[It's actually sometimes difficult to tell when one's eyes are filling with tears when one has ginormous dark eyes with ginormous Maybelline-esque eyelashes; at least, up until the tears spill over.
Donnie had half-expected Rue to want to touch him somehow in thanks because over the months he has clued in that they tend to hold back a lot around him, solely through observation and noting all of Rue's tiny aborted movements in his direction. He's gotten used to the stops and starts, had anticipated more of that here, but nope he gets swept up in truly huge, feathery, ticklish arms and held right there in sensory prison. He kind of wants to itch the skin of his arms clean off.
Physically, that's how he feels.
But somewhere inside, a little turtle toddler absolutely jubilant about his father patting his head, tenderly cradling his cheek and calling Donnie his dear, brilliant, lovely boy surges forward like a tsunami. That brilliantly warm feeling, like sinking into a hot bath, fills him up like a beaker with golden-sweet bliss. Value. He has value. He's treasured, he's so desperately wanted and needed. He provided something personal, something vital, to someone he cares about and they told him in no uncertain terms that he is cherished for it.
Donnie squirms, unsure of how to move within the hug. The feathers are a bit too much. The tenderness can never be surrendered, ever, Donnie really would rather claw his skin off. He settles for squirming a bit more before turning around in Rue's hug, his battle shell-covered back to their front, shifting their wings up atop his shoulders instead of around his arms and clasping their wrists for them in front of his plastron. There. Much better.] I'm not sure how you've been keeping up with all the commissions you've been receiving otherwise, but even if you use your, rrm, magic, [will use the word for Rue, only for Rue, without (much) reservation] to sew everything, I assumed you would like a rest from that every so often. If your magic is anything like my own family's mystic powers.
[Fiddles with his fingers, sneaking a glance up at Rue, craning his neck slightly to look over his shoulder at their expression.] You...do like it? You're not just placating me, correct? I don't want to give you something that won't be useful to you.
[With anyone else, the shuffling around and moving them into position would be just a touch offensive, but it is Donnie and the fact that he is even allowing their open physical affection at all means everything to them.
So he readjusts them and Rue is all too happy to oblige, settling there against his back, which honestly makes for the perfect position to plant a few head kisses against him, as their arms tighten carefully around him.]
Donnie, I more than like it, I love it! Look at how beautiful it is! I mean, certainly I admire the customization and all of the loving thought you have put into creating me my very own dream sewing machine, but the aesthetic alone is quite, ah, fire, I think the slang is.
Oh my dearest heart, I adore this and you. I -
[One more affectionate nuzzle to the side of his head before they pull away, only so that Rue can catch Donnie's gaze proper, their paws resting at his shoulders, but only just barely, a feather light touch.]
You may think me quite the foolish old owlbear, but I have long since thought of you like a son to me. No one has ever given me a gift like this before, but truly, just having you in my life is the greatest gift I have ever been given. Though this is a very easy second, I must say.
So are you- I mean, [Donnie clasps his hands over Rue's pushing their paws down on his shoulders more firmly. This is a lot. He's going to need to process this in pieces, later. He must confirm this one thing, first.] That is, would you equate this feeling you're having with...pride? In me?
[Rue's expression goes soft with disbelief. Was there ever any doubt? Has Rue never said it so plainly before to him? Well, they will have to change that immediately.]
Donatello - [A gentle squeeze at his shoulders, reassuring and loving.] I am so deeply proud of you.
[KOALA CLING. There is- yes indeed, those are four limbs completely off the ground, because they are as wrapped around Rue as is possible. He is hanging off their front like a baby marsupial, face buried in their clothes. That muffled eeeeeeeeeeeyesssssssssssss is mostly likely Donnie shrieking into their clothes and feathers as he clings.
Parental figure-
Pride-
Parental figure is proud- He is smart- Parental figure has called him smart and is proud-]
[There was absolutely no way that Rue could have prepared themself for that cling, but Donnie hangs onto them and they are more than able to share the weight, their wings draping around over his back, allowing him that moment to bask in how proud they are of him.]
You are such a darling. And I hope you know that I shall be paying you back in new outfits for the rest of the year for a gift this thoughtful.
[the no touching rule always flies out the window as soon as donnie feels unbridled joy
As it is, Donnie still clings as he beams up at Rue around their feathers. He's never been one to shy away or fumble for humility and that's certainly the case here, but he can't deny just how good it feels to have- to have this, someone whose opinion really matters, recognizing all the work he does and genuinely thankful for it. Being proud of it. Dad, he- well.
That's something to ponder over later, on his own.] I would never try to dissuade you from that. But you let me know the second you have any issues with the machine! Even if it's working fine but isn't working as ergonomically as you would like. I doubt that will happen, but one must leave room for improvement or risk stagnation.
[Then he better be prepared for the kisses pecked on top of his head while he clings, Rue's wings wrapping around the teen's shell so that they can spin him gently in place.]
I will drop everything I am doing and contact you immediately. On my honor. Though truly, Donnie, I can not think of a single improvement or change that I could make. It is as if you thought of everything, considered exactly what a being of my height and shape would need. I can not put into words how touched I am by this.
[a gentle inhale, as if they can barely remember to breathe after all of this excitement]
[Honestly, if Donnie wants to stay clung to them like a koala, Rue will happily go about their day with this giant turtle pressed into their feathers.]
While you are here, shall you like some of my bland, inoffensive cookies? Or anything else?
[don't you dare tell another soul living or otherwise] Apple juice would be great. White grape juice is an acceptable alternative. [Wow!! He gets carried by Raph on the regular so this isn't anything new, but the feathers are new! And Raph might be the biggest brother (who is almost sometimes like a parent) but this is a new parent. How novel. It's like he's little again!]
White grape is a new one to me. I will have to keep some in the fridge for your future visits. But apple, apple I can do.
[Look, Rue is living like this, which is why they do not even hesitate to slip him his juice box while he clings, taking the plate of cookies along with them back to the living room to settle on the couch.]
You must tell me what you need made. I want my very first project on my new machine to be for you.
[Donnie does finally detach once they're seated, if only because he absolutely does not want to accidentally get a mouthful of feathers while he's snacking, but he's more than happy to talk about all his fashion desires with Rue. There are many. Some of very questionable taste.]
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Donnie had half-expected Rue to want to touch him somehow in thanks because over the months he has clued in that they tend to hold back a lot around him, solely through observation and noting all of Rue's tiny aborted movements in his direction. He's gotten used to the stops and starts, had anticipated more of that here, but nope he gets swept up in truly huge, feathery, ticklish arms and held right there in sensory prison. He kind of wants to itch the skin of his arms clean off.
Physically, that's how he feels.
But somewhere inside, a little turtle toddler absolutely jubilant about his father patting his head, tenderly cradling his cheek and calling Donnie his dear, brilliant, lovely boy surges forward like a tsunami. That brilliantly warm feeling, like sinking into a hot bath, fills him up like a beaker with golden-sweet bliss. Value. He has value. He's treasured, he's so desperately wanted and needed. He provided something personal, something vital, to someone he cares about and they told him in no uncertain terms that he is cherished for it.
Donnie squirms, unsure of how to move within the hug. The feathers are a bit too much. The tenderness can never be surrendered, ever, Donnie really would rather claw his skin off. He settles for squirming a bit more before turning around in Rue's hug, his battle shell-covered back to their front, shifting their wings up atop his shoulders instead of around his arms and clasping their wrists for them in front of his plastron. There. Much better.] I'm not sure how you've been keeping up with all the commissions you've been receiving otherwise, but even if you use your, rrm, magic, [will use the word for Rue, only for Rue, without (much) reservation] to sew everything, I assumed you would like a rest from that every so often. If your magic is anything like my own family's mystic powers.
[Fiddles with his fingers, sneaking a glance up at Rue, craning his neck slightly to look over his shoulder at their expression.] You...do like it? You're not just placating me, correct? I don't want to give you something that won't be useful to you.
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So he readjusts them and Rue is all too happy to oblige, settling there against his back, which honestly makes for the perfect position to plant a few head kisses against him, as their arms tighten carefully around him.]
Donnie, I more than like it, I love it! Look at how beautiful it is! I mean, certainly I admire the customization and all of the loving thought you have put into creating me my very own dream sewing machine, but the aesthetic alone is quite, ah, fire, I think the slang is.
Oh my dearest heart, I adore this and you. I -
[One more affectionate nuzzle to the side of his head before they pull away, only so that Rue can catch Donnie's gaze proper, their paws resting at his shoulders, but only just barely, a feather light touch.]
You may think me quite the foolish old owlbear, but I have long since thought of you like a son to me. No one has ever given me a gift like this before, but truly, just having you in my life is the greatest gift I have ever been given. Though this is a very easy second, I must say.
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Donatello - [A gentle squeeze at his shoulders, reassuring and loving.] I am so deeply proud of you.
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Parental figure-
Pride-
Parental figure is proud- He is smart- Parental figure has called him smart and is proud-]
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You are such a darling. And I hope you know that I shall be paying you back in new outfits for the rest of the year for a gift this thoughtful.
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As it is, Donnie still clings as he beams up at Rue around their feathers. He's never been one to shy away or fumble for humility and that's certainly the case here, but he can't deny just how good it feels to have- to have this, someone whose opinion really matters, recognizing all the work he does and genuinely thankful for it. Being proud of it. Dad, he- well.
That's something to ponder over later, on his own.] I would never try to dissuade you from that. But you let me know the second you have any issues with the machine! Even if it's working fine but isn't working as ergonomically as you would like. I doubt that will happen, but one must leave room for improvement or risk stagnation.
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I will drop everything I am doing and contact you immediately. On my honor. Though truly, Donnie, I can not think of a single improvement or change that I could make. It is as if you thought of everything, considered exactly what a being of my height and shape would need. I can not put into words how touched I am by this.
[a gentle inhale, as if they can barely remember to breathe after all of this excitement]
Thank you.
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...welcome.
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While you are here, shall you like some of my bland, inoffensive cookies? Or anything else?
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But given their size difference, it's no trouble at all for Rue to move with him clinging like this, so to the kitchen they go!]
What about a juice? Are you thirsty after your trek over here?
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[Look, Rue is living like this, which is why they do not even hesitate to slip him his juice box while he clings, taking the plate of cookies along with them back to the living room to settle on the couch.]
You must tell me what you need made. I want my very first project on my new machine to be for you.
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