#spend time with your kids

[b0bthebuilder35]

#life #lessons #life lesson #lesson #life lessons #lessons in life #lesson in life #reality #capitalism #capitalist society #joy #playful #play #quality time #enjoy life #existence #justification #justify my existence #childhood trauma #winnie the pooh #christopher robin #life goals #live life #work #all work no play #spend time with family #spend time with your kids #children #raising children #parenting

[inkskinned]

they want to talk about mental illness and acceptance and how everyone is a little ocd it's cute and quirky and their "intrusive thoughts" are about cutting their hair off and you say yours are about taking a razorblade to your eye and they say ew can you not and everyone is a little adhd sometimes! except if you're late it's a personality flaw and it's because you are careless and cruel (and someone else with adhd mentions they can be on time, so why can't you?) and it's not an eating disorder if it's girl dinner! it's not mania if it's girl math! what do you mean you blew all of your savings on nonrefundable plane tickets for a plane you didn't even end up taking. what do you mean that you are afraid of eating. get over it. they roll their little lips up into a sneer. can you not, like, trauma dump?

they love it on them they like to wear pieces of your suffering like jewels so that it hangs off their tongue in rapiers. they are allowed to arm-chair diagnose and cherrypick their poisons but you can't ever miss too many showers because that's, like, "fuckken gross?" so anyone mean is a narcissist. so anyone with visual tics is clearly faking it and is so cringe. but they get to scream and hit customer service employees because well, i got overwhelmed.

you keep seeing these posts about how people pleasers are "inherently manipulative" and how it's totally unfair behavior. but you are a people pleaser, you have an ingrained fawn response. in the comments, you have typed and deleted the words just because it is technically true does not make it an empathetic or kind reading of the reaction about one million times. it is technically accurate, after all. you think of catholic guilt, how sometimes you feel bad when doing a good deed because the sense of pride you get from acting kind - that pride is a sin. the word "manipulation" is not without bias or stigma attached to it. many people with the fawn response are direct victims of someone who was malignantly manipulative. calling the victims manipulative too is an unfair and unkind reading of the situation. it would be better and more empathetic to say it is safety-seeking or connection-seeking behavior. yes, it can be toxic. no, in general it is not intended to be toxic. there is no reason to make mentally ill people feel worse for what we undergo.

you type why is everyone so quick to turn on someone showing clear signs of trauma but you already know the fucking answer, so what's the point of bothering. you kind of hate those this is what anxiety looks like! infographics because at this point you're so good at white-knuckling through a severe panic attack that people just think you're stoic. even people who know the situation sometimes comment you just don't seem depressed. and you're not a 9 year old white kid so there's no way you're on the spectrum, you're not obsessed with trains and you were never a good mathematician. okay then.

mental illness is trending. in 2012 tumblr said don't romanticize our symptoms but to be fair tiktok didn't exist yet. there's these series of videos where someone pretends to be "the most boring person on earth" and is just being a normal fucking person, which makes your skin crawl, because that probably means you are boring. your friend reads aloud a profile from tinder - no depressed bitches i fucking hate that mental illness crap. your father says that medication never actually works.

you still haven't told your grandmother that you're in therapy. despite everything (and the fact it's helping): you just don't want her to see you differently.

#writeblr #warm up #to be clear let me state again: i think you should id however you fucking want if it helps you seek peace #but there is a HUGE difference between being like '.... im undiagnosed but i think i might be X' #and a person who is like ''omg my intrusive thoughts made me buy a birkin!!!'' #babe mine made me throw up bc they disgusted me so much <3 #mine made me hurt myself evenly. even when i wanted to stop. i have had to put my hand on the stove MULTIPLE TIMES #and again i'd rather have 10000 people get help for something they don't need help for #than have 1 kid NOT get help #but there has GOTTTTT to be a middle ground here #bc at this point it isn't ''raising awareness'' #it's . fucking misinformation. and ''what this picture says about you!!!!!'' #& yes! im mostly talkin about ppl who are actually disgusted and offended by signs of mental illness #but use it to defend THEIR actions #like babe you hate when kids start yelling in the walmart? but you YOuRSELF can yell? #you are depressed so it's fine you were cruel to your spouse? #but if your spouse spends too much time in bed she's a lazy fuck? #your partner needs to do everything for you bc of your history in trauma? but when SHE has needs she's being clingy and gross? #HUGE difference here between whom i think most of my followers are btw. like #all it takes is fucking anyyyy empathy or kindness . like. #anyway it's hard to explain im hoping we all know the person im talking about lol

[dailyloopdeloop]

DAY 7: i miss my wife bonbon

#codacheetah #isat #loop isat #twohat spoilers #isat act 6 spoilers #SLIDING IN WITH 14 MINUTES TO THE CLOCK YEA BABY #this is like the dollar store version of what i had in my head but in my defense i was out all day. woopsiedoodle #its my personal postcanon headcanon that sif goes on like a several month 'i miss my dead wife' arc about loop bc he thinks they evaporated #into the either infinity war style after their fight. so theyre rlly sad and emo n shit about it but theyre like well. i hope loop is happy #at least. i hope they moved on and found peace :) #meanwhile loop does not know what moving on is they are clawing onto mortality with every last sap of their strength #always approximately 4 seconds from deciding to track down the party #but theyre scared so they spend all their time fuckin playing with birds and scaring kids or whatever #until one day siffrin's like stars i know they probably cant hear me but i miss them. and like does the handsign morosely #and then after several seconds loop picks up like ....hi stardust!!! wow you really didnt miss me that much huh!!! #siffrin voice: YOU'RE NOT FUCKING DEAD?! #anyways what heinous crime did the running one commit. leave your answers in the comments below #also. happy one week of this fucking guy!!!

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 184

“Well damn.” 

Jason wrenched his gaze from the mess of red and green spattered across the room, searching for the source of the voice. His head hurt, he wanted his Dad. He wanted Bruce. He… his head hurt. His everything hurt. 

“Honestly, didn’t expect them to find another half-breed. Didn’t think there was another halfa out there…”  

He tore his gaze away from the floor- when had it gotten there- finally finding the other… person? The person giving him an empty smile through some sort of muzzle and missing an entire arm. Well, he couldn’t judge, he’d torn his nails off while digging out of his grave before… this. 

“Hey, kid, don’t sweat it, it’ll grow back,” the man apparently noticed where he was staring, shoulder twitching as he shrugged and more green pouring out. Jason couldn’t stop staring, eyes slipping from the growing pool to the rest of the chains apparently keeping the person on that side of the… room? Cage? Cell? 

“Shit, hey, kid, kid, don’t cry, uh, fuck, shh, kid don’t cry-” the person made a noise, some sort of hum or croon that caused him to relax. To his already brain-damaged confusion. “C’mere, away from the door now, shh…” 

Oh, when had he started to move? It was like he blinked and was stumbling away towards the chained person, practically tripping over a limb before the person managed to catch him. “Ope, oh you’re just a little baby-” a hand, clawed, carefully ran through his hair, tucking him against a rumbling chest that nearly made him tear up again. He wanted Bruce. 

“It’s alright kid, shh, they won’t get you,” the man rumbled, everything about him green to his rapidly closing eyes. Pale skin like a corpse, black scales like rot, hair white like snow, all stained green with blood.  “They’d have to kill me again for that.” 

#dcxdp #dpxdc #prompts #Instead of spending 3 years with the league of assassins after digging himself out of his grave #Jason spends it in a GIW lab with an adult Danny #Danny is totally doing okay he swears #He’s FINE and definitely didn’t see the scientists Kill Vlad and Dani by taking things too far #He’s definitely Not feral and slowly losing his humanity with every piece taken away #Danny missing half his limbs and restrained but dragging himself forward: U touch my kid and I will bite your throat out ya hear #He’s not going to let them hurt this Baby Ghostling who is Sick and Hurt #There’s going to be so much Angst when Bruce finds out not only is Jason alive but he’s trapped in a lab being experimented on #Danny does his best to protect Jason but stuff happens #halfa jason todd #guys in white #Danny eventually goes from having 2 arms to 4 in those three years #His 'human' body is mutating with every “test” #Where is Clockwork? Trying his best but he can't see Danny's timelines thx to the time medallion & the Observants being Assholes #Also not helped by the many knots the speedsters have created that resulted in several timelines being completely blacked out to him

[little-pondhead]

Oops.

While learning to control his powers under the guidance of Clockwork, Danny accidentally curses his own bloodline with the Curse of Sentient Food several centuries in the past. Originally, a witch was supposed to curse his family. Oops. Well, the Fentons were always adapting, and technically, either way, he'd end up battling dino nuggets at three am in his underwear, no matter who the curse came from. So he shrugged and continued on.

Unfortunately, this also means that out of nowhere, the timeline shifted, and some of his very distant relatives are now battling their food into submission at every meal because Danny is ultimately way more powerful than some mortal witch from the 1600s. His version of the curse reached literally everyone he could ever be related to for the last few centuries. Even if they were adopted into the family!

So, returning to the present time after training, Danny is a little startled to see some news clips of people's dinners coming to life and beginning revolutions. Wow, John Fentonightingale really got around, didn't he? He felt a little uncomfortable that now all these random people had to deal with their share of Fenton luck, but from some of the interviews, everyone seemed to be handling it pretty well!

Especially his so-distant-they're-on-another-tree cousins, the Kents, who contacted his family directly, asking how best to prepare a zombie turkey. Their son was coming for Thanksgiving with his new wife and some coworkers, and they just refused to make the guests fight for their lives on a holiday!

They invited the Fentons to join them, of course.

#dpxdc #pondhead blurbs #sometimes i wonder where the fuck this stuff comes from #which snail is responsible for this #but if it wasn't clear danny curses his bloodline and fucks it up because of course he does #so literally every single relative he's ever had is now suffering directly from fenton luck and sentient food fights #ma and pa kent are the only ones who reach out for advice #how did they figure out the fentons were the source? like they'd tell you those are family secrets you nosey bitch #so now the fentons are invited to spend the holidays with their distant cousins in Kansas #and meet their adopted son clark! who was just married! :D #side note the timeline changed right as the cake was cut at clark's reception so that was interesting #they had to pay for so much dry cleaning #clark's coworkers (fellow jl members) are a little worried about the sentient food but so far it's not really a big issue? #they can definitely take time off for the holidays to relax! #and they totally won't get dragged on any interdimensional adventures with a dead teenage godling as their guide! #feel free to continue #idk how many kids bruce has when clark marries lois but feel free to just throw some in #like JL members and their kids #just toss them in and watch the kids go feral #fighting your food is enrichment <3

[sweetgaleria]

Help a college student graduate by answering a survey!!

Hey!! Are you over 18 and in the miraculous fandom? Then this is for you!!

Hi everyone, this is my last semester of uni, and one of my final projects to be able to graduate is to write a scientific paper. I'm writing an article about adult fans of children's animation, specifically Miraculous Ladybug. My goal is to understand what makes adults (like us) want to join fandoms centered around shows aimed primarily at children, and to do that I'd love to hear directly from the source! The survey takes around 10 minutes to answer, it's 100% anonymous and it would help me immensely!

>>Click here for the survey<<

I need at least 30 people to answer, but honestly the more the merrier! I've also made a little thank you gif at the end, so if you see it let me know! If you have any questions feel free to send me an ask, as well!

Please reblog so it can reach more people! Thank you so much!

#what do we love (or hate!! I know people are here bc they dont like the show as much too) abt miraculous that #makes us want to spend so much time thinking and creating things for and about it? #miraculous ladybug #i am once again asking for your support #insert bernie sanders meme here #alskdjasd #no but really if you answer this it would help me so so much #and i'll be so thankful #i will reblog this post a bit frequently so please be patient with me 😭😭 #also the point of this is not to shame anyone for watching kid's shows in any shape or form #i just love animation and kids cartoons too #my first intentions with this research were to ask why do we mostly view animation as a kid's genre instead of a technique to tell stories #in the west at least #but it was too broad of a question and I dont have enough time to dedicate myself to it #so i narrowed it down to something i'm familiar with #which is why i went for #so uh anyway #pls reblog #and answer my survey #thank you so much

[buckybarnesss]

Do you have any sterek or teen wolf fic recs? I've seen so many fics completely warp the characters (which fair enough they're having fun). It's just not my cup of tea so I've given up on going through the tags

for your everyday hits and your cult classics.

either way (you'll figure it out someday) by ohhalefire

like you'd get your knuckles bloody for me by allyasavedtheday

homeland by kitkatpancakestack

the weight of living by thecomedownchampion

werewolf love songs vol. 1 by aggybird

falling into place by hyperlittlenori (shiguresan)

way down we go by wolfspurr

introduction to zero-sum anthropology by apocryphal

let's build a beehive by greyhaven

kintsugi by artemis69

roots to tether by by clotpolesonly

home by thetypewritergirl

to find you again by nightlight69

the moon's gonna follow me home by turningterrific

rearrange by imnotahero

the nightmare of my choice by mirrorkill

fly a little faster by mirrorkill

cross my soul by ecarian

get sharp series by chiomi

will follow though by owlpostagain

crash landers by gyzym

DILF by twentysomething

#my blog #fanfics rec list #sterek #otp: you need me to survive #teen wolf #convince me jeff didn't read dilf #as always kids read the tags to determine your own experience #i spend a lot of time in the derek hale deserves nice things tag

[myplasticadversary]

It always tickles me that the elevator kiss arguably isn't even the gayest moment in the movie

#like there's 'i've still got my pretty face you see?' 'that you have!' #and 'it's like screwing - once you know how to do it!' #and 'i feel like there's so much...that hasn't been resolved you know?' #and 'we were partners since we were kids and then you were spending all your time with yoko!' #and 'i see a frightened man who doesn't realize how beautiful he is' and john turning away overwhelmed #and them in bed with john resting his head on paul's shoulder #and them singing sh-boom to each other in the park and #mclennon #two of us 2000 #the beatles

[grissomesque]

The thing about "Worst Case Scenario" is that Seska rewriting a program to torture and ultimately murder Tuvok for his "betrayal" of the Maquis suggests that she was loyal to the Maquis, and not only because of her feelings for Chakotay. She would've had to booby trap the program before "State of Flux," because she's under intense scrutiny then and there's not really enough time anyway. Which suggests to me that she was fueled by real rage: if Tuvok had reopened the program, and been killed by it, how could she have possibly gotten away with it? She wasn't planning to leave at that point, and (!) she specifically depicts herself as Bajoran, not, in some big gotcha moment, as Cardassian:

When Seska returns in this episode [...] the holographic Seska also slightly differs, in appearance, from how the actual Seska ever looked. "We […] see Seska in an incarnation we had never really seen her in before," Martha Hackett commented. "They changed everything – her hair and costume – because it's her creation in the hologram." (Star Trek Monthly issue 34, p. 40)

(Emphasis mine)

This, coupled with her big speech in "State of Flux," makes me wonder whether she would've ever revealed herself as Cardassian, if she hadn't been caught. She seems still to believe in the superiority of Cardassia ("If this had been a Cardassian ship, we would be home now!"), yet follows up with,

"I did it for you. I did it for this crew. We are alone here, at the mercy of any number of hostile aliens, because of the incomprehensible decision of a Federation captain. A Federation captain who destroyed our only chance to get home. Federation rules. Federation nobility. Federation compassion? Do you understand? [...] We must begin to forge alliances. To survive, we must have powerful friends."

We are alone. We must have powerful friends. I don't know how this has never occurred to me, but textually speaking, with the notable exception of Incomprehensible Federation Captain Janeway, Seska seems deeply invested in the community she is ultimately forced to leave. It's, actually, a kind of reverse Ro Laren situation. What a twist.

#this ramble brought to you by listening to the ep twice in the throes of food poisoning #it's true i don't spend a lot time with seska meta #but still i can't believe i've never thought of this #though i'm sure others have who are paying better attention #i sometimes think this is what happens when you watch the show as a kid and forget to later turn your adult brain on #ANYWAY #seska #star trek voyager #meta

[mariatesstruther]

okay but sarah celebrating tommy every year for mother’s day

#who needs a mommy when you got a tommy #the first time shes does this its preschool teacher maria’s idea #shes four and mothers day is coming up and its usually a hard time for her so joel lets maria know just in case she has any behavioral issue #miss maria is like 🫡 i gotchu #she makes sure to emphasize to the kids that families are all different #they spend every day of may leading up to mother day reading books exploring diversity in families and talking about what mom really means #that it doesnt have to be the person who had you in their tummy or a girl or even a person we call mom #for example miss maria’s real mommy wasnt so nice growing up so miss marias TRUE mommy is just her daddy and her auntie rose #because those are the people that loved her no matter what and kept her safe and taken care of and fed #thats all mom is #it just means someone thats there for you every day and loves you and cares for you #someone who is one of your favorite people and who would say the same about you #all the kids go around and say who they think are their moms #mosy say some iteration of ‘mommy’ and ‘mama’ or ‘grammy’ #but then baby ellie says ‘tess and auntie marlene’ #and baby sarah says ‘uncle thommy’ #one of the other littles says ‘daddy and miss maria’ 😭 #and they all make heart cards for their mommy firgures #they cant write or really read anything but a few letters yet #(even though hyperlexic baby sarah does have pretty incredible letter recognition for her age) #so they tell miss maria what to write on their cards and then decorate with oil pastels #sarah’s says dear uncle tommy thank you for being my mommy you are so funny and i love when we play horsey and princesses. happy mommy day #when he picks her up at the end of the day shes like HI MOMMMMM all giggly and hes like ????? hi???? whats this???? OPEN IT OPEN IT OPEN IT #and when he does and read it he literally drops to his knees to hug her and cry #because theres really nothing more precious than his little angel his baby his best girl #thats tommys DAUGHTER DO YALL UNDERSTAND?????? #miss maria watching them from the cubbies like: godDAMN theyre so cute #the next day tommy brings her a oat milk chai from her favorite coffee shop as a thank you because it meant a lot to him and shes like ???? #how did u know???? and hes like my brother and you ran into each other there last week yeah? he told me abt it i asked for your order #and shes like 🥹🥰🫠 thanks

[high-voltage-rat]

Actually I'm still thinking about it. Another interesting way in which RvB is anti-war is the way that the Director fills the role of a villain and antagonist (especially in the Recollections trilogy, where he's a faceless villain we never see but is responsible for everything that happens).

In his memos to the Chairman, the Director emphasizes his sense of duty and obligation to the military- he becomes irate for the first time when he feels that it's being implied that he was derelict in his duty... or that the work he did out of that duty is being criticized for being against the military's interests. He also talks about Allison's death in a way I find... interesting.

"You see; I never had the chance to serve in battle. Nor did fate provide me the opportunity to sacrifice myself for humanity as it did for so many others in the Great War. Someone extremely dear to me was lost very early in my life. My mind has always plagued me with the question: If the choice had been placed in my hands, could I have saved her? [...] But, given the events of these past few weeks, I feel confident that had I been given the chance, I would have made those sacrifices myself... Had I only the chance."

The idea of sacrifice is central to the way he talks about his wife's loss, to the way he talks about the war in general. He talks of sacrifice with a sense of veneration- that it's something he aspires to do, that he longs for. There's a few ways we can interpret "I would have made those sacrifices myself"...

-That in Allison's place, he thinks he would have laid down his life too.

-That if given the chance, he would have given his life to save hers.

But most interestingly...

-That he would have sacrificed Allison's life for the continued survival of humanity, if that was what duty called for.

...And personally, I think all 3 are true.

In most war media, the Director's perspective on sacrifice is very common. Sacrifice is glorious and heroic- to die in battle is an honour- and it's the only way to ensure the group you serve survives. This is a tool of propaganda- nobody wants to go to war just for the sake of it, you have to give them a reason that the risk of dying or being permanently disabled isn't just acceptable, but desirable. Beyond that, most people don't want to do things they think are immoral- you have to convince them it's important, a necessary lesser evil. You teach them to sacrifice their morals, too.

The way they train soldiers to follow orders and to kill, is to convince them that they, and the people around them, and the people they care about, will all die if they don't. It's drilled into your head from day one. It's the way they ensure their commanding officers won't shy away from sending their men off to die. The message is constant- sacrifice is your duty, and duty ensures your people's survival.

In the Director's eyes, the damage Project Freelancer caused was his sacrifice. He never got the opportunity to sacrifice himself during the war- so he sacrificed others, as military brass do. The Freelancers- including his daughter. The countless sim troopers. Any people he considered "collateral damage" on missions. And when the opportunity to do so presented itself, he sacrificed a copy of himself- Alpha- and he sacrificed a copy of Allison- Tex.

The very thing that derailed his life- the loss of his wife- he made it happen again. He put her copy in dangerous situations, let her exist in the position of constant repeated failure, created the circumstances that would eventually lead to her death. He put their daughter in deadly situations that nearly killed her repeatedly, provided her with impossible expectations leading to self-destructive behaviours in the name of duty, implanted her with two AI knowing they could cause her permanent harm. He was confident he "would have made those sacrifices himself" because he did.

The Director is the embodiment of the military war machine. As an antagonist, he is a warning against buying into the glorification of sacrifice. He's a condemnation of the idea that one should be willing to do anything to win a war- that duty to the military is the thing that ensures survival... All the messages that are pushed to ensure recruitment and obedience of soldiers.

He's a reminder that swallowing the propaganda leads to you doing terrible things... and in the end, you're a broken man left mourning the losses that you suffered even as you repeated them, convinced that it was all necessary.

#late nights with ali #ali watches rvb #not video games #rvb #red vs blue #leonard church #the director #director rvb #idk why I'm so fixated on thinking about the anti-war interpretation of rvb right now but I'm apparently going ham #it's just so fucking. wild to me. listening to the director's messages in S6 always has me thinking 'oh man this guy ate the propaganda up' #the OPPORTUNITY to sacrifice yourself??? homedog you sound like the kid in high school who brags he's joining the army as soon as he's 18 #to be clear: a lot of my thoughts on this stem from the fact that I come from a military family. I spend a lot of time with people who... #...bought in to the military propaganda and indoctrination. I see an amplified version of their perspectives reflected in the director. #to the military man sacrifice is the highest calling. sacrifice of your life. sacrifice of your morals. sacrifice of your wellbeing. #the things the director did were all in line with that fucked-up form of sacrifice. #and that they're portrayed for the evil they are is an important protest against the war machine's messaging.

[hdusa]

i really loved the flower language throughout s4 it made me gnaw at the bars of my enclosure so outside of mc do you have a favorite flower? :3

Oh tulips for sure. I don’t really know too much about flowers outside of MC but my family has always been big on gardening and we used to have tons of flowers outside our house, primarily tulips. It’s funny because now that I’m older I’ve also been to this thing called the tulip festival with my family so they’ve just kinda always stood out as the flower in my mind. I also love cherry blossom trees for the exact same reason btw if anyone cares! But yeah I’m glad you liked it! It’s 100% my best use of symbolism and I’m literally editing together replays of me interacting with flowers right neow!

#hello it is me princezam #peaked with this fr #when you get parrot in your dms saying “yo this flower stuff is heat” that’s how you know it’s good #Very proud of it :3 #also sunflower fields are a close 2nd because I used to spend time at a sunflower field as a kid as well #love my flower filled upbringings

[ahollowgrave]

-- room for two, pt ii.

[featuring @hazelkjt's lovely Hazel and Floof!]

#Pigeon Screenshots #Hazel #Odette Hollows #ty 2 hazel for letting me borrow ur bones !! #hazel spends 1 afternoon with Odette and gets to be tall #the shot through the leaves was a happy accident and it's not the best shot but I was so enchanted by the idea of #idk #a moth in the bush watching them #i love so much about these truly #I forgot how much I love posing ocs together #just creating lil' moments of them spending time together!! AHHHHHHHH #I have a small collection of bones from the noodles now #but everyone else hand over your bones right now #(just kidding) #(Unless......) #built these poses from scratch everyone cheer #ty ty ty #pigeon screens

[queenlucythevaliant]

Tell Your Dad You Love Him

A retelling of "Meat Loves Salt"/"Cap O'Rushes" for the @inklings-challenge Four Loves event

An old king had three daughters. When his health began to fail, he summoned them, and they came.

Gordonia and Rowan were already waiting in the hallway when Coriander arrived. They were leaned up against the wall opposite the king’s office with an air of affected casualness. “I wonder what the old war horse wants today?” Rowan was saying. “More about next year’s political appointments, I shouldn’t wonder.”

“The older he gets, the more he micromanages,” Gordonia groused fondly. “A thousand dollars says this meeting could’ve been an email.”

They filed in single-file like they’d so often done as children: Gordonia first, then Rowan, and Coriander last of all. The king had placed three chairs in front of his desk all in a row. His daughters murmured their greetings, and one by one they sat down. 

“I have divided everything I have in three,” the king said. “I am old now, and it’s time. Today, I will pass my kingdom on to you, my daughters.”

A short gasp came from Gordonia. None of them could have imagined that their father would give up running his kingdom while he still lived. 

The king went on. “I know you will deal wisely with that which I leave in your care. But before we begin, I have one request.”

“Yes father?” said Rowan.

“Tell me how much you love me.”

An awkward silence fell. Although there was no shortage of love between the king and his daughters, theirs was not a family which spoke of such things. They were rich and blue-blooded: a soldier and the daughters of a soldier, a king and his three court-reared princesses. The royal family had always shown their affection through double meanings and hot cups of coffee.

Gordonia recovered herself first. She leaned forward over the desk and clasped her father’s hands in her own. “Father,” she said, “I love you more than I can say.” A pause. “I don’t think there’s ever been a family so happy in love as we have been. You’re a good dad.”

The old king smiled and patted her hand. “Thank you, Gordonia. We have been very happy, haven’t we? Here is your inheritance. Cherish it, as I cherish you.”

Rowan spoke next; the words came tumbling out.  “Father! There’s not a thing in my life which you didn’t give me, and all the joy in the world beside. Come now, Gordonia, there’s no need to understate the matter. I love you more than—why, more than life itself!”

The king laughed, and rose to embrace his second daughter. “How you delight me, Rowan. All of this will be yours.”

Only Coriander remained. As her sisters had spoken, she’d wrung her hands in her lap, unsure of what to say. Did her father really mean for flattery to be the price of her inheritance? That just wasn’t like him. For all that he was a politician, he’d been a soldier first. He liked it when people told the truth.

When the king’s eyes came to rest on her, Coriander raised her own to meet them. “Do you really want to hear what you already know?” 

“I do.”

She searched for a metaphor that could carry the weight of her love without unnecessary adornment. At last she found one, and nodded, satisfied. “Dad, you’re like—like salt in my food.”

“Like salt?”

“Well—yes.”

The king’s broad shoulders seemed to droop. For a moment, Coriander almost took back her words. Her father was the strongest man in the world, even now, at eighty. She’d watched him argue with foreign rulers and wage wars all her life. Nothing could hurt him. Could he really be upset? 

But no. Coriander held her father’s gaze. She had spoken true. What harm could be in that?

“I don’t know why you’re even here, Cor,” her father said.

Now, Coriander shifted slightly in her seat, unnerved. “What? Father—”

“It would be best if—you should go,” said the old king.

“Father, you can’t really mean–”

“Leave us, Coriander.”

So she left the king’s court that very hour.

 .

It had been a long time since she’d gone anywhere without a chauffeur to drive her, but Coriander’s thoughts were flying apart too fast for her to be afraid. She didn’t know where she would go, but she would make do, and maybe someday her father would puzzle out her metaphor and call her home to him. Coriander had to hope for that, at least. The loss of her inheritance didn’t feel real yet, but her father—how could he not know that she loved him? She’d said it every day.

She’d played in the hall outside that same office as a child. She’d told him her secrets and her fears and sent him pictures on random Tuesdays when they were in different cities just because. She had watched him triumph in conference rooms and on the battlefield and she’d wanted so badly to be like him. 

If her father doubted her love, then maybe he’d never noticed any of it. Maybe the love had been an unnoticed phantasm, a shadow, a song sung to a deaf man. Maybe all that love had been nothing at all.  

A storm was on the horizon, and it reached her just as she made it onto the highway. Lightning flashed and thunder rolled. Rain poured down and flooded the road. Before long, Coriander was hydroplaning. Frantically, she tried to remember what you were supposed to do when that happened. Pump the brakes? She tried. No use. Wasn’t there something different you did if the car had antilock brakes? Or was that for snow? What else, what else–

With a sickening crunch, her car hit the guardrail. No matter. Coriander’s thoughts were all frenzied and distant. She climbed out of the car and just started walking.

Coriander wandered beneath an angry sky on the great white plains of her father’s kingdom. The rain beat down hard, and within seconds she was soaked to the skin. The storm buffeted her long hair around her head. It tangled together into long, matted cords that hung limp down her back. Mud soiled her fine dress and splattered onto her face and hands. There was water in her lungs and it hurt to breathe. Oh, let me die here, Coriander thought. There’s nothing left for me, nothing at all. She kept walking.

 .

When she opened her eyes, Coriander found herself in a dank gray loft. She was lying on a strange feather mattress.

She remained there a while, looking up at the rafters and wondering where she could be. She thought and felt, as it seemed, through a heavy and impenetrable mist; she was aware only of hunger and weakness and a dreadful chill (though she was all wrapped in blankets). She knew that a long time must have passed since she was fully aware, though she had a confused memory of wandering beside the highway in a thunderstorm, slowly going mad because—because— oh, there’d been something terrible in her dreams. Her father, shoulders drooping at his desk, and her sisters happily come into their inheritance, and she cast into exile—

She shuddered and sat up dizzily. “Oh, mercy,” she murmured. She hadn’t been dreaming.

She stumbled out of the loft down a narrow flight of stairs and came into a strange little room with a single window and a few shabby chairs. Still clinging to the rail, she heard a ruckus from nearby and then footsteps. A plump woman came running to her from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron and softly clucking at the state of her guest’s matted, tangled hair.

“Dear, dear,” said the woman. “Here’s my hand, if you’re still unsteady. That’s good, good. Don’t be afraid, child. I’m Katherine, and my husband is Folke. He found you collapsed by the goose-pond night before last. I’m she who dressed you—your fine gown was ruined, I’m afraid. Would you like some breakfast? There’s coffee on the counter, and we’ll have porridge in a minute if you’re patient.”

“Thank you,” Coriander rasped.

“Will you tell me your name, my dear?”

“I have no name. There’s nothing to tell.”

Katherine clicked her tongue. “That’s alright, no need to worry. Folke and I’ve been calling you Rush on account of your poor hair. I don’t know if you’ve seen yourself, but it looks a lot like river rushes. No, don’t get up. Here’s your breakfast, dear.”

There was indeed porridge, as Katherine had promised, served with cream and berries from the garden. Coriander ate hungrily and tasted very little. Then, when she was finished, the goodwife ushered her over to a sofa by the window and put a pillow beneath her head. Coriander thanked her, and promptly fell asleep.

 .

She woke again around noon, with the pounding in her head much subsided. She woke feeling herself again, to visions of her father inches away and the sound of his voice cracking across her name.

Katherine was outside in the garden; Coriander could see her through the clouded window above her. She rose and, upon finding herself still in a borrowed nightgown, wrapped herself in a blanket to venture outside.

“Feeling better?” Katherine was kneeling in a patch of lavender, but she half rose when she heard the cottage door open.

“Much. Thank you, ma’am.

“No thanks necessary. Folke and I are ministers, of a kind. We keep this cottage for lost and wandering souls. You’re free to remain here with us for as long as you need.”

“Oh,” was all Coriander could think to say. 

“You’ve been through a tempest, haven’t you? Are you well enough to tell me where you came from?”

Coriander shifted uncomfortably. “I’m from nowhere,” she said. “I have nothing.”

“You don’t owe me your story, child. I should like to hear it, but it will keep till you’re ready. Now, why don’t you put on some proper clothes and come help me with this weeding.”

 .

Coriander remained at the cottage with Katherine and her husband Folke for a week, then a fortnight. She slept in the loft and rose with the sun to help Folke herd the geese to the pond. After, Coriander would return and see what needed doing around the cottage. She liked helping Katherine in the garden.

The grass turned gold and the geese’s thick winter down began to come in. Coriander’s river-rush hair proved itself unsalvageable. She spent hours trying to untangle it, first with a hairbrush, then with a fine-tooth comb and a bottle of conditioner, and eventually even with honey and olive oil (a home remedy that Folke said his mother used to use). So, at last, Coriander surrendered to the inevitable and gave Katherine permission to cut it off. One night, by the yellow light of the bare bulb that hung over the kitchen table, Katherine draped a towel over Coriander’s shoulders and tufts of gold went falling to the floor all round her.

“I’m here because I failed at love,” she managed to tell the couple at last, when her sorrows began to feel more distant. “I loved my father, and he knew it not.”

Folke and Katherine still called her Rush. She didn’t correct them. Coriander was the name her parents gave her. It was the name her father had called her when she was six and racing down the stairs to meet him when he came home from Europe, and at ten when she showed him the new song she’d learned to play on the harp. She’d been Cor when she brought her first boyfriend home and Cori the first time she shadowed him at court. Coriander, Coriander, when she came home from college the first time and he’d hugged her with bruising strength. Her strong, powerful father.

As she seasoned a pot of soup for supper, she wondered if he understood yet what she’d meant when she called him salt in her food. 

 .

Coriander had been living with Katherine and Folke for two years, and it was a morning just like any other. She was in the kitchen brewing a pot of coffee when Folke tossed the newspaper on the table and started rummaging in the fridge for his orange juice. “Looks like the old king’s sick again,” he commented casually. Coriander froze.

She raced to the table and seized hold of the paper. There, above the fold, big black letters said, KING ADMITTED TO HOSPITAL FOR EMERGENCY TREATMENT. There was a picture of her father, looking older than she’d ever seen him. Her knees went wobbly and then suddenly the room was sideways.

Strong arms caught her and hauled her upright. “What’s wrong, Rush?”

“What if he dies,” she choked out. “What if he dies and I never got to tell him?”

She looked up into Folke’s puzzled face, and then the whole sorry story came tumbling out.

When she was through, Katherine (who had come downstairs sometime between salt and the storm) took hold of her hand and kissed it. “Bless you, dear,” she said. “I never would have guessed. Maybe it’s best that you’ve both had some time to think things over.”

Katherine shook her head. “But don’t you think…?”

“Yes?”

“Well, don’t you think he should have known that I loved him? I shouldn’t have needed to say it. He’s my father. He’s the king.”

Katherine replied briskly, as though the answer should have been obvious. “He’s only human, child, for all that he might wear a crown; he’s not omniscient. Why didn’t you tell your father what he wanted to hear?”

“I didn’t want to flatter him,” said Coriander. “That was all. I wanted to be right in what I said.”

The goodwife clucked softly. “Oh dear. Don’t you know that sometimes, it’s more important to be kind than to be right?”

.

In her leave-taking, Coriander tried to tell Katherine and Folke how grateful she was to them, but they wouldn’t let her. They bought her a bus ticket and sent her on her way towards King’s City with plenty of provisions. Two days later, Coriander stood on the back steps of one of the palace outbuildings with her little carpetbag clutched in her hands. 

Stuffing down the fear of being recognized, Coriander squared her shoulders and hoped they looked as strong as her father’s. She rapped on the door, and presently a maid came and opened it. The maid glanced Coriander up and down, but after a moment it was clear that her disguise held. With all her long hair shorn off, she must have looked like any other girl come in off the street.

“I’m here about a job,” said Coriander. “My name’s Rush.”

 .

The king's chambers were half-lit when Coriander brought him his supper, dressed in her servants’ apparel. He grunted when she knocked and gestured with a cane towards his bedside table. His hair was snow-white and he was sitting in bed with his work spread across a lap-desk. His motions were very slow.

Coriander wanted to cry, seeing her father like that. Yet somehow, she managed to school her face. Like he would, she kept telling herself. Stoically, she put down the supper tray, then stepped back out into the hallway. 

It was several minutes more before the king was ready to eat. Coriander heard papers being shuffled, probably filed in those same manilla folders her father had always used. In the hall, Coriander felt the seconds lengthen. She steeled herself for the moment she knew was coming, when the king would call out in irritation, “Girl! What's the matter with my food? Why hasn’t it got any taste?”

When that moment came, all would be made right. Coriander would go into the room and taste his food. “Why,” she would say, with a look of complete innocence, “It seems the kitchen forgot to salt it!” She imagined how her father’s face would change when he finally understood. My daughter always loved me, he would say. 

Soon, soon. It would happen soon. Any second now. 

The moment never came. Instead, the floor creaked, followed by the rough sound of a cane striking the floor. The door opened, and then the king was there, his mighty shoulders shaking. “Coriander,” he whispered. 

“Dad. You know me?”

“Of course.”

“Then you understand now?”

The king’s wrinkled brow knit. “Understand about the salt? Of course, I do. It wasn't such a clever riddle. There was surely no need to ruin my supper with a demonstration.”

Coriander gaped at him. She'd expected questions, explanations, maybe apologies for sending her away. She'd never imagined this.

She wanted very badly to seize her father and demand answers, but then she looked, really looked, at the way he was leaning on his cane. The king was barely upright; his white head was bent low. Her questions would hold until she'd helped her father back into his room. 

“If you knew what I meant–by saying you were like salt in my food– then why did you tell me to go?” she asked once they were situated back in the royal quarters. 

Idly, the king picked at his unseasoned food. “I shouldn’t have done that. Forgive me, Coriander. My anger and hurt got the better of me, and it has brought me much grief. I never expected you to stay away for so long.”

Coriander nodded slowly. Her father's words had always carried such fierce authority. She'd never thought to question if he really meant what he’d said to her. 

“As for the salt,” continued the king, "Is it so wrong that an old man should want to hear his daughters say ‘I love you' before he dies?” 

Coriander rolled the words around in her head, trying to make sense of them. Then, with a sudden mewling sound from her throat, she managed to say, “That's really all you wanted?”  

“That's all. I am old, Cor, and we've spoken too little of love in our house.” He took another bite of his unsalted supper. His hand shook. “That was my failing, I suppose. Perhaps if I’d said it, you girls would have thought to say it back.”

“But father!” gasped Coriander, “That’s not right. We've always known we loved one another! We've shown it a thousand ways. Why, I've spent the last year cataloging them in my head, and I've still not even scratched the surface!”

The king sighed. “Perhaps you will understand when your time comes. I knew, and yet I didn't. What can you really call a thing you’ve never named? How do you know it exists? Perhaps all the love I thought I knew was only a figment.”

“But that’s what I’ve been afraid of all this time,” Coriander bit back. “How could you doubt? If it was real at all– how could you doubt?”

The king’s weathered face grew still. His eyes fell shut and he squeezed them. “Death is close to me, child. A small measure of reassurance is not so very much to ask.”

.

Coriander slept in her old rooms that night. None of it had changed. When she woke the next morning, for a moment she remembered nothing of the last two years. 

She breakfasted in the garden with her father, who came down the steps in a chair-lift. “Coriander,” he murmured. “I half-thought I dreamed you last night.”

“I’m here, Dad,” she replied. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Slowly, the king reached out with one withered hand and caressed Coriander's cheek. Then, his fingers drifted up to what remained of her hair. He ruffled it, then gently tugged on a tuft the way he'd used to playfully tug her long braid when she was a girl. 

“I love you,” he said.

“That was always an I love you, wasn’t it?” replied Coriander. “My hair.”

The king nodded. “Yes, I think it was.”

So Coriander reached out and gently tugged the white hairs of his beard. “You too,” she whispered.

.

“Why salt?” The king was sitting by the fire in his rooms wrapped in two blankets. Coriander was with him, enduring the sweltering heat of the room without complaint. 

She frowned. “You like honesty. We have that in common. I was trying to be honest–accurate–to avoid false flattery.”

The king tugged at the outer blanket, saying nothing. His lips thinned and his eyes dropped to his lap. Coriander wished they wouldn’t. She wished they would hold to hers, steely and ready for combat as they always used to be.

“Would it really have been false?” the king said at last. “Was there no other honest way to say it? Only salt?”

Coriander wanted to deny it, to give speech to the depth and breadth of her love, but once again words failed her. “It was my fault,” she said. “I didn’t know how to heave my heart into my throat.” She still didn’t, for all she wanted to. 

.

When the doctor left, the king was almost too tired to talk. His words came slowly, slurred at the edges and disconnected, like drops of water from a leaky faucet. 

Still, Coriander could tell that he had something to say. She waited patiently as his lips and tongue struggled to form the words. “Love you… so… much… You… and… your sisters… Don’t… worry… if you… can’t…say…how…much. I… know.” 

It was all effort. The king sat back when he was finished. Something was still spasming in his throat, and Coriander wanted to cry.

“I’m glad you know,” she said. “I’m glad. But I still want to tell you.”

Love was effort. If her father wanted words, she would give him words. True words. Kind words. She would try… 

“I love you like salt in my food. You're desperately important to me, and you've always been there, and I don't know what I'll do without you. I don’t want to lose you. And I love you like the soil in a garden. Like rain in the spring. Like a hero. You have the strongest shoulders of anyone I know, and all I ever wanted was to be like you…”

A warm smile spread across the old king’s face. His eyes drifted shut.

#inklingschallenge #theme: storge #story: complete #inklings challenge #leah stories #OKAY. SO #i spend so much time thinking about king lear. i think i've said before that it's my favorite shakespeare play. it is not close #and one of the hills i will die on is that cordelia was not in the right when she refused to flatter her dad #like. obviously he's definitely not in the right either. the love test was a screwed up way to make sure his kids loved him #he shouldn't have tied their inheritances into it. he DEFINITELY shouldn't have kicked cordelia out when she refused to play #but like. Cordelia. there is no good reason not to tell your elderly dad how much you love him #and okay obviously lear is my starting point but the same applies to the meat loves salt princess #your dad wants you to tell him you love him. there is no good reason to turn it into a riddle. you had other options #and honestly it kinda bothers me when people read cordelia/the princess as though she's perfectly virtuous #she's very human and definitely beats out the cruel sisters but she's definitely not aspirational. she's not to be emulated #at the end of the day both the fairytale and the play are about failures in storge #at happens when it's there and you can't tell. when it's not and you think it is. when you think you know someone's heart and you just don' #hey! that's a thing that happens all the time between parents and children. especially loving past each other and speaking different langua #so the challenge i set myself with this story was: can i retell the fairytale in such a way that the princess is unambiguously in the wrong #and in service of that the king has to get softened so his errors don't overshadow hers #anyway. thank you for coming to my TED talk #i've been thinking about this story since the challenge was announced but i wrote the whole thing last night after the super bowl #got it in under the wire! yay! #also! the whole 'modern setting that conflicts with the fairytale language' is supposed to be in the style of modern shakespeare adaptation #no idea if it worked but i had a lot of fun with it #pontifications and creations

[sapphorror]

my top controversial Zim headcanon is that Zim actually performs absurdly well at skool because

1. he's a perfectionist with a compulsive reaction to ANY system of scoring

2. I 100% believe test scores are this guy's forte because he had to become an Invader SOMEHOW and he sure as hell wasn't passing based on the practical

3. He has hyper-advanced alien AI to do his homework for him. like come on.

meanwhile Dib is really only scraping by on raw intelligence and the inherent educational advantage of having a mad scientist father. He doesn't have TIME to study, there's an evil alien he has to stalk and besides, you know what's better than a high school diploma? The Nobel Peace Prize for proving the existence of extraterrestrial life.

#invader zim #zim #dib #zadp #iz posting #natterings #not actually my top controversial headcanon but i believe in working your way up to the cancelable stuff #anyway dib may or may not get more serious with it as he gets older #but at twelve years old i do not believe for a minute this kid gives a fuck about grades handed to him by stupid people #hes probably doing pretty okay at math and any sciences but i dont even want to IMAGINE how he performs on say #literature #he doesnt have time to read a whole BOOK hes trying to save the world here #though naturally if anyone pointed out to him that hey isnt it fucked up the literal alien is doing better in human subjects than you #we'd see a turn around REAL fast #that or hed just spend all his time trying to prove that zims been cheating which #yeah not likely to get him very far

[dandylovesturtles]

@theplacewhereidumpmyinterests I can't talk about most of them because they're part of an AU verse I want to keep secret until I have the first fic that's part of it written, and idk when that will be (by summer?? HOPEFULLY??), but I guess I can talk about the other one because idk if/when I will write a fic for him (I'd like to but like I am only human)

"more AUs Dandy?" LISTEN all I do is sit around and think about "what if"s, okay?

ok so this started as me being like, hm, we see Lou Jitsu with a rotating door of women, so many he doesn't seem to remember all their names, so it's not totally out there to think he might have gotten one of them pregnant, right?

and thus Marcus (middle name Kyle) was born! literally!

so the story for this is, Lou Jitsu had a fling with a woman in the early 90s, pre-Big Mama. they were both in agreement that the whole thing was casual and it didn't last very long, but oopsie-daisy about six weeks after their last night together she finds out she's pregnant.

she debates what to do for a bit, because, as established, Lou Jitsu is kinda a fuckboi and she doesn't really want a relationship with him. But once she decides she's definitely keeping the baby she feels like she can't just not tell him, right? so she tries!

...unfortunately he's dating Big Mama by that point and she interferes to make sure that Lou Jitsu never meets with the woman and never finds out, because she knows this would get in the way of her plans.

she takes never hearing back from LJ as a sign he just isn't interested in the kid and resolves to single-motherhood. which she is the best at, btw.

she's still considering trying to introduce Marcus to his dad at some point, but unfortunately her kid isn't even 5 before Lou Jitsu suddenly goes missing, with his teary fiancée telling a sob story to the cops. assuming, same as everyone else, that he's dead, she lets the whole thing go, though she does tell Marcus who his dad is once he's old enough to understand everything.

Marcus goes through periods of being obsessed with Lou Jitsu, watching all his movies and consuming every piece of media about him that he can find, and periods where he can't stand to even hear the name. it's up and down. from his perspective, LJ abandoned him and his mom, but he's also dead, so it's not like he can have closure on this ever, right? so it's just a thing he has to deal with on his own.

but he's fine! he's alright. he gets through high school, then college, then accepted into vet school just fine.

then... his mom gets sick and dies.

yeah, that's a hard blow.

but he's alright! he has a few buddies from college he still sees now and then, and he's started his zoo vet residency at the Bronx Zoo (with a particularly special interest in reptiles), so lots of new people to meet that way! he's doing great! he's not lonely at all!

(a few months ago, he was suddenly woken up by a surge of something, like dozens of voices were crying out to him for help, tugging him toward something, saying his family needs him...

yeah, no idea what that was about. he doesn't have any family anymore.)

then the sky opens up and aliens come out.

Marcus is at work, because of course aliens would attack at the beginning of his shift. he spends the day ushering survivors into safe zones within the zoo, using his medical knowledge to handle first aid, and just trying to stay sane as the whole world turns upside down.

and then just as suddenly as it all started... it stops.

in the aftermath, everyone around him is just trying to get home, desperately calling their loved ones and praying for the best. Marcus starts trying to figure out how he's going to get home, because the trains definitely aren't running, and as he looks as his phone for a spark of inspiration, he realizes... no one has tried to call him. his coworkers' phones have been going off all day, whenever they can get signal, as loved ones try to reach them, but... he doesn't have anyone trying to reach him. and as he sits there he realizes he doesn't know who he should be calling, either.

so. that's pretty depressing.

and as he's sitting there, thinking about his life and what led him here, in a now empty vet clinic outside the bronx zoo... he hears a noise. and then, voices.

ah great. looters.

at first, Marcus tries to call 911 - but obviously the call center is swamped. so he decides to take care of the problem himself, going to see who's there and get rid of them...

wait, who is he kidding? he's definitely not paid enough to confront potentially armed looters! he's going to get out of here.

but just as he starts to leave, he hears the voices again - coming from one of the surgery rooms this time. and they're talking about IVs... scalpels... anesthesia...

suddenly he realizes that these aren't looters - they're here to try and treat somebody.

and like hell is he going to let some idiot kill someone trying to do DIY surgery.

so he turns back around and bursts into the room... on two humans, a rat that counts as giant even for New York, and four very big, very injured turtles.

one of whom immediately points a gun in his face. to be fair, that's what he thought would happen.

"Donnie!" yells the biggest one, and, oh, they can talk. huh.

"Relax, it's just a tranquilizer!"

"Donatello!" that's the rat. there's a sound like a whip cracking and the one with the gun makes a startled noise and drops it.

now the rat is in front of him. he's looking up at Marcus imploringly. "Do you work here?" he asks.

"Y-yeah. I'm a vet."

the rat bows very politely. "my sons are seriously hurt, and I don't have the supplies to help them at home. I understand it is a lot to ask, but... we must use your supplies. please, if you could just look the other way."

Marcus looks around at the turtles, especially the one on the table, the one worst off. he looks mangled. he won't live long if he isn't properly treated.

a rat, two humans who look like teenagers, and the turtles. who the rat called "sons". now that he's noticing, they're all pretty short, other than the big one. are they also teenagers?

"...Are any of you doctors?" he asks. the littlest one starts to raise a hand, but the girl grabs it and forces it back down.

everyone else has left by now. he's the only doctor here.

alright. guess he's doing this.

"...okay, everyone make some room. let me get sterilized, and I'll see what we're working with here."

and that's how the son Lou Jitsu didn't know he had becomes primary care doctor to his teenage mutant ninja half-brothers. ^^

(and then a bunch of other stuff happens)

#rottmnt #rottmnt oc #I hc that all the boys have their dad's eyes btw #so I had this joke planned where leo is like #hey this guy has our eyes too haha #donnie is like shut up leo you're delirious #he gets close to leo first just because he has to spend a lot of time with him #but he gets close to all of them over time #mikey talking about lou jitsu one day and marcus is like oh wow didn't know kids your age knew LJ #mikey like OF COURSE HE'S THE BEST #Marcus is like well you know I don't tell just everyone this but he's actually my bio dad #Mikey like haha that's so funny because #......................................................................wait #OHMIGOSH!!!!!!!!! #leo: we have to be better prepared for the next one of dad's love children #splinter: there are no more love children?? #leo: how do you know you didn't even know about THIS one