 'Are you trying to hurt yourself or are you really this dumb?', and suddenly Mikey felt like it wasn't about the pancakes at all.

But it's been three months since then, and there's no longer any doubt in his mind.

Leo is avoiding him.

It's confusing and it hurts, and it feels like he just woke up to find half of the walls in his house missing. And the worst part is just that:

He doesn't know why.

“Okay,” he says, all casual, because if Leo can lie, so can he.

He watches Leo forget himself for a moment, bringing his palm to his stomach like he wants to rub his hands together. Then he freezes, just for a moment, before letting his arm fall.

Mikey stands, giving his brother one final look.

Leo can't run forever, but he knows him too well to think he won't try.

It's a good thing Mikey isn't anything but stubborn.

***

America from a passenger window, as Mikey finds out over the next few days, is a lot bigger than he expected.

It's miles and miles of fields, and forests, and fields again, and he watches all of it roll pass with the sort of squashed amazement, like he can't quite believe it's real until they stop for a break, and he can take a breath, cities and villages, and trees, and lonely gas stations stretching out before him.

Mikey managed to convince Draxum to let them borrow his old cloaking brooches, and they quickly make great use of them, stopping at every monument and museum any of them finds mildly interesting (which in Leo's case includes not one, but two ''world's largest balls of yarn'').

But Mikey's favorite moments are the nights.

They sleep on the sides of the road, in the woods, in front of someone's field; in small tents with the occasional bonfire to keep them company, away from the busiest roads and civilization.

Just a few years ago, the thought of sleeping on hard, cold ground probably would’ve made all of his siblings wince in vague disgust. But they've grown tougher over the years, rougher around the edges, and he can't decide if it's a good, or a bad thing.

The days are hot, and the cold of the night feels soothing, and Mikey spends hours with his head tilted back, watching the stars, to then promptly pass out in his seat as soon as they start up again.

“Lucky bastard,” Donnie tells him one morning, yawning. “You get to be a passenger princess.”

Mikey, one of the two passengers not allowed behind the wheel, leans out of his seat to look at Donnie in the rear-view mirror.

“I wouldn’t be, if someone agreed to teach me how to drive.”

Donnie frowns, wrinkling his snout in a funny way.

“Let you drive my cars? I don't think so.”

Mikey doesn't even take it for anything other than a joke until Donnie's eyes widen suddenly, real panic quickly flooding his face.

“I mean, not like I think you'd be a bad driver!” He turns around to look at him. “It's not because of the- It's- I was just joking.”

“Dee, eyes on the road,” April says quickly, making a weird gesture like she wants to lean over and grab the wheel herself. She always seems a little on the edge when Donnie's driving, and no one can really blame her for it.

Donnie turns back with a quiet swear under his breath.

Behind him, Leo and Raph exchange silent looks. They all fall quiet for a moment, like they're expecting Mikey to flip out, and really, that makes him want to do just that.

Instead, he says:

“It's fine. I didn't assume you meant it that way.”

He probably shouldn’t feel too offended, even if Donnie did mean it in that way. He doesn't think he'd be able to keep the wheel straight anymore.

“Hey,” Leo says suddenly. He's holding a map Mikey didn't notice him grabbing. “There's another yarn ball, like, five miles from here.”

Raph quickly grabs at the map.

“No way.”

“I'm telling, you, man. There are so many.”

“They can't all be world's biggest,” April says from her seat next to the driver. “You think they just keep building new ones every once in a while?”

Leo's good at this. At turning everyone’s attention so effortlessly, so quickly, it's hard to even realize it at times.

Mikey watches him for a moment, trying to catch his gaze.

It never happens.

***

One day, when April's 'no radio until I've had my coffee' rule keeps them all quiet for the good chunk of the morning, Mikey pulls out his sketchbook.

He hasn't touched it in a while, and the thought of doing so now feels heavy. But the road is quiet, the view behind the window nothing but grass and flat ground, and he feels warm.

It's not until he opens up the sketchbook, pencil gripped in one hand, that he feels Raph lean forward, looking over the back of his seat.

Mikey can't see his face, but he can feel the way Raph's fingers tense on the material, the slow exhale that escapes him.

Mikey feels his jaw clench, his jagged nerves already flaring up.

“I'm fine,” he states, before his brother has a chance to say anything.

He feels like his whole life is now revolving around those words.

Yes, I'm fine. No, I don't need help. Yes, I can do this on my own. Over and over again.

Mikey clenches his pencil a little tighter, the contrast of the white pages and his black compression gloves stark.

Raph makes a face, like he begs to differ, but is not sure if he's ready for that fight.

“Are you sure?” He asks despite it. “Raph doesn't want you to-”

“Raph.” Mikey turns in his seat, pushing against his seatbelt to look at him better. “I'll be fine.”

He knows that his stare tends to be intense at best and intimidating at worse. Luckily for him, that is exactly the reaction he's currently seeking.

“I know,” Raph placates. “I thought-”

He doesn't really finish. His mouth draws into a thin line, a vague hum rising in the back of his throat.

“Hey, Big Guy,” Leo says suddenly from his seat in the front (it's his third time in a row winning the paper-rock-scissors for it, and Mikey starts to suspect he's cheating, somehow). “It's okay. Leave him be.”

Raph gives him a look, one that only older brothers seem to be able to understand, until he finally sighs, falling back against his seat.

“Alright, alright, sorry.”

A flash of familiarity washes over Mikey.

In many ways, Leo's always been like this.

First to laugh, first to say 'I told you so', first to back him up, first to defend him, even when Mikey was elbows deep in teenage rebellion and barely gave him any ground to stand on.

He was funny, the coolest person ever, larger than life and it made Mikey's chest swell with pride to say: ''This is my big brother and he's my best friend''.

Leo turns to him, cheek rested against the headrest, sending him a conspiratorial smile. Then his gaze drops slightly to the sketchbook thrown over Mikey's lap.

His expression wavers, something complicated showing in his eyes, until it all collapses. He turns back, eyes on the road.

Mikey clenches his jaw, feeling his own smile fade.

***

Mikey falls in love with roadside dinners – head over heels.

The food is mediocre at best and beyond vile at worse, the floor always feels sicky, and the tables seem dirty even when he watches the waitress wipe them down.

But there's something about it.

About walking in, their cloaking brooches pined to their shirts, and piling into a booth. About laughing, arguing about the menu and anything else that comes to mind. About making everyone at the dinner give them a dirty look, because they're being obnoxious and they're being teenagers.

Moments like that make Mikey feel whole again. Better, even.

Infinite.

Like they're just normal kids on a trip to catch last breaths of freedom before college, and they're young and unburdened, they have nothing to be afraid of, and things like 'death' simply don't happen to people like them.

“I'm getting the eggs,” Raph announces finally, putting down his menu.

“How many portions? Six?” April teases.

It sounds like she's joking, but Raph seems to actually be considering that option, humming softly.

Mikey turns to look out the big window. Kansas is nothing but fields and grass, and he watches the few lonely trees sway in the wind.

Absentmindedly he rubs his hands together.

They feel dry and achy today, like something's pushing at the tight skin from underneath. It feels weird with so many fingers. He's not going to let that ruin his day.

“How come they don't have vanilla milkshakes?” Donnie huffs, turning the menu over again. “That's, like, the most basic option.”

No one questions him on why he wants a milkshake for breakfast, because he will be driving later, and having him behind the wheel in a bad mood feels like a death wish.

“How dare they,” Leo says, in that tone of his where they can never tell if he's joking or not.

The waitress, previously busy with trying to start the coffee machine (seemingly by punching it several times), finally walks up to them.

She's looking down at her notepad, and there's a vague, practiced smile on her lips. She's around their dad's age, maybe with kids of her own, because she doesn't seem all that bothered by all the noise and chaos they've been causing.

When she's standing in front of their table, she finally looks up.

“Hey, what can I-”

She goes quiet, all of the sudden.

Her eyes sweep over all of them, her mouth slightly open, like the words she's been speaking every day for so long have suddenly escaped her mind.

And this is Mikey's least favorite moment.

The moment the illusion breaks.

Because they're not normal kids, they're here because their whole world fell apart just a few months ago, and there's nothing any of them can do to change that.

Her eyes go from Raph’s eyepatch, to the scars covering April's and Donnie's faces and arms, to Mikey's palms, finally landing on the left sleeve of Leo's hoodie.

“Oh,” she says, quietly.

(Art by @nerdy-turtle-enthusiast)

Leo wouldn’t sit next to Mikey, which hurt, but it means he can see his face now, the way his expression folds in on itself, until there's nothing left but a blank slate. It's hard to tell when he barely looks like himself.

Mikey aches.

Donnie clears his throat, loudly and only a bit rudely. Carefully, he raises one eyebrow.

“Oh!” The waitress blinks, suddenly flustered. “I'm sorry, I just- I'm sorry.” She looks to the side, embarrassed. “What can I get for you?”

By the time they get their food, it all slowly rolls back to normal.

Leo's smiling and joking along, and if there's a slight downturn to his lip – they all pretend to not notice.

He finishes his portion faster than Raph, which is almost absurd, and Mikey quickly gets the feeling they'll be stopping again very soon for him to vomit it all back on the side of the road.

“I'll wait in the car, okay?” Leo says, pushing back his empty plate.

He doesn't wait for a replay, grabbing his jacket and exiting the dinner like it burned him.

Mikey watches him go.

“He just needs a moment,” Donnie says, following his brother to the car with his gaze through the window. “He'll be fine.”

Mikey wonders then, if any of them noticed what’s happening between him and Leo.

He tells himself no, because that is what he hopes for.

But that's another lie, probably.

***

They're stopped at some forgotten rest stop, and it's a quiet evening, the setting sun covering the horizon in a pink hue. It's the sort of view that makes Mikey want to step away for a moment and just watch, because there's only so much family time one can manage in one day.

He's not the only one.

He finds Leo sat on one of the covered benches, his back pressed against the plexiglass. The left sleeve of his hoodie was trimmed, and he's playing with a loose thread, eyes fixated on something in the distance.

There's a nervous feeling in Mikey's guts, like all the butterflies turned into a mush and he might throw up at any moment.

But it's a chance he has to take.

“That's coming undone,” he says, chin pointing to his sleeve.

Leo blinks slowly, turning to him, like he needs to take a moment to fully digest his words.

“Oh,” he says. “Yeah.”

“Want me to fix it for you?”

He's not sure why he says it, because it was Dad who spent hours carefully altering every piece of clothing Leo owns. But he needs to say something.

“It's fine.”

They stay in silence for a moment, and Mikey turns his eyes to the horizon.

“What's so interesting out there?” He asks, not expecting to get a real answer.

Leo opens his mouth, stops for a moment.

“I don't... Know,” he says, but it sounds different.

Because he's been different since the Krang, and all of them know this by now.

He's quiet at the most unexpected of moments, distant and hazy, like your hand would go right through if you tried to reach him.

He smiles and laughs but it's not the same, like a speaker that's been dropped one too many time – everything sounds just slightly pitched.

Mikey wonders where he goes when he disappears like this.

“Gotta remind myself the world isn't all gray,” Leo says, suddenly. “Not like...”

He stops.

He blinks, looking at Mikey once again, and there's a strange expression, like he just realized who he's speaking to.

“Like what?”

“Like New York on a cloudy day,” Leo says, an easy smile fixed onto his face. “Come on, let's get back to the car.”

Mikey wants to scream.

Because they used to tell each other things like this, and Leo knows he knows, and he can't figure out why he's being lied to. Why his brother won't talk to him.

If he's trying to protect him in some misguided, backwards way, he's being a fool. If he thinks Mikey can't hear the way he wakes up some nights with a gasp, a silent scream still lingering on his lips. If he thinks Mikey doesn't notice the way he rubs at his chest sometimes, like he can still feel a linger of old pain there. If he thinks Mikey never notices the way he goes silent at the sight of red lights, static behind his eyes.

If he thinks Mikey doesn't have nightmares of his own.

Leo stands and Mikey wants to cling to him.

He wants to grab at his arms and dig in his claws and scream at him until Leo tells him what he's done wrong. Why he doesn't want to be his friend anymore.

He doesn't, and Leo pats at his arm as he passes him.

***

Utah steals Mikey's heart in all possible ways.

It's all red sand and dry land, cold night and the echo of something old and bigger than him in the wind, and stars that look back when he tilts his head up.

They camp further away from the road, where it feels like they're the only people left on the entire earth, and all of this, every moon, every rock, every breeze, is just for them.

They set up a small campfire inside an old metal barrel and sit around it for hours, swaddled in blankets and hoodies, and sweats, because the chill is calming, but unforgiving.

Mikey wears three layers at any given moment, curls up close to Raph in his sleep, and wishes the sun would never raise up again.

He wakes up one night, the sun still far behind the horizon, and there's a small rustle outside of his tent.

He doesn't stir at first, because his general aversion to anything horror related made his mind less likely to jump to axe murders and ghosts at the first opportunity.

But the sudden familiar footsteps make him frown, and he sits up. It's a full moon, and he watches Leo's shadow pass his and Raph's tent, his movements quiet but not silent.

Slowly, Mikey rises to his knees.

By the time he manages to pull on all of his clothes and crawl out of the tent without waking up his brother, Leo's already by the car, leaning against the hood, ankles crosses.

He's wrapped in jackets and hoodies, and they almost hide the way he flinches when he finally spots Mikey out of the corner of his eye. Almost.

“Hey. Why are you awake?”

Leo looks at him for a moment, then he squints slightly, like he's trying to hide a different expression.

“Why are you?”

Mikey considers telling him the truth but then doesn't.

“I had a nightmare.”

He feels bad lying when he doesn't need to, but it's worth it for how quickly Leo's face softens. It's half a truth away. He woke up this morning with cold sweat running down his back.

“Oh. Sorry.” Leo's quiet for a moment. Then, a little shyly: “Me too.”

It's a start, a small crack between the door and the frame, and Mikey throws himself to shove his foot into it.

“What was your about?” He asks.

Maybe it's a little too forward, because Leo doesn't answer him. He stares up at the night sky.

He's holding onto what's left of his left arm awkwardly, clenching and unclenching his fingers, like he's trying to soothe it over the layers of clothes.

Mikey's gaze lands on the side of the car, on the ugly smudges of paint he left on it, before quickly deciding he doesn't want to look at it any longer.

He walks up, sliding on the hood next to his brother.

“I've never seen a sky like this,” Leo confesses.

Mikey follows his gaze up, up, up.

“Yeah.”

“Not in New York.”

He says the last part oddly, and Mikey can't decide if it's homesickness, or the exact opposite. He looks down, watching Leo move his fingers again.

“Does that hurt?” He asks, pointing to his side with his chin.

“Not really,” Leo answers far too quickly, dropping his hand.

But Mikey knows he's lying.

There's some real elegance to the way Leo lies, like watching an expert work their craft. Would've fooled anyone else. Maybe even Mikey, just a few months ago.

But he sees the slight downturn to Leo's mouth, the way his jaw shifts in place, the way his chest staggers for a moment with every breath.

He's hiding pain, and it's the kind of pain Mikey knows all too well now.

“My hands hurt, too. Sometimes.” He stretches his arms, the scars on his shaky palms stark in the dim light.

He's trying to encourage vulnerability, but it must be the wrong thing to say, because his brother's mouth turns into a thin line, and he looks away.

His hand rests on the hood, like he's ready to push himself forward and run at any moment, and something in Mikey snaps.

“Are you mad at me?” He barks, finally.

Leo blinks, turning to him again. He seems slightly panicked, like that was the last thing he expected Mikey to say. Mikey would feel bad, if he wasn't so damn angry.

“What? No.”

He sounds honest. More than usual anyway. Mikey wants to believe him.

“You're being so weird around me.” He wraps a loose string from the edge of his hoodie around his finger. He doesn't pull it loose, because that would hurt more than it's worth. “I don't know what I did.”

Leo watches his hands, like he can't bear to look him in the eye.

“Nothing,” he says. “You've done nothing.”

Mikey bristles.

“Stop lying to me, that's so annoying.” He pushes his hands inside his pockets, and that finally makes Leo meet his gaze. “I feel like you hate me. I know you don't, but it feels like that, and I don't know why.”

It's all been brewing in him for longer than he realized.

It feels unfair.

He knows he's not entitled to Leo's attention, to his love, but it feels like he is, and he's past the point of caring about all the different ways in which that makes him selfish.

“I don't- Mikey.”

He says his name like Mikey just hurt him so deeply he's lost for words.

“Just tell me what's wrong,” he pleads. “Please.”

You're not alone, he wants to say. I want to be friends again.

I miss you.

Finally, Leo sighs, and it's like the breaking of a dam, his eyes suddenly glossy and wet in the moonlight.

“Mikey,” he says. “I ruined your life.”

That makes Mikey pause. All of it – his anger, sadness, bitterness – coming to a stop.

“What?” He asks, mostly for the lack of anything better to say.

And, because, really: what?

“I know you can't do art anymore.” Leo pushes himself away from the car, pacing nervously, counting down the fingers of his one hand. “I know you struggle at training. There are eggshells in everything you cook now and I-” He stops, taking a deep breath. “It's all because I did something stupid, and you had to save my ass.”

Mikey stares at him.

He stares and stares for what feels like hours, until he finally feels his voice return to him.

“Are you being deadass right now?”

There's the start of a laugh in his voice, but Leo must realize he doesn't find any of this funny, because his face remains appropriately miserable.

“I'm sorry.”

“Leo.” For a moment, Mikey wants to walk up to him. But then he doesn't, taking a breath. “If you ever thought, even for a second, that I wouldn't die for you, you were wrong.”

Leo laughs, a hollow and hysterical thing.

“Angelo,” he says, like he doesn't really believe he's being serious.

But he is.

He'd die for all of them, his whole family, over and over again.

“Master Michelangelo died opening that portal,” Casey told him months ago.

And Mikey thought: 'Yes. I would.'

He steps forward.

“You're right. You did a stupid thing. Because you're stupid and brave, and you always want to save everyone.” He walks up closer, taking one hand out his pocket to point it at Leo's chest. “And I saved your ass, because I love you.”

Leo's face softens, a small frown forming between his eyes.

“I wish you...” For a moment, Mikey thinks he might say: 'hadn't' and almost punches him square in the face for it. “I wish you wouldn't have to.”

“Me too,” he says, honestly. “But this isn't your fault. I knew what I was doing. Sort of.”

He doesn't want to say the last part out loud, but if he's being honest, he might as well go all out.

“I- Okay.”

Leo doesn't seem too sure, but it sounds like he's been holding all of this back a lot for a long, long time.

“You saved me too, you know?” Mikey asks. Leo looks at him like he didn't know that, and that's so absurd it almost makes him laugh for real. “You saved the entire world, idiot. And it-”

“Costed me an arm and a leg?” Leo smiles, all wobbly and unsure, and Mikey giggles, honestly.

“Exactly.”

“I was scared,” Leo says, “that you were going to hate me for it. I wouldn't blame you if you did. But I didn't want to see it.”

It's like weight off his shoulders, like finally digging far enough to notice the root of the problem. Even if he doesn't know quite what to do with it - he can see it now, and that makes everything click into place. “I won't.” Mikey holds out his hand, pinky pointed out. “Promise.”

Leo wraps their fingers together, shaking their hands a little.

“Yeah. Okay.”

And for a moment, it feels like they're kids again, sharing secrets and promises in fortresses made of blankets.

Leo lets their hands drop.

“Gosh!” Mikey tilts his head back with an exaggerated sigh. “I can't believe you got me so worried over something so stupid.”

“Sorry,” Leo says, and it sounds like he's only half joking.

He holds out his arm, fingers flexing.

And Mikey doesn't hesitate to reach forward, wrapping his arms around his brother’s shoulders.

Leo holds him like he's a lifeline, like he's afraid one of them will disappear if he lets go.

“Are you going to stop avoiding me now?” Mikey asks.

He meant for it to come out as a joke, but Leo's voice sounds dangerously shaky when he responds:

“Yes. I'm sorry.”

Mikey just holds him tighter.

He doesn't think this fixes everything. He doesn't think this fixes much at all, all things considered.

But the deep knot inside his gut is gone, and when he wakes up tomorrow – his home will feel whole again. That's all he wants for now, really.

They can deal with the rest later.

Step by step.

[centrally-unplanned]

To talk about monopoly & antitrust, I want to start off with your first day in Econ 101, when you learn "how prices work". The toy model that nearly everyone learns as one of the first things ever is that classic supply-and-demand graph of price and quantity; you know it, I don't need to show it. And in relation to how firms set price in a market, the explanation you get is something like:

"In a world with perfect information, zero transaction costs, rational agents, and no barriers to entry, new firms and/or increased output will enter the market until marginal price equals marginal cost"

This (seemingly) portrays a model where new companies "entering the market" is how prices go down. Like say there are Firms A, B, and C, engaging in oligopolistic pricing for a normal good; what happens is some new Firm X (with the same production costs) emerges with the sole business strategy of "offer prices lower than them because they are skimming" and it drives everyone's prices down in a race to the bottom. That, in a sense, competition between identical firms drives the price equilibrium.

That isn't very true, not in practice and not even theoretically; the 101 stuff just sort of biases you to see it that way. Firm X above is being rational in one way but silly in others; why would it enter a market where its competitors are making healthy profits just to fuck that up, knowing it has no advantage they can't immediately replicate in response? And pay all the fixed costs other firms have already paid to make that 0.1% profit? In real life firms almost never do this, they compete over (actual or perceived) advantage or market segmentation. And it also means that - if all firms are truly the same in a market - cooperating on price, far from being aberrant behavior, is the natural thing to do. Why would I look at my rival firm and lower my price to "undercut" them, knowing that they 100% can just lower it too? We both lose, immediately. In practice, companies often set their prices by looking at the prices of competing firms and matching them!

Many things actually drive the price equilibrium of course, but one of the biggest - and most useful for our purposes - is the substitution effect. If companies defacto cooperate on prices all the time, why is the price not infinity? Well because if you are selling steaks and set the price to infinity, I'm not gonna buy it! I can just buy chicken, for me it's pretty much the same. And chicken is cheaper to make than steak. As a chicken firm, I totally can set my price under your steak and you can never, ever match it; that is a real advantage, one from asymmetries of production. The price of steak is driven by the need to compete with chicken much more than it is driven by the need to compete with "other steaks". And so on down a chain of a million desires and costs and needs.

So to wrap this around to antitrust, there is a common idea out there that monopolistic pricing is increasing from the past because if I look at different industries, so many of them today are consolidated into 2-3 big firms. Your grocery stores are all Giant or Safeway or w/e it is in your city, if you are buying a TV Samsung & LG are half the entire US market. How could these companies not collude on price? Of course they do, and they don't need explicit agreements that would violate extant FTC regulations to do it; they can just softly communicate and feel out cooperation. So you gotta break them up and change the rules so they can't do that.

The trap is thinking this is any different if it was 10 firms - it really isn't! Maybe marginally, sure, and if it was 2000 firms yeah okay the sheer chaos would probably create some price churn; but in the past prices were not driven down by the diversity of firms making price cooperation impossible. The long history of guilds, business associations, chambers of commerce, and so on shows that they had plenty of avenues for cooperation - and often did straight-up set prices. Meanwhile, when Wal-Mart, Target, Aldi, and others all cut prices at around the same time, they are not mainly competing with each other. If they were they would just mutually agree to not do that, without even saying anything! How stupid do you think they are? That isn't hard to do. Instead they are competing with Amazon; with boutique local stores; with restaurants; with the changing price of labor; with shifting consumer sentiment and expectations. The industry concentration doesn't matter.

Until it does of course! Because what is the substitution good for oil? They exist of course, but they ain't cheap; people will still buy gas at gigantic ranges of prices. Here, the fundamental structure of the market is monopolistic - and also a geopolitical clusterfuck, but let's not get into that. Producers openly rig prices sometimes, and antitrust actively regulates against it, and it is a hot mess of governments and companies and all that. Are people who hold patents engaging in monopoly pricing? Obviously, that is the point of patents! It is by design; but there are tons of arguments to be made around creeping exploitation of the IP system. Sometimes hundreds of firms in a dominant market niche will offer complex, bundled products where the price of each piece of obfuscated and the value is subjective, but consensus is you can't not buy the product or you will be screwed and since you can't tell what the product even is, let alone how valuable it is, you can't object when they set the price - I hear these are called "universities", but they go by other names in other sectors.

All of the above are something like "monopolies", which maybe are getting worse over time, but they are monopolies for different, product-specific reasons. I think there is a good deal of FTC work and other reforms that could be done in the US to identify areas where this kind of rent extraction is happening. But what it doesn't look like is opposing blanket industry consolidation. And in fact the correlation is honestly pretty weak. Because identical firm competition does not drive the price equilibrium.

[itsabouttimex2]

Today my Birthday, so how would the yanderes react to reader Brithday?

LMK Birthday Reactions

MK, Sun Wukong, Chang’e

(Happy birthday, dear! Have a wonderful day!)

So many handmade gifts- each one is lovingly decorated and delivered, wrapped with red and yellow ribbon. And MK is so eager about it, too. No matter what type of person you are, it’s pretty much impossible not to smile and thank him.

The delivery boy invites himself in the moment you open the front door, but not before throwing himself into your arms for a big tight hug. After ushering you to the couch, MK starts to unload his gifts into your hands.

A hand-drawn letter with glitter and sparkly bits of confetti. A giant sack of food he made (with Pigsy’s input and advice), and grocery store cupcakes frosted with your favorite color. And something along the lines of a plush or poster from a media franchise that you love.

And he’s so, so sweet about it that you don’t even think to ask how he found your address.

Our dear Sun Wukong is, put simply- loaded. There’s no end to the treasures and antiques he has to offload, and it’s not like any buyer is going to try and scam the Great Sage Equal to Heaven. He’s racked more than a bit in terms of funds, and isn’t afraid to dote on a well-behaved captive friend/student/child.

(Or he’ll shamelessly and happily steal. That’s also a very real possibility, let’s be honest.)

Lego Sets? He’ll have them stacked to the ceiling. A new console? He’ll bury it in games to match. Books? He’ll have a crate of classics delivered to the front door. Jewelry? He’ll dig a few precious pieces from his treasury and pay/coerce a jeweler into fixing them up.

Lots of food and treats, and isn’t above throwing you a small party if you’re friends with MK and Mei- hell, the simian will even let you invite Red Son. He’ll (his clones, actually) set up a nice little room with a store-bought cake or two and catered food from Pigsy’s Noodles. He’ll bust out a few games (think Jackbox) and let you have a nice, happy day.

And honestly, that’s all he wants- for you to be happy… in close proximity to him, under his watchful eye, locked up tight in his house.

Really, is that so much to ask for?

Oh, so very many exotic and wonderful treats. All handmade and delectable, created from top-quality ingredients and with hours of love and centuries of experience.

Chang’e makes each one with all of her heart, pasted your adorable name in frosting a hundred times over, across every cupcake and cookie and three-tier cake. She’ll set the “imperfect” pastries aside to have their frosting smudged into swirls, donated to shelters or food banks. Her baby deserves only the very best that she has to offer.

She’s prone to tending towards cutesy gifts, like sparkly stellar accessories and glittery plushes. Perfumes, matching clothes, make-up… the moon goddess is so very generous and sweet with her presents. Also, given how tech-savvy and modern-trending she seems to be, Chang’e definitely lavishes you with quite a few gift cards for online shopping.

Really, such an absolute sweetheart. So sweet that you might even forget that you’re spending another birthday on the moon without any friends, without any family aside from the goddess herself.

And maybe you won’t even notice that that’s just the way she wants it.

[danielhowell]

DYSTOPIA DAILY COMMEMORATIVE TSHIRT LIMITED DROP

What is up denizens of our doomed planet, it’s ya boy Danny. To celebrate the conclusion of Season 1 of Dystopia Daily with Daniel Howell - we’re releasing a limited run commemorative t-shirt!

Inspired by bisexual lighting, vapourwave aesthetics and knowledge that our days on this nightmare planet are limited - I hope this garment reminds you of the good times you briefly distracted yourself with some content before the collapse of society. In celebration of the end of an era paving the way for whatever may follow, we are also doing a THICC AND LARGE SALE up to 50% OFF the remaining items in the store while the Dystopia shirt is live!!

If you want to bag an Exist flag, an equally dank 'Embrace The Void' Hoodie - or perhaps some Sarcastic Stationery for the upcoming end of summer (sorry), go and shove it in your basket like a feral child ripping his friends apart to loot the last can of Prime Energy from the remains of a small family run grocery store.

🌍 shop.danielhowell.com / 🌎 us.shop.danielhowell.com It has certainly been a wild ride of euphoric joy and endless pain committing to post 16 videos on to the internet in 2023 and now I face a crossroads of fate as to whether and where I create next. Until then, I thank you sincerely for all of your support and I hope that you are surviving. - Dan

[vorfreudevortex]

a portrait of us - nine

a nanami x reader smau

masterlist

warnings: angst lol, slow burn, swearing, a little ooc, a typo or two

notes: 1.6k words and i am only a little sorry

nanami kento had no idea what he what he was doing.

he was not the kind of man who pursued a woman from a relationship that had ended over a decade ago, nor the type to follow one who vanished without a goodbye and hadn’t spoken to him since. in truth, he wasn’t one to chase after any woman at all. his life allowed no time for such foolishness, and he had yet to meet anyone else worthy of that time.

he also wasn’t the type to deviate from his usual schedule and activities. for nanami, saturday evenings were reserved for a leisurely stroll through the park near his apartment, ending in a visit to the grocery store for fresh meat and produce. then, he’d return home to cook himself a hearty dinner, usually indulging in a favorite recipe but sometimes experimenting with a new one.

he’d relish his meal with a glass of expensive, but not too expensive, wine before indulging in a hot bath. his favorite ritual was finishing the bottle with a few chapters of a book while soaking in bath salts and lavender until the water turned cold.

if the book captivated him, he’d continue reading in bed; otherwise, he might watch a nostalgic movie in the living room. saturday nights were his sanctuary, a time to indulge in simple pleasures: fresh air, a home-cooked meal, wine, a book, and a restful night with no morning obligations.

that was absolutely not the case for nanami tonight.

he suspected he might be coming down with something, as he felt unusually off while scrutinizing his freshly trimmed hair in the mirror. this afternoon, he had an impulsive urge to tidy up his undercut and hairline. earlier that morning, he felt strangely compelled to invest in new clothing—a sage green linen blazer and ankle-length slacks, to be precise.

he donned his new outfit, carefully combing through his hair one last time. He wore his usual brown dress shoes, watch, and leather holster over his white shirt, carrying his blunt sword. nanami decided to forgo his beloved spotted necktie, instead folding it neatly into his blazer’s inner pocket, just in case. the outfit felt unfamiliar, and he wondered if the men in fashion magazines felt equally peculiar in such short pants.

nanami was now convinced he had caught a strange cold or flu. why was he wearing sage green? why had he purchased it, knowing he’d likely never wear it again? why was he grabbing a bouquet of sunflowers, your favorite, before locking the door and heading to his car? and although he loved art, why was he preparing to attend a sumptuous gallery opening, filled with wealthy patrons he didn’t want to be around?

as his trembling fingers unlocked the car door, he made a mental note to schedule a doctor’s appointment later in the week.

———

the director placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder as he handed you the microphone. over 250 hands applauded, but their sound was merely a distant murmur. you took a steadying breath as the applause faded and prepared to speak.

“i'd like to thank you all for attending my gallery tonight,” you began. “i never imagined my art would one day be in a museum gallery, and i'm incredibly grateful for this opportunity.”

as the audience applauded again, you searched for satoru, shoko, and the students. you finally spotted them in the middle of the crowd—shoko waved, satoru and yuji gave a thumbs-up, and the other students smiled warmly. you grinned in response, comforted by familiar faces among a sea of strangers.

“i've always gravitated toward modern pieces with bold traits and colors, but i also create works inspired by famous art. i love re-imagining poses, emotions, and other elements from those pieces to capture the redefined aura i perceive from them. i've never settled on a single style, so you’ll notice my art incorporates elements from neoclassicism to impressionism, all on one canvas.”

you silently scanned the audience, gauging their reactions. you noticed the woman from malaysia, with whom you’d spoken with earlier, listening intently with a gentle smile. nearby stood an older gentleman from london, whose questions about your work had left you unsure of his opinion. his bored expression unsettled you, but you took a deep breath and continued.

“um,” you paused. “i want to express my gratitude to all of you, the museum, its patrons, and the director, with a collection of pieces created especially for my first major gallery opening. these have never been seen before and are unlike anything i've ever done. they hold deep personal significance for me…"

you turned to join four staff members, each standing beside an easel draped in black cloth, and positioned yourself next to the largest one in the center. you nodded to them and began unveiling the canvases. gasps and murmurs from the crowd turned to smiles and applause, bringing relief. your eyes met satoru's once more. he stared back, sunglasses in hand, his bright blue eyes piercing into you, mouth hanging open.

the first painting depicted him.

reminiscent of michelangelo's david, your artwork portrayed satoru with rigid, alabaster skin. one hand held a galaxy of stars, while the other formed a circle with his thumb and middle finger connecting. at first glance, the background seemed a deep, black abyss, but closer inspection revealed the painstakingly small, barely perceptible eyes you had meticulously added with matte paint.

this symbolized satoru's unparalleled power in the universe, a singular masterpiece constantly revered yet scrutinized, along with his inability to move and act freely as he wished.

the second painting featured suguru.

inspired by caspar david friedrich's wanderer above the sea of fog, it depicted suguru, his jet-black hair blowing in the wind, standing on a cliff gazing out over a misty landscape of blurred, colorful spheres. it was the dead of night, with no stars, except for a small moon shaped like an eye with a blue iris. unlike the original, your painting allowed the viewer to see suguru beginning to step off the cliff with a relieved smile.

it symbolized suguru's internal struggle with purpose and responsibility, ultimately deciding to take control and let go, as you always knew he would.

the third painting portrayed shoko.

inspired by frida kahlo's the broken column, it depicted shoko with waist-length hair, her face turned skyward, tears streaming down her cheeks. her thin, frail body was torn in half by hands reaching into the frame, revealing her spine replaced by a large surgeon’s scalpel. the background featured a familiar, glowing, traditional japanese door, blurred by smoke.

this represented shock's duty to the jujutsu society, always giving but never taking, until all that remained were her tools and an unrepairable broken body.

the fourth painting was of yu.

you replaced the woman in lawrence alma-tadema's pandora, with the painting ending at the waist. his body was strong and flushed, gazing down at the box with a familiar smile and wide, curious eyes. instead of a floral crown, you encircled his head with a halo of stars, and the background depicted him resting in a serene, lush meadow.

you couldn’t resist creating a more joyful piece for him, symbolizing the grace of his death and much-needed rest while unknowingly wreaking havoc on those near him. only later did you realize the extent of the pain his peace would bring when you first painted the portrait.

the final and largest painting was a portrait you began shortly after leaving japan many years ago and only recently completed. it was inspired by frank bernard dicksee's la belle dame sans merci.

you and nanami.

you sat on a muscular, snowy white horse, anxious and impatient to move on. instead of a pink gown like the original, you wore navy with gold buttons on the chest, torn and splattered with bright crimson blood. your expression held a pained smile, tears streaming down your cheeks.

nanami stood on the ground beside you, one hand clutching your tattered gown, the other ensnared by blades of grass and flowers climbing his wrist and forearm. tears welled in his eyes, but his face remained blank and unreadable. he wore a suit of armor like the knight in the original, but it was dull, dark, and littered with dents, holes, and bloodstains.

this was your most prized work of art, embodying the unspoken goodbye between you and your first love. the anxious horse represented your urge to flee, while the tattered, bloodied gown symbolized the physical and mental toll of jujutsu. your expression showed the relief of leaving and the guilt of doing so. nanami's face masked his betrayal with stoicism, yet tears betrayed him to reveal his grief of losing yet another loved one. the flowers and grass symbolized his responsibilities in tokyo—the lives he needed to protect, the elders to please, and the peers to support.

you looked out at the audience with a bright, confident smile, scanning the patrons’ faces to see if their applause matched their thoughts. you started with satoru, shoko, and the students, all clapping happily, with satoru and shoko waving with flushed cheeks. the bored man from london now appeared intrigued, especially by the painting of suguru.

your eyes skipped over a stiff figure near the back of the audience.

i hadn’t noticed that man here before, you thought.

no.

he’s all too familiar.

your gaze landed on the man with broad shoulders clad in a dusty sage green blazer over a crisp ivory shirt, sandy blonde hair neatly cut and parted. hollow cheeks framed a strong jaw, and soft, coffee-brown eyes bored into yours. 

it simply couldn’t be him… 

no- it simply couldn’t be anyone else.

nanami kento.

next: part ten

tag list // @bubybubsters @sad-darksoul @corvid007 @kenqki @ikon-teen

© vorfreudevortex | all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, repost, or otherwise share my work.

[laurencem]

Happy Valentines Day, @daynascullys !

IT IS I, YOUR SECRET ADMIRER 😍 Many moons ago, you asked me to make you an MSR playlist, and this seems like the perfect moment to follow through on that promise. I can't guarantee that it's as spectacular (or artistic) as those you've already created, but these songs all hold a special place in my heart, so I hope you love them as much as I do.

(warning: squee-ing ahead)

🔷🔹Hummingbird (The Weepies)🔹🔷

I think I've shared this song with you before, but it was the FIRST thing that came to mind when you mentioned a playlist. It's the Mulder-iest thing that ever Muldered. He may wander and drift, but there's only one place he wants to be at the end of the day, and that's with her. ❤️

Hold out your hand Yours is the only one that I dare to land upon...

📺 Suggested Episode Pairing: The Unnatural

🔷🔹Mystery (Indigo Girls)🔹🔷

This was my squealing fangirl tune of choice back in the day. I want them to walk off into the sunset with this in the background. I want it to be the soundtrack for slow Saturday morning sex. I want it to play at the wedding reception that they don't have because they get married in a grove of trees with only an officiant present, but that's a headcanon for another day.

Maybe that's all that we need, is to meet in the middle of impossibility We're standing at opposite poles, equal partners in a mystery

📺 Suggested Episode Pairing: Amor Fati

🔷🔹Elsewhere (Sarah McLachlan)🔹🔷

It's the late 90's and wee baby Yeti is in her bedroom, headphones on, writing terrible fanfiction, playing this on repeat. It's an Emo!Scully anthem with impeccable OG run vibes. WHERE MY MAGGIES AT, YO 🙌

But I love the way you smile at me I love the way your hands reach out and hold me near I believe, I...

📺 Suggested Episode Pairing: all things

🔷🔹This Is Why I Need You (Jesse Ruben)🔹🔷

In my head this is just wedding vows. I won't quote the whole thing, just go listen, but THIS, your honor. THIS.

You make my crazy feel normal every time

They're both so WEIRD but they're so PERFECT for each other I can't EVEN (bolts for the feelings cave)

📺 Suggested Episode Pairing: Je Souhaite

🔷🔹Skin (Chris Trapper)🔹🔷

I’ll be kissing you when you take your last gasp of air?  Mulder-coded.  If you break in two or turn into a skeleton, I’ll give you my skin?  Mulder-coded.  You were covered in tubes in a hospital bed, I said I will love you still?  Mulder-coded. Fuck me ALL the way up.

📺 Suggested Episode Pairing: Redux II

🔷🔹The First Taste (Fiona Apple)🔹🔷

Girl. You could have HAD IT. You could have HAD IT ALL if your dumbass situationship hadn't FUCKING. PANICKED. IN. DETOUR. IN THIS ESSAY I WILL (I am forcibly dragged away)

I do not struggle in your web because it was my aim to get caught But daddy long legs, I fear that I'm finally growing weary Of waiting to be consumed by you

📺 Suggested Episode Pairing: Detour

🔷🔹Why Can't I? (Liz Phair)🔹🔷

Here we go, we’re at the beginning We haven’t fucked yet but my head’s spinning

The way this song had a CHOKEHOLD on me as I devoured every bit of MSR fanfic I could find in the years following the OG finale. Yes, girl, you love him. Get yours.

📺 Suggested Episode Pairing: Tooms

🔷🔹When You Go Away (The Weepies)🔹🔷

I really didn't want to include any band/artist twice on this list... but every time I hear this song, I picture Mulder anxiously awaiting Scully's return from a weekend trip out of town. Or the office. Or the grocery store. Or the mailbox.

Take me with you this time, won't you, won't you? Don't make me miss you this time, don't you, don't you... We're so much better together, don't you think? I do...

📺 Suggested Episode Pairing: Chinga

🔷🔹You and Me on the Rock (Brandi Carlile)🔹🔷

Revival vibes for DAYS. They've done it all, they've seen it all, they don't need anything except each other. (Also: Brandi is a goddess, no notes.)

I'll build my house up on this rock, baby, every day with you There's nothin' in that town I need after everything we've been through Me out in my garden and you out on your walk is all the distance this poor girl can take without listening to you talk I don't need their money, baby, just you and me on the rock

📺 Suggested Episode Pairing: Babylon (HA. YEAH, THAT'S RIGHT, I SAID IT. TWO CAN PLAY AT THIS GAME, GIRL)

🔷🔹Turning (Sea Caves)🔹🔷

Another revival song.  While there is SO much about this one that captures middle-aged MSR (my beloved,) this particular line is deliciously hopeful:

In time we saw we′d drifted far enough Turned to let it go and start anew

📺 Suggested Episode Pairing: Plus One

This list was SO much fun to put together - I hope you enjoy it! Shout out to @calimanc for helping me make sure the vibes were just right 😘

[sunny-mercya]

Soft Flames

Leo Valdez x Male Reader

Fandom -> Percy Jackson

Requested by -> Anon

Masterlist

Being a child of Ares—or any offspring from the various Deities of the old world—comes, once birthed and brought to live, with a few perceptible characteristics—like a mirror or exact miniature figure of their parent—and common prejudices, which some children might either live up to such specific description or proves the opposite of anything but their godly parent.

Children of Ares are meant to be fearless Warriors with scary faces—eyes always having that furry like sort of gleam in them—and expressions morphing into grimaces to intimidate and scare off their opponents and enemies.

Children of Ares are meant to be stoic, like a statue—void of emotions to feel, icy like an iceberg, because if you do as a warrior that's frowned upon as a fatal weakness—and should radiate off constant brooding anger, ready to explode into mayhem of creating war.

Children of Ares are meant to be brutes, merciless beasts of brutality—equally, better above to be, strong like a feral bear—with their strength, always ready to tear apart the fools which underestimate them in their forces.

Children of Ares are aggressive blunt—like stones being tossed into a calm water or, how modern society would say, like a trampling Elephant in a fine China store—with their words as they are not meant, nor is it needed when the simplicity of just a few sounds (barbaric and unintelligible gibberish of lower intelligence is what some other half-blood children had once said) are enough, to speak fancy language when declaring their wars and wants of need.

Well at least that's what Leo has gotten be told—like a grocery list being rattled off—when he freshly had been brought into camp, instantly been claimed as a son of Hephaestus—and being showed around like a tourist on some tour guide.

But Leo Valdez—two years of being in Camp Half-Blood—begs to differ, likes to disagree to such prejudices statements with his own grocery list of reasons of why that's false accusations, because [Name] [Surname]—his lovely boyfriend and whose a son Ares himself—is absolutely nothing like this, more even so, perhaps even, the exact opposite of what a “Son of Ares” is supposed to be.

Because when Leo looks at you, he really does have a different perspective of who you truly are than the others—and even when your physical appearance is a literal copy of the prejudiced mindset, so is your character—your inner self—the exact opposite.

You're quiet tall, gigantic even—like a tower imposing down, looming like a Shadow and being a shield to the sun and moon to shine on the tiny houses below—and muscular build, just like mighty Hercules once had been (or that's what they in camp like to mumble around)

You're also aren't known for witty or cleverness as you're more the brawn type of guy and likes to ram head first into the sparring or any fights—and the same goes for discussions, debate and arguments as well.

And neither are you the type to show much interest—shrugging your shoulders when someone asks for your opinion—nor empathy—one of your siblings, much younger than you, had once gotten hurt during capture the flag and all you said was „Suck it up and fight.” (Annabeth had chastised you for this) and then there was this one time where one of the other children had told you about how one of the campers had died on a quest and all you said was „Okay.”—and definitely neither were you a person to be known for kindness.

And yet, despite all this of being the same image you're supposed to represent within the house of Ares—your family line and the blood which flows through your veins, such mighty background engraved in your mind and heart—like a piece of memorabilia historical poem—you're very much different.

~~~•~~~

Like any other day, Leo was once again in the outside Blacksmith stall—his personal, private, stall away from his siblings and their nosy competitions of who builds the worthy best—tinkering on whatever various projects he had started.

It's quiet today, calm peaceful—sluggish slow—like a heated summer day, even though it's March—lively spring time officially starting—which, considering the time of high sun, is unusual and could be counted as almost suspicious, especially when keeping in mind that the camp never stays quiet and is always buzzing like busy bees.

You hummed, enjoying the moments of utter and pure silent solitude, crossing your arms on the wooden table—the only free spot, your personal free spot, in Leo's mechanical junkyard jungle—and nestling your head onto them, observing your boyfriend and his crafty doings.

From your view, actually you couldn't really tell what Leo is making as your view is a bit blocked by that huge metal box, but it doesn't bother you as long as you could see Leo's face (and his cute concentrating expression).

Sometimes Leo babbles—like he's doing now, when he switched a tool for another and wiped some grease on his face on accident—like a endless podcast when he's fixated on a project, despite changing to another any minutes soon—depending on his overly enthusiastic working mood—about the various topics, which comes in and out of his cluttered mind.

You don't mind it, not when it's your Boyfriend at least (or a handful, three to be exact, of people) finding his voice to be comforting—like a blanket of safety for your own whirlpool state of mind—and it's always brighten your day, a daily highlight in your (tedious) routine, to hear whatever randomness is on Leo's mind.

But within every calm moment of solitude, there's bound to be a brewing breeze of upcoming storm afterwards.

And your storm, to destroy your precious moments of togetherness with Leo, comes in a form of mischievous little children, because—unlike Will or Percy or Clarisse or really anyone else in Camp Half-Blood—you don't have the virtue of patience in you and once annoyance starts to swept in, it soon would turn into a tiny rise of anger.

Just like now, when the younger ones thought it would be a great idea to snuck up on you behind and dump two buckets of icy cold water over you—drenching you completely, making the children disappointed when you didn't make a vocal sound of surprise like Annabeth did or screaming around like Drew had.

Next thing you hear, after realising what happened, is the obnoxious loud gigging of children—which sounded more like a unpleasant provoking ringing in your ears, so damn loud and shrilling high, that you really want to—like a forbidden itch in your fingers—smash them into quietness.

Leo had stopped with his tinkering, dropping his tool instantly when seeing your widen eyes—because a successfully snuck up on Ares Children was like a win in Capture the Flag—which shows disbelief, confusion and a slight ounce of panic.

Disbelief, because you were caught by surprise with this attack—confusion, because you need a few minutes to comprehend—and panic, because it's water and you had more than once bad encounter with water.

When you stood up, abruptly, the giggling stopped and the children begun to huddle together in slight fear—after all they heard of the tales, which are loved to be told sometimes during camp fires, about the brooding son of Ares and his scowling fury and barbaric mannerisms.

They stutter out apologies and how it wasn't their idea, when you turned out with such a fearful expression of grimace that one of the children had started to cry.

Leo notices how you have clenched your fist, knowing you well enough and the telltale signs of your exploding anger and while you would never dare to hit children, you anger issues and general lack of “humanity”—how Annabeth had once spat and Leo likes Annabeth, she's a friend of his, but that was an asshole thing to say from her—isn't positive helping you in such situations.

Leo goes next to you, subtle placing his hand over your fist—a start to sooth you—but you shook him off, fist risen already, one child started to scream in horror and Leo gave the children a kind smile, shooing them away and thankfully they did scurried off—before sizing your wirst, untangling your fingers and placing his hand in yours to hold.

»C'mon, let's get you dried up!« said Leo, dragging you all the way to the boats shack—which, just like Leo's blacksmith stall, is your personal and private territory—while you started to rant angrily, letting your steam off in from of cursing and everyone who had crossed your path, had gotten the brutality of the Ares stare.

~~~•~~~

You don't lack, how someone people tend to kindly say, these humanity qualities of kindness, empathy, love and whatever there is—you just don't like to show them so openly and making you a vulnerable target to your enemies.

In private you—when the two of you are completely alone or in either the blacksmith stall or the boat shack, in a safe space—you sweep Leo up in your arms, cuddling him in a spin before letting him take over, because in public it's you who mostly takes Leo’s hand or carries him over your shoulder around.

When in private you like to tend to your little flower garden or going fishing, while Leo accompanies you and listen to your knowledge of gardening.

When in private, you have the most beautiful and softest smile on your chapped, scarred lips to give to Leo—and your smile is such an enormous encouragement for Leo, it's the thing he always looks forward to see.

When in private you turn from brooding and angry, into a shy and lovely awkward person.

Because with Leo you could be yourself, could show your emotions—laugh out loud, snorting like a fool, when he tells you his jokes—share whats on your mind and letting it all loose, without being judged for it or being stamp as unfit to the Ares line.

There's a silence between the two of you, when Leo starts to dry you off—although he really wants to crack some jokes or just babble something—because Leo personally couldn't stand silence at all—but he didn't, not when you had hide your face in your hands and shaking terrible enormously, trying to hold in your sobs so hard you let out choked breath.

Normally, when you got pranked, you would brush it off and be an intimidating giant with an angry sneer on your face, but not today—today it felt too much for you, especially with the water, like a pressure building up and ready to crack or burst.

You're like a soft flame which needs constant care to not extinguish on its own—mused Leo as he takes you in his arms, pulling you close in much needed warmth of comfort, but such close proximity of contact was enough for you to completely break down now and cry.

»It's okay, it's all okay, Corazón! Mi Amor, it's all okay, I promise. I'm here.« Leo whispered these words to you, pressing many tiny kisses on your cheek—combining his fingers softly through your hair, knowing his ways already how to get you calm again.

~~~•~~~

Once you had calmed down, eyes still puffy red and cheek tear stained, you two had moved to a different position on the old couch—which you had carried all yourself into the boats shack—with you laying down and Leo being on top of you, tracing with his finger shapes on your exposed shoulder.

»You know, Mi Amor,« Leo begun, moving a bit upward and near towards your face, dipping down his head to your neck—prepping kisses along your skin and all the way up to your lips, softly smacking them together,

»People still believe you're the man in charge of our relationship, while it's me who actually is and that's good, because,« Leo stops again, placing his lips on yours once again—nibbling on your lips and rubbing your sensitive hips with his hand, which brought a slight gaps from you.

»I won't have to worry about them taking you from me, Corazón.«

Dear, you heaved out in a airy voice—getting lightheaded and warm—Leo’s touch alone could make you melt like chocolate in the sun and you're glad you two are alone, because making a nonchalant face whenever Leo wants to hold hands in puppy with you was hard to maintain.

»And I find it funny, how you trail after me like a lost puppy and no one links it together, my big teddy bear« he grins, bending down to you ear and whispers such alluring words that you got embarrassed, making him giggle—prepping you with more kisses.

Children of Ares might be fearless warriors, but in private their soft and lost sweethearts.

[1979semifinalist]

Hi Kelly! Love all your stuff! I was reading Absolute Wonder Woman and thinking back to your run of Black Widow (which is fantastic btw) and I was just wondering, what made you want to write comics? How did you get started?

I have wanted to write since I was little -- some of my earliest memories are around trying to not only write and draw but create physical objects that people could read. And though I loved Archie Comics when I was little (they were my first exposure to comics) -- I didn’t really know or understand there was a whole big world of comics -- they were just these cool books I used to beg my mom for at the grocery store check out line. But when I was a teenager my younger brothers Scott and Dave and I (though Dave was more casual with it) discovered comics and became huge obsessed fans. And it was then that I realized that comics were maybe this perfect merging of the things I loved -- words and pictures. Initially I definitely wanted to write and draw, but I eventually gave up the draw part (not good enough, not willing to devote the time to get better, impatient, blah blah blah). But I was very sure “making comics” was the thing I wanted to do -- comics and making them became my #1 hobby.

When it came time to go away to college I picked a truly baffling choice (don’t ask) and was thinking I’d probably study English and/or Art. English fell apart right away in my first semester (a bland uninspiring teacher who was equally uninspired with me). Art in the second semester was more promising (but I still knew I did not have what it takes to be excellent in that field). In my sophmore year I had been considering a transfer to an art school (SCAD was at the top of my list since they were the only college at that time that had an actual Sequential Art Degree). And some interesting things happened in my second year at college that really showed me that I was on the wrong path and that I should at least give SCAD a try, because maybe THAT would be the right path. So I left school at the end of my sophomore year, moved home, took a year off to work and earn some money for school and a car, and to take some additional classes at the community college that I knew would transfer to SCAD. And then applied and got a (very small) scholarship. And that was it. I loved it there. Whereas I had ached to be home with my family most of the time that I was at my first college, I loved this so much I didn’t even come home over the summer anymore. It was the first time I felt like I was finding my place in the world and maybe would do something interesting.

But I do things slow.

So after I graduated I took a normal day job and just tried to work on my stuff on the side. I did that for years and eventually... like 10 years later (oof).. it started to become something.

I don’t know if you’re trying to break in, or thinking about trying to do something really hard, but in case you are, here are my advice bits:

1. Everyone hates this advice, but it’s the advice everyone gives it because it’s true: To get noticed and get paid to make comics, you first have to make some comics. You have to show people you can do this, that you have something to say, and the only way to do that is to make some comics.

2. And this: Don’t give up until you’ve succeeded. Trite, but also true.

3. And this one is tough but: Finish your project. An 80% finished project is nothing. A 100% finished project is everything. Getting to the finish line is the hardest part, but if you can manage that you’ll be ahead of almost everyone. Which is encouraging... in its way.

If you are indeed trying to do something, whatever it is... good luck, and don’t give up!

[rohirric-hunter]

I just read your post on realistic heist movie, did you ever elaborate on why bribing the guards wouldn't work? Sounds like "I'm not paid enough for this shit" and "these guys want to pay me to not do it" work well together (sorry if you did I'm new to Tumblr so I don't really know how to find out by myself)

I did, but given the way Tumblr works you would probably never have found it yourself :P

The short answer is that I was in fact paid enough for that shit. Being a security guard, at the time I made that post, meant three 12 hour shifts a week that I spent sitting in a comfortable chair, eating free food provided by the company I was guarding for, doing maybe 40 minutes of actual work per day and spending the other 11 hours and 20 minutes watching movies, reading, and chatting with my friends online, while still functionally doing my job. It was quite literally the best job in the world. Expectations were clear, goals were achievable, and I was not constantly being pitted against my past self in a competition that I would never be allowed to win. I didn't have a glamorous life by any means, but I had an easy one, and more than enough money to spend and save.

Taking a bribe of any sort would have put that life permanently beyond reach. You take a bribe you're blacklisted, and you'll never be hired as a security guard ever again, at least not in the US.

I mean, I suppose people of different temperaments exist, and theoretically someone exists who would not kill for the chance to live off of ~2 hours of actual work per week while getting free food and free internet at work. So maybe it would work on some people. In theory.

Obviously there was a lot of bullshit that I complained about at the time. For example, there was a stairwell that couldn't be accessed from inside the building -- in fact the only door that opened onto it was an emergency exit on the outside of the building. Which no one would ever be using as an emergency exit on account of it not being accessible from the inside of the building. But I still had to deal with it every few weeks because I had to perform checks on the alarm by the emergency exit. That no one would ever use.

But to be entirely honest the bullshit was mostly funny and mostly harmless. The bullshit at all my other jobs has been shit like them financially penalizing me for using the bathroom. Not all bullshit is created equal.

(Also to be entirely fair not all security jobs are created equal. I've worked a whole bunch of different ones since then and there's no amount of money I would take to do a grocery store again. The bank gig was pretty good, though.)

I mean, at the end of the day, yeah I suppose there's a bribe I would take. If it was big enough that I would never have to work at all again, then yeah, maybe you could get me. But if you have that kind of money to throw around then you probably have easier solutions than bribing a security guard.

[delightfullrecipes]

Making Magic with Yesterday's Chicken: Budget-Friendly Brilliance in Your Fridge

Ever stood in front of your open refrigerator, staring at that half-eaten rotisserie chicken and wondering what to do with it? You're not alone! That plastic container of picked-over poultry isn't sad leftovers—it's actually kitchen gold waiting to be discovered.

Why Leftover Rotisserie Chicken Recipes Are Your Wallet's BFF

Let's talk numbers for a sec: Americans waste nearly 40% of their store-bought rotisserie chickens. That's literally BILLIONS of dollars of perfectly good protein tossed in the trash every year! In this economy? I don't think so.

Leftover rotisserie chicken recipes are the secret weapon of savvy home cooks everywhere. Not only do they help you stretch your grocery budget (hello, three meals from one $7 chicken!), but they also save precious time during hectic weeknights when you just CAN'T with cooking from scratch.

What's even cooler is how one humble ingredient can morph into completely different taste experiences—from spicy Mexican flavors to comforting Asian-inspired dishes to classic American comfort food. The versatility is honestly mind-blowing.

Ready to transform your leftovers into something amazing? Click here for our full collection of drool-worthy leftover rotisserie chicken recipes: Delightful Recipes

The Quality Ingredient Secret Nobody Talks About

Here's the tea: not all rotisserie chickens are created equal, and this MATTERS when you're working with leftover rotisserie chicken recipes.

Why? Because:

The quality of your starting chicken affects everything about your finished dish

Free-range and organic options typically have better flavor and texture

The seasoning blend on your original chicken will infuse your new creations

Properly stored leftovers (pro tip: don't leave it in that plastic container from the store!) maintain way better moisture

Think about it like this: your leftover chicken transformation is only going to be as good as what you start with. That beautifully seasoned skin might not be crispy anymore, but it can add INCREDIBLE flavor to whatever you're making next.

Solving the #1 Leftover Chicken Problem: The Dreaded Dryness

The Science-y Stuff Behind Perfect Texture

Let's be real—the absolute WORST thing about reheated chicken is when it turns into sad, dry, rubbery disappointment. Nobody wants that.

So what's actually happening? When chicken cools after cooking, the protein fibers contract and squeeze out moisture. Then when you reheat it? Those already tight fibers can lose even MORE moisture if you're not careful.

The secret that professional chefs know is that you need to use methods that either add moisture back in or prevent further moisture loss. This might mean:

Introducing liquid elements to your dish

Using gentle reheating methods

Incorporating the chicken into sauces or broths

Adding healthy fats that improve mouthfeel

It's literally kitchen science, and once you understand it, your leftover rotisserie chicken recipes will NEVER be dry again.

Want to learn the pro techniques that make leftover chicken taste better than fresh? Check out our complete guide here: Chicken Revival Secrets

The Global History of Leftover Chicken Magic

How Thrifty Cooks Around the World Changed Food Forever

Here's something fascinating: some of the world's most beloved dishes actually started as creative solutions to leftovers!

In Mexico, tinga poblana—that amazing shredded chicken in chipotle sauce—often began as a way to revive yesterday's roast chicken. Chinese fried rice frequently evolved as a clever way to use both leftover rice AND meat, creating something entirely new and delicious.

Even American classics like chicken pot pie have historical roots as frugal dishes designed to stretch leftover poultry into another full meal by combining it with vegetables in a pastry crust.

These traditions show us that leftover rotisserie chicken recipes aren't just about convenience—they're part of a beautiful global history of resourceful cooking that spans cultures and generations. There's something deeply meaningful about continuing these traditions of transforming humble ingredients into something special.

Creating Your Own Leftover Legacy

When you get good at transforming that supermarket rotisserie chicken into multiple meals, you're not just saving money—you're joining a long tradition of clever home cooks who turn ordinary ingredients into extraordinary meals.

This approach to cooking:

Drastically reduces your weekly food budget

Cuts down on kitchen waste

Teaches valuable cooking skills

Connects you to global culinary traditions

Makes weeknight dinners WAY less stressful

The best leftover rotisserie chicken recipes don't just feed your body—they nourish your soul with their comfort, simplicity, and ability to bring people together around the table again and again.

Ready to start your own tradition of creative leftover magic? Find your new favorite recipes here: Budget-Friendly Chicken Magic

Your Next Kitchen Adventure Awaits

That forgotten chicken in your fridge is literally BURSTING with potential. With the right techniques, quality ingredients, and a dash of creativity, it can become tonight's Instagram-worthy dinner that nobody would ever guess started as leftovers.

Whether you're trying to save money, reduce waste, or just enjoy the satisfaction of creating something new from something old, these versatile recipes deserve a permanent place in your cooking rotation.

Give your leftovers the second life they deserve, and discover the joy of cooking that spans cultures, generations, and kitchen styles—one delicious bite at a time!

[dojae-huh]

Why SM "doesn't protect" its idols. An explanation from a corporate lawyer. Google translate again. (source)

Why "SM does nothing" or how to find the guilty in the real world.

From the point of view of a fan and fan feelings, of course, you want justice for Seunghan, because he did not deserve all the wave of hatred towards himself and "friends" who are ready to leak personal correspondence for the sake of profit, so you can always help and report hateful comments or support the guy who is being bullied for literally living a normal teenage life.

From another point of view, in situations like this, I always find it very funny to watch the wave of fan hatred towards agencies that allegedly "do nothing". Just today, I have come across several comments indignant at why SM does not punish haters/sasaengs/choose the right one. And as a corporate lawyer with a focus on litigation in a company from a related field, I also want to make my contribution. So, why do agencies "do nothing"?

Let's start with the basic legal concepts, the cornerstones, which everyone somehow forgets at such moments. An idol is an ordinary citizen of his country, the same individual with equal rights before the law, like his sasaeng or hater, like an ordinary office worker of the agency. SM is a legal entity. An ephemeral concept created by capitalism for the purpose of carrying out activities for the purpose of making a profit. Any entertainment agency is equal in its rights with an ordinary grocery store on your street, a restaurant or an entire dental clinic, which are also legal entities. Got it?

Now let's delve a little deeper into the boring story of how this situation actually looks. A hypothetical hater leaks personal photos and private correspondence of an idol on a social network. Who does this harm first of all? An individual. From a legal point of view, in this case alone, several completely different types of offense can be distinguished (which are provided for by the provisions of the Korean Law on the Protection of Personal Information, the Law on the Promotion of the Use of Information and Telecommunication Networks and the Protection of Information, articles of the Criminal Code of the Republic of Korea): violation of the secrecy of correspondence, violation of privacy, dissemination of information defaming the honor, dignity and business reputation of a citizen, causing moral harm, causing damages. And any citizen has the right to protect their rights under the law in two ways: within the framework of civil and within the framework of criminal proceedings.

How does it work?

Within the framework of civil proceedings, a citizen can apply to the court with a claim for recovery of damages that were caused to him in connection with the dissemination of information defaming his honor, dignity and business reputation. For example, now the whole country is discussing the personal life of an idol and his public image has fallen so low that advertisers have terminated contracts, demanding a penalty, because now their product is being boycotted because of this idol. These are the idol's losses. The idol can also demand moral damages for the moral suffering caused, because he was worried, did not sleep at night and generally fell ill due to the disclosure of personal information. And the idol also has the right to demand a public refutation of information that discredits his honor, dignity or business reputation, if the person who disseminated such information does not prove that it is true. It is unlikely to prove this when videos and photos of the idol are posted online, right? After the idol makes these demands, the court, taking into account the evidence in the case file, in accordance with the principles of reasonableness, adversarial proceedings, and based solely on its own conviction, will make a decision indicating whether the case file really contains evidence that confirms that the idol has suffered moral harm and material damage, and how much money the idol will receive from the hater as compensation.

What are the pitfalls here? There are many. The idol must first find out who is distributing this information. It is unlikely that anyone can file a lawsuit in court where the defendant will be listed as "Naver account owner *". Even if the idol sends a request to the office that owns the social network with a request to tell who the owner of the account is, no one will tell him anything, because this is personal data that is protected by law. What if the idol magically finds out the hater's personal data, but it turns out that he is a citizen of another country, permanently residing there? Well, good luck to a South Korean idol suing a hater from Brazil. This is just one hypothetical example, but when there are ten, a hundred, a thousand such haters? Litigation becomes impractical. If the hater does live in Korea, and miraculously the idol finds out his personal information in order to sue him, then a long process begins that cannot be resolved in one hearing. The number of hearings increases and the gap between their dates increases too, because the parties need to prepare documents that will prove their position, and the court has a schedule of hearings

review of cases, because there are thousands of court cases, an idol is not the only one: today there is a divorce, and tomorrow a dispute over construction. Therefore, when once a year some idol or entertainment company issues a press release that “the hater was punished in accordance with the court’s decision,” no one notices how the statements contain no information about the essence of the case or the date when it happened. Because the hater could have written a controversial comment a year, two, or three years ago.

Another option is criminal proceedings. Under South Korean law, such cases are considered exclusively at the request of a citizen, because this is a private law charge. That is, no one except an idol can go to the police and think that their statement will be accepted for consideration and a criminal case will be opened. The idol attaches to the statement all the information he has about the unidentified person - here they are, the blessed screenshots with insults that are sent to Kwanya 119 - and then… That's it. The idol can no longer do anything, because now only the police have the powers established by law: they will find out the personal data of the owners of social networks upon official requests (here, by the way, the idol will be able to get acquainted with the case materials, find out the details of the account owner and also go to court with a civil lawsuit!) and if suddenly this turns out to be a resident of Korea, then the investigators can quite happily initiate a criminal case, go and have a conversation with this person, offer to apologize to the idol in order to try to resolve the issue peacefully. Or otherwise, transfer the case to the prosecutor. The prosecutor will look at the materials collected by the investigators and decide whether there is enough evidence to charge in court. Insufficient - the case will be returned for further investigation and the consideration period will be delayed; sufficient - the prosecutor will go to court with the charges, where the situation will repeat itself. The court will again look at the case materials, listen to the parties and decide whether there is any violation in the person's actions and to what extent.

Notice how there is no agency anywhere in these chains? But it is all very simple. Because legally they are not a party to any of the above relationships. Yes, the artist who has a contract with the label is harmed and this affects the artist's image, because the idol on stage and the person behind him are inextricably linked, and this also directly affects the group, namely, what is legally called business reputation. But within the framework of legal concepts and the evidentiary process, there is a distinction between causing damage to the business reputation of a group, all rights to which belong to the agency, and damage to the honor, dignity and business reputation of an idol, that is, an ordinary citizen who, by law, must protect his rights himself, just as a sasaeng or hater, or an ordinary office worker would protect his rights… Therefore, most often agencies, understanding this entire chain that directly affects their profits, and also taking into account the incompetence of idols, whom the label raised almost from childhood, taking all the responsibilities of their independent life upon itself, create things like e-mail boxes or Kwanya 119, where they can send documents, which will then be reviewed through lawyers for the advisability of working with them. An agreement is concluded between the idols and the agencies or a power of attorney is issued, according to which agency representatives can file lawsuits on behalf of the idols, find out about the progress of the police case on their behalf. And agencies also write letters to social networks, forums or news portals demanding that they remove articles or comments that violate the law, but they do this in a claim procedure that does not oblige anyone, so a social network may well refuse a label if the article or comment complies with their site usage policy and does not violate the law. No entertainment agency has the right or authority to punish anyone, demand money outside of court, and even more so to find commentators from the Internet and threaten them with reprisals. Because here a completely different process of close attention from government agencies to the company itself and their activities, and not to their idols, begins. This is a labor-intensive process that most often does not bring any benefit, because it is impossible to disclose specific data about the case and the personal data of haters, and template statements that the agency will take measures in accordance with the law or that someone has already been punished will not benefit anyone, because they do not contain specifics and any confirmation for the public. Otherwise, every entertainment agency in Korea could issue statements every Saturday stating that five or six haters were punished in the previous week. Would there be any level of trust in such statements? Not to mention that no legal entity is required to disclose such information or report on their legal cases, and fans demand statements from labels simply… because they think everyone owes them something. Of course, some agencies issue such statements once in a while.

per quarter. But for people who understand the whole process, such statements are just empty replies.

I could provide links to the provisions of the law and Korean law textbooks for each action I described, and even translate them from Korean, but then this post would look more like a thesis on Korean procedural law, and I'm too lazy, so here's a short conclusion: are entertainment agencies obliged to do anything in such situations? According to the law, no, but they will do it anyway, because it affects their profits and the image of their artists, whom they want to keep for many years. How effective are the methods for solving these problems? Well, not as effectively as we would like, but this is a problem of the law and its enforcement, not entertainment agencies. Should fans report all this? The expression "a bad result is also a result" does not work here, so no, there is no point in this. But why agencies (don't) issue statements regarding scandals at a certain time and in certain wording is a question that needs to be decided not only by lawyers, but also by PR people and public relations specialists. However… this is a completely different story.

[kabillieu]

Making dinner is, as always, a struggle. I'm doing so much better than I used to, but it still gives me daily anxiety and I have a difficult time with motivation and inspiration. And yet--still I like to eat. And good food at that.

I have so many IRL and online friends who are amazingly talented, creative, and flexible cooks. I wish I had even a fraction of many of your talents! But I can usually follow a recipe, and I have gotten better about the planning that goes into cooking. I try to strike a good balance between ignoring my family's pickiness and accommodating them. I've cooked some good meals lately, many of which are repeat dishes, and I just wanted to record them here. So here's what we've had in the last week and a half or so.

BLTs on sliced sourdough from the grocery store bakery with Caesar salads. I ate the rest of the sourdough toasted with butter over the course of the week and now may have high cholesterol. Worth it.

Balsamic chicken thighs and mushrooms over rice with broccoli . I make this recipe all the time. It's like a sweeter chicken adobo, so Dominic loves it, and my kids like it too. It's just really, really good.

Roasted sweet potato and black bean tacos with a bagged Southwestern style salad. For this dinner I had to modify my kids' plates because they are knuckleheads who won't eat tacos or sweet potatoes or black beans or salad. But this is what I wanted to eat, so I made the exact dinner I wanted for myself. Even though it was an easy meal, it took forever to get all the food on the table. I made my plate last and then dramatically dropped it before I could sit down, creating a HUGE, dangerous mess with shards of plate everywhere. It was VERY sad, I cut my ankle, but Dominic cleaned it up and I made another taco and everything was fine.

Ina Garten's skillet-roasted chicken and potatoes with green beans. I've made this recipe before, and it is WONDERFUL. I skip the buttermilk marinade because I just don't have time for it, and it is still good. I stir fried the green beans with olive oil, garlic powder, and Lawry's seasoning because that's how @thebarbaricyawp made green beans for us when she and G visited us over the 4th, and I always copy her because she is the best cook I know.

I also made Eric Kim's cold noodles with zucchini for lunch a couple times because I love his recipes but also because I love zucchini and my family acts like I'm trying to poison them when I make it. It's a fun recipe and satisfies my need for novelty as well as zucchini.

Last night Dominic grilled steaks, and I made the sides, and everything was delicious. I made more green beans, mushrooms, horseradish sauce, and these roasted potatoes. The potatoes were excellent. I made the horseradish sauce by stirring together roughly equal portions of sour cream, mayonnaise, and prepared horseradish, and it is so incredibly delicious every time.

[orthopunkfox]

An Appalachian Orthodox Christian's Perspective on Juneteenth

Growing up in redneck country, I was no stranger to racism. I heard my great granny use the hard R and even my parents make little racist comments between themselves about BIPOC folx. I have remarked in conversations to friends that one of the disadvantages of growing up as a white cis man in Kentucky and Southern Indiana is that other white cis men will be racist around you. I can remember more than a few times being approached in the grocery store by men asking "Do you know Mr. Ayak?" the call sign for the KKK.

Today in the United States, we celebrate the end of the greatest disease that has afflicted our nation: the abomination of slavery. Yet we acknowledge that the great strides taken in the 1860s and the 1960s are but the first steps on a long road to true racial equality. Indeed today is not just a day of celebration, but remembrance. We remember the thousands of people, created in the image of God who's names have been erased from history because their lives and deaths were not counted worthy of remembrance.

We remember also, and mourn, those who twisted the words of Our Lord and His Saints to defend their racist actions, just as they do now with their anti LGBTQ+ rhetoric. We remember those who stood behind the pulpit and the Bible and dared to use even Christ's Holy Cross as a symbol of hatred for their fellow human beings.

On this day, it is worth noting that the Orthodox Church has a message for those people. In April of 1863, His All-Holiness Joachim II Patriarch of Constantinople released a statement that was printed in an Antiochian newspaper. He says:

The United States of America, after many years of union and peace, after gigantic material and moral development, are separated into two hostile camps. The Northern States, guided by true reason and evangelical principles, persistently seek the abolition of the slavery of the blacks. The Southern States, blinded by a badly understood material interest, obstinately and anti-Christianly seek the perpetuation of slavery. This war of ideas and physical interests is prosecuted to desperation. Bloody battles are delivered, but victory until the present is doubtful, and the return of peace does not seem near. But if we cast a careful eye upon the wonderful events of this age, we shall be inclined to believe that those who contend so nobly for the most unquestionable and humane rights, will, God helping them, reach the object of their desires.

We thank God that the (doubtful) hopes of the Patriarch were realized, and we vow, as inclusive Orthodox Christians to continue the battle for the rights of the oppressed, to step forward where we are needed and to step back in support when where we are not. We hope and pray and celebrate with our siblings of color today as they rejoice in they victories already won.

Glory to God for all things!

[IMAGE]: An icon depicting various Saints of Africa including Saint Moses and Saint Mary of Egypt.

[yeh-mera-deewanapan-hai]

This is a RANT

My mind decided to remind me that talking about vulnerable topics is not equal to being vulnerable and I am beyond sad that I am not even comfortable being vulnerable in my own room. Gotta hide out in the washroom for hours to even feel like a human being. *scoff*

Why am I so jealous and envious of other people living my dreams while I'm so insecure of my own self? It's not even like I'm dreaming of something big or extraordinary! I just wanna be able to go somewhere alone, to wear clothes of my choosing, to create simple memories with friends I don't have, to not feel paranoid every time I'm beginning to get close to someone. Is it too much to ask? Is it too much to ask for when I JUST wanna exist peacefully?

I look at other people's Instagram feed and yeah, it might all be fake but I don't even have the freedom to fake anything. I look at my past friends memories through their social media and I am not there. I can bet that I'm not even on their minds. I was not allowed the freedom to make memories with anyone. Not even alone! I look at other people and feel jealous as fuck of their ability to just exist as themselves.

It is hard being comfortable in your own body when your own mother is teaching you to be ashamed of it. I can't wear tank tops, can't wear anything above my knees, wide necklines are a no-no, anything body fitting is vulgar, jeans and tops that actually fit me are cheap so go cover your chest with a stole and wear tops that go below your hips!!

I can't do anything really... I can't go to the grocery store near our house alone but my brother who is 7 years younger than me can, I couldn't go to any of my past school trips, can't go somewhere alone with my own father without my phone ringing 5 times an hour, can't hug my younger brother or my father or my friends that I had and not even my own mother because she's uncomfortable with touching anyone but does that mean that I have to sacrifice my own comfort because she was uncomfortable?

I hate being called cheap and vulgar and characterless and a near prostitute because I mentioned liking something fashion related that does not go with her idea of modesty. I despise the fact that I always end up crying when I argue with her because I am more sad than angry at her choice to control every single aspect of my life.

I can't ever imagine being free of her, of her paranoia that instilled deep trust issues in me, of her voice hating my clothes and my hair and my makeup and my art and my music taste and my laugh and every single one of my little quirks that I see being adored in media but never in me.

You all must feel like she is like a monster but that is not true because while yeah, she made me feel bad about a lot of stuff, she also made me feel good a lot too! This is actually the first time I ever even hinted at hating her, let alone writing a whole rant on tumblr for strangers to read. She loves me in her own way, too much and obsessive and I know that just because her intentions are good doesn't mean the results her actions cause will be good too. I want to love her from afar.

[stainedglassthreads]

I’ve talked about this a lot before but I feel like what’s so great about Undertale’s characters is that all (well, most) of the flaws of the characters are really just their positive traits, exaggerated to such a degree that they’re no longer useful.

Asgore is a kind king who will always put the needs of his people before his own needs, and will stop to help even the meekest and lowliest Whimsun or Froggit. Even if if goes against his morals and slowly destroys his mental health until he wants to die. Asgore is very in-touch with his emotions for a male character, and is very open about crying easily and being kind to others--but he also lets his anger make him make a decision in front of the entirety of his kingdom that they love, but he regrets very, very soon afterwards. His traits and feelings and emotions exist at different levels--we get the example of him going to MK’s school to talk about responsibility, we get the note that anyone can come to his house at any time and talk about their problems, but we ALSO get the lead-up to his boss fight of monsters speaking of him like he’s a God they worship, because they fully trust HE will be the one to destroy the Barrier and lead them back to the Surface.

Toriel is kind and loving and dotes on her children, but she’s been through so much loss that she becomes smothering, overprotective, and overbearing. Toriel is an incredibly moral person, but she sticks so hard to her sense of ethics that she leaves her husband over it. Toriel sticks so strongly to her sense of ethics that, even when she has herself totally convinced that there’s no way to talk Monsterkind and Asgore down from their war, she still tries to teach Frisk how to peacefully defuse a conflict until she can come and scare off that monster. But she also fails to see how much harm even a child can cause with enough LV until it’s too late.

How Chara’s completionist tendencies are remembered as a cute character quirk by the Dreemurrs in the Winter Alarm Clock dialogue, but we see how horrifying it can be in No Mercy when Chara is stripped of emotion and remorse, left with nothing but the purpose of power. How Frisk’s determination can be equally terrifying--whether you choose Pacifist or No Mercy, it results in no monster you can find and fight being left behind. For better or for worse.

Undyne is passionate and dedicated and determined and wants so very much to imitate heroism. In No Mercy this is what spurs her character development and allows her to become Undyne the Undyine, but in Pacifist this also leads to her trying to chase down and brutally murder a child who has quite literally never harmed a fly. Alphys only ever wants to help people and be liked, but when she makes an honest mistake and creates the Amalgamates, she’s so terrified of how others will react that she hides them away and makes everyone miserable, herself included.

Etc, etc, etc. This great character writing even continues in Deltarune. Rudy wants to be the kind, chilled out parent to make up for his wife’s overbearingness--but at the same time, he knows he’s not doing so great right now, and it’s unknown if he’s ever tried confronting his wife about how she’s tried to raise Noelle and the effects it’s had on their daughter. Lancer is very earnest and eager to please, whether he’s trying to be the Bad Guy for his Dad, or Susie’s friend, and it hurts to see him so earnestly trying to protect Susie, even as she lashes out against him, in Deltarune’s first chapter. Ralsei tries incredibly hard to support and comfort Kris, to the extent he surrenders his own autonomy and free will. Asgore is still the kind and helpful and thoughtful king from Undertale--but he’s no longer a King, and he’s broke, and he sometimes sees his ex-wife at the grocery store, and if he doesn’t learn to move on from the past and put himself first it’s not going to end well, and Undyne is still passionate and heroic but she’s now stuck in a town where there’s no bad guys for her to fight, and--

...Anyways. I have Thoughts about utdr characters. The sky is blue. What else is there to say.